Hiruma never really had girls in his life before.

Girls were tools he used to manipulate his prey. The creatures he used for emotional blackmail. Girls were for the weak, the ones who had no self-perseverance.

So when Anezaki Mamori came into the club, brandishing a broom, furious at her beloved Sena; his golden legs being a lackey in his club. Furious that her precious person was affiliated with him whatsoever, he was startled. He hated it, she was a glitch in his plans. He used her to his benefit anyway, making her his "slave"; his free labor.

He's seen her around, the girl who was in the student council; the one who walked around harassing those who broke school rules. Him, most of the time. He got away with it, though; most of the faculty were in his hands. She was the one guys lusted about. He liked her, in a sense; in the only way that he had ever liked anyone. She was useful, after all; especially in helping provide material for his little black book. All their secret crushes, embarrassing love letters, ridiculous acts of love; he used it to his benefit. He saw why. She was fucking beautiful when she smiled.

Not that he'd tell her or anything. Not that he'd do anything about it, for that matter. His aim was the Christmas Bowl. His passion was football. And it was all his pivot, the point his world revolves around.

But she ignored the neat little box she fit her in. She fought, claimed the title for club manager for herself. She was different from the other girls. She was strong, the only one who didn't cower in fear whenever he was in a threatening mood. She had courage he had never seen before. She was unique.

"Hiruma-kun,"

He looked up. It was her.

"Coming?"

He blinked, his smile stretching his face into the familiar maniacal mask he always wore.

"Of course, fucking manager."

His heart said; "Always."