Title: Slave
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Character Pairings: Hiruma/Mamori
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T
Warnings: Hiruma's Infamous Vulgarity
Disclaimers: I own nothing Eyeshield 21
Summary: What exactly were the terms of the bet that Hiruma and Mamori had made that day in the classroom? And what will be the results of Hiruma having lost that bet?

Recommendation(s): Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

Author's Note: As promised to TooManyIdeas, I plan on finishing this. This is just a tiny bit I've had done, but I'm working on the last chapter. Also be looking out for the prologue to "Once Upon a Freaking Time", a collection of Hiruma/Mamori-styled fairy tales and plays/musicals, including ones like Beauty and the Beast and Phantom of the Opera. :]

Chapter III: Slave

Sena had endured a lot surprises in the last few hours: the special training after school when it was supposed to be their break day. The tiny, confusing celebration when he had opened the door. The appearance of a helicopter. The gun-forced ride in the helicopter. Then being required to wear surgical masks for the next three days, not allowed to be removed under any circumstance.

However, this . . . this was a surprise on a completely different level.

A very bewildering and terrifying level.

"Am . . . I really seeing this, Sena?" stuttered the former baseball player standing next to him, his voice lightly muffled behind the mask, his eyes as wide as the running back's as they took in the scene before them.

Across the field, Mamori was pointing at their clearly agitated captain, vehemently telling him to do something. They couldn't hear what was being said, but they understood that it had to do with his precious AK-47 Assault Rifle currently resting against his shoulder. It was obvious that she wanted the weapon to join the others in the massive pile that was stacked in a wheelbarrow behind her.

"Is . . . this a sign of something bad?" Sena squeaked, awed when the quarterback actually gave in and tossed the gun at her.

"No. It's just a bet that Hiruma lost."

Sena looked up as Musashi casually strolled up to them, picking at his ear offhandedly.

"A bet?" inquired Juumonji as he and the rest of the team joined them to observe the scene. They could only stare in stunned when Hiruma started to walk away, but was abruptly pulled to a stop when their small manager firmly grabbed a hold of his jersey. They watched her hold out her hand expectedly, clearly demanding something else from him.

From what they could see, even though the lower half of his face was completely hidden by his own surgical mask, they could tell that their quarterback was pissed.

"What bet?" Sena finally inquired as Hiruma violently whipped out something that looked suspiciously like his Devil's Notebook and slapped it down into the outstretched hand.

"Something about the team showing up on their day off," Musashi replied calmly, then turned and started walking away. "I'd get moving, by the way."

"Eh?" Sena said, turning to stare at the retreating back of the kicker. "Why?"

"FUCKING BRATS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHO SAID YOU COULD TAKE A BREAK!?"

"IIEEE!" he cried, quickly running away with the rest of the team when their seething captain stalked back onto the field, clearly looking like he was going to start collecting heads. Their heads, to be exact.

For Sena, whatever bet the man had lost, he seriously hoped that the team wouldn't be punished for it.

Mamori looked up, dusting her hands off on her simple white apron, happy to see the silent quarterback still helping her clean up the clubroom. After the helicopter's appearance, everything had been thrown around the room, making it look like a small tornado had intruded.

And what better time to start exercising her power as a slave driver than to force her slave to help reorganize? It was his fault anyway, so it wasn't as if she was asking a lot from him.

"You know," she began, picking up scattered football magazines and stacking them in a neat pile on the table, "you really shouldn't take your frustration out on the team. They didn't make the bet or force you to take it. You knew perfectly well what would've happen if I'd won, Hiruma-kun."

She heard an annoyed grunt, but no words. Well, at least he was taking the bet seriously.

She walked up to him and gently took the box of binders from his arms, smiling kindly up at him. He looked away jerkily, his feline-like eyes narrowed irritably above the mask that concealed his sharp nose and mouth. She tilted her head slightly, still smiling. "Oh, don't be like that, Hiruma-kun. At least you still get to talk on the field."

She turned away and walked the box to the book shelf. "Which, by the way, you should really thank Doburoku-sensei properly for. After all, I never did think that the bet would interfere with your job as captain."

She finished lining the binders on the shelf and turned to the "mute" quarterback who was currently wiping his hands off on his slacks. He seemed to ignore her, instead stalking across the room to straighten a small stack of boxes in the corner.

Dragging her eyes from him, she looked up at the clock. It was getting a little late, being half-past six. She figured it was time to call it a day. She still had homework to do and game plans to go over after all.

Smiling, she untied her apron and began making her way to the broom closet, calling out, "All right, you can stop now. It's time to head home." Then she paused, a thought striking her suddenly. A sugary-sweet smile slid across her lips before she added in cheerfully, "I think I'll have you walk me home! And now that I think of it, tomorrow I want you to walk me to school, too. Oh, and you can walk me to my classes as well! After all, my slaves are absolute gentlemen."

She bit her lip, a grin trying to break through when she thought she heard him hiss a curse under his breath.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun!