Disclaimer: I don't own Eyeshield 21, the original creators do. /Sulks/ And I detest that the manga was taken down from the internet!
Summary: AU: Sena is a girl who struggles with living in poor district and earning money for medics for her sick mother. One day, a Devil sees her running, and from here on, it is history… Or is it?
Shout Out: Well, well, my writing binge finally got me into Eyeshield waters… again. Anyway, this is similar to Kobayashi Maru, only this isn't written on the prompt, but more like a collection of short – unfinished stories. Plotbunny had bit me, and I wrote this. So, I apologize for any confusion and inconsistences.
Warnings: AU, Sena is girl, crude language, mention of sex (non-consencual, and semi-consencual), Sena with many boys – Sena/Shin, Sena/ Yamato, Sena/Kakei, Sena/Marco, Sena/Akaba, and oh yeah, liberties with World Youth Championship ending – and Hiruma's cursing. Sena is disguised as a boy for the sake of the game here!
Shiverng, 'he' was exposed wide, as 'he' was on all fours, 'his' last secret shown to the world.
»Find the bitch ASAP,« he snarled our, his watery eyes sharp with urgency and greed. »We can NOT afford the revolt, and if they want to have a bitch, they would get a bitch,« he snapped out, irritated. »Find her, NOW!«
The matches were brutal, and in every match there was some poor fool that thought he was invincible. But against those monsters…
They were monsters. Strong, almost insanely so, fast, but most of all, these monsters were clever.
WK40 was one of the strongest in his class. Trained to perfection and with an inhuman focus on his goal – to improve himself. His signature move, Spear Tackle, was a thing to be feared… sadly, he wasn't interested in females.
BS21 had his own rhythm. Women usually overlooked his obsession with music, too busy admiring his red eyes and hair. His defense, Spider Poison, was thought to be invincible. Until she came, and his rhythm got a whole new cadence.
KP40 was said to be in league with BS21 and WK40. He was tall and he utilized his height, much to his opponents' chagrin. But one opponent changed it all.
HD40 was enamoured with one of his regular clients. However, he soon became intrigued with her…
And the rest, as he'd say, was history.
SN01 was a known womanizer and heart-breaker. He was also a leg man an this little trash had a fine pair of 'em, too. It didn't hurt that the trash had somehow – by sheer dumb luck – defeated him.
TA21 was curious. The lucky streak of this unknown player was unheard of, and so, he spent night upon night watching the recorded matches on his vid-screen. He watched how the player ran, evolved and always with that signature green eyeshield covering his face on the helmet.
Her scent was peculiar, they noted. It was leather and sweat, with a dash of underlying smoke and fich scent of ramen stand and something uniquely her. The women that chased after them were always richly perfumed, floral scents mixing with those of spices – and yet, that scent of downtown city, stale sweat and leather with hint of fresh grass attracted them more than anything.
All of it had gone to hell – the day when he accidentally spotted 'him'. Her. The fucking shrimp was fast, and he was always on the hunt for new victims – err, talents. She needed money to support her family – her mother was sick and father had a low-paying job, so it was a logical choice at the moment.
And so, she wrote her soul to the devil.
'He' was thrown in to dark, dingy room to change clothes. 'He' was a bit clumsy and whined about protective gear. It was stiff, heavy and it chafed at 'his' skin. It was quite comical sight, as even the smallest set hang off of him pathetically. From now on, 'he' was a number 21, under the DD district.
Whatever that meant.
District KC was pathetic. Even more so than DD… and that was saying something. 'He ' adjusted his eyeshield and gulped. Here he went… but why did it felt as if he was going to his execution instead?
ZC district was distinctly more threatening. But Sena was used to it anyway – she had seen worse, and it would take a lot more than some scary-looking punks to get her off of the game.
He met a peculiar person today. Just like him, this person was running, the footsteps were swift and light, and what was important – they held his running pace, which was no mean feat. Even his colleague – Sakuraba – had trouble doing that, although the blond was no slouch in training. It was just… there was just too big of a gap between them. Sakuraba may have been praised in his own right, but Shin was acknowledged as a monster of his class.
It had been said: 'Beware if running with monsters, else you will be mistaken for one.' And she experienced the truth of this particular adage in all it's meanings. Since she managed to score a touchdown right under the WK40's nose, and later on, she had won confrontations with BS21, KP40 and HD40, she was catalogued as one of the most wanted player, and also, she was labelled as one of the 'monster' class, despite the untruth of that particular statement.
