Title: Part 1: 10:00 (Late for a Very Important Date)

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21 or its characters.

It had just started snowing. Mamori felt lucky that the plane had just touched down seconds before she saw the fluffy white stuff falling on the runway outside her seat window. She had already been delayed twice, and this was now officially the worst flight she had from Japan to the United States, but she was glad to have finally arrived. Back in the city that never sleeps, New York.

She had been to New York quite a few times, but the first time was her fondest memory. It had been nearly 15 years since she came here to watch the Japan All-Stars play in the World Cup American Football Tournament. That old saying about time flying fast sure applied in this case. It seemed like just yesterday that Sena was the shy little boy she protected has a child. Now he was the professional star running back for the New York Giants. Of course he did what every star football player did, he married a cheerleader.

As she stood at the baggage carousel, her thoughts drifted to a certain person with spiky blond locks and devilish green eyes. She had not kept in touch with Hiruma over the years, and neither had he kept in touch with her. It just happened that way that sometimes people grew apart, and as the years piled on, the distance grew wider. If she was lucky though, Sena might have a bit of news to share about the former Devil Bat captain at the party. After looking irritatedly at her watch, she now realized she was horribly late for said party.

She grabbed her bag off the carousel, and rushed to the nearest exit. Taxies were scarce, and there was a haphazard line, but what did she expect? It was New Year's Eve; rather late on New Year's Eve to be exact, and snowing. After she was cut in line for what seemed like the millionth time, she rushed forward to grab the next cab. Just as she reached for the door, a large black leather gloved hand appeared next to hers on the handle.

"Oi! This one is…" she began as she whipped around to face the would-be cab stealer with her icy cold blue eyes, but the sight she was greeted with stole her breath away.

"Kekeke, fucking manager. I thought that was you."

The voice was pretty much the same. Maybe a tad deeper with age, but it still retained that same mocking tone that could infuriate and make her swoon at the same time. However, everything else had changed dramatically. The dyed blond spiky long locks had been replaced with shorter natural black ones. The features in his face had become sharper, more angled with age. But it was those devilish green eyes that gave her the biggest shock. Somehow they had become warmer and more gentile than she had remembered.

"H-Hiruma. W-What are you doing here?" Mamori managed to stammer through her disbelief.

"Trying to help you into a cab, fucking manager," Hiruma smiled. She felt hot tears of joy threatening to sting her eyes as she looked up into a face she hadn't seen in over a dozen years.

"Stop calling me that!" She managed to choke out as she held back the tears. He laughed as he opened the cab door.

"Mind if I share a cab with you? The limo service I ordered seems to have been delayed." He said calmly. Mamori was still in such complete shock over seeing him again, in New York of all places that she would have agreed to just about anything.

"Sure," she said as the cabby came around to the curb to help put their bags in the trunk of the cab.

As the two of them slid in the cab next to each other, her mind raced with all the questions she had thought about asking him if they should ever meet again. Like where did his affinity for weapons come from? How did he become such a technological wiz? What kind of blackmail material did he have on her? Why didn't it work out between them all those years ago? Yet she sat there, immovably still, her soft mitten covered hand primly in her lap, trying hard to resist the urge to touch him.

"Where to?" the cab turned to them after he got into the car.

Hiruma turned to look at her. "You can drop the lady off first," he said easily as he smiled. She could feel her cheeks grow warm, and her mouth suddenly go dry. Why was he still having this effect on her after so many years? Was it because his appearance had changed, and he seemed more grown up than she had remembered? Or was it because behind those deceptively warm green eyes she sensed the charming charismatic demon still lurked?

"5530 East 75th Street, Manhattan," she said softly after she swallowed hard to gain some sense of composure back, but the man sitting next her began to chuckle to himself, alerting her that maybe she had said something wrong.

"What is it? Was my English not correct?" Her brow furrowed worriedly as she looked at him and his laughter grew.

"No, your English is fine," he said as he continued to laugh. "It's just that a certain fucking cheerleader is going to have some explaining to do."