Chapter Eighty Six: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Song Playing: Your Daddy's Son and Coalhouse's Soliloquy from Ragtime the Musical.

A Dishonest Friend Arc 1/2

Theme 77: Upset

Despite the fact that the majority of her friends were boys and she had spent the better part of her later education running a football team Mamori had very little experience with men.

And by little she, of course, meant none.

At least not in a romantic way. During school she had a handful of confessions and her share of males that gave her the creeps but nothing that she reciprocated. All her love experiences were one-sided, often forced. In other words, outside of friendships, her relationships with boys were unpleasant.

Which is why it took her a ridiculous amount of time to realize that she had developed a crush on a boy.

Seriously. A ridiculous amount of time.

But she really couldn't be blamed. It was a subtle thing, the sudden excuses she began to give herself to talk with him. Her heart fluttered whenever he flashed a grin in her direction. There was a thrilling sense of nervous anticipation that bubbled inside her whenever he walked into the room that had never been there before. For the first time in her life she didn't want a platonic relationship with a boy. She didn't want to be one of the guys. She wanted to be girly, to catch his attention in the way a boy finds a girl attractive.

Truth be told she wasn't sure how to go about moving out of the familiar friendship zone and into the slightly scary mostly exciting unfamiliar territory of a potential date.

Every time she had a plan carefully laid out it would leave her the moment she caught his eye.

He was handsome. He was talented. He challenged her. When she had initially become friends with him she never thought she would end up feeling like this. His name was Higurashi Souta and she sat next to him in her Introduction to Art History class.

At the time she hadn't thought much of him. Dark hair, dark eyes, but he seemed nice enough. Truth be told she was rather indifferent to her classmates as she was very excited about this particular course. Her artistic skills had not improved since joining university. In fact, they may have gotten worse: if that was possible. So she decided to better herself the only way that she knew how. She enrolled in a class and studied as if her life depended on it.

It was quite by accident that she even talked to him. She had been quite content to sit next for him all semester exchanging no more than general pleasantries.

But then he had walked in with a flyer for an art exhibit in the downtown area. The colors had caught her attention enough to comment on it. One thing had led to another and the next thing she knew they were making plans to go see it after class. That outing had turned into a late lunch and a rapidly budding friendship. After that it was common for them to grab coffee or have a study session or go check out the art museums for class.

Then the feelings started.

For the first time in her life Mamori found herself wanting to dress up for a boy. She wanted to be noticed. She didn't want to be a friend, or a mom, or a sister to him. She wanted to be a girl that he would want to spend time with in a more intimate setting.

"So I was thinking."

Mamori looked up from her notes into Souta's big brown eyes. She allowed herself a moment to admire them dreamily before she remembered that he had spoked. "Anything good?"

"Possibly." He tapped the end of his pencil to his notebook. "Depends on how you answer."

That caught her attention. "Sounds ominous."

"Not ominous, just different." He looked up at her and her insides were filled with fluttering butterflies. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go out to dinner. On Saturday. With me."

Her face flushed at the implication that this wouldn't be a meal between just friends. Unlike other invitations she had received in the past, Mamori found herself delighted by this one: excited even, a little nervous sure. But overall there was the thrilling anticipation that warmed her from the tip of her nose to the tips of her toes.

Before she could answer a familiar voice broke her train of thought. "So this is where you've been sneaking off to."

She felt her heart stutter.

Not bothering to wait for an invitation, Hiruma dropped his bony butt across from her right into Souta's personal space. His eyes never left the other man's bewildered face. "And this must be your friend from Art History. Higurashi Souta, right? Hiruma Youichi."

She felt her heart stop.

Never mind the fact that she had avoided bringing Souta or anything remotely related to him in front of the team with a single-minded ferocity that boarded on neurotic. Hiruma did not interfere with her business unless it intersected with his business. And her budding relationship had nothing to due with any of his businesses by any stretch of the imagination.

"Nice to meet you." To his credit Souta didn't seem angry or terrified by Hiruma's sudden intrusion. He looked as friendly as ever, albeit he did appear mildly baffled about the whole situation.

The same could not be said for Mamori. She didn't know why Hiruma would personally seek her out during her off hours instead of calling but she did know that absolutely no good come from this meeting. It was better to separate them now before she had a heart attack trying to anticipate what the quarterback was going to say next. "Very nice. But we don't want to keep you-"

"Actually I was looking for you." Even though he was speaking to her he still hadn't broken eye contact with Souta and, while the other man seemed fine with it, it was seriously starting to freak her out. "I got you a gift."

As if that wouldn't raise every red flag in her head.

The longer he sat there the more unnerved she got. She had to get him out of here and fast. So while she was smiling her eyes were clearly yelling at him to get lost. "This couldn't have waited until evening practice."

He didn't miss a beat.

"They wouldn't have been fresh at evening practice."

She almost forgot to be mad with him with the sudden wave of confusion that washed over her. "Fresh?"

Immediately he plopped down a plain white paper bag that she knew all too well.

