In which everyone gets some form of satisfaction and internal crisis. Welcome to this 16K word hot mess.

WARNING: this chapter contains some description of body horror and gore. Not sure how bad it is but like heads up.

Shin was now entering the match. Shin, who was previously known to put players into the hospital. Shin, who was staring at Sena like he was peeling layers of skin and muscle tissue off, layer by layer.

Sena wonders if this is the moment of revelation. The moment where he fully understood that today, today is the day they put his burning and breathing corpse into the ground where it belonged.

For a moment, the air now seemed too hot. A stark contrast to the icy cold heat stroke he felt a mere half hour ago.

He realized he was staring back at Shin with almost blank intensity when a hand smacked his shoulder. Ow.

"Earth to shrimp, get your head in the game!" Sena snapped his head back at the quarterback and nodded his head. Maybe it's the sudden revelation that's put Sena into a near soundless state. Or was he doing something else? "Whatever. Focus, you hear?"

Sena took a deep breath before exhaling. Okay, yeah, he could do that. He'll breathe. It was worrisome that he realized he was going to die right now and yet he was almost stone cold in terms of feeling.

---

Hiruma has never seen point blank disassociation but it was fucking eerie when the shrimp did it.

One minute he was standing like a normal person then suddenly going ram-rod straight like he was electrocuted. The look in his eyes- eyes blown open, pupil the size of a pin and starkly bright eyes- was either a show of cold bloodlust or the revelation of a life time. What the fuck. What sort of fucking effect did Shin have on the midget?

Fuck it, they'll figure it out.

And so Hiruma started yelling pass plans. That was a fat fucking lie, of course, but if it managed to throw the Knights off just a little then it worked. If it got Sena out of that ghostly silent phase he had, staring at him like he was the asshole of the century, then it worked.

And it fucking worked.

Back was the shitty little midget who was now shivering from either fear or adrenaline and Otawara was a fucking dumbass.

"You're gonna break through the center." He whispered to the runningback.

"What? Shin's going to be guarding the middle! I'll get killed!"

"That's only if he gets you."

"But!"

"Repeat what I just said."

"Shin will kill me." Hiruma resisted to urge to slam his hand against his face. A few screws loose to the point of falling out, that's what this idiot had. A sudden look of understanding went over him. "If he gets me. So I need to dodge him as much as I can."

"See? Not hard to understand."

"Okay but what happens if he does get me?"

"He'll tackle you."

"And then I'll die." That's when Hiruma's hand did collide with his face.

"He's put people in the hospital, not killed them. If he did, he wouldn't be fucking playing. Or even in school as a matter of fact. He'd be in fucking juvenile detention. Does that man look like he's been to prison?!"

"No, but I am nothing more than a soft bag of muscle and meat which happens to move at lightspeed." Sena gestured from his shoulders to his knees repeatedly, hands shaking wildly. "He's going to smear my guts across the field. I'll die."

That put a disgusted sneer on Hiruma's face. There was something unsettling and wrong with the idea of the shrimp dying to him. Or how convinced he was that the minute Shin touches him, he'll explode like a god-forsaken meat grenade.

First the welcome entrance into the match, then the absolutely messed up way he acted, seemingly becoming a rapid monster of speed and then back to a fish with no bones. Kobayakawa Sena didn't have a pattern in behavior which was a show of either four separate personalities fighting for control or the Oujo were showing signs of behavior, familiar behavior, which caused him to act on impulse, instincts and habit. Fight or flight response, except for the midget it was fight, flight or both at the same time.

Hiruma's hands were itching to get to those tape archives he had.

"Listen, you know those braces on the gear? That's your armor, it doesn't matter if Shin has a jackhammer for an arm, that's the thing keeping your bones from breaking as long as you dodge correctly. You're not gonna die." You're safe. "So don't worry about it." So tell me what happened.

"Now move your ass before I actually consider ending Shin's career with a crime scene."

Sena went quiet, tense shoulders loosening. Almost as if a connection was made. A cut off string connecting to another.

"Alright. I'll leave my life in your hands..." Something inside Hiruma clicked, as if a switch was flipped.

For a moment, he felt aware of the grass under his feet, the birds in the air, the footsteps and vibrations in the ground. And it was gone in the next.

Hiruma brushed it off.

---

Shin was excited. Incredibly excited. Well, he couldn't call it excitement, when it was more anticipation.

He was placed out of the line and closer to the touchdown line.

A higher likelihood of a stand-off with Eyeshield. It made him impatient. Giddy. In all the years that he'd been playing in the field of sports, many had challenged him. They came with bravado, achievements and zealous pride. Only to walk away with fear and apprehension at the end of the match.

Not Eyeshield. Not him. Not with the cold intensity of his gaze, with the pinpoint accuracy of it, like someone zeroing in on a person in a crowd. His orange eyes had caught his in less than a second and the sheer aura of killing intent oozing from them made Shin's muscles tense up.

He felt like there was a similar streak between Eyeshield and Kongo Agon from Shinryuji. Not in terms of personality or performance- Agon was a monster of a player in either, Eyeshield seemed less confrontational and more flexible in both- but in the way when they saw something they wanted to fight, they zero in on it and don't let go.

But Eyeshield was no Agon. Eyeshield was a whole different breed of a monster that Shin, much to the horror of Sakuraba, was hellbent on facing.

Shin couldn't wait for the referee to finally begin.

"HUT!" And there was the sound that made Shin dig his feet into the ground. Just as Eyeshield ran to his right, Shin's eyes were glued on him. But then he saw the line.

There were three people so-

Eyeshield was going to break through the center and run straight at him, in full velocity. The undivided attention made Shin feel a little unhinged. Eyeshield runs with a speed so ridiculous it gives him the impression that he had wings.

Or rather, Eyeshield went through the center but not the part of the center where Shin was. Then maybe he's challenging him in both speed and ability?

Shin's head snapped to where Eyeshield and the lineman 77 were running. Who was Shin if he were to let them pass? Nobody.

Not this time.

He ran at Eyeshield and 77, before the lineman ran at him to attempt to block him. Kurita Ryokan, his mind supplied. His spirit and determination was fitting for a lineman. But Shin had a mountain of that more.

'Get out of my way.'

He ran past Ryokan with ease. His eyes settled on Eyeshield. There was a manic, somewhat crazed laugh that escaped him. Was it disbelief? Or was it delirious satisfaction?

Either way, Shin wanted to see just who this person is.

Just how fast is he. Just how stubborn is he. Just how much does he want to get under Shin's skin.

There was a part of him that steeled himself, telling him that he was a knight of the kingdom and he would not let anything pass. But there was another, more sinister albeit smaller part that wanted him to get under Eyeshield's skin just as much as he did with his.

Shin pushed that part down as he ran at Eyeshield. Eyeshield ran towards him in return.

And suddenly Shin's brain cuts off all the noise in the world, leaving a ringing vacuum of air.

The world is going too fast and too slow at the same time. He vaguely remembered how Sakuraba once ate several mints and peppers at the same time, screaming on about how "this is what hellfire tastes like".

Then, Shin thought, this is what space felt like.

Just as Eyeshield got nearer and nearer, Shin suddenly started seeing doubles.

There were now two Eyeshields, both giving the impression that they're about to run in the opposite directions. Two clones, both with bright orange eyes stare into his soul and Shin, for a split second, wondered if this was how people felt when they went braindead.

Shin's brain can't keep up with his eyes and the conclusion that he was seeing a mirage came only once Eyeshield was a foot away from him.

In half a second, Shin's brain shut down, turned on and reeboted itself in that very order. In half a second, his reflexes went into overdrive as his body did a one-eighty turn, arm hooking itself around Eyeshield's ribcage.

His hand dug into his side and Shin expects the familiar creek of armor against his strength, the stubborn push of ribs against his hand.

It never came.

The world suddenly goes into slow-motion.

Shin's always been aware of his ridiculous strength. He's not tech-savvy and ends up breaking every piece of technology he touches. Spoons and utensils bend under his grip if he squeezes them too hard. Sometimes he even broke lockers from one motion done too hard.

He's aware that he has incredible strength. American football is the one field in his life where he can use it freely, without worrying about using too much of it. It's the one field where he felt comfortable with his strength.

Until it isn't.

Instead his hand pressed further and further into Eyeshield's side, to the point where Shin wondered when is it going to stop. Instead, Shin's hand feels Eyeshield's heart. It's so close, so damningly close that Shin almost feels the organ beat against the skin, against his hand in a wild rhythm.

A flash of cold fear shoots through Shin. Where was the gear that kept the players from injuring themselves and where were Eyeshield's bones?

And then they land on the ground.

It's barely a fraction of a second of them lying together when Shin let go of Eyeshield and got off the ground. He stares. Eyeshield shook his head, as if to shake off a headache. There's a momentary hiss from his mouth and Shin can no longer see his eyes.

He's alive. Eyeshield is alive and Shin had gone into a new form of a nightmare in exactly one second.

Shin doesn't know who to thank because he had wholeheartedly believed he broke right through Eyeshield's gear and nearly crushed his bones into dust.

Eyeshield gets up along with him with a groan, winding his left hand up and down as if to test something. Did he dislocate his arm?

Their eyes meet and Shin realized he was staring.

"..."

"..."

The silence is almost deafening. And then Eyeshield spoke.

"That was-" He coughed before lowering his voice. "That was a solid tackle. Haven't felt that much fear of death in months."

What?

"That's- that's probably not ideal." Shin spoke without thinking. Eyeshield seems to have gotten the gist of it and his entire body language turned awkward. As if Shin hadn't touched one of his primary organs just five seconds ago. Something that still has Shin reeling.

