A Grand Game
Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21 or its respective characters. I'm not making money off of this so, don't try sueing me for it. You will gain nothing and make me cry and that would be sad.
Author's Comments: This is a submission for hiruma_x_mamori's Sports prompt. I enjoyed it, hope the rest of you do too.
Clifford D. Lewis is not someone who is often caught by surprise. He’s an amazingly talented quarterback with enough statistical analysis skills that very little in life can surprise him because he simply considers every possibility. Though, in the grand game of life, anyone can get caught by surprise and even if it is unlikely. And of course, this story starts with one of those rare occasions that Clifford D. Lewis, the Invincible Gambler, was caught by surprise.
It begins with an innocent call from Clifford’s grandfather who happened to be living in Lafayette, Indiana. Being in South Bend for college, Clifford found the prospect of being asked to spend a few weeks of his summer with his grandfather not inconvenient, just annoying. Despite this, Clifford did love that old man and respect him enough to go out for a small visit.
Upon arrival at his grandfather’s home he was not expecting to be confronted on the front porch by a short Japanese girl he faintly recognized from the World Youth Football Cup Tournament.
“You will be teaching me how to gamble.” Anezaki Mamori, a second year student at Saikyodai University in Tokyo, Japan announced to Clifford without any preamble. Every inch of her body made it very clear that ‘no’ was not an acceptable answer.
While Clifford was surprised and his expression reflected as much, he was not not thinking either. In fact his brilliant mind was accessing this strange situation at record speeds.
“Pardon me, but who are you again?” Clifford glared slightly, expressing the fact he actually was offended to some degree. He was here to visit his grandfather, not to play games, and especially not to teach some sassy-mouthed Japanese girl he doesn’t really know how to play real games.
“Anezaki Mamori.” Mamori answered smoothly. She tried to avoid biting her lip in nervousness. She had already lost her element of surprise to the fact Clifford didn’t recall her. “I was the manager for Team Japan.”
Clifford nodded, recalling how he had found the lack of coaches on the Japan team’s bench strange until he read Hiruma’s file in detail. Hiruma was particular about who he was willing to work with; Mamori was one of the few exceptions. She was a sharp minded, brilliant stagiest who seemed to not only be able to keep up with Hiruma, but to not let him rule over her. Clifford had been a bit jealous of this since he also would like bench staff that were as talented as her, but he wasn’t exactly in a place he could make such choices. On the other hand, Clifford had gotten extremely good at manipulating what staff he did have to work with to make them minimally tiresome to deal with.
Even though nothing besides the demand had been said, Clifford was already painting the picture of the situation in his mind. Mamori was going to college with Hiruma and still was his manager. For some reason, probably one pertaining to her request of him, one that was probably motivated by some action of Hiruma’s she was here in America making this demand. Clifford had to admit, that was a lot of persistence on her part to get results, especially if it involved somehow convincing his stubborn grandfather to be involved.
“So what did that brat do to drive you to be this desperate?” Clifford asked curtly. He wasn’t going to hide he already knew most of what was going on. He doubted that she was expecting anything less.
Mamori’s posture went rigid and her expression turned dark and angry.
Clearly Hiruma was in need of some serious humbling if he was pissing off a girl enough to make her fly to another country to get help.
“Do you really need details?” Mamori asked, making sure to keep her anger in check.
“Not if you tell me what I’m getting out of this demand of yours.” Clifford answered, changing his annoyed expression to one of grim understanding.
“Pardon?” Mamori had let go of her anger and confusion had set in. The entire affair had made her so emotional…..
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Clifford spat almost sarcastically. “Gambling technique is something I take a lot of pride in and it’s a secret I. Do. Not. Share. There better either be a damn good reason for me to be doing it or I better be getting something beneficial or it ain’t happenin’.”
This is where Mamori’s luck seemed to have run out. She deflated visibly and held back frustrated tears while she recalled how she had gotten into this position in the first place.
Like many things surrounding Hiruma, this had been one of his games. He’d been doing his usual blackmailing, gun shooting, and mayhem making up until recently. It seemed as if the moment Mamori had a conversation with someone, usually male (but there were exceptions), something horrible would happen to them within 24 hours and she would not speak to that individual except on very, very rare occasions. Of course Mamori knew right away it was Hiruma, no one could drive people into that much fear that quickly. She suspected it was because he wasn’t confronting his own emotions concerning her and was being unintentionally jealous because he had an unhealthy infatuation with her.
Mamori knew better than to tell him to confront his emotions, but after he deported a professor, she decided it was enough. The confrontation had gone down late at night, during the middle of game analysis.
“Hiruma, you have to stop this.” Mamori had told him.
“Stop what, fucking manager?” Hiruma asked tauntingly. He knew exactly what she was referring to, but he wanted to hear her say it.
“Oh, nothing much, just your stupid little habit of isolating me to the football field by sending everyone I talk to away.” Mamori replied causally. “I’ll have a mental breakdown if I can’t have a social life outside of football you know.”
Hiruma didn’t frown, he didn’t even look up from her laptop.
“You’re suspecting that I’m being a fucking jealous bitch because I’m in love with you and won’t admit to myself.” Hiruma remarked. “Actually, fucking manager, that’s not why I’m doing this.”
“W-what!?” Mamori stood up to stare at him. Trust Hiruma Youichi to do the unexpected.
“You heard me right the first time.” Hiruma pointed out dryly.
“…Why?” Mamori demanded. “Why are you driving me insane!?”
“I’m not driving anyone insane, you’re the one that’s over-reacting to a little bit of added stress.” Hiruma waved it off as if the matter was unimportant.
“Hiruma-!”
“Oye, stop screaming, you’ll wake the neighbors.” Hiruma reminded her curtly. Mamori sat back down, her cheeks flushed with shame.
“…You have to stop.” Mamori demanded lamely after a bit. “You just have to.”
“Make me.” Hiruma taunted her.
“Fine.” Mamori stood up and walked over to where Hiruma had been sitting. “We’re going to have a bet.”
“I bet you can’t beat me at my own games.” Hiruma told her confidently, setting the bet and the parameters before she could protest. “If you fucking lose, you get to join the ranks of my slaves. If you win, then I’ll stop what I’m doing.”
Mamori blinked, her mouth opened and closed.
“You have until the end of summer.” Hiruma added and went back to his work as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the story involved Mamori formulating a plan. Her plan was to seek out the only person who had ever beaten Hiruma at his own games (gambling, football, and other mind games), Clifford D. Lewis. She knew he was in Indiana, the same state her American grandfather was currently residing in. After calling said grandfather, Mamori had experienced an unexpected stroke of luck- her grandfather was best friends with Clifford’s grandfather. She had him arrange a meeting by somehow convincing both grandfathers that she was very interesting in learning about football from the world’s best quarterback.
Mamori did not know how Clifford’s grandfather had convinced him to come over to visit, but she did know that it happened. When she heard the motor bike, she decided to confront him while she still had the element of surprise and now it was gone…..
“What do you want?” Mamori asked quietly, keeping her sobs from coming out.
This had been a proposition Clifford had not considered, so he took a few moments to think about it.
“I want to ask you 20 questions and I want them answered truthfully.” Clifford began a small smirk forming on his lips. “And you can’t question the nature of these questions, nor can you tell people that I asked them.”
“That’s it?” Mamori had been expecting something much worse, 20 questions were remarkably innocent.
“Yes.”
“Then start asking!” Mamori insisted.
“Does Hiruma Youichi wear boxers or briefs?” Clifford asked. Mamori blushed. “I know you know the answer.”
“Briefs.” Mamori answered, mortified. Just now it had occurred to her how often she washed Hiruma’s clothes, underwear included. She then realized that these were not going to be 20 easy questions at all.
“How much of your underclothing matches his tastes?”
“You did not just ask me that…..” Mamori muttered in embarrassment.
Not all of Clifford’s questions were personal or strange. Some of them were as begin as ‘what day were you born?’, others were confusing ‘which would you rather travel on, a car or a train?’, and some were Hiruma-related ‘what’s his favorite food?’. The last question was not one she had been expecting.
“Are you aware that if my grandfather thinks that you’ve manipulated him, he’s going to shoot you?” Clifford asked, his expression something closed to worry.
“N-no.” Mamori admitted. “Would he really shoot me?”
“He’s a crazy old man from the mid-west, yes he would.” Clifford was completely serious and Mamori felt like she’d just gotten in way over her head.
“I sure hope you came up with a good charade to play or we’re both going to be in a world of hurt.” Clifford muttered as they walked into the house.
Gambling training began about three hours after talking to the old grandfathers. Clifford pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and began teaching her Texas Hold’em. He started with the basic rules, then basic tactics, then to helping her make her own poker face.
“I use unwavering confidence and insane amounts of money, that brat uses a shit-eating grin and insults, and neither of those will work for you.” Clifford remarked concerning the matter of a poker face. “You’ll have to make something he won’t realize is one….”
“How?” Mamori asked.
“Let’s start with your personality and habits and work from there. A natural poker face is the easiest one to maintain and the most deceptive.” Clifford smirked. “Oh that brat won’t know what hit him!”
From there he went on to teaching her how to bluff within the bounds of her own poker face. It had not occurred to Mamori that bluffing had to happen within your poker face.
“If you bluff outside of your poker face it breaks.” Clifford explained. “That’s why I insisted on the one you’re developing right now- it has the most range for you to bluff in.”
Clifford also decided some football was in order as well when he discovered Mamori did not actually know how to throw a football. He didn’t teach her anything fancy, just basic throwing and footwork. Then he took her to the park and told a group of girls that were standing around there that Mamori was their quarterback and left without a word.
Needless to say, Mamori had gained a very immense understanding for Hiruma’s job having played quarterback for a team of girls against girls. And she found that she was surprisingly good at playing one too. In fact the experience had been both so satisfactory and enlightening, she elected to not smack Clifford with her broom the next time she saw him.
By the time the summer was drawing to a close and Mamori would have to return to Japan Clifford had told her that she was ‘as good as she was going to get’.
“I’m not able to get better?” Mamori asked, frowning.
“Oh, you can certainly still improve but-“ Clifford looked her up and down, “there’s nothing else that can be done in the three days you have left.”
“Oh.” Mamori realized.
“Just practice.” Clifford advised.
“Alright.”
After a long flight, Mamori returned to Japan, to her football fields, and to Hiruma and the enigma he was. She stood in front of him in the club room with a pack of cards in one hand, a clipboard in the other, with a confident smile.
“You’re going to gamble with me?” Hiruma asked her in front of the team as he held in laughter at the notion.
“No, I’m going to tell you that I won the bet.” Mamori answered.
An excited pause filled the room.
Hiruma raised an eyebrow.
“I manipulated Clifford D. Lewis into teaching me how to gamble.” Mamori smiled. “These are his cards.”
Hiruma swore when he put his hands on the deck, recognizing it immediately as having come from the casino where he and Clifford had last played against each other. A tad bit more examination proved the cards to have been the ones that they had played with- a deck only Clifford would have been in possession of. How had she managed such a feat?!
“Now, would you kindly stop frightening people for talking to me?” Mamori had one of those distinctly scary smiles that were associated with a woman’s wrath.
“Che.” Hiruma spat his gum out into a nearby trash can. “Oye, stop loitering and get out on the fucking field!!” Guns were blazing and the more easily intimidated football players were running out of the locker room for their lives. Ones who were not as intimidated included Agon and Yamoto, but they didn’t loiter and stick around either. Hiruma was not unwilling to actually hit them with wax bullets in the past- the present was probably no different.
“You’re going to have to tell me this story.” Hiruma told her, bemused that she was managed to pull that off.
“Only if you actually can beat me at cards.” Mamori smiled coyly. “I do want to see how strong I’ve become.”
“Actually fucking manager, I win.” Hiruma told her, a large grin returning to his face.
“What?” Mamori frowned.
“I thought you could use a good bit of specialized training yourself.” Hiruma explained. The team had been having specialized training sessions all summer in various places. “But you wouldn’t have benefited from it unless it was your own idea, so I forced you to fly to fucking America and pick that fucking big nose’s brain.”
Mamori stared.
“I know that your grandfather and his are fucking best friends.” Hiruma smiled. “I also know that fucking big nose likes his old man enough he’ll listen and that he would very much enjoy helping a pissed off pretty lady take down an evil bastard like myself.”