Her eyes widened in realization of what exactly was concealed inside. She didn't know what kind of manipulation game Hiruma was playing at but she didn't like it one bit. She actually had to swallow as she felt her mouth fill with saliva. "Are those-"

"Kariya cream puffs." He slid the bag a little closer to her and the sweet smell of her favorite pastries filled her nose. The smug bastard even had the nerve to jiggle it in her direction. "Straight from the oven and filled with cream not twenty minutes ago."

Souta chose this moment to make his presence re-known. "Well that was nice of you. Is it your birthday or something, Anezaki?"

It was actually about as far away from being her birthday as it could possibly be. However she didn't get a chance to answer because Hiruma jutted his pointed nose right back into their conversation. He re-focused his attention back to Souta with a sharp grin. "It's not her birthday. Actually, there's no special occasion. I was just passing by and thought she might enjoy them. They are her favorite after all."

Yeah right. The day Hiruma did something solely out of the goodness of his heart with absolutely no ulterior motives whatsoever was the day she hung up her broom and called it quits.

"They're that good?" The corners of Souta's mouth kicked up and, despite her unease with this encounter, Mamori found herself admiring the cute way it made his eyes crinkle.

She was effectively brought out of her wistful observation when he tapped the bag. "These cream puffs are how she secured her title."

Okay, she officially had no idea where he was going with this one. Unfortunately Souta asked the question she was thinking. "What title?"

"You don't know? She's the Queen of High Speed Snacking." He threw out that shameful high school record like he was discussing the weather. "I've seen her eat into the triple digits with these little guys. It's quite a sight to see considering how small she is."

The only reason she didn't leap over the tabled to physically clap his mouth shut was because she was too stunned to do so.

However just because her body chose the most inconvenient moment possible to lock up on her didn't mean she didn't react. Already she could feel her face heat up to what she had previously believed to be an impossible temperature. There was a definite tick in her eyes that had most certainly not been there before. Her appetite was completely gone and in its place was a lava like anger that was threatening to erupt. When she got him alone she was going to put his head on a pike for bringing up such an unnecessarily embarrassing fact in front of Souta.

Meanwhile Souta gave a small tilt of his head. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." Hiruma planted his ridiculously long legs and leaned back until his chair was resting on two legs. "In fact the only food that has ever come close to competing with the cream puffs is Italian food. Specifically cannoli. Do you know what a cannoli is?"

Souta nodded.

"Well she can eat those by the dozen." He gave her one of his stupid flashy side smirks that he knew aggravated her to no end. "Isn't that right mom?"

All the anger and embarrassment that had been bubbling inside her vanished the moment that dreaded nickname left his mouth. She felt her stomach give out and her heart lodge itself in her throat. Without conscious thought she gave a frantic shake of her head. Eyes wide in panic, her knuckles ached with how hard she was clenching her small fists under the table.

He wouldn't.

"Mom?" Souta's tone was both polite and curious.

Hiruma had his razor focus completely on the young man next to him, completely ignoring all of her warning signs that he was about to take things too far. "Oh yeah. She's a complete mother hen."

He did.

"Always has been." He didn't hesitate. Not for a second. "Hell if I said I was cold she would probably be able to pull out a sweater that she keeps on her for such an occasion. If you stood up and ripped your pants right now she'd have it patched before you could sit back down. In her backpack alone she's got snacks, a full bottle of water, a notebook with pen, a first aid kit, a spare umbrella, and an extra scarf. Get her a minivan and she'd be a classic soccer mom. She's been like that for as long as I've known her."

It was if his words drained her of everything she was, leaving behind a hollow shell: empty except for the burning sensation that was building in the back of her throat and eyes.

And just because the universe hated her specifically, Souta decided to take that moment to look at her. His own eyes were big and warm and kind. She immediately schooled her expression into something friendly. At least she thought she did. She wasn't sure how successful she was when her insides felt like they were dying. It didn't help when he grinned at her and asked without any sort of malice, "Do you really have all that?"

The worst part was she couldn't deny anything Hiruma had said. Not unless she wanted to outright lie.

Anezaki Mamori was many things but a liar was not one of them.

She forced a smile to her face. The corners of her mouth trembling with the effort it was taking not to break down and cry. "I like to be prepared."

"You really are like a mom!" His laughter usually caused her heart to skip a beat but right now it caused her insides to twist and tighten into terrible knots. He checked his watch before gathering up his things. "Sorry I got to run if I'm going to make it to practice on time."

No longer trusting her voice she just nodded at him as he shook Hiruma's hand. "It was nice to meet you." Then he turned his sweet smile to her and gave her a wave over his shoulder as he made his way out the door. "I'll see you in class mom!"

She felt something inside her crack and shatter.

It was a good thing his back was to her by then because his goodhearted farewell broke the tenuous control she had over her emotions. Instantly her eyes filled with tears, cheeks flushed as she chocked back painful sobs that threatened to crack her ribs with their force. Haphazardly she shoved everything she had into her backpack. She only managed to partially zip it closed when Hiruma said her name in a tone she had never heard him use before.

Through the years she had put up with a lot of him: partially because he tended to be right about things but mostly because she considered him a friend. If pressured she would even go so far as to say he had somehow become her best friend.

At least she thought he was.

But friends, especially best friends, didn't pull the shit he just did.

Suddenly she couldn't stand to be in the same as him for another second and, without so much as a word or glance, she fled.