"It's, uh, good for the adrenaline." There was a beat of silence. "I'm gonna go now."

There's a million questions running through Shin's mind and he voices none of them.

Instead, he takes the massive burst of panic, shoves it into a metaphorical bottle, throws it into the back of his mind and focuses on other things. Like the fact that Eyeshield's arms are not that of an athlete.

---

Sena feels like he's gone back in time, back to six months ago because this had to be what getting hit by a car felt like.

There is a remediate moment of panic when Shin grabbed his side. Which then turned into fear because the weird non-existent demon bones were suddenly not working and holy shit Shin had his heart in his hand-

The only thing that stopped Sena from bursting into full blown delusional panic was the inscrutable fact that everyone is watching and if anyone finds out he will die or be experimented on. So the closest thing he had to a reaction was a mental scream of profanities and a hiss.

The pain of falling on the ground with a comparable giant attached was a familiar feeling that left him with a headache and ringing that kept bouncing off the side of his body.

The pain of nearly having his organs bruised, on the other hand, was a whole new level of bodily pain. The ringing was accompanied with a near high pitched screech that pulsed with every beat of his heart. There's a burning, sizzling encompassing the entirety of his left side that seemed to creep into every cell.

Overall, Sena felt like he had a a molten metal door pressed to his chest and the migraine of the century. All he could hear as he walked away from Shin was the tell tale yell of fans and every siren in the world blasting in his head.

He's vaguely aware his teeth are tightly pressed together.

Shin had tackled him and Sena wondered how he hadn't gone into a catatonic state from the familiarity of the pain.

It doesn't help that what could have been a friendly, professional exchange of compliments turned into Shin looking at him like he's shocked Sena's still alive.

A rather awkward step causes Sena to bite back a hiss as his feet and joints burn. Good ol' pain, the ultimate motivator in self-preservation. The use of which he no longer has.

Sena vaguely realizes he's already near the huddle.

"Oi." Hiruma said, his eyes glued on Shin on the other side of the field.

"What?"

"What did you tell Shin? He looks like he's seen a ghost. Or the gates of hell."

"Wh- all I did was compliment his tackle." Sena replied, mind finally working.

"He's as pale as a sheet. Like he just saw a murder and was told to keep it quiet."

Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait wait-

"Oh no." Sena says without realizing. Shin literally palmed his organs, he had to have felt that! Which meant Shin-

Shin was vaguely aware that Sena's body was either lacking bones or had something wrong with it. His head spun to the Oujo team.

Shin really did look like he just came out of watching a horror movie.

"Oh no what? What happened?"

"How good is Shin in Biology or Anatomy?"

"He's from Oujo, it's an elite school. He doesn't suck at it but it's obviously above average."

Sena made strangled noise of understanding, a small hysterical laugh shaking his shoulders.

If Shin was a man of honor then maybe he would come to the conclusion that Sena had a rare disease and wouldn't want to talk about it.

Sena did not know if Shin was a man of honor so God fucking help him. Maybe Hiruma could curse Shin into forgetting-

No! No, oh what the hell was he thinking!? No, no, no, bad brain! Nobody is getting extorted or memory wiped. Not after everything that had happened.

It's then when he realized Shin had turned to look at him.

Sena had leveled him a stare, both apologetic and stern. Which somehow caused Shin to flinch, to stare into his very soul, smack himself through the helmet and return the stare with a nod.

Sena feels like he's just made his whole life infinitely harder.

---

Sena is right with his hypothesis because in the short time of the rest of the first half, Shin's managed to manhandle him, take back the ball and score a touchdown, while Oujo decided to use a kick to raise the point.

And Shin keeps getting them yards and touchdowns until the difference is 29 points.

Overall, Sena feels like a sack of shit and his mood could be reflected on the rest of his team.

It's almost frustrating how good Shin is in amefuto. It's even painful as he gets hit with tackle after tackle.

It's even worse knowing so because the burning fear that made his joints burn was cooling down, little by little. Sena's beginning to miss it.

The fear, frustration and overall horrid mood is building up and Sena feels like there's only so much he can do before he snaps.

So Sena runs off to the bathroom before anyone can object during the break. He needed to reapply his concealer and maybe check for additional bruising over his chest.

He doesn't want to play anymore. This was different from the Cupids match. This wasn't even a match. Just a show of power.

Sena felt helpless. Weak and useless. He hated it.

He wanted to leave it all behind. He wanted to run, far away and forget this whole thing. It was painful, and Sena was reaching a boiling point which was dangerously close to overflowing.

But... He couldn't. The shame from the beginning of the match was still wearing on him. He couldn't just leave in the middle of a match. It felt-

It felt like he was throwing the whole team under the bus.

Was he though? It's been pretty hard just trying to get the ball, let alone getting it to the touchdown point.

Was he really the only one who was working? Was he really alone in this?

'I guess I've never been anything but alone' he thought. Suddenly the tattoo on his neck started burning. Not heating up, legitimately burning.

In absolute haste, Sena took off his shirt-

It grew. The tattoo fucking grew, this was the worst day of his life.

The swirls and circles had turned into a mess of goetic patterns with arrows and turns branching out towards his left side. The side where Shin had continued to grab him. Fucking shit-

Please don't tell him it grew to his face, oh god- grabbing the pocket mirror from his bag, Sena looked over his face.

To say he was shocked was an understatement.

The tattoo hadn't grown, it fucking moved. The pattern changed, and that felt like a huge warning sign but his neck was completely clear of any markings. For the first time in six and a half months, Sena could walk out into public without the need to conceal whatever abomination was on his neck.

This was not a good thing because change with this particular situation could never mean anything good.

Especially since the tattoo was pulsing. It was god damn pulsing, how could that be a good thing?!

And what if it decided to move back up his neck in the middle of the match?! What the hell kind of design choice was this?! Did Belial or whoever made these tattoos decided on this?! Did they wake up in the middle of the night and think to themselves "Hey, you know what would be great? If the tattoos moved every blue moon from where they were to wherever! Wouldn't that be cool?"? Screw those people! What sadist enjoyed scaring the crap out of people after a potentially traumatic event!?

How was he going to go out there now?! He could hide his neck under concealer but that won't help if it got to his face. If it got to his arms then there would be no way for him to explain why he had a tattoo on him suddenly.

The burn increased in intensity as it started crawling back to his neck. It was strong enough that Sena could barely breathe silently.

He was in the bathroom with his neck burning and there were people right outside the stall.

Slowly the pain ebbed away. Looking with the pocket mirror, Sena saw that it had gone back to the swirl patterns it once had, with the only difference being a thin arrow and interwoven swirls coming towards his heart.

In haste, Sena started applying the foundation.

Running back to the field, joints and ribcage thoroughly on fire and ready to get mauled into the ground again, Sena, now Eyeshield, looked over the field.

Everyone looked exhausted.

It's then when Sena begins to realize he's not the only one getting his ass thrown around the field.

The team visibly tensed when they finally noticed him.

"Eyeshield!"

"Hey." Sena lowered his voice. He turned to Ishimaru. "How are you holding up?"

Ishimaru flinched and Sena is suddenly aware of the guilty looks most of the replacement members were sporting.

The arrow on Sena's collarbone burns like salt on a wound. There's a disgusted feeling of disappointment in him.

It's no doubt everyone was down in the dumps from the Oujo performance but this left a bad taste in Sena's mouth.

"What's with the long faces? We're not under the bus yet. If we manage to stop them at the 29 point lead, we can get at least four touchdowns to even it out." That earned him some shocked looks. "More or less."

"You," Ishimaru spoke up. "You're not mad?"

Sena's body language immediately switches from false confidence to pure confusion.

Why would he be-

Oh. Because he's Eyeshield 21, a Notre Dame football superstar and right now they're losing by almost 30 points. Sena completely forgot this was a team sport.

"We thought you'd be pissed at us. You've been taking Shin on all along, when we were supposed to help somehow."

"We couldn't even be proper shields during the first half." One of the players said.

"We assumed you'd be angry as hell for dragging you down." Another pipes up. "We get it if you don't wanna play with us newbies anymore."

There's a very small, very protective part of Sena that suddenly goes "no, this will not do."

Where did Sena get that part, he didn't know but it was there making rounds.

"I'm mad at Shin, not you guys. We've been fighting this whole match and not all of us are physically built for football. We're a new team, it can't be helped. But,"

"But?" A very dark look overcame Sena. He had to seem absolutely different as Eyeshield, so... This is going to suck.

"But why don't we at least humiliate the Oujo Knights with a tie? If their coach blew a fuse at even one touchdown, let's see how many it takes for cardiac arrest!" Sena said with a near blinding smile. He never really had a sadistic streak but Oujo was bringing the worst out of him.

Quite literally.

Some of the players did a double take but soon erupted into small cheers. The morale had risen, even if by a little.

And soon, Sena's bones would feel the burning, molten sensation of the field, each heartbeat pumping blood in sync.

For some reason, it brought him peace of mind and manic energy.

"If they want war, we'll give it to them."

The second half was about to begin.

---

Shin cannot take his eyes off Eyeshield. In the most literal sense possible.

After the near shock inducing event of feeling Eyeshield's heart right in his hands, Shin wasn't sure if he could keep on playing. The idea of possibly killing a player, Eyeshield at that, was too terrifying to imagine.

Shin wasn't good with his emotions, but he was partially aware that the adrenaline coursing through his veins was due to fear.

Maybe that was his price. Shin dedicated the entirety of his middle school years to American football and training, but in turn lost whatever networking skills and technological know-how in return. The strength he had wasn't always a blessing either. Broken phones, cracked screens, crushed plastic objects- if it was too fragile or if he had fumbled with it, Shin's hands would break it past the point of return.

