Categories > Anime/Manga > Eyeshield 21
"Really, I don't condone this kind of violence," Mamori hissed. Hiruma snorted at her.
"Then you shouldn't have come, fucking manager. This is deathmatch football, not fucking tea parties. You knew what the fuck you were signing up for."
Mamori's lips tightened. "And you know I'm here because of Sena. There's absolutely no way I'd let him kill himself over, excuse my French, a 'fucking deathmatch football game'."
Hiruma did not deign to reply. Instead, he shoved his way to the counter, sliding over a brown envelope marked "TEAM DEIMON: APPLICATIONS" and a smaller, unmarked envelope. Both the applications and the cash disappeared immediately, and a small slip came back. He pushed his way back to her, where she was firmly fending off the attentions of someone greasy, large and wearing a lot of smelly leather.
"Scram," Hiruma told him, jabbing him sharply with a gun barrel, and the man skittered back into the crowd. "Here, take the fucking chit and make sure nobody fucking walks off with it. We paid one fucking million yen for this chance, so you fucking better treasure this more than your life."
Mamori was reaching for it when what seemed like a herd of muscled bodies rammed into Hiruma, burying him. The precious piece of paper fluttered up into the air, and an arm snatched it away an inch above her fingertips. "Zokugaku Chamelons!" Mamori recognised. "Habashiri Rui! You give that back!"
"Or whatcha gonna do?" Habashiri hissed at her, tongue flickering in amusement between his fangs. "Thanks for the ticket, Hiruma -- we sure as hell couldn't have paid the entrance fee for this."
"FUCK!" Hiruma roared, and the bodies above him thrashed and writhed in pain abruptly -- Mamori caught a glimpse of the illegal taser, the same model he'd given her. There were no allowed deaths at the Tokyo Dome apart from those on the playing field -- deaths meant less punters and customers, which equaled less money, and the money was the only reason why teams battled here to get out of the slums and why the authorities allowed the game to go on. "I'll kill you, you fucking lizard!"
"I'll take your broad too, Hiruma," Hashibiri sneered, as more bodies piled on, and snaked an arm around Mamori's waist, nearly yanking her off her feet. "You can come watch us at the games, Hiruma, if you can afford the seats."
"Please don't hurt me," Mamori whispered, as Hashibiri guided her out of the Dome and to the parking lot where the Zokugaku bikes were parked.
"Don't you worry, hon." he crooned to her. "You're a real classy lady, I can tell. I'll take you somewhere quiet -- hell, even wine and dine you a little before we fuck. And once we win the Rose Bowl, I'll be a millionaire-- hell, billionaire even, and we'll be leaving this shithole forever. We'll go somewhere where the fucking land doesn't glow in the dark."
"I'll-- I'll be your girlfriend?" Mamori whispered timorously. Hashibiri grinned and leaned forward, and his tongue swiped down the side of her neck and into her cleavage. "Yeah, whatever you want to call it baby, just you and me alone. Nobody else will touch you." This section of the carpark was deserted; apparently it took all of Zokugaku's riders just to hold down Hiruma. From the corner of the eye, she could see a few figures in the distance, too far to do anything even if she screamed.
"Good," said Mamori, and smashed her handbag into the side of his head.
When Hiruma finally left the Dome, swearing and limping slightly, he found Mamori frowning at the bike handlebars, the engine growling raspily. "Move over, fucking manager, you drive worse than my grandma," he croaked. "Where's the fucking lizard?"
She pointed to rubbish dump at the side of the carpark, then slid in behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle.
"What, did you have a fucking gun I didn't know about?" The shakes were starting to hit her; Hiruma scowled and flexed his grip on his handlebars until her arms tightened again.
"No," Mamori said, voice wobbly and muffled, her face pressed into his back. "I-- Sena found half a brick and told me to put it in my bag. Just in case. I didn't remember the taser until later."
Hiruma was quiet for a while, then, "You still got the fucking brick?"
