Disclaimer: No, I don't own Eyeshield 21. I only own this story and characters' OOC quirks.

Warnings: The preparations for Deimon's first…official match are underway. But not everyone is excited about it…and Sena gets a stalker Oh, and use of swear words good kiddies are not allowed to speak in polite company.

Shout Out: /Pokes a nose out from the self-imposed summer hibernation state/ Oya, y'all. Because someone was kind enough to poke and prod me about not updating recently - you know who you are /clears throat/, I went and dusted off this shiny lil' bit of a story. Yes, I am writing. Because I have so many stories, this one was on a hiatus, and would be longer, if someone hadn't been persistent enough to drag me out, kicking and screamin'. As for the next update, it won't be for a time, because I have work and other stories to do, but somewhere in autumn, you shall expect a new chapter. Meaning, this story is alive still, and not a zombie. Enjoy. /Snuggles back in hidey-hole/

Dictionary: Okay, there's a lil' dictionary of foreign – ahem, swear words used. Tell me if they are translated right, because I don't know a whit of Spanish.

Hijo de puta - Son of a bitch

Estupido culo – Stupid ass

All it takes is all you got.
-Marc Davis

The days passed slowly after that. It was a haze of training, dull scholastic obligations – homework, tests, exams and so on - sleeping, and then repeat the cycle.

For Sena, that meant he had a moment of peace – no one to chase him intensely – at least not outside the training. He spent his days between school, the manager duties for Devilbats, being the Eyeshield 23 – they still didn't find out that the kind manager was also the speed daredevil on the field, much to his relief. Although, he had a hunch that Shin of all people was onto him.

He sighed. Besides, he had Mamori to protect – the girl was still jittery in the crowds of males, so he was more often than not by her side – when he didn't have classes – or he bribed Cerberus to tail her.

The bribe was simple. In that instance, Cerberus was one evil, sadistic little furball that lived for making the lives of two-legs as miserable as it could, and if it got a juicy red steak or two on the top of it, even better.

It was a funny sight, of course. When the boys were advancing on the slightly nervous Manager of Devilbats, intent on asking the pretty girl for favour or just plain asking her out, a deep snarling sounded behind them.

That usually stopped the slobbering guys... and if that didn't help, the furball jumped in Mamori's lap.

Message was clear.

'Mess with her and I will mess with you.'

Of course, Hiruma was still wondering just why was the hellhound protective of the girl and he had a hunch of who could have managed to bribe the beast, but he let it go. Mamori, despite her motherly tendencies, was a good Manager, and one of the few that opposed to him if he ever got too far in his harebrained schemes... not that it helped, but it was more entertaining to have at least some resistance than none.

Sena was chatting with Miura. The second year was complaining about her English teacher – apparently the old bitch didn't have any mercy when it came to the workload of her students. Deimon may have been termed as a school for slackers, due to the impossibly easy entrance test – easy, meaning that if you wanted in that school, you were accepted, no questions asked. You just had to show yourself at the entrance exams first and get through them.

Due to his sadistic friends, Sena didn't have any troubles with entrance exam – he could have entered Oujou, if he wished to, but in his little game of eeny-meeny-miney-moo as he was deciding to which school to go, Deimon came out first, so he applied to Deimon. Simple as that.

" – and the old cow had a nerve to – " Miura's rant was interrupted by the speakers' inhuman screech.

Sena cringed as dread chilled his back. 'Oh, no, this is not good...' His gut feeling was not wrong often, and right now, he had a premonition that his peaceful days were waving him bye-bye the express way.

"What - ?" Miura managed to speak, before the speakers boomed out with the demonic voice the students of Deimon High come to dread and hate.

"YA – HA! Explosive game newsflash! We will be having a game this Saturday on the field - " Sena furrowed his eyebrows. "Why didn't he tell me that first?" He mumbled out, annoyed.

" - our enemy is the Zokugaku Chameleons! We've bet five million yen on the game!"

