Categories > Anime/Manga > Eyeshield 21
904 Word Drabble
0 reviewsA drabble inspired by the crap I put up with at school. At least the character gets a decent ending. PG-13 for SOME people's mouths. Ps. the warning was put on by accident.
0Unrated
Never EVER look bored in front of Hiruma. He is under the impression that HE is the only one allowed to look bored. EVER.
I had a really hard day; the play I was in had cut half of my scenes, and I couldn’t do the two scenes I had left well AT ALL. The ‘director’, if she still deserves that title, had decided that I shouldn’t be in my favorite scene in the entire fucking play (it had imaginary ghosties!), because there were too many of us. The other scene I was cut from was the only scene I actually said anything, even if it was only one word. I, personally, wanted to tie a fresh-cut steak to her back and introduce her to Cerberos.
I was, obviously, in no fucking mood. If I smoked, I would’ve been chaining BIG TIME. I was leaning against the wall of the club house and staring at the sky. The clouds and music (Garden of Eden by Guns N’ Roses on endless repeat) had finally erased the anger from my face, and was working on my tense muscles. I looked a little peeved, if not entirely unapproachable. In other words, I looked mildly annoyed with the sky, and otherwise BORED.
I don’t to this day know where he was before, what he was doing, or what possessed him to come over to me, but come over Hiruma did, with an evil grin that must have originated in Texas (for those of you who don’t get it, EVERYTHING’S bigger in Texas). I actually didn’t notice until he was right next to me. Hey, that music was LOUD.
“What’re you doing, Fucking Smartass?” He nudged my temple with his AK-47 semi. That was one nice gun.
“Living, breathing, listening to music, watching clouds; I promise you on a sub-atomic level, I’m actually quite busy.” There was a reason he called me a smartass.
“Tch,” he scoffed, as his trigger-happy finger twitched, “I’ve got something better for you to do.” Looking at him defiantly, I paused the song playing from my ghetto cassette-player.
“Oh yeah?” I replied calmly. I was (as previously stated) in no goddamn mood, “What makes you think I’ll comply?” If he was surprised by the desertion from my normal, subservient self, he was damn good at hiding it. Perhaps his grin got just a little bigger. So much for Texas.
“Oh, I think if you don’t, I’ll blow your brains out.” Hiruma was good at blind threats, I’ll give him that; not that he ever scared me.
“Oh? I know for a fact you had team practice not long ago. That means all your shells are empty.” Calling Hiruma’s bluffs is never a smart thing to do, but I was never an overly sensible person. He quirked an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t do just as much damage at this range.”
“True, very true.”
We stood like that a while.
“So what do you want me to do?” I finally gave in, maybe it could distract me from my insanely (in my opinion) selfish problems. Hiruma grinned wider.
“Fucking manager took a sick day,” he said, gauging my reaction.
“I never thought she had it in her. She must be in the hospital.” I truly never thought Mamori took days off. I was in my 3rd year, so I wouldn’t have known otherwise.
“Strapped to the bed by her mother, actually,” Hiruma replied, snickering slightly. I couldn’t help but giggle.
“So what does that have to do with me?” I asked, returning my thoughts to Hiruma’s original order, which he still hadn’t given.
“She usually cleans the clubhouse.”
“Your point is..?” Oh, I understood, I just didn’t want to.
“Clean the fucking clubhouse.”
“I HATE cleaning! You know that!” I whined protests, but they fell on deaf ears.
“Just do it.”
“Fine.”
(Insert copious amounts of grumbling and cursing here)
When I actually started to clean, my mind actually did stray from the play. I am and always will be a perfectionist when it comes to cleaning. I was almost done when I thought of something. Hiruma was in the room. I really hadn’t cared, but it was strange to just realize it. I walked over to the table he was resting his feet on, and began to clean it. He simply typed away at his keyboard.
I actually had another epiphany (if you could call it that). At the very least, it was an evil-ish idea. I finished scrubbing the table (AROUND Hiruma’s feet, I might add), and wlked by him. As I passed, I gave him a small kiss on the tip of his ear and hurried away, to clean one of the slot machines. I hoped I hid my blush well, even though I probably didn’t.
“What was that for?” Hiruma asked, grinning evilly.
“That was a thank you.” It really was. He’d so easily (and probably inadvertently) taken my mind from the play that I felt he deserved SOMETHING.
I went back to cleaning, the smile seemingly permanent on Hiruma’s face. I was finished with the small row of slot machines and made my way over to the pachinko and other various games on the other side. At least I would have, if Hiruma hadn’t slapped my ass as I walked by.
“What the bloody hell was THAT?!” I shouted, blushing a sweet shade of burgundy. Hiruma smirked.
“You’re welcome.”
I had a really hard day; the play I was in had cut half of my scenes, and I couldn’t do the two scenes I had left well AT ALL. The ‘director’, if she still deserves that title, had decided that I shouldn’t be in my favorite scene in the entire fucking play (it had imaginary ghosties!), because there were too many of us. The other scene I was cut from was the only scene I actually said anything, even if it was only one word. I, personally, wanted to tie a fresh-cut steak to her back and introduce her to Cerberos.
I was, obviously, in no fucking mood. If I smoked, I would’ve been chaining BIG TIME. I was leaning against the wall of the club house and staring at the sky. The clouds and music (Garden of Eden by Guns N’ Roses on endless repeat) had finally erased the anger from my face, and was working on my tense muscles. I looked a little peeved, if not entirely unapproachable. In other words, I looked mildly annoyed with the sky, and otherwise BORED.
I don’t to this day know where he was before, what he was doing, or what possessed him to come over to me, but come over Hiruma did, with an evil grin that must have originated in Texas (for those of you who don’t get it, EVERYTHING’S bigger in Texas). I actually didn’t notice until he was right next to me. Hey, that music was LOUD.
“What’re you doing, Fucking Smartass?” He nudged my temple with his AK-47 semi. That was one nice gun.
“Living, breathing, listening to music, watching clouds; I promise you on a sub-atomic level, I’m actually quite busy.” There was a reason he called me a smartass.
“Tch,” he scoffed, as his trigger-happy finger twitched, “I’ve got something better for you to do.” Looking at him defiantly, I paused the song playing from my ghetto cassette-player.
“Oh yeah?” I replied calmly. I was (as previously stated) in no goddamn mood, “What makes you think I’ll comply?” If he was surprised by the desertion from my normal, subservient self, he was damn good at hiding it. Perhaps his grin got just a little bigger. So much for Texas.
“Oh, I think if you don’t, I’ll blow your brains out.” Hiruma was good at blind threats, I’ll give him that; not that he ever scared me.
“Oh? I know for a fact you had team practice not long ago. That means all your shells are empty.” Calling Hiruma’s bluffs is never a smart thing to do, but I was never an overly sensible person. He quirked an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t do just as much damage at this range.”
“True, very true.”
We stood like that a while.
“So what do you want me to do?” I finally gave in, maybe it could distract me from my insanely (in my opinion) selfish problems. Hiruma grinned wider.
“Fucking manager took a sick day,” he said, gauging my reaction.
“I never thought she had it in her. She must be in the hospital.” I truly never thought Mamori took days off. I was in my 3rd year, so I wouldn’t have known otherwise.
“Strapped to the bed by her mother, actually,” Hiruma replied, snickering slightly. I couldn’t help but giggle.
“So what does that have to do with me?” I asked, returning my thoughts to Hiruma’s original order, which he still hadn’t given.
“She usually cleans the clubhouse.”
“Your point is..?” Oh, I understood, I just didn’t want to.
“Clean the fucking clubhouse.”
“I HATE cleaning! You know that!” I whined protests, but they fell on deaf ears.
“Just do it.”
“Fine.”
(Insert copious amounts of grumbling and cursing here)
When I actually started to clean, my mind actually did stray from the play. I am and always will be a perfectionist when it comes to cleaning. I was almost done when I thought of something. Hiruma was in the room. I really hadn’t cared, but it was strange to just realize it. I walked over to the table he was resting his feet on, and began to clean it. He simply typed away at his keyboard.
I actually had another epiphany (if you could call it that). At the very least, it was an evil-ish idea. I finished scrubbing the table (AROUND Hiruma’s feet, I might add), and wlked by him. As I passed, I gave him a small kiss on the tip of his ear and hurried away, to clean one of the slot machines. I hoped I hid my blush well, even though I probably didn’t.
“What was that for?” Hiruma asked, grinning evilly.
“That was a thank you.” It really was. He’d so easily (and probably inadvertently) taken my mind from the play that I felt he deserved SOMETHING.
I went back to cleaning, the smile seemingly permanent on Hiruma’s face. I was finished with the small row of slot machines and made my way over to the pachinko and other various games on the other side. At least I would have, if Hiruma hadn’t slapped my ass as I walked by.
“What the bloody hell was THAT?!” I shouted, blushing a sweet shade of burgundy. Hiruma smirked.
“You’re welcome.”
Sign up to rate and review this story