Title: Gunsmoke Signals
Author: Operation-Villainous
Character Pairings: Hiruma/Mamori
Genre: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T
Warnings: Hiruma's Infamous Vulgarity
Disclaimers: I own nothing Eyeshield 21
Summary: A collection of drabbles, one-shots, and mini-stories dedicated to the Hiruma/Mamori pairing. Based on the "100 Themes" and LiveJournal's "30 Distractions" challenges.

Page Width: Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

Light/Dark: This chapter is best read on the light background setting because it deals with nighttime.

Distraction VIII: Don't Touch Me

"You're goin' down, fucking manager."

"Not even in your dreams, Hiruma-kun."

"Kekeke, only someone as conceited and spoiled as you would think I'd dream about them."

"And only someone as arrogant and pigheaded as you would say something like that."

She smiled sweetly as she took the offered football from the still cackling blond and strolled past, making her way to her team's side of the field.

"I can't believe we're doing this, Mamori," Ako whispered, pushing her glasses higher up on her nose.

"Yeah! I mean, those guys look like they're going to enjoy tackling us!" Sara squeaked as she wrung her hands nervously.

She sighed exasperatedly, standing between the two with the football clutched in her small hands. "This is just for fun. And for the last time, this is flag football; not the real thing. Tackling isn't allowed."

She grinned, her crystal-blue twinkling with feminine mischief as she turned to stare up at the only male on their all-girl team. "Besides, we have Musashi-san to protect us if things do get a little rough."

"YA-A!" cheered Deimon's roller-skating cheerleader, her grin infectious as she threw her arms around one of the kicker's thicker, brawnier ones, tugging on it excitedly. "Gen-nii will be our strong, noble demon slayer!"

The tall, handsomely muscular carpenter smirked faintly, idly picking at his ear. A pink flag-belt was wrapped around his solid waist, blatantly displaying his alliance against those with the black flag-belts; Heaven's Angels versus the Dark Devils. The other girls on the team were crowded around him, sighing dreamingly as they smiled up at him, their hearts practically in their eyes. Even her two friends were distracted from their previous worries at the mentioning of his name.

She couldn't blame them. The deep voice; the hard, square jaw and dark stubble; the soulful-brown eyes; the darkly-tanned, muscular body - they all made Deimon's Sixty-Yard Magnum an irresistible studcake. And the heavy, black mohawk and single piercing dangling from his earlobe only enhanced his masculine attractiveness, giving him that bad-boy edge that every girl loved.

"Are you sure you want to be on our team?" she inquired. He was only there to level out the players, the girls having only made up six of her team, including herself. But they could have just as easily recruited Sena, or even Monta, who, she discovered, had ended up beside himself with disappointment when Musashi had nonchalantly volunteered first.

He turned a quirky smile down at her, the curling of his lips tilting up the light, dark stubble surrounding them. Something amused and male glinted in his dark brown eyes. "Being on a team of pretty girls is not something I'm going to be teased about, Anezaki-san."

She smiled, feeling wonderfully flattered as her cheeks heated pleasantly.

She heard him chuckle as they all moved toward the center of the field, getting into position as Hiruma's team did the same.

She crouched slightly behind the bigger, heavier body of Deimon's kicker, hands out and ready to catch the ball once she issued the command. They were taking a risk, making her quarterback when Musashi would have been more suited, he having more arm strength than her. But he had declined when she'd brought it up, reassuring her that she would do all right ... and reminded her that quarterbacks weren't all about passes, Hiruma being a testament to that.

"Set!" she called. The effect of the exclamation was almost immediate: bodies shifted faintly; footing was secured; muscles tensed.

She could see all of those on the opposing team that were ready to rush forward. Kurita and the Huh-Huh Brothers had taken their normal positions as linemen. The shorter frames of Sena and Monta were located on either side of Hiruma. And Hiruma, being his usual self, was grinning like a shark that had just spotted its next meal.

Her heart skipped a beat, realizing that the grin was aimed pointedly in her direction.

She could have easily brushed it off, being that it was natural to have all attention focused on her because she was going to handle the ball ... but that's not what she saw in that wicked grin.

Her instincts wailed in fright, sensing danger.

"Hut, hut!" she cried, her heart leaping into her throat as chaos instantly exploded around her. Musashi snapped the ball, it slipping perfectly into her hands, before immediately shooting forward with the girls in his line to block the Dark Devils.

She backed up several steps, looking for her team's receiver, until she actually backed into someone. Squeaking, she whirled around, eyes wide, expecting someone from the other team to be behind her.

Instead, she found her receiver and running back, Ako and Sara, clinging onto each other, shaking and whimpering pitifully.

"Oh, come on!" she cried, staring at them in exasperation.


There was a sharp tug at her waist and she twirled back around only to come face-to-face with a shark-toothed grin.

She gaped wordlessly when Hiruma lifted his arm and lightly shook the length of her flag-belt in her face. The whistle shrieked, indicating the end of the play,

Yukimitsu came jogging up, dressed in a referee's black-and-white striped uniform, his whistle dangling around his neck.

"Sorry, Mamori-san," he said, looking apologetic as he gently took the ball from her and handed it to over to Hiruma. Blowing the whistle again, the makeshift referee jogged back down the field.