This time, Sena almost got a heart attack. "FIVE MILLION YEN!" Miura screeched out, her gray eyes wide with surprise. Well, at least she didn't have any trouble with expressing her feelings.

But Hiruma wasn't finished yet.

"All those who got their asses kicked by Zokugaku, Deimon Devilbats will fuck them up good for you! Of course, the evil hero who uses his Killer Tackle, Eyeshield 23 will be playing as well! " Sena's eyes narrowed. "Hijo de puta! " He hissed under his breath, incensed. "He has no right - !" Miura blinked at her companion, confused. Did Sena just spoke Spanish?

Hiruma, however, cheerfully dug his own grave even deeper.

"Free entrance! You have no balls if you don't come and watch! YA – HA!"

The listeners were still shaken from the sudden proclamation, but the silence was rapidly diminished as the mutters and chatters began anew again. Oh the resilience of those oppressed by Hiruma's rule...

Sena sighed as he calmed down. "I should've known it," He muttered, defeated. Miura blinked. "Knew what, Sena – kun?" The first year sighed. "This..." He motioned to the now mute speakers – "Is just typical of our resident demonic idiot," He grumbled out, peeved. Miura flinched. "Shhhh!" She shushed him forcefully. "Do you want him to hurt you!" She whispered to him, gray eyes dark with worry.

Sena waved Miura's worries away, a tired expression on his face. "Don't worry about me, Miu-nee," He murmured with a dull voice. "I am the secretary of Deimon Devilbats, so he can't exactly afford to dispose of me..." 'That, and I'm Eyeshield 23,' He added in his thoughts.

Miura blinked. "You're the secretary for that – that – " Her words failed her as she flailed with her arms as to express her... thoughts on that matter. Sena shook his head amused. "Yeah." He confirmed her worries, making her pale in process.

"My condolences," Miura finally managed to utter her dryly, making Sena bark out with laughter at her... regards. "It isn't so bad, Miu-nee. Really. Mainly, I take care of players, watching the opponents' strategy plays and so on." 'If only that were true,' Sena thought to himself sourly. But as he was sworn not to peep a word out about him being Hiruma's ace card, he couldn't tell her that juicy tidbit of information.

"Well, okay... if you say so," Miura finally agreed. "But... She hesitated. "I heard that Habashira, the Zokugaku captain carries large butterfly knife with him every day..." She whispered, biting her lip in worry.

Sena blinked. "That's it?" He asked, incredulous. He snorted at her annoyed expression. "Miu-nee, American football prohibits the use of... knives in the game. Besides..." he paused, as he smiled at her, making her blush.

"...Here we have someone who carries firearms every day."

Miura blinked. "We have?" She parroted stupidly. Then, it hit her. "Oh... OH!" She squeaked out, as she blushed, her cheeks as red as her hair.

Sena chuckled at his mortified friend. It was kind of cute of her not to associate Hiruma with firearms right away, but that was Miura for you. Bright, bubbly, bitchy if needed be, and totally oblivious in a sense. But well, he couldn't fault her for not connecting the dots at once. It seemed that Hiruma became the boogie man of some sort and now, when he was working on Deimon Devilbats, he seemed to leave his other prey in peace. Out of sight out of mind, and all that...

He sighed as he looked at his wrist watch. "Sorry but it seems that I have to go now... I have Biology next . "He muttered out apologetically. Miura smiled. "It's okay, I too have classes right now. But..." She paused, uncertain. "About our run..."

Sena smiled at her kindly. "It's still on, "he reassured her. "We'll meet at our usual place?"

Miura nodded. She blinked as she notice the time. "Oh no!" She yelped out. "Sena, gotta run now, see ya later!"

And the next moment, Sena was watching her running away.

He sighed. Well, he too will have to hasten, if he wanted to come before the bell ring, anyway.

"Well...It seems we can no longer afford to lose." Juumonji grunted as he plopped himself into the seat. Quirking an eyebrow, Sena looked at the blonde teen. "Apparently," He agreed dryly. "So, excited about your debut?"