Maybe that was Eyeshield's price. For the sake of incredible speed and unbelievable flexibility, his skeleton and body had become fragile. So used to avoiding attacks and tackles that the body would be unable to take a hit.

A glass cannon. Or rather a glass sniper rifle. Or maybe a glass bow? Shin wasn't sure. Even after the reassuring, understanding and challenging gaze he had received, Shin was still at a loss.

In fact, Shin had no idea how to go about the medical mystery that was Eyeshield.

What he did know was that he couldn't let Eyeshield go about him. Eyeshield was terrifying in the way that, had Shin been any less of the player he was, the runningback would have scored half a dozen times already.

It was maddening. Eyeshield could run about just almost as fast as Shin, his body almost being completely made of rubber as Shin had saw him nearly slither through their linerbacks.

And Shin had to focus solely on him, because half a second too late and Shin would have let him pass.

The second half was nothing short of mental calculations and last minute adrenaline tackles.

Nobody should be able to bend and unbend their body so fast. No body should be able to bend at those angles.

Eyeshield was a bamboo tree that bent to the wind and then proceeded to straighten itself out.

Shin was fascinated.

And as Eyeshield ran a him at full speed, Shin anticipated his next move. The left? The right? Where would he-

Eyeshield was nearly inches away from him when he turned left. Shin's body moved to match him but before he could catch him, he spun and faced to the right.

A trick. Eyeshield threw him off. Before he could, Shin's arm snapped, grabbing just barely the hem of his jersey.

He nearly passed him. He nearly passed him.

The sheer velocity of Eyeshield's run was so strong, that the physical tension of both their forces knocked the other off the ground.

Shin could feel the way his elbow was pulled at even after the fall.

Shin couldn't wrap his head around it.

He should be tired. Eyeshield should be tired yet little by little, he was getting faster and faster.

He already matched his speed. Everything after this would be Shin's blunder.

The third quarter was ending soon.

It was a painful reminder that soon, soon this fight would be over. It had an edge to it. That as the numbers on the clock shrunk, the tension, the desperation rose and would reach boiling limit.

That soon, Eyeshield would show him something incomparable.

Shin could feel his muscles tense.

Eyeshield wasn't showing something and he couldn't tell what.

He couldn't tell if he was excited or dreading the moment.

As he walked back, the quarterback of the Deimon Devilbats said something to him.

"Eyeshield 21... Light-speed runningback from Notre Dame university..." Shin knew he shouldn't be listening. "He's faster than you, yet somehow trying to humor you by going slower."

For an entire second, the cap that contained Shin's tension blew off. Yet all he had was dangerous worry.

Eyeshield was going slower than usually? How? Why? Was it because of something that happened? Was he sick? Did he have a handicap for this match alone or because of something else?

"Nice try, but we don't get disturbed by such." Shin grit out as he hid his worry. He wished he couldn't hear Otawara yell in anger at the very same words but it seems like he was stuck with his yelling.

He sighed.

Shin wanted Eyeshield to run at him like it was the last time he would be running.

He craved the challenge but even more so the acknowledgement. He wanted Eyeshield to look at him and say "I will run like I will have my legs sawed off if I do not."

He wanted Eyeshield to deck all of his cards out against him. Because that's what Shin was doing to him. And Eyeshield bounced back every time.

He wanted to do the same for Eyeshield. He wanted-

Oh. He wanted him and Eyeshield to fight like the world was ending. Like today would be the last day they would ever play.

Was this what love felt like? This strong, unstoppable and burning desire to look into someone's eyes and feel the emotions in them? This yearning to be equal to someone and only this person?

The desire to be in the burning fire of battle and football with Eyeshield and Eyeshield alone?

...He'd have to ask Sakuraba after the match. Sakuraba knew more about that. He had to, right?

So now all he could do was sit there on the benches, consumed with yearning for the rest of the play.

---

Sena's bones were on fire in a way that made him wonder if this was what lava felt like.

Fuck.

He felt that if he sat still for even a minute, he'd explode.

The tattoo, the curse he had made him jittery and overly powered when it wanted to, like for example right now.

But this time, and this time only, this was a good thing. For the first time in half a year, the curse was doing him some good.

He nearly passed Shin. He nearly broke through then and he could almost taste the sweat on his nose as he ran.

One more time.

One more time and Sena would plow through Shin like a goddamned tiger.

Sena didn't know what this energy was but he felt many things. Manic, feral, bloodthirsty and even down right focused.

This was addictive but a logical part of Sena knew he was going to be in pain beyond this realm afterwards.

Sena had never felt so powerful and he felt like he could grab a giant python and start swinging it around like a kusari-gama.

He didn't hate how he was benched. He just wanted to get on the field quicker.

He wanted to play, maybe because there was some form of satisfaction in seeing Shin quite nearly bolt to grab him. Maybe because he wanted vengeance for the now 50 point gap.

Maybe because...he actually liked it.

He liked the fact that he could take what he was good at and be something with it. That he could forget the curse that hung over him like a death sentence and simply feel free.

Deimon switched to offense. Sena couldn't be more relieved.

He was just off the bench when a helmet was slammed down on the opposite one. He saw Hiruma take his gloves off, teeth digging into the material as it slid off his hand.

Sena's confusion suddenly outweighed his burning bones and the raw power.

Hiruma, as if feeling Sena's eyes on him, turned to meet them before focusing back to packing his things.

Sena swore he saw disappointment in those eyes.

"You can coast through the rest now." What. "I'm going home." What?

Sena almost felt hurt.

"We still had a one in a billion chance moments ago but it's gone now. They're gonna waste time with huddles and all. No point in sticking around anymore."

Sena's eyes drifted to the point board. Yeah, the situation was pretty bad. Plus, Sena was sure that no human being could run seven touchdowns in five minutes.

And Sena was a dead human. Chances weren't looking good.

But there was something wrong with Hiruma not playing until the end. He couldn't explain how or why but it just felt wrong.

Hiruma was smart but Sena was bordering insanity in this moment. There was something in the back of his mind that told him that no, Hiruma had to stay, even if just to watch him play.

Sena's impulsiveness beat his brain in terms of reaction speed.

Just as Hiruma nearly passed him, Sena felt Shin's gaze on him.

'Are you going to run?' Sena didn't want to run away.

'Are you going to be complacent?' A painfully cold voice made his teeth grit. No, he wouldn't, he won't.

'Then do something.' It sneered.

Sena's claws grabbed the back of Hiruma's jersey and pulled him back.

"You're staying." Sena said, something sharp bursting in his mouth.

Hiruma, who was now glaring at him from his shoulder, sighed.

"Didn't you hear me? Trying until the end-"

"I'm going to go against Shin, I'm using that and I'm going to leave him in the dust. You're going to watch." If Sena had to go through tunnel vision again and again to get Hiruma to stay then he'll do it, but he'll complain the whole way.

"And what makes you think I'm going to watch?" Had Sena had more consciousness of what he heard, he would have heard the connotations on the word watch. As if Hiruma wanted to do more than watch.

Instead, Sena, with strength that clearly wasn't his own, spun Hiruma, grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down until they were an inch apart.

"I'm fighting Shin and you're going to watch."

"And why should I do that?" Hiruma's eyes turned up in mirth.

Hiruma's eyes burn with such emotion that it seems like they stare into his soul.

Sena's mind goes "eye of the Tiger" and levels with a glare that stares into one's skeleton.

Neither of them move. It's so silent it makes you think everyone in the stadium is watching with a bated breath.

"Now listen here, you hellspawn, I did not get my god damned organs bruised just so I could get right to tearing Shin a new one and have you bail because you don't see a way we can win. You're gonna stay, we're all staying and, even if I have to pull a fucking teleportation act, we're cutting the score to less than 45. We're gonna lose, so fucking be it, but we're walking out of this stadium fully aware that we've humiliated Oujo and it's "defence". You're getting in that huddle and if I need to drag you by that pretty blonde hair of yours then so fucking be it," the hateful and mania filled words fly out of Sena's mouth like fountain. He didn't even register what he said before he realized he and Hiruma were only an inch apart, with the quarterback staring at him like he just grew a second head.

He immediately let go of the shirt and took a step back, straightening his back.

"If you, uh, can that is. I won't force you to run on fumes."

---

Hiruma resisted the urge to grab the shrimp and slam him against the wall.

This was both sublime and disturbing.

Firstly, Shin had either unlocked a new, raging beast part of Sena that turned him into a bastard that knew no fear or had knocked the shrimp into a new personality.

Intriguing, yes, but also terribly strange.

Why was the shrimp so pent up, that he had apparently decided that today is the day he turns into the tyrant of the team? That's his fucking job! The shrimp can play his secretary all he'd like, inside and outside of the field. Hell, it might even make things easier but he is not putting himself above him.

Hiruma sits on a throne of fear in the field and if Sena wants that place then he's fucking earning it. Through blood, tears and other bodily fluids. And even if he does, Hiruma's not sharing, the shrimp can rest his head on his lap but the throne? Hiruma's, and nobody else.

Second of all, the shrimp wanted to play and he wanted to humiliate Oujo. This was like music to Hiruma's ears. The problem was that the music shouldn't be coming from Sena of all people. He knew the shrimp was an emotional mess but not this much. The fucking manager knew this midget since preschool, and this is the first he's ever heard of an outburst like this.

Third, that comment about his hair, bruised organs and being called a hellspawn were neatly filed away. Neatly filed and saved for after the match when he would grill the shrimp into hell itself.

