Categories > Anime/Manga > Eyeshield 21 > Welcome to Hell
*WD918: YAY! Chap 2! Never thought I’d ever write this damn thing…*
“That’s what HE says,” I muttered, bored, now that the annoyance had worn off. Hiruma glared, and everyone tensed. The gun was still resting on my head. I didn’t care. “I can’t walk right now, and I refuse to play. Period.”
“But if you can’t walk, how will you train us?” a tall blonde with a rather striking scar on his cheek asked with scorn. I grabbed the football next to me, and looked at Monta.
“You, catch this.” I told him, and threw the ball as hard as I could. It took him a moment to react, but he suddenly turned and ran after the ball. He didn’t catch it. He grabbed the ball, and ran back. “Until you can catch that, you’ll do nothing else.” I told him simply. Everyone paled considerably, and a couple jaws dropped. They obviously were not expecting that. I smirked. “Who’s the runner?” No one replied.
“She means Running Back,” Hiruma spat, glaring at me. A small, shy boy with pretty hair (Sena) raised his hand sheepishly.
“Your record?”
“F-four-point-two!” he stuttered out, snapping to attention. I grinned at him.
“Sweetie, that’s just fucking amazing. I’ll let Hiruma do with you, I can’t improve that. (Your power needs work, but he can do that.)” He blushed cutely.
“Linebackers?” The blonde from before raised his hand, along with two other punks, Kurita, a stupid-looking blonde with his leg raised instead of his hand, and a very short boy with a red bulbous nose. “Do whatever, I’m not much good with power, but I do know that you ought to try blocking each other. It’ll help going up against real opponents, rather than just dummies.”
“We all know Hiruma’s Quarterback, so…who are the rest of you?” I was blunt, and bored.
“I’m Yukimura, I’m a reserve player.” He was tall, with a funny-shaped head. I nodded.
“Any talent on the field?”
“Going unnoticed.” I looked at him oddly.
“Run laps as fast as you can for as long as you can. After that, do as many push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks as possible. You need stamina.” He took off around the track. He was slow, and would stay that way. But if anything, he needed to last as long as possible. I turned to the rest. “Well?”
“Ishimaru, I’m another ‘runner’.” He was good natured and tan-ish.
“You ran track before this.” I stated. There was no question, it was a fact. He just nodded. I sized him up. “You’re Hiruma’s problem.”
“You’re shoving them all off on me, fucking trainer,” he growled dangerously. I shrugged.
“I can prolly only work with a maximum of two anyway,” I said nonchalantly. “’Specially with my legs like this.” He snorted. I looked at the two remaining girls, eyebrow quirked. “And you two? What do you do?”
“Cheerleader!” the short one exclaimed. I stared at her.
“What on Earth would possess you to do such a thing?” I asked, incredulous. She skipped off, apparently not having heard me.
“I’m Mamori, the manager,” the taller, bustier one replied. She was pretty, I guess. I looked at her oddly.
“Student rep or something, yeah? What the fuck’re you doing here?” She was about to reply, when I cut her off. “Never mind. Go run some laps; if you manage a team, you work with them as well.” She looked at me like I had eggplants shooting from my ears. “What?! Go!” She took off. I looked over my shoulder at Hiruma slyly.
“Go do whatever, Hiruma.” He snorted, shouldered his gun, and stalked off. I looked at Monta. “Well?” He handed me the ball, and practice began.
“That’s what HE says,” I muttered, bored, now that the annoyance had worn off. Hiruma glared, and everyone tensed. The gun was still resting on my head. I didn’t care. “I can’t walk right now, and I refuse to play. Period.”
“But if you can’t walk, how will you train us?” a tall blonde with a rather striking scar on his cheek asked with scorn. I grabbed the football next to me, and looked at Monta.
“You, catch this.” I told him, and threw the ball as hard as I could. It took him a moment to react, but he suddenly turned and ran after the ball. He didn’t catch it. He grabbed the ball, and ran back. “Until you can catch that, you’ll do nothing else.” I told him simply. Everyone paled considerably, and a couple jaws dropped. They obviously were not expecting that. I smirked. “Who’s the runner?” No one replied.
“She means Running Back,” Hiruma spat, glaring at me. A small, shy boy with pretty hair (Sena) raised his hand sheepishly.
“Your record?”
“F-four-point-two!” he stuttered out, snapping to attention. I grinned at him.
“Sweetie, that’s just fucking amazing. I’ll let Hiruma do with you, I can’t improve that. (Your power needs work, but he can do that.)” He blushed cutely.
“Linebackers?” The blonde from before raised his hand, along with two other punks, Kurita, a stupid-looking blonde with his leg raised instead of his hand, and a very short boy with a red bulbous nose. “Do whatever, I’m not much good with power, but I do know that you ought to try blocking each other. It’ll help going up against real opponents, rather than just dummies.”
“We all know Hiruma’s Quarterback, so…who are the rest of you?” I was blunt, and bored.
“I’m Yukimura, I’m a reserve player.” He was tall, with a funny-shaped head. I nodded.
“Any talent on the field?”
“Going unnoticed.” I looked at him oddly.
“Run laps as fast as you can for as long as you can. After that, do as many push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks as possible. You need stamina.” He took off around the track. He was slow, and would stay that way. But if anything, he needed to last as long as possible. I turned to the rest. “Well?”
“Ishimaru, I’m another ‘runner’.” He was good natured and tan-ish.
“You ran track before this.” I stated. There was no question, it was a fact. He just nodded. I sized him up. “You’re Hiruma’s problem.”
“You’re shoving them all off on me, fucking trainer,” he growled dangerously. I shrugged.
“I can prolly only work with a maximum of two anyway,” I said nonchalantly. “’Specially with my legs like this.” He snorted. I looked at the two remaining girls, eyebrow quirked. “And you two? What do you do?”
“Cheerleader!” the short one exclaimed. I stared at her.
“What on Earth would possess you to do such a thing?” I asked, incredulous. She skipped off, apparently not having heard me.
“I’m Mamori, the manager,” the taller, bustier one replied. She was pretty, I guess. I looked at her oddly.
“Student rep or something, yeah? What the fuck’re you doing here?” She was about to reply, when I cut her off. “Never mind. Go run some laps; if you manage a team, you work with them as well.” She looked at me like I had eggplants shooting from my ears. “What?! Go!” She took off. I looked over my shoulder at Hiruma slyly.
“Go do whatever, Hiruma.” He snorted, shouldered his gun, and stalked off. I looked at Monta. “Well?” He handed me the ball, and practice began.
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