"Told you, fucking manager," Hiruma cackled, emerald-green eyes glinting with gleefulness.

She glared and reached out to grab her flag-belt, but it was easily lifted higher, out of her reach. "Hiruma!"

"Oh, did you want this back?"

Scowling, she silently reached out again and managed to yank the belt from his hand, leveling him with a determined look as she hooked the pink belt back around her waist.

He grinned maniacally and turned back to his team, lazily tossing the ball up before catching it. "Into position, fucking brats!"

Heaving a sigh, she turned back to her own team. Musashi was standing off to the side, looking amused at how terrified the girls had become and Suzuna was beyond irritated, trying to cheer the others up and offer encouragement.

And it seemed to work, the girls falling back into their positions, though a bit more reluctantly than before.

"SET!" she heard Hiruma shout, the command putting an edge in his tone; an edge that told his team that there would be consequences if they failed him.

She flexed her fingers, her breath quickening as adrenaline began pumping hot and fast through her veins. She became aware that their game was attracting an audience and she looked around, suddenly distracted by Deimon High students taking seats in the grass and under trees, excited murmurs going around; possibly even bets.


The shout snapped her back to attention just in time to see everyone rush forward, trying to get to the ball. She immediately ran along the sideline as her line rushed forward, trying to get to the opposing quarterback.

But by the time she reached Hiruma, he had already wound himself back and flung his arm forward, the ball spearing through the air.

"Catch MAX!"

She gasped, hearing Monta's triumphant shout. She quickly changed course from the devilish quarterback


A long, toned arm snapped around her waist and hauled her against a solid body.

She shrieked in outrage and glared up at the quarterback. "Hiruma-kun!"

But he ignored her, grinning as he watched his receiver charge down the field. "Get a fuckin' touchdown, you damn monkey!"

Competition burning hot through her veins, she struggled against the arm locked around her waist as she looked around desperately, trying to see anyone who was closest to the receiver and wasn't being blocked.

Then, a miracle that was Musashi managed to fake a left with Juumonji and escaped him, immediately chasing after Monta.

Squealing in happiness, she forgot about Hiruma and started shouting in encouragement, "Get him, Musashi-san!"

"Tch, fuckin' old man."

She looked up smugly, expecting to see annoyance on his face. Instead, he was still wearing his maniacal grin, and her heart sank with the dawning realization that he had a plan.

Suddenly, he whipped out a black remote, its long antenna bobbing slightly from the motion. Its single, crimson button glinted ominously in the sunlight.

"H-Hiruma?" she squeaked, eyes widening. "Is ... is that a detonator?"

His emerald-green eyes harbored something unholy as he grinned down at her. "Kekeke. No, it's a fuckin' TV remote."

He pressed the button with a sounding click.

... And a section of the field exploded skyward, the geyser of dirt and grass enveloping Musashi and Monta.

For one dreadful moment, while the girls on her team screamed together in terror and the rest of the boys' team scattered in fright along with some of their audience, she thought the two Deimon players had been injured.

Until ... she heard Monta's "Victory MAX!" on the other side of the dirt cloud, followed by the whistle that signaled a touchdown.

"M-Musashi-san?" she cried, pulling herself from Hiruma's body.

There was a long, horrible pause. And then ... a string of curses and threats, so vile and derogatory that they made Hiruma sound good-natured, floated across the field.

A blush warmed her cheeks and she brought a hand to her mouth when she heard the normally cool-mannered, polite Musashi unleash such a torrent of filthy expressions. Behind her, Hiruma laughed like a mad jackal.

"Oi!" he called, grinning as the air finally cleared, revealing an extremely dirty and roughed-up kicker. "Watch your mouth, fucking geezer! There're ladies present for fuck's sake!"

"You!" she snapped, finally jerking from her stunned composer. She spun around and smacked him on the arm. "You cheater! You can't touch or restrain people in flag football, Hiruma! And even though I know it doesn't say so in the rulebook, I think it's pretty self-explanatory that you're not allowed to use landmines or any other kind of explosives either! Argh, can't you do anything fair?"

Much to her aggravation, he just smirked down at her, scratching the bridge of his nose.

She ground her teeth, slicing him with a hot glare, her hands curling into clenched fists.

Oh, she could just hit that cocky grin off his face! She could just shove him, scream at him, call him names! She could –

She blinked, her anger and frustration immediately draining from her system as an idea – a very ludicrous idea – struck her.

She could play his game.

With a suddenly sly smile, she locked her gaze with his.

"All right, Hiruma-kun," she stated cheerily, moving in close to him; so close she could feel his body heat and recognize a light cologne. He leaned away slightly, eyeing her. She continued to smile, cooing, "You want to play dirty? Fine, then. Let's play dirty."

With a haughty toss of her head and a pivot of her hips, she sauntered away, making sure to put an emphasis in the natural sway of her hips. Her inner prim-and-proper disciplinarian screeched in outrage at her scandalous behavior and the immoral plan piecing itself together in her mind, but she promised herself that she would be mortified with herself later ...

Right now, she was playing to win, and that was the only thing that seemed to play at the front of her thoughts as she called her team in to explain what they needed to do.