Kuroki snorted. "Bitchin'." He snarked. "Besides, it's about time someone kicked those fuckers where the sun doesn't shine." He sneered, dark eyes flashing dangerously as his left hand clenched into a fist. Both Juumonji and Toganou became grim. Sena just blinked. 'Huh. So there's a story behind that...' Sena thought fleetingly as he reached into his bag after biology book.

"Hey, Sena... About those five million yen..." Toganou began haltingly. "It was a joke, wasn't it?" Brown eyes behind orange goggles looked at the smaller teen anxiously as he ruffled his spiky bleached brown hair. Sena turned to look at Toganou disbelievingly. "Do you really believe that Hiruma would make empty threats?" He asked flatly, making the trio wince in response at some... flashback. Sena would bet five million yen – excuse the pun – that it had something to do with the devil of their captain. But then again, what didn't?

"Point," Toganou admitted gruffly as he sat on the chair heavily. "So... We really have to win, huh?"

Sena was interrupted from answering as the teacher came into the room.

Not that he needed to answer...

...because either way, they were screwed.

He sighed despondently as he listened to the roll-call.

This was bound to be a disaster, one way or another.

"You. Me. Track. Now." Sena blinked stupidly at the snarled out demand his... eternal rival. "Kazuhiko-san, if you are trying to ask me out, I have to respectfully decline." He told the fuming second-year passively. The ponytail made a strangled sound. " Not that!" He barked out, his cheeks flushed with mortification, making a pair of girls moan with disappointment. "The track! Match!" He grabbed Sena's shoulder in an attempt to drag him off, green eyes glinting with fury at his prey's lackasidal nature.

It just wasn't Sena's day. Japanese Literature was a murder –that was one of the classes Sena was trying hard not to flunk – after such a long time having been spent in Land of Dreams – meaning good old US of A, Sena had gotten used to Western style of writing, and even if he read kanji, he didn't relish for having an headache for remembering the little devils again. It was funny in a sense. Give him any other language that was written with Latin letters in some shape and form, and he had no problems. Romaji was okay, because it was based on Latin letters, but his head hurt from remembering kanji, hiragana and katakana. His only grace was, that he remembered the material, even if his knowledge of written signs was rather dismal at times.

Secondly, their Biology teacher announced they had a mock test tomorrow, meaning he would have to revise his notes and repeat those darned words for cell cycle - and given that biology wasn't his favourite subject to learn, he was reluctant having to learn the thing again.

Thirdly, Hiruma's little... announcement was bound to cause a havoc in his usually orderly daily routine. No doubt Hiruma would like to have a crash course for the team of greenhorns that called themselves Deimon Devilbats – meaning, Sena would be needed as a Manager and a player, and having to conceal his identity from Mamori was becoming annoying , but that monkey was even bigger nuisance in that aspect. Not that Sena had to fear him, but, watching the monkey's pathetic attempts at wooing Mamori was...troublesome. Mamori was better now, but still a little bit jittery on the prospect of conversing with male half of human species alone, and being in a testerostene filled club like Devilbats was taxing on her. Cerberus wasn't here every time, as Hiruma used the hellhound for his nefarious purposes for training the new victims...i.e. players, along with Sena, and when they were allowed a break, Sena had to assume his manager identity, leaving Mamori alone for a time, thus letting Monta time to latch on the girl in some fashion.

Sena wasn't amused. Leona wouldn't have been, either. The Latino girl was tanned, tall and a little bit on a skinny side, but with respectfully big bust. Her long curly hair was almost always dyed some kind of a colour – last he had seen her, she was trying violet. Her eyes were pale brown, bordering on amber when she was pissed. And of course, she was the one responsible for inadvertedly teaching Sena curses... along with respect for women. It was hard not to get that lesson into the skull, seeing that she was quite of a street fighter if occasion demanded of it.

