You and Me and One Spotlight
Disclaimer: I don't own Eyeshield 21. :) Or the list of 100 themes that someone came up with. Or the title of the Yellowcard song (You and Me and One Spotlight) that inspired me to write.
Author's Note(s): Thank you everyone for your support! An update at last!
Mamori wonders...does Hiruma ever take a break?
The thought had plagued Mamori's mind for days.
She had always watched Hiruma work more than anyone else on the team. From pushing practices, assembling valuable data, cooking up strategies, to digging up deep seeded dirt, gathering slaves, and talking trash, had Hiruma ever taken a moment for a time out?
The clickity-clack of Hiruma typing away at his keyboard and swoosh-swoosh of Mamori's daily sweeping found themselves in harmony during a hot summer's day in the clubhouse. She spied on him from the corner of her eye, wondering if the heat would inevitably affect the quarterback's work integrity. It didn't seem to bother him one bit.
Then, a breakthrough.
Hiruma picked up a football that had been lying next to him. He tossed it up in the air, caught it, fiddled around with it in his hands, and then tossed it up again. It happened several times before Hiruma set the football down and went back to typing.
Mamori's face fell; was that considered a break for Hiruma? She glanced up at the clock before she stopped her sweeping. Hiruma's ears picked up on the lack of noise at once.
"Quitting already?" Hiruma jeered.
"I think we should have a break," Mamori bravely voiced her opinion. Clickity-clack. "We've done a lot today, and we have time to spare." Clickity-clack. "Honestly, don't you relax once in awhile?"
There was a pause in Hiruma's typing. "Anything that involves football is relaxing." Then, back to work.
Mamori frowned as she leaned on her broom. She looked to Hiruma, then to his laptop, and then the football. And then an idea came sashaying forth. "Hiruma, let's play catch!"
At that time, there were three others in the clubhouse. Everyone else had gone home. Musashi's face contorted into an incredibly befuddled look, followed by a bellowing chortle; Sena choked on his tea after envisioning a brief flash of what Hiruma playing catch as a child would look like; and Kurita looked positively delighted that they could play football, yet bewildered that it was child's game and not a friendly match against another school. Hiruma's reaction was even bigger.
"You want to..." Hiruma usual poker face and delectably wicked tone faltered. He found that he could not finish his sentence as he burst out in guffaws, buckling over and clutching at his sides. Seconds after, he toppled off his chair and defined the meaning of "rolling on the floor laughing".
Mamori instantly resembled a ripe tomato. "W-what's so funny about that!"
"Mamori, maybe that isn't such a good idea..." Sena managed to croak out after recovering. Of all games and people, he could not picture Hiruma playing a lighthearted, friendly game such as catch with Mamori. For very, very obvious reasons.
"She wants to play catch!" Hiruma gasped out between laughs. "What club do you think you're in?"
"It's still throwing around a football, but it's much less tense," Mamori curtly turned her back and began to sweep furiously in an effort to hide her embarrassment. Her effort was in vain as Hiruma snaked his way in front of her to jeer at her some more.
"Is that so? Okay, fucking manager, let's play 'catch'," Hiruma grinned from ear to ear.
Mamori pursed her lips together and gripped her fists tight. That was no invitation; it was a challenge. "Fine with me!" She was going to prove to Hiruma that playing catch could still be fun and relaxing to a football player like him.
"So how did it turn out like this?"
Sena looked on from the sidelines uncomfortably as he watched his childhood friend and captain face off against each other.
"Will she be alright?" Kurita asked. Hiruma would never be the type to play nice.
"He's not pure evil," Musashi said. He realized what he was saying and added, "I am certified in first aid."
It began like an old cheesy Western flick. Mamori stared down Hiruma as he stared back. He wriggled his fingers over a pile of footballs while Mamori put her arms up to brace for impact.
And then it happened in the blink of an eye. A football whizzed by Mamori's ear like a speeding bullet and crashed into the school behind her.
"Scared?" Hiruma flashed his trademark demonic grin.
"N-not at all," Mamori wasn't about to admit defeat.
A football shot past her other ear without warning, and then another just grazed the top of her head.
Mamori considered relenting. That's when Hiruma stalked over to her with a frown smeared across his face. The air was tense. She didn't dare speak for she may break it. But she knew he was just waiting for her to declare her stupidity. Mamori's mouth slowly opened to admit defeat when Hiruma, with one clean motion, removed his helmet and plunked it down on her head.
"Now I don't have to worry," Hiruma muttered underneath his breath, but just loud enough for her to hear. "About throwing footballs at your head!"
"Kyaaah!" Mamori screamed and ducked as an onslaught of footballs rocketed her way.
"You're right, fucking manager," He grinned while clutching a football. "This is relaxing! It's target practice!"
"100 points for the head!"
"Isn't this called 'catch', fucking manager? Why aren't you catching!"
"Hiruma – ack!"
It didn't seem to register in Mamori's mind (she was busy dodging for her life), but perhaps the idle banter the two always found themselves in was, in fact, a source of relaxation for the great demon king.