Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Short Pass: Sweet

He was sweet, in his own demonic way.

You know those days where nothing goes right, you have so much to get done but you can't focus, you feel like crap, and all you want to do is collapse somewhere and sleep until the end of the world?

Yeah, Anezaki Mamori was having one of those days all week.

A lot of it was her fault, she had to admit. There was enough on her plate with exams, Disciplinary Committee duties and the American Football Club, but then she agreed to help out the Student Council when their secretary had to stay home with the flu. She was starting to feel a little under the weather herself, due to a practice in the freezing rain last week, but she thought it was only a little bug that she could work through.

Only it didn'tgo away, but just got worse and worse until she drifted from class to practice to meeting to practice again in a fog. She ached all over and was so tired she couldn't concentrate half the time, but the constant pounding in her head and clogged sinuses wouldn't let her lie down to sleep. She really should have called in sick, but there was so much to do, that she promised to do, that she just trudged on.

As the days went by, her mood and focus got worse and worse. Several times in class she mumbled answers she didn't remember to questions she didn't hear, dropped her things in the hallway and got to places without remembering why. Things that never bothered her before suddenly grated on her nerves, and she was arguing more than ever with Hiruma.

She was fighting with him again on Friday morning, yelling at him in a shrill voice she hated, and she couldn't even remember why except suddenly he was just too annoying, too sarcastic, too spiky, too blond, too everything that she couldn't stand it.

So when he laughed at her again in that way of his, she slapped him.

The slap seemed to echo around the field as everyone and everything got dead quiet. There was nothing but the wind as everyone stared at her with slack jaws and wide eyes. Even the quarterback looked surprised and the anger drained away as abruptly as the blood in her face.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, mortified. Ridiculously, her eyes started to burn with tears. "I didn't mean to-" Her voiced choked off and there was nothing but the incredible need to get away from here. She spun around, slipped on the grass as the world tilted, and lost it.

Vaguely she could feel someone catching her before she hit the ground. She grabbed at them, babbling something about being sorry, being so sorry, but she was so tired, and ached, and couldn't think, and something wet and salty splashed over her knuckles until someone told her to, "Shut up, fucking manager," and the voice was familiar but not half as biting as it usually was, so she gulped and shut up. She was picked up, shaking as she closed her eyes and struggled to get a grip on herself as the voice carried her away while shouting for the fucking brats to keep practicing until he got back or he'd shoot their asses.

What a funny thing to say, she thought, but the smell of football leather and gun oil was soothing when it shouldn't be and she fell asleep.

Mamori woke up later, feeling like an old dishtowel, completely wrung out. She rubbed at the disgusting crusts over her eyes to blink blearily at the ceiling. Where was she? She struggled to sit up on the bed with arms like wet noodles until someone helped her. Just then a nurse bustled in, smiling brightly.

"Ah, you're awake! Let's check that temperature."

"Where am I-" A thermometer was deftly inserted into her mouth.

"You're in the school infirmary, my dear," said the nurse. "My goodness, but you must have been worn out, poor thing. You slept the whole day-"

Mamori's eyes widened. The whole day? That couldn't be. She glanced at the clock and stifled a scream. Oh no, she had missed an entire day of class, not to mention the rest of the football practice and the Student Council meeting and-

The nurse removed the thermometer and frowned. "Still a bit high. You need to go straight home for some bed rest and soup. Can you go with her? I don't think that she should go alone."

"I can't go home now," Mamori protested, though internally she protested her protest, her bed sounded heavenly right now. "I have too much work to do-"

Wait. Who was the nurse talking to? She turned around.

"Don't," Hiruma told her, looking especially spiky, "be ridiculous."

"H-Hiruma? What are you doing here?"

The nurse smiled. "He's the one who brought you in! He's also been checking on you every hour, along with that sweet little Sena and the rest of your friends. You made quite a lot of people worried, you know. You owe it to them to go home and get well."

"But I-"

"And you tell me I push myself too hard," Hiruma muttered. "I already got your damn homework. And I made the fucking fattie go take notes at that stupid Council meeting. I really don't know why you care about that stuff."

"Practice-"

"We can deal without you for one damn day, fucking manager. The fucking skate girl is coming over, anyway."

"See, your friend has everything taken care of," said the nurse. "Isn't he sweet?"

Both Mamori and Hiruma stared at her as if she'd grown horns.

"Okay," said Mamori in a small voice. "I'll go home."

"Good girl."

In a daze, Mamori got her coat on while Hiruma collected her bag. He held her arm to keep her from "weaving all over the fucking street," as they walked to the train station. Neither of them said anything as they boarded. He nudged her awake at her stop and then walked her the rest of the way home. Her mother opened the door.

"Mamori! You poor girl." Mamori was enveloped in a hug. "The school called me-why didn't you say anything earlier? Thank you for bringing her home."

Hiruma shrugged.

"I almost have your bed and some soup ready," her mother said. "Wait there a moment."

When she'd gone, Mamori turned to Hiruma. "Thank you. And I'm, um, sorry." She pointed at her cheek.

He laughed. "Kekekeke. I've had worse, fucking manager."

She flushed. "Okay, but um...Thank you."

"You already said that."

"S-sorry."

"Kekekeke! You said that too." The grin stayed, but there was an odd expression in his eyes as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Go to sleep, fucking manager," he told her finally. "And don't come back until you're feeling better. The last thing we need is the rest of the team getting sick."

This time she was better at reading the teasing note in his voice and just smiled as she waved the blond figure off. Her mother came back and hustled her off to bed. Mamori's last thought after she finished her soup and closed her eyes was that the nurse was right. He was sweet, in his own demonic way.