Meaning, the girl had an unhealthily big dose of bloodlust, which she curbed via kicking the poor, unsuspecting males – yeah right – okay, too persistent... admirers or the jerks, who thought that just because she was pretty girl, she should have been honoured to go out with them.

The victims learned quickly that she was not someone to cross, and the adults despaired as they tried curbing her rebellious tendencies – being that her fashion sense, behaviour or habit of cussing. By some twist of a weird luck, Sena somehow piqued the fiery girl's attention and from then on, he was dragged into the world of hurt and cussing.

Meaning, the girl made it her own personal mission to teach Sena fighting, even if it killed him in process.

Yeeesh... Talk about being obsessive...

Shaking his head and smiling at the fond memories, Sena blinked as he returned into present. And promptly, his face soured.

"Listen, you estupido culo," He growled out, brown eyes flashing dangerously. "I am in no mood to deal with you right now. " He dug his feet in the ground, and even if the ponytail - he really should have remembered his name - tried to drag him away, much to the older boy's surprise, Sena didn't budge an inch.

"I've had a shitty day, and I really don't want to be late for our training session, which you are ultimately holding me off from heading to. " He advanced at the rapidly paling self – proclaimed best runner of track club. Sena flashed out a dangerous grin, as his right hand twitched. "So kindly leave me alone, unless you want to piss me off more, and I assure you, that is not a course of action you would want to take."

"B – But!" The ponytail blustered. "I want a – "

" - Rematch?" Sena sighed out, exasperated. " I clearly told you that by rules we agreed upon, I concede the match. Now why are you bugging me about that?"

"Uh..." Kazuhiko blustered. He managed to draw himself up. "Because of you," he spat out angrily, "They are questioning my position as the best runner. So I want a rematch to prove them I am the best for real!"

Sena stared at the huffing teen incredulously. "You know what; I ain't got time for some pissing contest. Hiruma will skin me alive as it is," He deadpanned, as he stepped away from the delusional idiot. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair, idly thinking about going to hairdresser soon.

"Coward." Sena froze in the middle of the turn. Did he hear right, that the idiot called him a c- word?

He looked at the taller teen silently.

The tension skyrocketed.

The peanut gallery was silent, in expectation of an awesomely violent response.

"Did you just call me coward?" Sena's voice was deathly quiet.

"Yeah, so?" Kazuhiko crossed the arms on his chest defiantly, obviously smug at the fact he finally found something to needle Sena with. "You are a coward, not accepting the rematch."

Sena sighed as he swung the bag on his shoulder. "You call me coward..." He trailed off...

The crowd leaned forward.

"... I call it having good self-preservation instincts." Sena finished, his voice deadpan, as he walked away, leaving behind comically floored people. "Ja ne."

Kazuhiko Ren may be an average teen with dislike of broccoli and math, and severe case of obsession with collecting Star Wars action figures, along with terming himself the future Maraton King.

It all went well, until that little pipsqueak of a kid came to the club, and since then, Ren's life and manliness was being called under question more often than he would like to hear.

Ishimaru-buchou railed at Ren's stupid mistake at almost every training session, and the tension in track club was even worse, what with upcoming competition against Ryokushou. Ren may have be the club ace, but Ryokushou was said to have an excellent batch of runners this year, and really, the burden would be too big for Ren to carry alone.

Not that Ren cared about that. He was a star, a prodigy and the future Marathon King, so what was one little competition such as this?


But... this Kobayakawa brat stung Ren's pride something fierce, and the brunet teen decided, come Hell or high water, he would get this rematch thing and he would win! And then he would force the little uppity snot to apologize –

Ren ducked back into the shadows as Sena emerged from the shop.

Green eyes watched the prey sharply – really, if the looks would kill Sena would be dead ten times over. Well, Sena was happily walking on the sidewalk, before he looked at the clock.

Ren tensed.

Three. Two. One...

Sena was off.

And Ren took after him.

/To be continued/