And finally, the shrimp had fangs and his eyes were glowing. Glowing in orange hue. That actually shouldn't have been the last thing he noticed. That should've been the first thing. Bioluminescence of the irises was not... Well, anything as a matter of fact. This was-

Interesting, intriguing, disturbing, abnormal, odd, maybe useful, probably of unnatural causes.

An uncut diamond- so many angles, so many facets, so many secrets.

Deliciously full of information.

The shrimp most certainly did not have those during the match, where the fuck-

Just as the shrimp realized what he was fucking doing, the light dimmed and the fangs fucking retracted. Retracted. Was the shrimp a fucking vampire?

Who fucking knew, the midget was full of surprises today, it seemed. Wouldn't be out of the status quo if he really did start teleporting.

He let his jersey go and proceeded to back pedal his way out of the fucking challenge he just threw. The multiple personality theory was looking awfully plausible, as of now.

Hiruma's eyes drifted from the midget. The stadium hadn't noticed what just happened. The rest of the team however did.

The players looked just about ready to worship the ground Eyeshield walked on. As if the very holy spirit had come down from the sky in the form of a five foot runningback.

"But I'm still going to play, in the very least you could just watch, even if it's just that. I'm going to tear Shin apart. I want to." The sharpness in Sena's tone returned. Which meant the agression wasn't a fluke, the back pedaling was.

Speaking of the monster himself, Hiruma saw that Shin was staring at the midget. Intensely. Hiruma's eyesight was impressive and with Shin in his line of sight he could see the expression on his face.

No way. The universe was fucking with him today. There is no way Shin Seijuuro was staring at Eyeshield with arguably the most lovestruck face Hiruma has ever witnessed. Well, as lovestruck as Shin's face can proclaim. His face had to have some form of muscle atrophy but that blush was unmistakable.

More importantly, how did Hiruma miss the moment? When did this even happen?

Fuck it, the match continued with him. He had to see this for himself.

"You wanna win? Against Shin?"

The glare he got in return spoke for the midget. Looked like a God damned pout.

Hiruma pressed his gun against the shrimp's helmet. The shrimp immediately moved his head out of the line of fire. Reflexes were still there, that's good enough.

"Then get in the fucking huddle!" Hiruma yelled as he grabbed his helmet.

---

Deimon's offence line caught Shin off guard. He had watched Eyeshield act, maybe a little too closely. The way the team fell apart, only for them to be picked up by Eyeshield's passive aggressive attitude.

It was fascinating to witness, different from the way the Oujo Knights worked.

The Knights worked like a well oiled machine.

The Devilbats worked like an awkward group of individuals, each following their command but not quite.

Well, they had worked like that.

Now they were somewhat invigorated, ready to strike with everything they had.

There were barely five minutes left on the clock. These were going to be the best five minutes of the match, Shin could feel it in his soul.

Eyeshield was getting faster and faster with each play. Slowly shaving off the seconds. It delighted and agitated Shin.

Shin wanted to fight against Eyeshield at his full potential and seeing him get closer and closer to it elated shin.

But Shin wanted to win. As great as the idea of a strong, relentless and equally motivated rival was, it didn't erase the fact that they were the Oujo White Knights. For them to be eliminated in the second round? To Deimon of all teams?

No amount of victories could bring back their honor after that.

If they were eliminated, they'd do it in the final round and with a near miss margin.

The play off rang and Shin swore Eyeshield had flown with the ball in hand.

He had become even faster, sliding past Oujo's linemen almost effortlessly.

He ran towards him, eyes ablaze, leaving long exposure in his tracks. Shin could barely think as Eyeshield ran past him. Eyeshield was getting faster. Unnaturally fast.

Shin's speed was 4.2, it was the human limit. The total limit. The limit to all limits. No amount of training could shave off even one tenth of a second of that time.

Shin ran after Eyeshield. He had already gotten a small head start, he was an amateur so at most he should be 4.5-

Then why wasn't the margin shrinking as fast as it should?

Their touchdown line was barely twenty yards away, yet Shin was still halfway to catching up-

At ten meters and a quarter of the distance he was to Eyeshield, Shin's brain decided that, fuck it, they will take the risk.

Shin nearly dove into Eyeshield's back and wrapped his arms around his torso, slamming them both on the seven yard mark with a small rut behind them.

That was close. That was far too close for comfort.

Shin thanked the laws of aerodynamic physics and gravity. He never thought it would work. He was too used to his personal style of tackling.

It's when he gets off of Eyeshield that he realized he was panting. Eyeshield had bounced off the ground and went back to their team.

This was the first time Shin had ever tried to full-body tackle someone. Ever.

Shin wasn't sure if he should be terrified, ashamed, proud or excited at such a statement.

The coach asked what made him feel so agitated. Shin told them it was nothing to worry about, he wouldn't get past his defence.

He couldn't.

Something like this couldn't happen again.

Not when Deimon was ten yards away from scoring a touchdown.

He could only pray that the next play would be a pass from the quarterback to Eyeshield.

And it was. Shin's height and semi-valid experience in receiving kept them from getting the ball.

Which meant he had to get a touchdown. Now.

Shin managed to get to the middle of the field before what felt like a small bullet train rammed into his back.

As he landed into the grass, he turned. It was Eyeshield. Eyeshield had tackled him. The runningback glanced at Shin, molten upturned eyes shining, and gave Shin a a smile full of teeth.

Shin's heart skipped a beat and his face heated up.

Yes. This had to be love.

---

Sakuraba couldn't believe what he was seeing right now. This couldn't be real.

It probably wasn't. But it also probably was.

Eyeshield was running neck and neck with Shin. Shin, their 4.2 ace of a player. He was dodging Shin, made Shin use traditional tackles, and tackled Shin in return.

The coach was blowing a fuse at how things were going.

Yet all he could hear was the stagnant cheer of people.

Sakuraba felt disgusted at himself. Him, the ace? What a joke. There was such an obvious difference in skill.

Sakuraba couldn't tell if he was comparing Eyeshield and Shin or Shin and himself.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't go out there again and do absolutely nothing.

He held his head in his hands. This was a disaster. He couldn't do anything. Maybe, maybe they'd ride out in Defence and get an easy victory and Sakuraba could leave the scene unnoticed.

Fat chance considering how many of his fans were there and how his manager was ever present. He'd get hounded into giving out autographs or doing another interview.

He wished he could escape. He wished something changed, anything.

A sparkle out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention.

The sticker.

Crap, that was the last piece! The manager was going to kill him if he lost it!

It fluttered in the air and Sakuraba was so caught up in trying to catch the damn thing he didn't realize it was flying into the field.

It was the very last moment, the absolute last moment when he looked up and saw that.

Full blown eyes, glowing under the clear green plastic, and a snarl, with teeth so pointed it couldn't be human. In the split second where time seemed to stop the expression that was down right bloodthirsty changed into shock and an expression that Sakuraba could only describe as "Oh fuck".

What happened next Sakuraba would never be able to describe properly in all his years. The colliding body first felt like it wasn't there, like he was hit a hot gust of wind before what felt like a literal truck rammed straight into him.

No amount of pain could compare to what Sakuraba had just felt. It was sharp and quick and continued in that manner.

Then Sakuraba felt himself hitting the ground. Momentary relief was soon replaced by shock as he bounced off the grass, skidded over the bench, hit himself into the wall of their cabin, flew into his cabin, fell on the second bench and proceeded to hit his back against the wall and bouncing off of it.

All while Eyeshield had barely managed to stop himself outside the Oujo cabin. Sakuraba felt like he had just hit every flat surface in a ten meter radius. He probably did.

No amount of brutal pain could compare to what just happened. Sakuraba groaned loudly as he just barely rolled onto his back, body sore and multiple parts of his chest hurting. Yells of worry felt like white noise as pain conquered his senses.

"Holy- ARE YOU OKAY?" yelled an unfamiliar voice. Sakuraba panted and he turned to the voice, standing there was Eyeshield, a hand on the banister of the cabin and another on his helmet, looking at him with worry.

"I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"No, you didn't. If you did, you'd be dead."

The sentence was an afterthought in his mind as the doctor proclaimed he had broken a collarbone and had several large bruises.

For a few minutes everything was a blur. The screaming fans, the manager, the coach, the ambulance. But as he was carried off, he saw Eyeshield.

Eyeshield was getting crowded by his team-mates, all worried in their posture. All of them looking over him as he shakily dusted himself off, hand still on his head. One team-mate had stomped over the sticker as he ran to sticker that he had dropped.

Something inside Sakuraba snapped.

---

Sena did not realize that today would be the day when every headache he has breaks the record for being the most painful. As well as the day for multiple panicked breakdowns and regret.

He had just smashed into Sakuraba and made him crash into several walls. Theoretically, that shouldn't be possible since Sena was barely forty kilograms and Sakuraba was probably twice his weight. Physically, it had happened. It really did. And now half the stadium is mad at him for indirectly slamming Sakuraba against six different surfaces.

Well, he thinks they're mad. The ringing was so loud Sena wondered if he was going to start bleeding from the volume of it.

Sena can barely hear his team-mates struggle about to get a reaction out of him.

"'m fine." Sena slurred out. That was bad. Clearing his voice, he straightened himself. "I'm fine. Just a little dizzy."

"Are you sure? You look a little winded."

"I'm good."

"Eyeshield-san, we can call a time out. I mean, Sakuraba was just shipped off to the hospital, maybe we should at least check for anything?"

"Nah."

