Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Eyeshield 21 universe. All belongs to Inagaki Riichiro and Murata Yuusuke.

Sena winced for the millionth time that day, letting out a low hiss of pain as he carefully massaged his lower back. The alternating sharp and dull pangs originating along his spine continued to remind him of the extended football practice for that day and his distant hopes for a couple of aspirin and a hot shower. He sighed, quickly calculating the remaining time left in practice and mentally cringing at the number of tackles he would have to suffer through before he could change and go home. Groaning, the hot shower began to seem more and more a distant dream.

As he was taking another swig from his bottle of water and wondering if Hiruma might let him leave practice early for once, he glanced up to find Riku jogging towards his position on the 40 yard line.

"Sena!" he called as he came within calling distance. Closing the remaining gap, Riku stopped before his friend. "Sena, what's the matter with you? I've been watching you run for the past fifteen minutes- it's all off. What are you trying to do? Change your style of running again?" Visibly frustrated, he paused. "How are we supposed to win against the Americans if you're running like that?"

"Ah, Riku…S-sorry! It's just that…ah, I-I haven't been feeling very well today."

"What? Does Mamori-neechan know?"

"Know what?" said Mamori as she appeared beside the two running backs.

Upon seeing his sister figure arrive, Sena felt slight panic arise from his embarrassment at suddenly becoming the center of attention. He quickly looked around to note other Team Japan members' reactions to their conversation. While most of the receivers and linemen were still preoccupied with their own training, he spotted a few other aces who had started to show an interest in what was being said amongst the three of them.

"Sena," Mamori continued, bringing Sena's attention back to his female friend. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is Hiruma making you do something against your will again?" She fumed and half-turned as though to find the demon quarterback and make him face her broomstick-aided wrath. Seemingly disappointed by the devil's absence, she turned back to her honorary younger brother expectantly.

"N-no, no! Nothing like that, Mamori-neechan. Riku was just wondering why I've been running differently today. S-see, er, I was training with Shin-san yesterday evening when I slipped and fell on a slick patch of pavement. Unfortunately, I seem to have bruised my back when I fell. It was clumsy of me but I'm okay otherwise," Sena reassured her, self-consciously rubbing the back of his head. "We should be done soon and then I'll go home and put some heat on it."

Mamori appeared uncertain as Sena concluded his explanation but Riku interjected before she could say anything more.

"Mah, that sounds like you, Sena. You were always really clumsy in elementary school. Tripping and bumping into doors. I guess that makes sense. Just don't push yourself too hard today, okay? Back injuries can get worse if you don't treat them properly."

"Yeah, I'll try not to," Sena smiled at his friend. "Don't worry Mamori-neechan. I won't push myself today."

Mamori still looked hesitant. "Well, I guess if Rikkun thinks it will be okay…just tell me if you begin to feel worse. I'm sure I have some bandages and aspirin around here somewhere…" she said, beginning to rummage through a nearby duffel bag.

Riku chuckled lightly at Mamori's sisterly instincts for a moment before turning back to Sena. "Well, I need to get back training. Remember what I told you, Sena! Don't strain yourself or the injury could get worse," Riku gently chided as he ran off with a small wave.

Sena meekly returned the wave to his now distant friend and turned to look at the rest of the football players on the field while he waited for Mamori to finish her search, easily getting lost in thought. With a victory over the Americans seeming well within reach, Team Japan had tacitly agreed to increase their weekly practices before their departure date, striving to become a team worthy of representing the nation. The inclusion of all the players from different teams into Deimon practices had at first been somewhat intimidating to the mild-mannered running back, but after a time, seemed almost a natural occurrence. The strongest in all of Japan had gathered together to fight as one. Once his rivals and now his allies. Each had had his own hand in molding him into the player that he was today. And soon, he would get the opportunity to play with them on the field again- as teammates, friends, equals. Sena continued to smile as he noted the fighting spirit within each of his friends as they trained, wondering momentarily how a shrimp like him had come to play on par with such amazing athletes.

"Eyeshield."

The deep voice violently pulled Sena from his thoughts, causing him to yelp and lurch forward as though to rocket sprint to the nearest exit. The sharp twinge from his back reminded him of the impossibility of such an act. Brow furrowed in pain, he rubbed his newly-wrenched back as he turned to see his companion.

"S-Shin-san!" he gasped in surprise.

"Kobayakawa-san," Shin nodded in return. "I came to see how the injury you sustained last night has healed."