The stats were baffling. Or better, the lack of the stats. This player… DD21, or something, had nothing. No power, no tactics, no any particular skill as a receiver, and by all rights, he shouldn't have existed in this… whatever it was. His running power was classed as average, and many thought it was a joke. It didn't make a sense, damn it!
The money helped; they could buy medicine for her mother now, without having to almost starve for a month to save up the money. Sena didn't tell her parents about her… activities, she told them she was working part time as a gopher. Of course, they were concerned, but they couldn't do much about that. They knew, only too well, how much they needed that money…
It was strange, not even so-called high society knew anything about the shrimp. This was very unusual; usually, there would be a small gossip about such a star, and his… proclivities in bed.
They were labelled as great sportsmen; but in truth, they were some hybrids between gladiators, slaves and entertainment. Their… owners, so to speak, could sell their time and seed to wealthy people – usually women, who desired their presence and other- talents. It wasn't strictly illegal, but it was still done discreetly. They were breeding stallions, for the lack of better word, if the occasion called for it.
He followed rumors. And the rumors indicated that the player was spotted in DD district, THE worst district to live in. This particular district was also lovingly nicknamed 'Hell', and he could easily see why. No canalisation to speak about, the slums were filthy, dirty beyond words. There were knife fights, prostitutes even as young as eleven year old girls, and in the air hung that bitter scent of smoke and despair. He was shaken at the depravity and disorder of it all. It was so different from the high – class place he lived in, that this Hell district may as well be on the other planet, for all he knew. Unknowingly to him, a knife glinted in the dark, prepared to…. Take the intruder out.
Gentle brown eyes widened at the glint of steel, and she sprang ont action. Before she even knew it, she bowled the young man over, right into the foul-smelling puddle of excrements and various other substances. And right on time, too; a second later, and the knife would have found its' mark between the ribs of the ignorant idiot.
He smelled foul, and was dirty beyond recognition. But his attention was on a young girl who had saved him, and right now, she was quietly eating her helping of ramen. She was small, skinny and clothed in too big dirty clothes. He couldn't believe that such a tiny girl had saved him - and berated him on his idiocy of going into 'Hell' without someone to guard his back.
That barrel… was familiar. Fast, and it had rammed the breath of his lungs, and the weight was surprisingly light for a player who bowled him with such a force. The scent, however, was not. It was clean – except for sweat, leather and fresh grass, and Marco almost regretted that there wasn't ramen and smoke scent mixed in.
Aquamarine eyes narrowed at the trembling girl. Big brown eyes looked anywhere else but at him, and he found that action disconcerting. Usually, women looked at him with admiration love and lust, but this little slip of a girl looked as if she would be rather anywhere else but with him. And for some reason, that didn't settle well with Kakei.
She stiffened a sob. She was naked, helpless and at mercy of… them. She didn't want that. Never. She had been stripped of her clothes, quickly and efficiently, as gray eyes watched her body shamelessly, leering gaze halting on her legs with a hot stare. In that moment, she cursed herself for being a girl; and even more so, for accepting that devil contract.
The girl in front of him was clearly terrified, he noted. She couldn't be called a woman, hell, even calling her bitch wouldn't be appropriate. She was small, tiny really. She barely had breasts, an A-cup by his calculations, her face was plain, but by God, her legs were divine. Just like those of a certain infuriating Eyeshield player. Agon licked his lips hunglirly. Oh yes, she would be a treat.
She was tight. Tighter than any woman he had slept with. Even after four men - she still felt like a virgin, her hot, silky sheath inviting him in, making his body crazy for hers. He felt a pang of guilt for using her, but those thoughts flew out of his brain at the luxurious feeling of being within her. Yamato closed his eyes and moved again.
She was terrified. Her body was doing – something, and she didn't have any control over, and she didn't like it! Oh, she knew what it was – but still! She had imagined she would give her body to someone special – but not like that! Not to them – and not like a whore –
He was fascinated with her rhythm. She rode him, softly, gently, her eyelashes wet with tears, and her face flushed with exertion. She trembled on his lap, too ashamed to look at him, gently biting her lower lip, as her hands were timidly clenched on his shoulders. Her scent was a symphony of their combined sweat, smoke and grass, stained with their personal nuances of rich, brand name washing gels and shampoos. And yet, underneath it all, Akaba smelled something primal, something that told him to claim this woman-child and keep her with him forever.