"Oi, don't tell us you got a concussion from that-"

"I'm fine!" Sena yelled out. He was in pain, yes, but he wasn't going to leave the match. Even if the ringing bounced off his body so hard it might leave a mark." I just... Need a minute. It's really, really loud."

"But-"

"What are you fuckers all doing here?! He said he's fine so he's fine. Now back to our side of the field!" Hiruma's voice cut through the noise like a sharp knife.

Sena was more thankful for the sudden peace than dismayed at the fact he had to walk across the field. This was going to hurt.

He couldn't let the fire die out. Not yet. Not after managing to tackle Shin. He was so close he could taste it. Just a little more, just-

"Oi, shrimp." Sena's attention snapped to Hiruma. "You sure you didn't hit your head to hard?"

"Yeah the ringing is already fading." Sena replied without thinking.

"Ringing?"

"Yeah, it happens a lot. But it's fine, once it's gone I'll be back on track. Might need some water. I feel nauseous."

"Are you fucking sick?"

"No, no, just dizzy."

"You better not pass out mid-run."

"I'll try my best. Or worst. Whatever you want, you demon." Sena's mind was starting to clear up. Even so, he wasn't really sure how he was running this conversation.

"Is that an insult I hear from you?"

"It's supposed to be a compliment or do you prefer something else?" Sena asked genuinely. Hiruma glared at him momentarily before flicking his eyeshield. "Ow!"

"That doesn't matter. What you need to focus on right now is Shin. You think you can pass him 'till the touchdown?" Sena looked between Shin and the touchdown line.

He flexed his hand. It burned.

"This time, this time I'll get even faster. I'm going to pass him no matter what."

A haughty smirk graced Hiruma's face. Sena was thankful for the eyeshield hiding his blush.

"Well said." Hiruma said as they finally reached the rest of the players, now in a huddle. "Alright, time is running out. Prepare for the final showdown!

"Up until now, because of Shin and Otawara in the center, we've always went from the side. This time we're breaking through the center! We're gonna blitz, once we pass, run straight forward."

Something about that tactic made Sena feel giddy. Giddy with anticipation.

'One more. One more.' Sena could feel his legs burn like he was standing on hot coals. 'One more battle with the Knights of war.'

He looked over the field. Shin was in the very back, just as he was.

Something about Shin had originally made Sena feel small. Like he was suddenly aware of the world around him, the way Shin towered over him with his height and the way he honed in on him.

It's now that Sena realizes he's not making him feel small, but more open. Shin's made Sena do far too many questionable things within this half. From staying in a game of pain to physically dragging Hiruma, Shin made Sena jump out of the small metaphysical borders he set up for himself. Something about Shin was different. Different from Hiruma, different from Takeru.

Takeru made Sena feel like he should be coming out of his borders, the faint memory of him reminding Sena that he can be better. Hiruma crossed into them and burned them down in front of Sena and then started pulling him little by little out of it, before Sena could rebuild them again, and make him forget about those borders in the first place.

Shin busted his arm right through them and gestured him to come out.

Sena's not sure how he's going to fix himself after this. Not when he's stuck with a bunch of metaphorical bricks and his mind drifting to the three people who broke them down.

It felt like as he was rebuilding everything, he slowly made his walls shorter, thinner and the range they sheltered bigger.

Maybe one day they'll be small enough for him to cross over with ease but Sena will never be sure.

Not when he's looking at this massacre of a game, thinking he can win.

The whistle blows, the ball flies into his hands and Sena is running with an empty head and burning skull.

It's him and Kurita against Shin and Otawara. He can feel Kurita struggling to hold off Otawara. There's a spark, a phenomenon and a connection. Then, Kurita somehow manages to tackle Otawara and bump into Shin at the same time.

Sena doesn't need a cue. He's running, focusing on the rising crackles of fire in his spine.

His feet dig into the dirt and he's flying. The players are all blocking the Knights trying to tackle him, Shin got up and was now running at Sena like a crazed man. There's another player running towards Sena's front.

The entire game feels like an insane version of capture the flag, except you're allowed to cause bodily harm to the flag holder.

Sena doesn't think, doesn't even breathe because all he can think of is trying to go faster. He has to be. He knows he can be faster. He's going to be faster.

He's sick of running. He's going to win.

The fire in his bones gets hotter and hotter until Sena felt steam gathering in his clenched mouth.

It's barely a detail as he runs with the speed of light, faster, faster-

Faster-

The world is a blur under the helmet as he runs, it suddenly distorts, it looks like a desert-

"Touchdown!"

The tell-tale yell of the referee snaps him out of whatever trance he was in. Sena was suddenly hit with the fact that the field was not infinite, his feet are melting and there's a clear lack of oxygen in his system.

He was about three feet away from the end of the field before he slips and falls. He's not sure if it's pure exhaustion or the fact that he forgot how to breathe. Possibly exhaustion, both physical and mental, because the brain cannot create hallucinations if it does not have any oxygen to make it out of. Sena's vaguely aware that that's not exactly the biologically correct explanation but it's the closest thing to it.

There's momentary silence before the entire stadium explodes in pure yelling and screaming. Sena's entire lower body is at the brink of melting point, the ringing having been turned up to twelve and the crowd is causing physical pain to his skull with noise alone.

The hives are on him momentarily, like something is gauging his very being before it simply leaves.

But it dawns on Sena that he's gotten a touchdown and it suddenly seems worth it.

It's exhilarating. It's a feeling of euphoria that couldn't compare to the victory in the Cupids match. Sena wants to feel it again.

The ground on which he lies on is incredibly comfortable.

Sena is at peace. In pain, sweaty beyond all measure and deprived of oxygen but at peace.

He is not at peace for long. Nor is he on the ground for long.

Because the peace lasts for about a moment before Sena's being crowded by his team-mates again. He can vaguely hear them either singing praises and worry loudly on whether or not he's alive. They're patting his back, gently shaking his shoulder. Sena can only give a measly but optimistic thumbs up under the influx of positive contact.

It's great. This is great.

"Woohoo..." Sena wheezed out. His team-mates are hoarding around him like a flock of birds to a bag of bread and it's suffocating. The overall overload of senses makes it hard for Sena to enjoy knowing he managed to score another touchdown.

"Hey, hey! Get off of him! He's fine, he collapsed for dramatic effect!" And Hiruma arrived and the crowd of players parted like the Red Sea.

It's odd how easily Sena can tell it's Hiruma. Hiruma stands out naturally, with the way he is. But something in the way he walks, in the way he talks leaves a unique mark in air.

A hand snakes its way to his shoulder, too close to his marked and concealed neck to be calming. It pressed down on his shoulder before giving his helmet a few soft pats.

"We really do have to work on your landing."

"Sorry, forgot to breathe."

Mamori is there in an instant as well, med-kit in hand. Kurita is there as well, blocking him from view of the rest of the recruited athletes.

"Is he injured?"

"Nah, he got caught up in the moment and forgot to breathe." Hiruma remarked as he poked Sena in the ribs.

"I did not-" Sena's voice was too hoarse to be recognisable.

"Save it. Fatass, pick him up, he doesn't have enough air in him to get back to our side of the field." Before Sena could protest, Hiruma simply took and picked Sena up by his armpits like a cat and propped him up on Kurita's back.

"Sorry." For nearly passing out on the field. The words couldn't come out of Sena. Kurita, bless his soul, seemingly understood the meaning behind the apology.

"That's because you loosened up in that instant, right?" Sena could mutely nod. He had slipped up in that single moment. Right now all he wanted to do was fall asleep, despite his previous and impossible declaration of shrinking the point difference.

"Hey, ducking dweeb." Sena looked over to Hiruma. "This time. Even though this is one of the many duels you've had with Shin,"

The sun shone on Hiruma's face, the thin layer of sweat making him somehow glow in the daylight. His hair wasn't even ruffled by the helmet and his eyes were watching off into the distance before drawing his attention to Sena.

"But this time, you win." He said with a wide smirk, full of sharp teeth. Sena's heart was hammering in his chest, heat rushing to his face. He's not even sure why but the statement leaves him feeling fuzzy inside. Maybe it's the fact that Hiruma was glad he was still participating in the match, maybe it's the fact that he's looking directly at Sena with a non hostile smile or the fact that Sena managed to beat Shin.

Maybe it's all of those things, maybe it's something else but it leaves Sena with a faint blush and soft and content smile on his face as he's being carried off to the benches.

The moment was immediately ruined by the itch returning. Sena's smile soured.

Why can't the universe give him one minute of small pleasures?

He looked over the board.

56 and 12, Oujo in the lead. One more touchdown, one more touchdown would be enough.

Minutes later and they're back on the field. If he can get one more touchdown for the last down of the offense, he could get the score down to a 36 point difference. In comparison to the previous 50 point margin, this felt not as humiliating. Well, for Deimon at least. Looking over the raging line of Oujo Knights and Shin staring into his very soul, Sena can only assume they're going to attempt to kill them this turn. Alright, alright, he can do this.

Shin's intense stare didn't leave him for a second and Sena was slowly having second thoughts.

He unconsciously slapped the sides of his helmet. No, he wasn't going to run away. He had said it himself, they're in the deep end, they're going to lose no matter what. He couldn't back down because he promised he'd humiliate Oujo's impenetrable defence. Maybe it's his own spontaneous episodes of madness that he felt responsible for or maybe it was because he promised to Hiruma as he promised to the team. But he had to fulfill a part of it somehow.

Maybe it's... His gaze drifted to Shin. Maybe it's because he wanted to go up against Shin more?

No, that's silly. Shin was the literal embodiment of pain and loss. He wouldn't want to do this recreationally. Unless...

