Hiruma wanted this to happen, and that was all. He wanted it so badly, he'd more than once woken up at two in the morning in cold sweats from nightmares of his failure. It was a dull, constant ache somewhere deep in his belly. He was slobbering, slavering, clawing at the carpets; itching and tingling all over, unable to stay calm or focus on anything but his goal. His mind whirled constantly, a tailspin of plans, of speculations, of wild strategies and insane ideas. He'd do anything to achieve this. He'd give everything to reach it. He would hide everything that he was from the world in general if he needed to, and he'd do it with the same careless smile on his face he'd always worn.

Hadn't he done it for years already? And hadn't she seen the real him despite that carefully crafted façade and loved him anyway? Nobody seemed to know what to do with him, or even that he could be anything but the devil himself — nobody but her. Hiruma had never even considered the possibility that something like that might happen when he'd set off running down his crazy, football-obsessed path all the way back in middle school. He'd never figured his friends would ever really understand him, let alone that damn woman. But that hadn't erased the fact that they were a formidable pair, absolutely unstoppable together. It was so natural that neither one realized it until it was too late, they were best friends, and in love.

He pushed open the glass door to the expensive restaurant, the other hand in his pocket. He was dressed a little sloppily for the occasion, but he didn't really care. Besides, she'd think he was up to something if he looked like he'd escaped from a host club. She, of course, was already there, dressed in that slinky blue evening gown that he knew she knew drove him crazy, blushing slightly. A smile spread across his face as he ignored the terrified hostess and strode to the table where she waited. He plopped down in the chair across from her without ceremony, throwing one arm across its back lazily and grinning like an idiot. Mamori smiled back.

Hiruma didn't wait. You never did when the moment was right; hesitation could cost you the game. Before she could speak, he pulled his hand out of his pocket, along with the small, fuzzy black box he'd been holding in a death grip all this time. He placed the box on the table and flicked it. It slid across the way to halt right in front of her. Her hands flew to her mouth. His smile widened even as the rest of his body froze in apprehension. It wasn't a sure thing, he knew. It could all end very badly, but he didn't care. This woman was worth the risk. He'd decided that a long time ago, though he wasn't sure when — he would endure the most hellish punishment, he would throw away every last ounce of his pride, he would break his right arm all over again and he would lose everything this time, if only she would say "yes" and slip the tiny diamond ring on her finger.

So when she did and he swept her out of her chair, spinning around with her in his arms and screaming "YA-HA!" like he hadn't even after the Christmas Bowl, Hiruma didn't really give a damn that they looked like a pair of drunken fools and that he'd have to bully the restaurant owner into letting them stay and eat dinner instead of kicking them out. He didn't care that the entire world knew he'd fallen for this woman. Let them know. Hell, let them scream it from the rooftops of the city! She was his, he was hers, and now the real game, and the real fun, was underway.