He kissed her. Not that he handn't kissed many women, but kissing her was differrent. It was clumsy, her lips were wet with saliva of his rivals and her own, and dimly, he remembered something about kissing with many partners being unhygienic – but strangely, he didn't care. Her taste was a conglomerate of wine and mint and stale ramen, and he didn't mind it. Shin kissed her, and for him, it was perfect.
They were stamina freaks. They exhausted her, and now, she was nestled in their midst. Sweaty and soaked in their cum and her own juices. Her body ached with exertion and she had no doubt her muscles will be, come morning, incredibly stiff and sore. And then, she closed her eyes. Just for a minute, she told herself. Instead of that, she drifted off into deep sleep.
With a small twitch, she was awake. She was still entangled in the mass of bodies – and then she remembered. Now widely awake, she wanted nothing more than to go away and forget that night. She was ashamed of herself. How could she surrended so easily? Was she really just a whore? Tears gathered in her eyes, and she gulped.
She quickly donned on her clothes, not caring about washing herself off. Trembling, she hastily wrapped a black scarf around her head, leaving only eyes free to look out. And then, she sneaked out, despite of her protesting muscles, leaving behind noting that would indicate she had ever been there.
Amber eyes blinked sleepily as Yamato stretched and yawned, a small smile oh his face. The last night was fantastic and he would like to make a repeat –
He nearly screamed his head off as he finally comprehended that he was sleeping with… Them.
She wasn't here. And he was pissed. She had been a damned good lay and she dared to sneak out on him. Agon growled. Oh, Hell, no. That just didn't happen. He wanted his bitch back – and pronto.
His rhythm was off. He snapped at his team mates. He ceased to play guitar. He refused to take clients. At training he was an absolute beast.
Those days, it wasn't a wise choice to tease or threaten Marco. Even Gaou was tiptoeing around him, and that was saying something.
Usually, Kakei was patient. But not right now. Mizumachi had crossed the line and suffered the consequences. Just because he dared to ask why was Kakei whining over her.
Shin… had found his sadistic side. Or so it seemed. It went so far that nobody wanted to train with him – not even Ootawara, and he was pretty easy to con into training with Shin. (Translation: He was dumb enough – and strong enough to do it.) Good thing was, that Shin finally completed Spear Tackle, but…His Spear Tackle was bad. Trident Tackle was worse. Shin in his foul mood was absolute worst.
She ran home with all of her speed, not caring that she could be recognised as Eyeshield, or that her body was fiercely protesting at the torture she was putting it through. When she was home, she immediately went under shower, to rinse away the reminders of that shameful night. Trembling, she collapsed under the hot spray of water, hugging herself weakly. She felt so… dirty.
It was Christmas Bowl. She was sick and her montly blood was late; not that it had been regular in the first place. But she knew there was a high chance she could be pregnant. 'He' looked into the mirror. 'His' face was pale and 'he' had a dark circles under the dull-looking eyes. 'He' wasn't looking his best, and 'he' knew it. But this was the last match and 'he' would play. 'He' had to.
With clumsy fingers, 'he' rechecked his protective gear, 'his' mind curiously numb.
It was time.
They stared at each other. He, tall and strong in black and gold colours of TA district, and her, in scruffy red and white of DD district. The clash of Heaven and Hell was finally here.
He had been pressed to unseal his right hand; something that until now, he never had to do. He smiled an ironic smirk. This shrimp was good.
But he was better.
He had sealed all her moves. He was… simply too good. Green eyeshield stared blanky at him, as she exhaled sharply.
No. Not yet.
Fourth dimension. Time. She totally surprised him – and proved just why she was worthy of running with monsters. But both of them knew - it was just a matter of time.
Grey eyes widened at the shrimpy trash's move. Hoo… tricking that Teikoku bastard like that… the trash sure had guts. Agon grinned a shark smik. But that move would be absolutely useless against him…
'He' didn't feel well. In fact, 'his' tomach began to hurt and cramp something terrible. And 'his' vision swam. That slam Yamato had done on him really did a number. Supressing 'his' groan, 'he' slowly shook 'his' head, focusing on the game with a sheer willpower.
Twenty minutes and thirty-nine seconds to go…
He watched the Eyeshield player sharply. Something was wrong. His rhythm was out of whack and-
Something nagged in the back of his brain. Akaba growled impatiently, startling Koutarou.
This…. Eyeshield person was confusing. Extremely weak and overwhelmingly strong. It baffled Shin. The player was small – smaller than anyone in the league, slender and just so easy to crush – and yet, the same player rose up, again and again, each and every time stronger than before.
And his body type was disturbingly similar to that of his mysterious jogging partner.