No. No, that's-

Sena lifted his gaze back to Shin to look at him. To actually look at him and not just... imagine him glaring at Sena.

Shin is a tall amefuto player who's uniform was caked in dirt and muscular arms glistened in the sun. The helmet on his head didn't do much to hide the sweat rolling down his face like little marbles. His eyes stared at him intently. They were dark, very dark in contrast to Takeru's soft golden ones and Hiruma's contrasting green eyes. There was a cobalt blue sheen present. It was the type of blue that stood out on white but blended in with black. They're elegant, like dark gemstones or-

'No. Noooooooo, no stop that, Sena. Don't do it.' Sena thought to himself. No, he already has two people visiting him in his dreams, a third would just make things-

Sena shaked his head. No! Stop, don't think about how handsome Shin looked! The match was about to start!

---

Sena rolled over in the grass as the referee announced Deimon's third touchdown.

He can't breathe, he could barely get some air into his lungs. Deimon had been on the last offense, so Sena had decided that he was going to pull out all of the stops he had.

And somehow so did Shin. The entirety of the play was a terrifying game of tag in which every lineman had decided that Sena needed to be dog piled or the black plague was going to come to Oujo like a door-to-door salesman.

Shin in particular had gone to extreme lengths to apprehend Sena. He's pretty sure Shin attempted to throw a fellow player at him. Sena is very sure he had exhausted every ounce of luck he'll ever have in seven months to avoid every confrontation on the field.

That's not to say it was the only thing that was gone. If Sena could somewhat feel his legs after the second touchdown, he was completely sure that he had lost all feeling in them. The fire in his bones had gone to such lengths that it completely eclipsed the pain and left Sena wondering if he still had them.

A quick look at his lower body concluded that they were still there. Twitching every once in a while.

Holy shit.

Sena let his head fall back into the soft grass. He's not running next turn, he physically can't. He's partially sure he's stopped sweating because there is nothing left to sweat.

"Hey, you good?" Sena turned his head and saw Hiruma crouching next to him.

"No." Sena breathed out. "Please tell me I don't have to run anymore."

"Don't worry, for you it's over. We're switching to defence until the end of the game. You can pass out on the benches until the end." Hiruma squinted at his arm. Sena looked at it. Hiruma was holding it and Sena didn't even feel it. "Oi, can you even feel anything?"

"I can't feel my legs." Sena replied.

"Shit."

"It's okay, that's normal. Just gotta-" Sena felt the pain return. He bent his leg towards him, which let out several worrying pops and cracks. He bent the other, same result. The pain was now back in full swing and Sena was panting. "Okay, I can-"

"FATASS, GET OVER HERE AND CARRY HIM BACK."

"I'm FINE!" Sena exclaimed as he proceeded to try and get back up. Key word "try". He wobbled a bit at the sudden feeling and nearly fell over before regaining balance at the last second. His vison turned black for a second before coming back.

Standing was a new form of fresh hell as of now.

Joints were in pain while the rest of the lower skeleton was on fire and Sena was once again feeling the cold heat of a fever slowly dawn upon him.

Thank you, every deity in Japan, for switching to defence. Because Sena would sooner pass out on the field than hold off Shin.

"Fucking hell, you look like shit."

"I am shit." Sena parroted back without thinking.

Hiruma gave no indication of any emotion at this point. All he did was grab Sena's shoulder and drag him to their side of the field.

"You're going to sit your ass down and you're going to stay down. Or else." That last part made Sena shiver but he was ultimately thankful for some form of rest.

"Hey."

Sena turned his head to see Shin approaching them. He looked... sweaty. Tired. A little bit glowing but it seemed irrelevant when his face was caked in dirt and sweat.

He seemed rather happy though. Sena couldn't wrap his head around why.

Hiruma took one look at Shin, flipped him off and proceeded to push Sena forward. Sena instead twisted his neck to still look at Shin.

"I- you-" Shin spoke before cringing at his own words. Sena could understand the pain of not knowing how to say something. The information was there,it is the execution was that was hard.

"Take your time." Sena mumbled.

"I- Oujo will be going to the Christmas Bowl." Shin forced out.

Hiruma stopped walking.

Sena was suddenly aware of the tension in the air.

Wait, this wasn't Deimon's first match with Oujo. It definitely wasn't. All of the players, Kurita and even some of the Oujo players gave it away.

Deimon lost the last match it had with Oujo. It kicked them out of the tournament that was last year.

Kurita and Hiruma had been gunning for winning the tournament ever since middle school. Kurita was undoubtedly heartbroken over the loss but he bounced back, maybe he forgave them, maybe he didn't but last year's loss didn't float over his head up for a year.

Hiruma was not that. Sena doesn't know Hiruma well, he knows he's demonic and has a love for football, sudden favoritism in the form of real bullets and somewhat understanding head pats aside. If it's any indication, Sena assumes Hiruma is an evil mastermind half-demon hellbent on destroying society and erecting himself as supreme ruler who's starting with the world of American football and has taken a shine to him for his speed and apparent contract with the king of all demons.

It's a sentence so loaded with bullshit, Sena can't believe that's his current life situation.

So if something were to stop him from achieving his plans, it doesn't take a genius to understand that there will be a most definite grudge.

Hiruma probably hates Shin's guts and wants him dead. It's not a stretch to assume.

And right now Shin is declaring that his team will be going to the Christmas Bowl, the apparent goal that Hiruma and Kurita have.

Sena has half the brain to try and grab Hiruma and abscond before someone actually dies on the field. However, Sena has another half of a brain that says Hiruma's just about reached the limit of tolerating Sena's maniac behavior, three touchdowns against Oujo be damned.

So all he can do is stand there, eyes darting between Shin and Hiruma as true genuine fear runs through him.

Hiruma looks livid in the most controlled way possible while Shin is glaring so calmly it's almost mockery.

Sena doesn't want Shin to die. Not because he's cool and handsome, nor because his technique is as amazing as it is painful. It's because nobody deserved to die. His abrupt end back in October had shed a new light on existence as a whole. The entire six months had been nothing short of awful, not counting that dying itself was an incredibly painful experience.

Anything could happen to Sena. He could get bullied, he could snap, he could turn into a villain or a monster or a demon. He could become the most merciless person in the world but even then, Sena would never want someone else to experience what he did.

"Oh? Is that a challenge?" Hiruma finally replied. Sena is praying, actually praying for Shin to choose his words as carefully as possible.

Instead, he turned to Sena, eyes bright, determined and a hint of something else in them.

"I expect you to meet us there. You can become even faster, you have the potential. And when you do, I will be waiting for you."

Sena immediately went braindead. His head is empty, so empty the only thing it can do is echo back the words Shin just said.

Shin...was encouraging him? To be faster? What?

It's not just the fact that Shin is hyping up his supposed nemesis, but the fact that it's Shin that's doing this.

Shin, who Sena was convinced wanted him dead. Shin, who had become his undoing this match, was hoping that they would meet at the Christmas Bowl. Shin... was looking at him not just as a person but... but as someone who's an equal. Someone who has the ability to be better than him and isn't mad about it.

Someone who he wants to be faster than him.

Sena legitimately cannot find a word for the situation. All he can do is let an awful, familiar, fuzzy feeling seep its way into his chest.

Sena was so caught up in his own confusion that he missed Hiruma snapping his fingers at him.

"You shithead, look at what you've done. You've broken the fucking dweeb." Sena suddenly blinks back into awareness and realised that Shin was staring at him, waiting for a reply.

"I-uh," Sena jerked back into reality. "I... I'll try not to disappoint you. You're... really cool yourself. I can see myself admiring you."

Sena realized just how out of topic and out of context that sentence sounded.

Shin simply seemed shocked before nodding. He missed the blush that suddenly formed on Shin's face. And he kept nodding, even as he turned around to run back to his side. He seemed more upbeat now. Sena's wondering if he also broke Shin.

"What... what just happened?" Sena asked to no one at all. He barely even realized he turned back and walked to their side of the field.

He collapsed on the side of the wall, breathing to try and get his heart to calm down.

---

Hiruma felt like he had just stepped into a romantic movie. An awfully written romantic movie, starring Shin "Lovestruck Brick Wall" Seijuuro and Sena "Hopelessly Dense Medical Anomaly" Kobayakawa. It's both hilarious and painful to witness. So fucking awkward and strained, it made Hiruma's rage and overall horrid mood dissappear.

Shin was head over heals as of now and Hiruma's personal little crown jewel was now officially braindead. Was the smallest hint of acknowledgement and encouragement all it took for him to suddenly be dead to the world? Fucking hell, this was ridiculous.

And useful. Not every runningback got acknowledged by Shin fucking Seijuuro so maybe the shrimp's non-existent backbone might finally form. The fact that Seijuuro wanted Sena to be better and faster meant that Shin was now hooked on a feeling found only in one person and one person only.

Hiruma smirked. One of a kind diamond indeed, if he manges to have Shin ready to declare his rivalry right on the spot. The feeling wasn't unwarranted, though. Sena got them three touchdowns against Oujo. Their fucking coach looked like he was foaming in the mouth.

And who knows, maybe if they hang out long enough, Sena might overhear some of Oujo's strategies. He'll probably get a few bruises on the way but details.

With the shrimp now seated, safe and sound and away from possibly dying on the field, Hiruma could focus on more important things. Like making sure the score stayed the same with this team of idiots.

Which was easier said than done when Oujo switched to offense.

The fatass was doing his job in keeping Otawara in his place. The rest of them, not so much.

Before they knew it, Oujo got a touchdown.

And they were going to keep getting touchdowns but who said it was going to be easy? Not with him as captain.

Hiruma's ears suddenly perked up.

