Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.
Author's Note: Hiruma does appear somewhat OOC in this, but exhaustion can make people act in funny ways...also, I am of the opinion that he usually intentionally exaggerates himself to 1. gain a psychological edge and 2. he thinks its funny. Which it is.
Short Pass: Almost
Hiruma looked down at those sincere blue-green eyes and wondered, What the hell? Fucking manager, are you for real?
The Game Against the Gods, as all the American Football magazines were now calling it, was brutal on everyone. Physically and mentally. It varied by player on which one hurt more, but it probably was an even tie in most.
Hiruma didn't have time for pain. He cancelled the next day's practice to give the team's muscles time to heal, but he was still in the clubhouse at the crack of dawn to work. The Dinosaurs were a real dark horse, even more unexpected a champion than the Devil Bats, and were going to be trouble if Gaou was any indication. Of course, the quarterback had a couple strategies for them anyway, but there weren't as many or as polished as the ones he had for the Knights. After a quick workout, he drank a pot of coffee, refined the plays he had and drafted off six more before the bell rang for class.
He should have skipped, as class only meant hours of sitting in a hard chair that his body didn't thank him for, and teachers droning on about material he'd taught himself months ago. The manager started making worried noises at him, but he ignored her.
Lunch meant another pot of coffee, a few painkillers that did absolutely nothing what-so-over, and more tactical brainstorming. Then back to class.
By the time the bell rang, Hiruma was somehow simultaneously jittery with caffeine and aching with exhaustion. But there was the helicopter trip to Oujou to take care of. Afterwards, he faked expressions of disgust at the team and an admonishment that they show up more fucking alive for practice the next morning or he was going to blow up their asses.
After sending the manager home with a packet of notes for her to analyze, he ran through what videos he had of the Dinosaurs' games, and his blackmail files for more information on the players' individual weaknesses.
By the time he finally exited the clubhouse, the sun was going down and he was seeing spots with weariness. His brain was so fogged that he forgot that he'd moved hotels again and walked in the wrong direction for a good 20 minutes before he remembered and had to turn back.
It was, he figured, a good thing that everyone else had gone home already. It wouldn't be good for his reputation as the "devil in the broad daylight" to be seen weaving almost drunkenly as he spent most of his remaining mental power trying to stay on his feet.
"...Hiruma?"
And now he was seeing things. What the hell was Anezaki Mamori doing here?
"Hey mister, watch out!"
What? Hiruma turned toward the shout, but since he was moving with all the speed of frozen molasses he only turned toward the thing that slammed into his temple before the world went black.
"It's all Yoshi's fault!"
"No, it's not-you should have caught it! Mamori-neechan, is he gonna die?"
Great, he was hearing voices. Voices of little brats. How boring. If he was going to go crazy (arguably, crazier), he wanted more interesting voices, like ones that told him to take over the world before the aliens did.
"No, but he hit his head very hard." This voice was older, female and familiar. "Yoshi, Kenichi, how many times have I told you not to play in the street?"
"Sorry, Mamori-neechan..."
Hiruma clawed his way toward consciousness, and immediately tried to claw back as his head exploded into pain. The only good thing that you could say about it was that the localized agony distracted from the more general aching of his entire body. At least it felt like he was lying on something soft.
"What the fuck?"
"Ooooo! Nee-chan, he said a bad word!"
A sigh. "He does that. Hiruma? Hiruma, can you hear me?"
Hiruma cracked his eyes open to see a pair of wide, worried blue-green eyes looking down at him, framed by short strands of silky auburn hair. Huh. So he hadn't been imagining things earlier.
"Fucking manager?" His head was in her lap. "What the hell are you doing here?"
There were two little brats next to her. The Brat 1, who was holding a football, jumped up and down while pointing. "See, he did it again! Nee-chan!"
"Are you going to wash his mouth out with soap?" Brat 2 asked earnestly.
Even holding his head in pain, Hiruma glared up at Mamori with an expression that said, Don't even think about it.
She sighed again. "Don't mind him, he has a...condition." Then she narrowed her eyes. "But if I ever hear you or Kenichi using that kind of language, soap will be the least of your problems, got it?"
"Yes, Mamori-neechan," the brats chorused.