“So the entire purpose of this bet was to get me to learn how to gamble from Clifford?” Mamori asked him dryly.
“Ke ke ke! Not just that fucking manager- he taught you how to be a quarterback too.” Hiruma laughed at her shocked face. He simply pointed at her right hand. “You’ve got calluses now.”
“Hiruma-!” Mamori hissed dangerously.
“And I will fucking stop scaring fucking bystanders that are talking to you.” Hiruma assured her. “You’ll quit being useful if you’re too stressed.”
Mamori was angry. She’d put a lot of effort into that summer only to see she’d just been played right into his hands. Even if he was going to stop what she’d asked him too, she felt very unsatisfied. But that’s when Clifford’s parting words came back to her.
“He does have an unhealthy infatuation with you- you read that perfectly.” Clifford told her. “The real issue is that he’s not actually aware of it consciously. But he doesn’t do things because he feels like it. He does them because he has a reason. So he’ll have some sort of alternative agenda going on if he’s going to be a little jealous bitch.”
“…I’m wearing black lace panties.” Mamori commented offhandedly and watched as Hiruma both blushed and had a small nosebleed. He looked both horrified and confused at his body’s reaction to those words.
“And you really do need to do something about your crush on me, Hiruma-kun.” Mamori told him.
Mamori walked out onto the field with a small grin, having still found victory at this game in the depths of defeat.
Author's Comments: This is a submission for hiruma_x_mamori's Sports prompt. I enjoyed it, hope the rest of you do too.
Clifford D. Lewis is not someone who is often caught by surprise. He’s an amazingly talented quarterback with enough statistical analysis skills that very little in life can surprise him because he simply considers every possibility. Though, in the grand game of life, anyone can get caught by surprise and even if it is unlikely. And of course, this story starts with one of those rare occasions that Clifford D. Lewis, the Invincible Gambler, was caught by surprise.
It begins with an innocent call from Clifford’s grandfather who happened to be living in Lafayette, Indiana. Being in South Bend for college, Clifford found the prospect of being asked to spend a few weeks of his summer with his grandfather not inconvenient, just annoying. Despite this, Clifford did love that old man and respect him enough to go out for a small visit.
Upon arrival at his grandfather’s home he was not expecting to be confronted on the front porch by a short Japanese girl he faintly recognized from the World Youth Football Cup Tournament.
“You will be teaching me how to gamble.” Anezaki Mamori, a second year student at Saikyodai University in Tokyo, Japan announced to Clifford without any preamble. Every inch of her body made it very clear that ‘no’ was not an acceptable answer.
While Clifford was surprised and his expression reflected as much, he was not not thinking either. In fact his brilliant mind was accessing this strange situation at record speeds.
“Pardon me, but who are you again?” Clifford glared slightly, expressing the fact he actually was offended to some degree. He was here to visit his grandfather, not to play games, and especially not to teach some sassy-mouthed Japanese girl he doesn’t really know how to play real games.
“Anezaki Mamori.” Mamori answered smoothly. She tried to avoid biting her lip in nervousness. She had already lost her element of surprise to the fact Clifford didn’t recall her. “I was the manager for Team Japan.”
Clifford nodded, recalling how he had found the lack of coaches on the Japan team’s bench strange until he read Hiruma’s file in detail. Hiruma was particular about who he was willing to work with; Mamori was one of the few exceptions. She was a sharp minded, brilliant stagiest who seemed to not only be able to keep up with Hiruma, but to not let him rule over her. Clifford had been a bit jealous of this since he also would like bench staff that were as talented as her, but he wasn’t exactly in a place he could make such choices. On the other hand, Clifford had gotten extremely good at manipulating what staff he did have to work with to make them minimally tiresome to deal with.
Even though nothing besides the demand had been said, Clifford was already painting the picture of the situation in his mind. Mamori was going to college with Hiruma and still was his manager. For some reason, probably one pertaining to her request of him, one that was probably motivated by some action of Hiruma’s she was here in America making this demand. Clifford had to admit, that was a lot of persistence on her part to get results, especially if it involved somehow convincing his stubborn grandfather to be involved.