"Thanks Mamori-sis." Hiruma's neck almost cracked with how fast he turned to the shrimp. Little fucker was going to get his whole identity compromised! Hiruma might just kill him for that. Even if he was currently choking on his drink and mistakes.

"Are you," Hiruma grabbed a gun, ready to fire into the air. If the jig was up, then the best he could do was minimize witnesses. Nobody had to die per say, but people would definitely hear the gun over the sudden revelation. Plus, it'd scare the shit out of everyone. That never gets old. "Sena's friend? Did Sena tell you to call me that?"

...Prejudice can be so cruel. Hiruma pitied the first-year. If the fucking manager couldn't tell that her dear traumatized childhood friend was the one ripping the team brownie points from the media- they're gonna lose but they got touchdowns against Oujo, that's a scandal level achievement- then either her perception of him was beyond skewed or the shrimp's acting was paying off.

Hiruma ignored a bit of the conversation. Crisis avoided, back to the game.

"But Sena went shopping during the beginning of the match and he hasn't come back yet. I'm getting worried, it's not like him to take so much time."

"It, it could be because of the fans. He went for tapes, so maybe the line was too long?" Sena's measly defence did little to soothe the manager's nerves. Oh, right, Sena had "gone for tapes". And hadn't been back for almost forty minutes.

"He came back during the break. Right now he's on the bleachers taking pictures. When you're taking pictures in football, the best place to do it is from a high point." He said.

"Thank goodness."

The manager bought that easily enough. Not like it was a problem, he could get the pics from Sakuraba's fangirls.

"He's been better. But it's not great. I wish I could help him get over whatever happened, even if a little. But I guess he needs to be his own person eventually." The manger sighed. "If only- no, nevermind."

Huh, guess the manager knew how to be tight-lipped. If she told Eyeshield about their "collaboration project" it could lead to the shrimp to try and hide away even more. That wasn't good considering his main goal was to find out what exactly happened and maybe find their mysterious culprit and...relieve them of their fingers. Different types need different stripes, there's no universal method for getting rid of trauma. If it were, thousands, millions of people would be living their lives happier than they do now.

A whistle blowed, signifying another touchdown. God fucking damn it. Losing never felt easy. It made Hiruma feel like shit, both at himself and his skills. But this result was obvious from the start.

After the handshake and bow, both teams made their way back to their sides. Now this was where the real spoils of war came.

Deimon may have lost, but Hiruma was about to cash in on Oujo's so called "impenetrable defence" being broken thrice and by Deimon of all teams.

The shrimp had gone to change out of uniform and was already back, without even a hint of being winded. The manager was relieved to see him relatively unharmed but his disheveled appearance made her fret. For fucks sake, Sakuraba's fans can be considered their own type of feral, of course anyone is going to come back looking a little messed up.

"Uh, when I was coming down a lot of the people got really pushy. But it's fine! I didn't get pushed. Much. Besides, I got some pictures of the Oujo team." Sena was quick to jump on the cover story. Good.

"Did you get one of Eyeshield? We ought to thank the guy, he carried the whole match." Ishimaru asked. "Where is he by the way?"

And then Sena started weaving an elaborate story of how he saw Eyeshield on his way, who said he got a call from a relative and that something came up and so on. Midget had a knack for making up imaginary scenarios, that's for sure.

"Oi, quit crying, fatass. We lost last year, too."

"I know, it still hurts though. We didn't even get half of the points they did."

"Heh, so what? We got something better instead. We'll get revenge this fall." Hiruma said. Kurita looked at him, confused.

The TV crew was approaching them and Hiruma began to take off his glove. Showtime.

"Excuse me, may I have-" Hiruma didn't even let her finish before smashing his inked palm right into the camera.

"Deimon Devilbats! Managed three touchdowns in a match against the Oujos!" His menacing face was enough to get the crew to run for the hills. Like he said, never gets old.

With that, the rest of the team dispersed to their own devices.

"Hiruma." Hiruma saw the manager approach him. "About the... collaboration."

She looked displeased mentioning the word.

"I asked around. Most of them didn't know where he was at the time but I got a lead."

Now she had his full attention.

"He was last seen running to the west residential area around four o'clock."

"The one with no street safety regulations?"

"...Yeah."

"Why the fuck would he go there?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was chased? It happened after school so-"

"So the twerp made some enemies and they pigeonholed him into a place where car accidents are common." Hiruma popped a stick of gum into his mouth. The manager glared at him.

"Sena would never. He's too nice to have enemies. I don't think anyone would actually pick a fight with him." Hiruma thought back to the day when he found him being pressed up against the wall, grilled for answers and today when he aggrivated an entire team of seasoned amefuto players.

"People change, Anezaki. There's no guarantee the Sena we see now is the Sena you know. He's hiding things. And nobody has the right to hide things from me."

---

Hiruma walked into the dark room. It was dusty, considering that Hiruma hadn't really been here to store last months evidence. Too many things to worry about to overwrite disks with new data and videos.

He flipped the light switch on and the lights flickered before lighting up.

He's been doing it ever since middle school, along with raising an army of blackmailed slaves. Cameras in every corner, the feed going into his laptop, which he then stores into different folders, saves it in disks and hides them away in his archive.

Two years of visual information on all of Tokyo, all neatly filed away by area via boxes of disks.

A mine of yet to be found blackmail, beautifully arranged on steel shelves in boxes with labels, with just a chair and a table in the farther part of the room.

There's no noise with the exception of the electric buzz of the lights. It's almost quiet. Peaceful even. It unnerved Hiruma.

Hiruma was used to gunshots, screams, explosions, his own laughter filling the air. He lived in chaos and motion. Administration and all of that sort never suited him.

As if reading his thoughts, Cerberus started running around the room going past and around shelves. He knows better than to go under them, quite possibly knocking several shelves over and issuing chaos to the whole room. The mutt hasn't been able to do much besides sit inside an iron cage for the entirety of the match. So sudden bursts of energy were to be expected.

Hyperactive little fucker.

Hiruma whistled for the dog to return. The sound of nails hitting the floor and running came with Cerberus with dust clouds in his wake.

He wasn't gone for that long. Some things simply took up more of his time.

"Guard the door. I need to check some things."

The dog barked but ultimately went to lie down near the door, ear pressed to the wall.

Hiruma then started going over the boxes, wiping off the dust on the labels. It wasn't long before he found a box labeled "west residential area". He took it and went to the desk in the back of the room.

It was one of the few pieces of furniture that didn't have a thick layer of dust on it. Setting the box down, he started to look through the contents.

Two disks labeled "October" caught his eye. He snatched both of them. Checking the year, he put the older one back before placing the newer on the desk. He grabbed his spare laptop and inserted the disk.

The story of Sena Kobayakawa is a simple one: on a sunny day in October, the midget ran out of the school into west residential area, most likely being chased. For approximately five hours, his status remains MIA and he returned with a severe fear of cars, pain, doctors and Hiruma's face.

Not a single soul knew what happened in those five hours. No one but Sena knew the truth.

Well, no one but Sena and, soon enough, Hiruma.

Finding the folder of the date, Hiruma opened a map of the city. A red line was traced from Maou middle school to somehwere close enough to the area.

"Alright, midget, let's see who's getting maimed tomorrow."

He moved the time frame to the one that matched the disappearance and pressed play on the first video. One by one, he'll retrace Sena's steps, narrow down a number of witnesses, maybe even get a glimpse of the fucker who had the balls to walk around, parading a parody of his face and hurting his assets like he ran this show.

Hiruma was nothing if not proud of his intellect and adaptability. Every step, every plan was meticulously planned. He didn't flaunt it, he used it as it is. His face and reputation was his permit to anything and everything in this side of Japan. He made sure of it.

If some ballsy shithead thinks they can go around doing stuff without him knowing about it, then this was personal.

Truthfully, this was personal the minute Sena's reaction to his face was known. This was personal because someone thinks they can copy what he is. This was personal because someone thinks they can do something without him catching scent of it. This was personal because some shithead made it twenty times harder for Hiruma to create a runningback that would redefine the very definition of running. This was personal-

Because someone thinks they can walk into his plans and act like they're the biggest dick in the room.

Well, not for long. If Hiruma could recall every awful thing he's done, his criminal record would be a mile long. He hasn't tortured anyone yet but, hey, what's a drop in the bucket at this point?

Not necessarily physical torture. It's easy to find new and creative ways to torture someone. Could ruin his life with a rumor, could freeze every bank account he has, could blackmail him into fearing for his very life. Decisions, decisions. All of them interesting.

Suddenly, the middle school midget himself runs into view. Hiruma paused the video. There's no doubt about it, that's his red diamond runningback. But the more Hiruma looks at him, the more he realizes that the shrimp of the past and present are not quite the same person.

There's a difference in his eyes. As scared as Sena's face seems, it's not the height of fear. It's the same fear a student has for when he realizes he's running late. Those brown eyes lack eyebags, they're not spinning around in his skull looking for a way out. There's a light in those eyes.

There used to be a light in those eyes. Hiruma's teeth grind against themselves. He takes note of the address, draws the red line down the map to meet it, plays the video and moves on to the next street in which Sena turned to for escape. But not before watching for a few minutes to make sure he wasn't really chased.

Moving on to the next recording, he grabbed some of his spare equipment- guns, knives, the usual- and started using his anger for something more productive. Gotta make sure his murder weapons stay sharp and functional.

The cycle continued for a grand total of twelve times. The route the shrimp has taken is now nothing short of a long squiggle along the roads of the map.

Hiruma was about to press on to the next video before he stopped. There it was again, that feeling. That eerie feeling that something was wrong, that something doesn't feel right.