"And what are the two of you doing out so late? Isn't it your dinnertime?" The kids looked at her with oh crap expressions eerily like the ones that Sena and Monta sometimes had. "Look both ways before crossing the street!" she yelled after them as they ran off. After a minute, presumably to make sure that they did look both ways before crossing the street, she looked back down at Hiruma.
"What the hell happened?"
"Yoshi and Kenichi's dad got them a football last week and they were playing catch," she replied matter of factly. "Unfortunately Yoshi's aim isn't very good yet and the ball hit you in the head and knocked you over. Good thing I was just returning from the store and saw it."
"Fucking midgets," he muttered.
"I knew you were pushing yourself too hard today-normally you could have dodged that. Can you stand up?"
What kind of stupid question was that? Of course he could stand-whoa. Damn. He braced himself on the playground wall as the world did loop-di-loops. But the manager was watching him with an intensely irritating knowing expression and he looked at her balefully. "I'm fine," he snarled.
"Sure you are," she said. He must be rubbing off on her-her tone was dripping with sarcasm. "People who are fine always look like they are about to fall over. C'mon, I live at the end of the street. You can sit down and I can take a better look at your head."
She came over and put her shoulder under his arm to support him, picking up her plastic grocery bag with her free hand. He was too surprised to protest until they were halfway there, and by then it would have been just stupid. She deposited him on the couch in the living room before vanishing into the bathroom.
Hiruma took the opportunity to look around. He'd never really thought about what kind of place the manager would live in, but if he did it probably would have looked something like this. The place wasn't big but it was of a good enough size. The furnishings were comfortable and well-worn but obviously well-taken care of, and everything was neat and tidy. Things were practically set up with little flourishes of decoration, like a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen table and pretty curtains on the window. There was a note on the coffee table from her mother, saying that she had just left for her Girl's Night, and to remember her father would be back from his business trip tomorrow evening.
Mamori reappeared with the first aid kit, which she set on the coffee table before sitting next to it herself.
"Okay, let me see it."
"See what-hey!"
Without waiting, she grabbed Hiruma's chin gently but firmly and turned his face to the side. "I thought so. Now hold still, this might sting a bit."
"What-ow! Fucking manager, what the hell?"
"I told you that it might sting," she said, frowning at him. "You scraped your head on the sidewalk when you fell. You're lucky that you didn't crack it all the way open, but it's bleeding and I need to clean it and disinfect it. Now don't be a baby and hold still."
She grabbed his chin again. Hiruma shot her a glare that she ignored but had to concede that she was right and held still, wincing, as she dabbed at the scrape with the alcohol before applying a band-aid with neat precision.
"Okay, other side." The warm fingers turned his head to the left and down so she could inspect his temple. He wondered if she knew that from this angle, he had a good view of the soft skin at the side of her neck and could almost see down her shirt.
Oblivious, she made a face. "Well, this side is not bleeding, but you have a pretty big bruise and bump. I think I have something to put on that...Don't worry, this one shouldn't sting."
He snorted at the amused tone in her voice. "It better not."
She got the ointment out and started applying it to the bruise and the bump. She was telling to the truth and it didn't sting-in fact, the coolness of the salve helped relieve a little of the pain and the circular rubbing motions were...relaxing. Hypnotic, really. Hiruma felt his eyes closing, shoulders dropping and head nodding forward even more until it fell against her shoulder. The rubbing stopped briefly and he was about to say something when it started up again.
He was half asleep when she finished and she had to nudge him. He jerked away from her and blinked in the suddenly bright light. Shit, he was more tired than he thought.
"All done," she told him smiling.
He rolled his eyes up trying to see the band-aid. Since she was looking at him expectedly, he forced a laugh. "Kekeke. I suppose you don't make a half-bad nurse."
Apparently his attempt at normal teasing didn't work, and the smile faded. She gave him that worried expression again and he had the irrational urge to smooth out the little frownline between her brows with his finger. But she only asked, "Have you eaten yet?"
An hour later, they were sitting together on the couch watching TV as they ate the udon Mamori had whipped up. Being actually put together and cooked vs. the instant stuff that Hiruma usually nuked in boiling water, it was pretty good.
