I do not own Naruto or Eyeshield 21. Hope you enjoy!

~Hiruma's PoV~

She was his. He decided that a long time ago. That was why he really hated it when she was all happy with other guys. At the same time, he could understand why they liked her. He loved her.

Her name was Hinata Hyuga. She used to be part of the big company, Hyuga Co., but was disowned because she was a girl. From what he had heard though, the second child was a girl and they kept her. She was skilled in martial arts and was flexible as well as quick, reaching the 4.2 light barrier.

She got along well with all teams, and not as a joke. She was a childhood friend of Mamori and Sena, knowing automatically when he dressed up as Eyeshield 21 whom he was. She was Agon and Unsui's old friend, and the only person anyone had seen that scolded and hit Agon without getting hurt back, though he complained and cursed her enough. Gao respected her and called her as if she were his family. She understood Daikichi's language, surprisingly. Cerberos never attacked her, and even listened to her rare commands. She got along with everyone.

What aggravated Hiruma was that she greeted Yamato, Shin, and Riku with a hug/tackle from behind and often, they would do the same. She was his. She would always be.

When they had met, he had tried to blackmail her; after all, she was the heiress. Finding almost nothing, however, he grew frustrated until he confronted her directly. She stared at him with a calm expression.

"What should I hide?" she questioned. She turned around. "Besides, I'm not even the heiress. I was disowned years ago." With that, she left. That just increased interest. One day, he happened to see her kick a soccer ball back to the team…all the way across the yard. As a test, he had hurled a football at her back, but she dodged it, shrieking in surprise.

"Good reflexes," he had noted quietly. In a sudden burst of anger, she had thrown the ball back perfectly, almost hitting him in the face had he not caught it.

"Will you leave me alone?" she questioned before leaving, furious. So, the competition to recruit her had begun. Days and weeks turned into months before one day, she turned up at practice coolly, as though this was normal. She just watched, a single spectator in the stands. At the end of the practice, she looked at the three, Hiruma, Kurita, and Musashi. Silently, she turned around and left.

After that, she showed up for practice and even gave advice, but never once did she exactly say that she would join. After one year, she skipped several grades and graduated high school, losing all chances to play with them. Another year passed and she had graduated from a top university. It was that year that they had recruited many members, including Eyeshield 21. She often gave out tips and even helped them train. Unfortunately, many also set their sights on her.

She turned every single one of them down, which was why he had casually brought up the topic in a simple conversation that started with football. He loved moments like these, when she was just sitting next to him and discussing with him. Often, these talks would go off-topic, from school to clothes to trees to anything else (though how they get to the topic is never actually known). She wasn't the least bit phased by his personal habits of chewing gum all the time, having guns, threatening, or blackmailing.

"Sena-kun will definitely enjoy this play," she said, grabbing a gum from him. How she found it was beyond him, but by now, he had learned it was best to just leave the gum with her.

"That f***ing shorty should," he answered, laughing. After a few minutes, the topic was changed to favorite drinks.

"So, I heard that some third-year confessed to you," he brought up casually. She frowned a little.

"Yeah," she answered shortly.

"So, what happened?" he pressed. "Do I have the right to tease your boyfriend now?" She rolled her eyes.

"I like someone else," she stated. "Remember? Besides, I already promised to tell you guys who it is if you guys reach the Christmas Bowl."

"So, you can like someone as a man," he teased, cackling. She blushed slightly before pushing him off his chair, muttering something under her breath.

The Death March was tiring he had to admit. He couldn't show it though. He had to pretend that he was strong and that it was nothing. He couldn't help but be relieved the moment he collapsed on the bed though. He willed himself to get up when he heard Suzuna coming, but was grateful (inside) when Mamori convinced her not to. He flopped back on the bed. A knock resounded on the door and before he could react, it opened. She stood there, ice packs in hand. She had ridden on the truck the entire way, cheering all of them on.

"I thought so," she stated, not teased, closing the door with her foot. He stood up, trying not to look as tired as he had felt.

"What are you here for?" I asked. She came over and pushed him back on the bed as he tried not to wince. Then, she held the ice pack to all of his aching joints.

"No complaints," she ordered. As he opened his mouth to let out a snide remark, she cut him off.

"No complaints," she repeated. "Everyone's allowed to be pampered once in a while so just accept it for once." So he shut his mouth and let her do so. Minutes passed before he opened his mouth again, tired and worn out.

"Can I…" He paused and licked his dry lips. "Can I lay on your lap?" She blushed, but let him. It was comfortable he decided, and he definitely liked the smell of her. Without knowing it, he fell asleep, missing the soft chime-like sounds of her laugh.

The cheers rang out and he smirked. He looked over at her.

"Well," he started. "Are you going to keep true to your promise?" She sighed at his great memory and walked up to him. She gestured for him to turn his ear to her. He tilted his head and heard a single whisper before her lips met with his cheek. She blushed afterwards, but didn't move. He cackled.

"What do you think my answer is?" he asked, kissing her when she opened her mouth to answer, making her turn a darker shade of red.

Sorry. I just couldn't help wanting to write about it, though it isn't one of my best works.