Title: Lesson 5: Heartache (A Cream Puff is a Cream Puff)
Disclaimer: I don't own Eyeshield 21
It didn't surprise her that he showed up at her front door with the Devil Bat truck, ready to go to the game. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning expecting him to show up at her house at 2 o'clock in the morning after the way she had hung up on him. Guilt was the farthest thing from her mind, because she felt clearly justified in her actions. Although, when the blond haired quarterback opened the door for her and offered a hand to help her into the truck's cab, a sense of foreboding gripped the team manager's insides.
Mamori saw the box from Kariya's sitting on the seat, but it didn't immediately occur to her that they were for her. The smell of freshly baked pastry wafted up to torture her nostrils even as she sat primly on her side of the cab, with her hands neatly folded into her lap, waiting as Hiruma got in on the other side. He entered the cab of the truck without a word, and in a silent graceful motion he handed her the coveted box, and smiled. After politely accepting the box of pastries from him, she opened it with a wary eye.
"What's wrong with them?"
"Ouch. That hurt, fucking manager. You have seriously wounded me," he threw her a look of feigned agony. "To think that you would believe that I would give you tainted cream puffs." As the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, she could tell he was holding back one of his depraved grins.
The Devil Bat roared to life, and he began to guide them into traffic. She sat as close to the passenger door as she possibly could in the large cab. Even though she told herself she was still very upset with him, being in such close proximity to him unnerved her as much as his behavior intrigued her. Still something didn't sit well with her. There had to be an angle. There had to be some other motive to his kindness that was much more sinister. Being the one who knew him best, or so she thought, she waited for the anvil to fall even though her heart hoped differently.
"Uh huh, then why just these?" She gestured toward the box of cream puffs now sitting in her lap.
"What? Two not enough? Just how many fucking cream puffs do you scarf down on a daily basis?"
"I don't eat cream puffs every day, and you know that's not the point!" She said through gritted teeth as she shot him an annoyed glance.
Resigning herself to the fact that he would never understand, nor care, she looked out her window. The silence between them never bothered him as much as it did her. She knew he preferred it that way; for her to dutifully be at his side, silent, making sure his every order was carried out. In the beginning, it was just a role she played so she could watch over Sena. Now, she felt the obsessive need to watch over him. The continued silence between them as the buildings passed by her window was growing increasingly harder for her to bear, so she let out a heavy sigh hoping to get his attention.
She realized her attempt failed after waiting patiently for a response. If she wanted him, she was stuck with exactly what she got, but it wasn't as though she wanted to change him. What would it be like if she were a different person? Could she ever be satisfied with just empty gestures and hollow words, hoping that someday a meaning would be behind it all? It was a sad thing to admit, but she actually lived for their fights. It was in those moments that she felt that his passion for winning, and maybe his passion for her, rivaled what he felt on the football field. She decided that she couldn't give in, or give up.
"Do you believe that it's enough?" She said quietly, holding her breath in the short silent pause while she awaited his answer.
"No, but I believe it's a start." The unassuming tone of his voice caused her to look over at him, and smile. He was giving in to her.
It was a simple minor concession that filled her with such a jubilant feeling that she had to mentally restrain herself from leaping across the cab, and throwing her arms around his neck. Even though some lingering doubts remained, they were pushed aside by the lofty ideas that filled her head as it dawned on her that she now had the power. She was now in control.
She was satisfied with the silence now as she dropped their conversation to concentrate on the golden flaky pastry in front of her. Involuntarily, soft moans of epicurean ecstasy escaped from her mouth. She had already devoured one of the cream puffs and was half way through the other when she caught him staring at her as they were stopped at a light.
"What?" She asked innocently, pretending not to know why he was gazing at her with a serpentine grin.
"Nothing," his grin grew wider, and he shook his head as they pulled into the stadium parking lot.
"I'm not using it as a substitute."
"It'd be a fucking sad substitute if you were."
"Well, if this is the start, then I'm waiting for the finish," she tossed back at him and was met with an evil laugh that had her wondering just what would his finish be.
The way they chose to hide their relationship from prying eyes had become automatic and clinical. Once they exited the truck, she trailed behind him at just the right distance so no one would suspect that they had arrived together. At one time, she believed it was for the good of the team, but now the secrecy was weighing on her. She didn't want to become like one of the Cupids' girlfriends, or like Harao's fangirls, but she wanted some kind of acknowledgement. Not that she was the manager of the Devil bats, but that she and Hiruma were a team.
She sat behind him in the bleachers; her eyes half on him and half on the game. There Hiruma was, in the middle of his boys, watching someone he admired challenge a beast. While the rest of the team watched in amazement, Hiruma was quiet and reserved. She thought that it was pride she saw in his face, watching his team observe a match where someone who's brain he appreciated was paying homage to him by using a style of play very much like his own. Then, a thought occurred to her as she observed Kid on the field, ready to live or die with each play, choosing to attack over and over again to combat Gaou's explosive force. It wasn't pride in seeing his tactics displayed that she saw on Hiruma's face at all.
It was as if he had offered the Wild Gunmen up for sacrifice, and he was taking pleasure in it. It was the dark, evil side of Hiruma. The face he showed to everyone, to the world, but she still felt the pang in her heart every time she saw Kid's quickdraw release right before Gaou made it to him. Mamori clenched her fists tightly as she watched Gaou become faster with every attempt. Kid just had to win. He had to prove that an offense built on tactics, technique, and talent could overcome even the strongest defensive power.
"Mamo-nee, what's wrong?" Suzuna was sitting next to her with a concerned face. Mamori looked down at her hands; the knuckles had become white from gripping the hem of her skirt so tightly.
"It's nothing, Suzuna," she turned to give the girl a reassuring smile just an instant too soon. The horrified sound from the crowd almost made her not want to turn and look, but she forced herself to anyway. She forced herself to look and process the image of Kid, broken and bleeding on the ground. He was only a second too late, and this was the result.
The team watched as Tetsuma was taken down, and Riku was run into the ground. It was a grueling, bloody battle that made her stomach churn and her heart ache. The Wild Gunmen were thrashed, and Hiruma was the only one who seemed as though he wasn't surprised by the outcome. She realized that in all the plans she had researched, not one of them could neutralize Gaou. The Sphinx couldn't stop him, and the Wild Gunmen didn't even try to, so how in the world were they going to overcome this? More importantly, how was she going to be able to just sit by on the sidelines and watch?
It was Hiruma's confidently cool declaration that gave her the hope that she needed. He had faith in Kurita's potential even if Kurita didn't know it himself. She has no idea what was going on in the mind of their blond fearless leader. There was one thing, however, that she was certain of. Those lofty ideas of what she could do with the control she had gained had no chance of ever becoming realized. He was the Deimon Control Tower, the Commander from Hell, and she was just the manager.