This one was going to have answers, Hiruma realized. Recording number thirteen, what a fucking coincidence.

Playing the video and moving to the estimated time, Hiruma saw that there were a few pedestrians in the street. Witnesses, good. Someone he can actually harass for answers.

No sign of a car, some people were even walking outside on the street but close to the sidewalk.

The shrimp entered the scene, stopping to look around. Of course, the midget got lost. The midget, after looking both ways, took a left. Closer to the camera.

This is immediately the moment when things go horribly wrong.

And they do.

Because in the next second there's a car barrelling towards Sena and the boy barely has any time to comprehend that there is a car about to hit-

Hiruma's hand slam on the dash key, a few frames before the impact. He needs to watch, he needs to continue watching because if he doesn't he'll never know why or how or who. But his hands can't will themselves to press the button.

His hands weren't shaking, he's telling himself. They're not shaking, he isn't on the edge of his seat, his heart isn't beating a hundred times a minute nor is his brain thinking of a million scenarios and all of them ending with Sena being-

He is. He's teling himself he's not but it's all happening and he can't bring himself to look further.

Because when he looks in the screen, the image of Sena, not too different from the Sena he knows, is standing there, with no way to dodge the car. His expression is nothing short of pure fear, panic and regret. His body has zero muscle mass to protect his bones and organs from the impact-

Hiruma shuts his eyes.

Fuck. Fuck, c'mon Hiruma, play the fucking recording.

It's either this or Sena will forever remain near lifeless, terrified of the street because of some guy that looks like he could be Hiruma's uncle or something.

He rested his head into his hands. Breathe in, breathe out. He had to do this. It's this or no progress at all.

His hands rub against his face until his fingers are pressed together between his nose and his thumbs are against the bottom of his cheekbones.

He looked at the screen.

The screen looked back at him, mocking him and his inability to do anything about it. Because it's already happened. It was real, now it's not and Hiruma can't do jackshit about it.

It's a disgusting feeling. Hiruma laughed bitterly at the thought. He has feelings, what the fuck?

Hiruma took one last breath before steeling himself for the vehicular manslaughter that was about to happen.

He pressed the play button.

He wished he didn't.

Because what he sees next is Sena's body painfully contorting under the impact of the car that sends him flying right into a wall. Blood gets smeared as the momentum drags the boy's body across the wall until it flies into the sidewalk and stops with a roll. Sena's front is facing the camera. Hiruma's eyes meet the wide, lifeless brown eyes of Sena's corpse.

He hits pause, runs to the trashcan at the very end of the room and promptly vomits his entire dinner out.

A noise of pure anguish leaves him as the last of the bile leaves his system. His hands are clawing at his hair, arms barely supported by the iron bin as his body shakes.

He's trying to breathe- he can't- he closes his eyes and all he sees-

Another pained noise leaves his throat as his body tries to curl in on itself.

His eyes are wide open, anything better than seeing the after image of Sena's dead body, lying on the ground with blood smeared on the ground and dripping down the wall.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit, god damn it, DAMN IT, SHIT, WHAT THE F-

A cold nose sniffing his bicep and his ear brought him back to reality.

Cerberus.

Cerberus left his post because Hiruma just vomited his entire dinner out and was about to have a mental breakdown from seeing his too soft underclassman die on footage.

Cerberus left his post because he was worried. About Hiruma.

Fuck. What the hell is it with today, is the universe suddenly deciding that today is the day that the natural order of things should crumble?

Has to be. Really, it has to be.

Cerberus' snout has manged to worm it's way through Hiruma's shoulder and was now licking at his ear.

Gross.

It's enough to get Hiruma to remove himself from the bin and look at the mutt.

Cerberus looks back at him, silent.

Hiruma grabs the dog's head and starts messing with the soft fur and ears. Cerberus hates it when he does that because Hiruma's hands manage to encompass the dog's snout and ruffle his fur. It earns him a huff of displeasure but nothing more.

Hiruma took a deep breath. His brain comes back from the trenches of stress and starts processing what he just saw.

The video was in October of last year. Last year. It's already happened. The scene of death had already taken place yet Sena-

Sena was still alive and breathing, sleeping and eating and doing all sorts of human things.

It also suddenly puts a new, awful perspective into every sentence Sena has spoken about him dying.

"Please don't kill me."

He was afraid of him.

"Alive. That's hard to believe."

He couldn't believe he managed to survive.

"But what if I'm already dead?"

He genuinely thought this couldn't be real, just a fabrication of his life flashing before his eyes.

"No, but I am nothing more than a soft bag of muscle and meat which happens to move at light spee. Shin's going to smear my guts across the field. I'll die."

He was sure Shin was going to do what that car did to him.

Hiruma clenched his jaw, firmly ignoring the bitter aftertaste.

A new, horrifying perspective.

Still. Sena was there, back in his home, well and alive albeit extremely traumatized. Which means he survived.

Hiruma needs to know how. And why he seemed so scared of him.

Hiruma got up and made his way back to the computer. The sound of nails tapping against the floor followed him.

Hiruma turned around and saw Cerberus following him.

"Back to the door with you. Mush, I'll give you a treat after this."

The dog remained unmoving.

"A cutlet."

His ears perked up but still no movement.

"A porkbelly."

That got the dog moving back to his spot. Stubborn, opportunistic dog.

Sitting behind the desk, he was met with the picture of Sena's dead body looking straight at him.

Hiruma clenched his jaw. Even years of seeing Agon beat grown Yakuza men into submission couldn't help Hiruma here. Because when that shitty mophead did it, it was surprisingly clean and even tidy. Plus none of them were exactly dead nor were they close acquaintances.

This was a scene straight out of a gore movie with his runningback as the victim.

Hiruma rubbed his eyes before looking back. Something strange was in the picture.

One, the people were already running towards Sena, some with their phones out, most likely calling an ambulance.

Two, the car, which was also now tainted with blood, had fucking stopped. In the middle of the street.

Something new was about to happen.

Hiruma pressed play.

Sena's eyes slowly closed on the scene. The pedestrians were looking between Sena and the bloody wall in panic, with one on the phone already calling an ambulance.

Then the jackass driving the car stepped out.

Hiruma paused again, this time focusing on the man from the car. The guy wasn't facing the camera, so all Hiruma had was his back. The man was wearing a suit, custom made no doubt, with a cane in one hand. Said hand had a decent amount of scars. Long, white hair cascaded down his back, messy and littered with split ends.

This fucker was leaning over the top of the car like hitting a middle schooler was a daily occurrence.

Not a hint of panic in his body language.

Hiruma was already sneering at the man.

Then he noticed something.

The man, this dumbass with a driver's licence, had pointed ears. Elongated, pointed ears.

Just like Hiruma.

Hiruma tensed. Maybe, just maybe he's found the bastard himself.

He pressed play again.

The man sighed and shook his head before snapping his fingers-

All of the witnesses fell to the ground. What. What?!

Hiruma rewinded the video.

The man snapped his fingers and the rest of the people in the vicinity dropped like logs. Almost as if all of them had instantaneously gone unconscious. Hiruma rewinded the clip twice, thrice, four times yet couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.

This guy snaps his fingers, and everyone in a ten meter radius drops dead.

What the fuck...

Hiruma decided to continue watching. The man then left his car, not even bothering to close the door, and approached Sena.

Who's eyes were fighting to stay open as blood pooled on the ground.

The guy stood over the boy, head turning to look over the body. Not even one fuck given, Hiruma was going to shoot this guy in the balls.

The man then backed up and kicked Sena's corpse onto it's back.

Hiruma's vision went red. This fucking-

Sena's chest shook as he coughed, blood coming out of his mouth. His eyes were barely open. He wasn't dead but he was damn well dying. And this fucker is kicking his corpse for shits and giggles.

Hiruma wishes he could wrap his hands around the man's neck and squeeze until every last drop of life drains from his face.

Sena then seemed to be moving his mouth. They were talking. Then the guy crouched down, almost as if to get a better look at Sena.

And then he took and smashed the bottom of his cane right into Sena's neck.

Sena, in turn, screamed in pain.

And the screen turned to static.

Hiruma's nails were leaving scratch marks on the back of the laptop. His thumbs were poking holes into the screen.

The video remained static.

Hiruma didn't even notice that he was gripping the computer in a vice until the screen cracked.

Fuck. Well, it's not like it was his. It was just a spare.

Hiruma fast forwarded the video. He needed answers. Now.

Ten minutes, then twenty, then forty, then an hour.

Static.

Static.

Nothing but static.

Then, an hour and ten minutes after the accident, the screen regained motion.

Sena's body was gone. The blood on the wall and pavement was gone. The people were still lying on the ground.

Pointy eared bastard was nowhere in sight.

Until he came round the corner.

Hiruma paused the video. This fucker... this fucker really did look a lot like him.

Pointed ears, sharp canine teeth with a lit cigarette in-between. Sharp, red eyes that looked at the view of a dozen unconscious people with little to no care. A hand merrily swaying with his walk and another on the bloody cane.

Son of a bitch, he was going to beat this bastard with his own walking stick.

The man was making his way back to his car when he spotted Hiruma's camera.

Shit.

He looked straight into it with a bored, mildly surprised expression.

And then his face split into the most annoyingly hideous grin Hiruma had ever seen. A legitimate shit-eating grin.

The bastard took his cigarette out and waved at him, like he was saying hi. The fucker was mocking him.

And the screen turned to static again.

Hiruma slammed the computer shut, breaking the screen off its hinges and ejecting the disc.

(Belial: OwO? What's this?)