Get past him. You did it once, you can do it again. Biting back a whimper at the steadily growing pain in her lower abdomen, she had an insane idea.
Yes. That would work.
It just had to.
He was totally sure he had him. That he would intercept the Fourth Dimension Run – but he should have expected it.
The Fourth Dimension Devilbat Run.
He stuttered to a halt, not believing his eyes.
And then, it was already too late, and it was over.
Kakei gaped. This was… insane. To see anyone invent that kind of run… He supressed a shiver. This Eyeshield kid was definitely a monster.
He was zeroed on stopping the kick, when a slender body slammed into his. He staggered minutely, before the other redskins joined the first.
Shocked, he inhaled the scent, looking into the gray sky, his hands unconsciously clutching the light player to himself. And there it was. The scent of leather, smoke, sweat, fresh grass and… ramen.
She was numb. Belatedly, she sensed warm, smooth sheets and then, darkness took her again.
She was just so tired…
The price for the victory of DD district was steep, Hiruma was one of the first that would acknowledge the fact. Training in hellish circumstances and going against the monster class, being Hiruma's pillar for games and it was a wonder the shrimp had even lasted for so long.
He waited. He still couldn't believe that she was the Eyeshield – that she was the one he had so frantically searched for after that night. He looked at her thin, pale face and winced. She was so light… like a small bird. He wanted – and at the same time, feared – for her to wake up. Gently, he held her hand, small and pale and rough with callouses, unlike his smooth palm. He didn't want her to go away. That one time was enough.
Waking up was the hardest. Her limbs were heavy, like lead and they were curiously desensitized to commands of her brain. With a herculean effort, she finally managed to open her eyes.
And instantly wished she hadn't.
The moment he heard her whimper, he took her hand. Tensely, he watched her fragile eyelids flutter open, revealing soft, chocolate brown orbs. He opened his mouth to call her, but before he could do that, those doe-like eyes zeroed on him, and she tensed.
Just her luck. Inwardly, she groaned. She just had to collapse at the end of the game, had to be carted off into the hospital – and by the looks of it, she was in the rich sector – and the first thing she saw when she woke up for the first time, it was one of them.
They visited her daily. No matter if she was asleep or awake, they were here. And no amount of polite refusals or outright rebuffing made them change their minds. Sena could scream with frustration – if only she weren't feeling so, so hollow.
Luckily, her secret was just that – a secret. Although she had officially became a top player of the season, and the monetary matters were smoothed out – she just wished to get out of there and drown in the crowd.
He visited her. She seemed to be so tiny, as if she were still a child. But that wasn't true – she was a woman who competed against men in a brutal sport, and lost her unborn child. Whose soft eyes were now resolute and, dare he say, stubborn? He knew, if she had a choice, she wouldn't come near them in any way, shape or form after that… incident. Pity for her – because they wanted her, and intended to get her.
He had been stumped with the discovery of her being the Eyeshield. He should have known; there were not many people who could keep with and surpass his running. But right now, he had another dilemma on his hands – how the heck could he convince her to stay with him?
She wanted to scream with frustration. Why, oh why didn't those stubborn arses get it? She wanted to be left alone – meaning – no visits from them, no baskets of fruit, flowers or plush animals and absolutely NO visits from them! Or phone calls.
Or anything else.
They glared at each other. Usually, they came at different hours, but right now, that was not the case.
Amber clashed wirh steely gray eyes.
A cocky, bloodthirsty grin.
»Aah? And what are YOU doing here, thrash?« Agon drawled out, an insane smirk plastered on his face.
'Must resist plowing him with Caesar Charge.'
She was happily surprised with the visit of her parents.
Aquamarine eyes watched the elderly pair embracing their daugther solemnly, noting the modest clothes and tired faces. But what hurt the most was Sena's heartfelt joy and effortless communication between the three of them.
The rehabilitation was hard. She had to strenghten her muscles and learn to walk again – apparently he last stunt had burned out the muscles. Or something like that. She had thought that she would have peace from them then – but that were only pipe dreams.
He caught her again. It was torture, watching her going through the training regime. She was still thin, but less so than she had been before. Her body was pleasantly warm and soft, and he could feel the rhythm of her heart. And in that moment, he wished – more than anything – that she would never leave him again.
She looked at the eyeshield in her hands silently. The smooth green, see-through and yet opaque surface had brought her so much joy and grief…
But now, it was time to move on. Smiling, she left it on the bed, along with a letter.
They were too late. Again. But this time, they at least had a name to the face that would haunt their thoughts.