"Yes, I've got the fucking brick."
"Keep it. Batteries are expensive."
"Then you shouldn't have come, fucking manager. This is deathmatch football, not fucking tea parties. You knew what the fuck you were signing up for."
Mamori's lips tightened. "And you know I'm here because of Sena. There's absolutely no way I'd let him kill himself over, excuse my French, a 'fucking deathmatch football game'."
Hiruma did not deign to reply. Instead, he shoved his way to the counter, sliding over a brown envelope marked "TEAM DEIMON: APPLICATIONS" and a smaller, unmarked envelope. Both the applications and the cash disappeared immediately, and a small slip came back. He pushed his way back to her, where she was firmly fending off the attentions of someone greasy, large and wearing a lot of smelly leather.
"Scram," Hiruma told him, jabbing him sharply with a gun barrel, and the man skittered back into the crowd. "Here, take the fucking chit and make sure nobody fucking walks off with it. We paid one fucking million yen for this chance, so you fucking better treasure this more than your life."
Mamori was reaching for it when what seemed like a herd of muscled bodies rammed into Hiruma, burying him. The precious piece of paper fluttered up into the air, and an arm snatched it away an inch above her fingertips. "Zokugaku Chamelons!" Mamori recognised. "Habashiri Rui! You give that back!"
"Or whatcha gonna do?" Habashiri hissed at her, tongue flickering in amusement between his fangs. "Thanks for the ticket, Hiruma -- we sure as hell couldn't have paid the entrance fee for this."
"FUCK!" Hiruma roared, and the bodies above him thrashed and writhed in pain abruptly -- Mamori caught a glimpse of the illegal taser, the same model he'd given her. There were no allowed deaths at the Tokyo Dome apart from those on the playing field -- deaths meant less punters and customers, which equaled less money, and the money was the only reason why teams battled here to get out of the slums and why the authorities allowed the game to go on. "I'll kill you, you fucking lizard!"
"I'll take your broad too, Hiruma," Hashibiri sneered, as more bodies piled on, and snaked an arm around Mamori's waist, nearly yanking her off her feet. "You can come watch us at the games, Hiruma, if you can afford the seats."
"Please don't hurt me," Mamori whispered, as Hashibiri guided her out of the Dome and to the parking lot where the Zokugaku bikes were parked.
"Don't you worry, hon." he crooned to her. "You're a real classy lady, I can tell. I'll take you somewhere quiet -- hell, even wine and dine you a little before we fuck. And once we win the Rose Bowl, I'll be a millionaire-- hell, billionaire even, and we'll be leaving this shithole forever. We'll go somewhere where the fucking land doesn't glow in the dark."
"I'll-- I'll be your girlfriend?" Mamori whispered timorously. Hashibiri grinned and leaned forward, and his tongue swiped down the side of her neck and into her cleavage. "Yeah, whatever you want to call it baby, just you and me alone. Nobody else will touch you." This section of the carpark was deserted; apparently it took all of Zokugaku's riders just to hold down Hiruma. From the corner of the eye, she could see a few figures in the distance, too far to do anything even if she screamed.
"Good," said Mamori, and smashed her handbag into the side of his head.
When Hiruma finally left the Dome, swearing and limping slightly, he found Mamori frowning at the bike handlebars, the engine growling raspily. "Move over, fucking manager, you drive worse than my grandma," he croaked. "Where's the fucking lizard?"
She pointed to rubbish dump at the side of the carpark, then slid in behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle.
"What, did you have a fucking gun I didn't know about?" The shakes were starting to hit her; Hiruma scowled and flexed his grip on his handlebars until her arms tightened again.
"No," Mamori said, voice wobbly and muffled, her face pressed into his back. "I-- Sena found half a brick and told me to put it in my bag. Just in case. I didn't remember the taser until later."
Hiruma was quiet for a while, then, "You still got the fucking brick?"
"Yes, I've got the fucking brick."
"Keep it. Batteries are expensive."
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