Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.
Long Pass: Proposal
Every year on White Day, he made her a creampuff.
It was spectacularly unfair, but Hiruma Yoichi was a Renaissance man.
Seriously. He was able to process numbers (particularly counting odds and remembering combinations) with computer-like speed and accuracy, recall volumes of history well enough to twist them to his advantage, and was fluent in multiple languages. He could plan twenty moves ahead of everyone else, yet could also revise and improvise on the fly. No computer system was safe from his hacking skills, and no mind was safe from his psychological warfare. He wasn't all brain either-while he didn't have the superhuman athleticism of Agon, Shin or even Sena, Hiruma could still keep up with the best of them through sheer strength of will. He could also use pretty much every firearm or explosive known to man, and could shoot almost as well as Kid, who was a former potential Olympian.
He was even fairly artistic, which was particularly galling to Mamori. He made all the little player figurines they used in the clubhouse himself, drew all those demented animations, and even shot, cut, and edited that 2 minute video taunt to the NASA Aliens in the space of a single afternoon.
It was honestly harder to list the things that he couldn't do than he could, and that list was mostly just things that he didn't feel was worth the bother of learning.
Like cooking. Mamori wasn't sure why-after all, he often mixed his own explosives and cooking was just another kind of chemistry-but something didn't connect. Maybe it was his habit of seeing any flame short of a great conflagration as weak and attempting to boost it with grenades. But, in his opinion, food was boring. It was fuel and nothing else.
However, every year on White Day, he made her a creampuff.
It was tradition. He could have just as easily gotten her one from Kariya, but he always took the time to make it himself. Mamori wasn't sure why, other than it was one thing that he did manage to cook without blowing anything up or burning it beyond recognition. The taste didn't get any better from the first one, she had to admit, but it was their quirky little tradition and she always finished every bite.
Their senior year of college, they were sitting in the club office, watching game videos again as usual. Not really what most people would think of as a romantic White Day date, but then most people weren't Anezaki Mamori or Hiruma Yoichi. It helped that Hiruma had added a couch after their freshmen year, and it was still chilly enough that Mamori was justified in curling up close to his side. She was eating the creampuff that Hiruma had given her that morning and was in the middle of pointing out something in the footage when her fork hit something hard.
Now, given Hiruma's lack of culinary skills, perhaps this might not have been all that unexpected. But even though her boyfriend had managed to burn water on one memorable occasion, he at least knew that the center of the puff should be soft. Frowning, Mamori dug around a little with her fork until she hooked the object and fished it out.
Little clouds of cream still decorated the curved edges, but the thing at the end of her fork was instantly recognizable. Mamori's mouth dropped open as she stared at it and then at the spiky haired blond on the other side of it.
He grinned at her. "Find something?"
Mamori pointed, finger shaking. "Is that-"
He stared at her. "What the fuck do you mean, really?"
"I mean, this isn't a joke, is it?"
He glared at her. "The hell? Of course not!"
"Then say it."
"I just want to make sure that I understand you correctly," Mamori said primly. "If it's not a joke, then I want you to say it."
Hiruma threw up his hands in exasperation. "You have got to be shitting me." Sliding off the couch, he got down on one knee and said, "Anezaki Mamori, will you marry me-"
Mamori couldn't take it anymore and tackled him. After an interesting interlude on the floor where she thoroughly apologized for teasing him, she slid the still creamy ring on her finger. "You should have seen your face!" she giggled, looking down at him from her spot on his chest.
"You're evil, damn it."
She flicked his nose. "I take that as a compliment, coming from you. How long have you been planning that?"
"What, that long? Really?"
She was about to flick his nose again when he grabbed her hand and demonstrated why it wasn't good to tease the Evil Quarterback of Saikyodai too much. When he finished with the kiss, Mamori was on her back and her face was flushed.
He snickered. "At least that long. I've been thinking about it ever since high school."
She reached up and ran her hands through his hair. "Then why'd you wait?"
He shrugged. "Had to get the timing right." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Now, to making this fucking clear...you do say yes, right?"
Mamori raised herself up on her elbows, offended. "Yoichi-"
He mimicked her earlier tone. "I just want to make sure I understand you correctly-"
She reached out and kissed him long and deep. "Yes, Yoichi. Yes, I'll marry you and be with you until the end of time."
He kissed her back. "Good. Because I won't let you go even then."
Thank you everyone! You are all the best for following me and my little stories all this time. I have some ideas for a third part, but for now the muse needs some much deserved rest. :)