Unbelievably, but she missed the bastards. True, their meetings were less than ideal, they stole her innocence and were downright beasts on the field, but – somehow, she couldn't imagine her life without them.
She gulped. Heaven help her, but somehow, she had fallen in love.
A match against USA. Quietly, they entered the dressing room; by some silent agreement, it was decided to give the five of them some space after the disastrous second quarter. Despite of their best efforts, the Pentagram was overwhelmingly strong, with the Patrick Spencer – Panther – leading the spearhead that made the Team Japan writhe with agony.
They heard a shuffle – someone was there. And there it was – a small, frail form, long legs clad in white breeches that accentuated their smooth, powerful lines, with a white undershirt and black protection gear that hugged tender feminine curves.
Nervously, she looked over her shoulder, pale cheeks pink with nervous shyness. »Um… Hi?« She squeaked out, before she was ensconed in a laughing, talking, yelling mass of bodies arms and voices and warmth.
The blond Hell Commander smirked when he heard the ruckus in their changing room. »Um…. Hiruma-san?« Mamori asked the grinning devil hesitantly. »Shouldn't we begin to - ?« Hiruma motioned her to be silent. »No need, fucking manager,« he answered, puzzling her greatly. »I have all cards… and it's fucking time to break the fucking Pentagram once and for all.« The wild light in his eyes made Team Japan perk up.
»Despite of having been overwhelmingly trounced by Pentagram of USA, with score of 96-25 in favour of USA, Team Japan is still going strong and… what is this - ?« The announcer blinked at the ruckus on the Japanese side of the field. »They are switching the players – number 21 subbing in for number 49 and – Is that a joke?« The announcer croaked, as the small form high-fived the exhausted former ZC captain. »Do they really think that this shrimp will make any difference?«
Hiruma grinned. »Keke. Then if it's a joke, it on you, fucking Pentagram. So… shall we?«
Panther was happy. Why shouldn't he be – he played for USA, he was one of the strongest in Pentagram, and practically nobody could stop him. However, that happiness was short lived when he saw number 21 entering the field. Black eyes bugged out. »H - Him again?« He croaked out, his voice shaking. Clifford narrowed his eyes. »Are you afraid of the shrimp, Panther?« He asked the trembling star running back coolly. Panther nodded. »Yes,« he answered truthfully. » And you should be, too. If you thought Hiruma was difficult before… well, with him on the field, he's practically invincible.« Clifford stared. Then scoffed. »With that shrimp? Panther, you are delusional.« Panther sighed. »it's on your own head; just don't come to bawlin' to me later cos' I did warn you.« He snapped his helmet on his head. »I went against Eyeshield 21… and lemme tell ya, he ain't no joke."
Clifford stared. This was… unbelievable! When that shrimp had appeared on the field, in the middle of the star players of Team Japan, he had thought there was some sort of a sick joke being played on them. Surely nobody was crazy enough to let that kid play – they would break him in two! But looking at their reactions – Yamato was beaming, Agon was grinning his most bloodthirsty grin, aside from Hiruma's, Shin had his hand on the shrimp's shoulder and Shin was not a touchy-feely person by any extension – Akaba was smirking, and Kakei was smiling and talking to the shrimp as if - ! »Any information on the Eyeshield 21?« He asked their secretary quietly. She typed something on her laptop, and blinked. »Nothing, sir. Except that he had appeared on the field almost a year ago, his nickname and the previous club – nothing. No stats, no techniques, no rankings – it is as if he were a ghost in the shell.« Clifford was beginning to have a bad feeling. »And his club was – » » - DD, or Deimon Devilbats, sir. Captain Hiruma Youichi.« Clifford swallowed. But he pushed his feeling back. After all, if Hiruma hadn't managed to push him back with the best of Japan, what change would one measly player made… and so late in the game, anyway?
The Pentagram was crushed. And the first tear into the shining star of USA was torn by the means of delicate form of the Japanese running back number 21 with the green eyeshield on his helmet. And the first to go, was Panther. And later on, the newspapers said: "You haven't seen running, until you saw Eyeshield 21 on the field. "
Morgan stared at the field hungrily. Oh yeah. That Eyeshield 21 kid would definitely be snatched into his club. Running backs such as him came only one in hundred years, and this time, Morgan would be lucky one to have such a legend in his club. »Come to Papa, darling chihuahua,« he muttered lovingly, creeping out his fellow judges.