Neither of them were saying anything but the silence wasn't awkward-if it was one thing made her stand out from other girls, it was that she didn't feel the need to always fill the silence with inane babbling. And when she did talk, it was rarely to say something stupid. That fucking dread Agon may go for air-headed bimbos (all the easier to get into their pants, probably) but Hiruma never had time for it. Idiots could be useful at times-Taki was a prime example-but dealing with the stupidity was exhausting. And the fake dumbness and "oh poor girly weak little me" act that so many girls seemed to think was cute was even worse.
Anezaki Mamori never tried that. In fact, playing down her intelligence probably had never occurred to her. She could still be a real pain in the ass, but he could respect her willingness to stand up for what she believed in (even if it was silly concerns about the effectiveness of firearms in sports training). And, though he would never tell her this, it was a relief to find someone who could actually keep up with him. Kurita was a good guy, but way too willing to follow his lead; Musashi was a little better but hadn't been around; and the rest of the team were too frightened of him to try. Mamori could spot patterns and analyze nearly as well as he could (though he still thought she was too linear in her thinking) and was willing to challenge him with reasoned arguments on those points she didn't agree with.
That's what he liked most about her, he supposed. That she made a nice bit of eye candy on the sidelines of a field too often full of gonks didn't hurt either, but he would have probably still liked her if she wasn't as good looking. Looks had never been the ultimate thing that attracted him to a girl.
Hiruma paused and reran his last few thoughts in his head. Damn, he really must be losing it if he was thinking along those lines. When the last show ended, he put his empty bowl on the coffee table and got up.
"Where are you going?"
He looked at her. "Home, where do you think?"
"And where is that?"
He lifted an eyebrow. "What do you care?"
"Because I'm afraid you're not going to make it. Look at you, you're still almost falling over."
He rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to watch out for more fucking midgets throwing fucking balls at my fucking head."
She glared at him. "That's not it." Narrowing her eyes, she pointed one finger and poked him.
He couldn't stop a spasm and a hiss. After the food and the rest, the pain in his body had faded to a sort of only vaguely agonizing creak. With the select poke, however, it flared at that point and then seemed to spread.
"See? You'll barely make it down the street." She paused. "Why don't you stay here? The sofa pulls out into a bed and it can't be any worse than whatever hotel you are staying at."
"Hotel-how do you know that?" he snapped at her.
Mamori shrugged. "Kurita told me."
"Fucking fattie," he muttered before saying louder, "I'm not staying here."
"Why not?"
Ok, he took that back. Her habit of arguing with him was annoying. Alright, well she was a modest sort of girl so... He gave her an evil grin. "Your parents aren't home."
Shit, he definitely wasn't up to form. She didn't even notice. "And how do you know that-oh." She spotted the note on the table and shook her head. "It's fine. I'm sure they won't mind. And since when do you care what parents think?"
"You are completely missing the point-"
"What point?" She paused for a second and thought. A second later, a brief flush touched her cheeks. "Oh."
"Yeah," he said sarcastically.
"Well, that doesn't matter, does it?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, I trust you won't try anything." She laughed a little. "Besides, you don't really think of me like that, do you?"
He opened his mouth to say a zillion things-say yes to see her reaction, laugh at her naivety, blurt something crass to get her to toss him out-when those warm hands grabbed his arm and she said quietly, "I won't tell anyone. What do you have to prove? I told you this afternoon that you don't need to play tough all the time."
Hiruma looked down at those sincere blue-green eyes and wondered, What the hell? Fucking manager, are you for real? But damn it, he was tired, his head hurt, and he was still about 20 blocks from his hotel. He rubbed his face and muttered, "Goddamn it. Fine."
He was rewarded with a bright smile and she bustled off again, this time to the linen closet. In no time at all she had the couch made up into probably the most comfortable bed he'd ever seen.
"The bathroom is just down the call, there are some cups by the sink if you get thirsty at night and-"
Hiruma was already lying down. "You're hovering, fucking manager. Go away and go to bed. I'm not going to run away in the middle of the fucking night." He turned over and was almost asleep before he hit the pillow.
Almost. Like he almost didn't hear her soft "Good night, Hiruma" or her equally soft touch against his hair. And like he almost wondered what would happen he wasn't too tired to try something and almost realized that Anezaki Mamori was the only girl he ever thought about trying something with. Ever. Because Mamori was the only girl he'd ever felt comfortable around, the only girl to ever come close to understanding him...and the only girl to ever care enough about him to insist he stay and rest because she was worried about his health and safety.
He almost thought. Almost.