"O-Oh…w-well, t-thank you. Well, maybe not so well but the directions you gave me did help a little and I'm feeling much better today than I was last night and it was entirely my fault anyway because I wasn't watching where I was going and practice should be over soon so that I can just go home and put a heat pack on it," said Sena as the nervousness from being so close to his respected rival caused him to pick up lightning speed and ramble.

"-and Mamori-neechan is looking for some aspirin for me now so…I should be okay," he finished lamely, reddening as he realized all that he had just said to Shin.

Shin nodded solemnly as he processed the jumbled speech. "I see. So you are still experiencing pain today?" He glanced at Sena up and down as though expecting to see some visible indicator of pain such as a recently removed limb or bleeding head wound.

"Y-Yes…but only sometimes," Sena replied, taking care to enunciate each word.

Shin's frown deepened as he contemplated this new piece of information. He stood for a moment before nodding, having come to a decision about something.

"Come with me, Kobayakawa Sena," he stated, deftly grabbing Sena's small hand in his larger one and pulling him forward.

"Wha-? Wait! Shin-san! What are you doing? Where are you taking me?" Sena pitifully struggled in the rough grip as he attempted to free his trapped arm. But Shin's viselike grip held and continued to pull him quickly across the field.

When Shin finally stopped, Sena groaned weakly at the combined pain of crushed fingers and enhanced back pain. He didn't think he'd be able to hold a football for a while after that forced march across the field. The day couldn't get much worse.

A loud popping noise alerted him otherwise.

"Hiruma." Shin's voice seemed to reverberate across the practice field.

"Fucking linebacker," Hiruma coolly responded, his eyes never leaving his computer screen as he rapidly typed on Deimon's sideline bench.

Training everywhere immediately halted as the various players began to notice Oujo's ace linebacker uncharacteristically speaking with Deimon's devil quarterback. Sena mentally groaned, wondering what he had done in his previous lives to deserve this.

"I request that Kobayakawa Sena retire from practice for today."

Sena's jaw dropped.

Hiruma finally stopped typing and looked up, regarding the dark-haired man evenly. He popped a bubble of his sugarless gum again before fixating his full attention on the horrified running back.

"Fucking shrimp, what did you do now?"

"N-nothing, Hiruma-san! I swear I didn't do anything!" Sena frantically cried, trying to avoid the wrath of his demonic captain. Before he could continue in his wild protests, Shin stepped forward, effectively interrupting Sena and refocusing Hiruma's attention back on the linebacker.

"Kobayakawa-san sustained a lower back injury while we were running yesterday. As such, I do not think it would be wise for him to further aggravate this injury by training today."

Hiruma's eyes narrowed further.

"Fine. Fucking shrimp! Talk to the fucking manager before you go home and do exactly as she says. You better not be fucking doing any strenuous activities for the next 24 hours! Got it?" Hiruma ordered as he snapped his laptop shut and stood. "I want you fucking flying down the field next time I see you at practice."

"Y-Yes, Hiruma-san!" Sena yelped in alarm. He sighed in relieved wonder as the quarterback began to walk away.

"Oh, and fucking linebacker," Hiruma stopped without turning, a firearm mysteriously appearing on his shoulder. "Next time you have sex with the fucking shrimp, do it at least two days before the game. Got it?"

Shin's leveled gaze bore into the back of Hiruma's head, seeming to consider the unveiled threat of his words. The rest of the field was silent as Team Japan waited for Shin's response. Finally, Shin gave a curt nod to the quarterback before turning to the utterly horrified Sena and gracefully scooping him up and over his shoulder. By the time Shin and Sena had reached the far end zone, Sena had recovered enough from his initial shock to begin violently struggling against the linebacker's firm hold.

"HIRUMA-SAN! That never happened! We've never done anything! Shin-san, let me go! Someone please help me!" Sena's cries echoed across the school grounds as they reached the gate, immediately disappearing from sight as Shin rounded the corner. The sudden disappearance of the small running back seemed to break the spell over the rest of the team, causing a sudden stampede of football aces to run for the gate.

Hiruma loudly popped his gum again before continuing towards the clubhouse, ignoring the protests and cries of his kidnapped running back and the rest of Team Japan. Perhaps the shrimp really did fall. But what did it matter? The end result would relieve some sexual tension between the two rivals and if Hiruma was correct, provoke some other interesting forms of retaliation. He glanced up at the Devilbat clock hanging above the lockers. Six o'clock. Not bad for a day's work.