Don stared at the tiny Japanese running back in front of him with a bloodthirsty grin on his face. »so sad, too bad you won't get up from that one, kid,« as he prepared to crush him. The next moment, he was staring into the eyes of two enraged team mates of the mentioned kid. »So sad, too bad,« Yamato mocked back, his grin absolutely terrifying »That you are absolutely out of luck today, neh?« Agon finished Yamato's sentence before they chorused – »THUNDERDOME!« And the next second, Don felt a double pain in his solar plexus and shoulders, as he was staring into the wide blue sky, gasping for air. Eyeshield scored a touchdown… Without trouble.
The final score was uncredible 96-204, in favor of Team Japan. The Pentagram was positively trampled in that match, and the sport experts were baffled. America had everything – better training conditions, superb players, home turf advantage, and yet – some no-name, first generation team trounced them as if they were mere children against the rising tide from the land of rising sun.
Morgan coughed. »Ah… and as promised, the MVP of the first world championship is… Eyeshield 21!«
The crowd roared in appreciation, many of the participating teams curious about the mysterious Lightspeeed. Sena chuckled against Agon's chest – Agon shuddered at the delicate sound and the caress of the soft exhalation pressing against his shirt and warming his skin. Yamato squeezed her hip gently, while smirking at her impishly. »Ready to shake 'em down?« He asked slyly. Sena looked at them affectionately. »Yeah.« She stood up gracefully, undaunted by the flashlights and the roar of the crowd.
»In the name of Eyeshield 21, I would like to thank you for choosing him. But…« She paused, her soft eyes lighting up with a mischievous light. »Mr. Eyeshield also requested me to tell you... that he's retiring.« Cue bugged out eyes.
Sena could help herself but chuckle when Hiruma staggered on the floor to receive the jersey of Armadillos, and Agon looked positively stumped, when she announced the monetary reward was bequeathed to him. Now she knew why Hiruma loved to mess with people's heads. It was fun!
In the annals of Worldwide American Football, there were many names written with golden ink, as to highlight their importance and achievements in that sport. But not many shone so brightly – and for so long – than Eyeshield 21, a mythical runner that was said to surpass the best of all times, Patrick Spencer – Panther. Later, when his career was in sundown, many asked Mr. Panther whether Eyeshield was a myth or not. Mr Panther confirmed the existence of that incredible player, but no amount of wheedling, begging or outright demands made him reveal their identity. Some tried to search for him, but to no avail. The captain of Team Japan, Hiruma Youichi, nicknamed also 'Hell Commander', did not disclose anything paramount to revelation of the man behind the eyeshield.
She chuckled as she waited on them. »But Mo – om!« Amaya whined, her bottom lip quivering as she panted with the effort. »That was so NOT fair!« She squeaked as she was lifted into the warm embrace of – »Papa!« She yelped, her amber eyes huge. »Oh, I think it was way fair, princess," Yamato teased her. »You had ten seconds before your mommy began to run and – « »Give it up, sis, Mama is still the best, » Yukio countered, a small smirk on his handsome face, as he tossed his blueish black mane back on his back. He was a miniature Gaou, only smaller, cuter and without scars. The kid adored Gaou for some reason, much to Kakei's consternation and Agon's amusement. Amaya pouted. »Meanie!« She grumbled out. Yukio smirked. »Slow poke!« He teased back, as Amaya screeched with rage. The main ambition of the seven year old girl was to surpass her idol, the Eyeshield 21. She was always incredibly fast runner, and so there was no greater insult for her than slowpoke. She was proud of her speed, damn it! Yukio smirked, and pounced on Shin's back, making the man grunt slightly. »Dad! Wrestle with me?« He asked, puppy eyes in full effect. Sena sputtered. »Seijuro! Don't you dare - !« Her calls fell on deaf ears, as Shin nodded, a small smirk on his face. Akaba passed the fuming Sena little Sora, before she was tugged into Marco's lap. »Give it up, Sena-chan,« Marco chuckled, his eyes merry. »Boys will be boys.« Sena sighed and pouted, before she melted into Akaba's kiss.
Hell yeah, life was good –
»Uncle Hiruma!« Amaya screeched joyfully. Groaning, Sena fought the urge to facepalm. But she could do better, if her little daughter wouldn't worship the blond devil so much!
(Last she checked – when Amaya was five years old, the little amber eyed girl with Sena's face and hair announced that she would marry Hiruma. And apparently, this crush still held on strong, much to Agon's horror. Yamato was too wrapped up around Amaya's little pinky finger to care.)
The waves were lapping against the beach sand gently.
Yes, life was good.