“So what did that brat do to drive you to be this desperate?” Clifford asked curtly. He wasn’t going to hide he already knew most of what was going on. He doubted that she was expecting anything less.
Mamori’s posture went rigid and her expression turned dark and angry.
Clearly Hiruma was in need of some serious humbling if he was pissing off a girl enough to make her fly to another country to get help.
“Do you really need details?” Mamori asked, making sure to keep her anger in check.
“Not if you tell me what I’m getting out of this demand of yours.” Clifford answered, changing his annoyed expression to one of grim understanding.
“Pardon?” Mamori had let go of her anger and confusion had set in. The entire affair had made her so emotional…..
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Clifford spat almost sarcastically. “Gambling technique is something I take a lot of pride in and it’s a secret I. Do. Not. Share. There better either be a damn good reason for me to be doing it or I better be getting something beneficial or it ain’t happenin’.”
This is where Mamori’s luck seemed to have run out. She deflated visibly and held back frustrated tears while she recalled how she had gotten into this position in the first place.
Like many things surrounding Hiruma, this had been one of his games. He’d been doing his usual blackmailing, gun shooting, and mayhem making up until recently. It seemed as if the moment Mamori had a conversation with someone, usually male (but there were exceptions), something horrible would happen to them within 24 hours and she would not speak to that individual except on very, very rare occasions. Of course Mamori knew right away it was Hiruma, no one could drive people into that much fear that quickly. She suspected it was because he wasn’t confronting his own emotions concerning her and was being unintentionally jealous because he had an unhealthy infatuation with her.
Mamori knew better than to tell him to confront his emotions, but after he deported a professor, she decided it was enough. The confrontation had gone down late at night, during the middle of game analysis.
“Hiruma, you have to stop this.” Mamori had told him.
“Stop what, fucking manager?” Hiruma asked tauntingly. He knew exactly what she was referring to, but he wanted to hear her say it.
“Oh, nothing much, just your stupid little habit of isolating me to the football field by sending everyone I talk to away.” Mamori replied causally. “I’ll have a mental breakdown if I can’t have a social life outside of football you know.”
Hiruma didn’t frown, he didn’t even look up from her laptop.
“You’re suspecting that I’m being a fucking jealous bitch because I’m in love with you and won’t admit to myself.” Hiruma remarked. “Actually, fucking manager, that’s not why I’m doing this.”
“W-what!?” Mamori stood up to stare at him. Trust Hiruma Youichi to do the unexpected.
“You heard me right the first time.” Hiruma pointed out dryly.
“…Why?” Mamori demanded. “Why are you driving me insane!?”
“I’m not driving anyone insane, you’re the one that’s over-reacting to a little bit of added stress.” Hiruma waved it off as if the matter was unimportant.
“Hiruma-!”
“Oye, stop screaming, you’ll wake the neighbors.” Hiruma reminded her curtly. Mamori sat back down, her cheeks flushed with shame.
“…You have to stop.” Mamori demanded lamely after a bit. “You just have to.”
“Make me.” Hiruma taunted her.
“Fine.” Mamori stood up and walked over to where Hiruma had been sitting. “We’re going to have a bet.”
“I bet you can’t beat me at my own games.” Hiruma told her confidently, setting the bet and the parameters before she could protest. “If you fucking lose, you get to join the ranks of my slaves. If you win, then I’ll stop what I’m doing.”
Mamori blinked, her mouth opened and closed.
“You have until the end of summer.” Hiruma added and went back to his work as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the story involved Mamori formulating a plan. Her plan was to seek out the only person who had ever beaten Hiruma at his own games (gambling, football, and other mind games), Clifford D. Lewis. She knew he was in Indiana, the same state her American grandfather was currently residing in. After calling said grandfather, Mamori had experienced an unexpected stroke of luck- her grandfather was best friends with Clifford’s grandfather. She had him arrange a meeting by somehow convincing both grandfathers that she was very interesting in learning about football from the world’s best quarterback.
Mamori did not know how Clifford’s grandfather had convinced him to come over to visit, but she did know that it happened. When she heard the motor bike, she decided to confront him while she still had the element of surprise and now it was gone…..
“What do you want?” Mamori asked quietly, keeping her sobs from coming out.
This had been a proposition Clifford had not considered, so he took a few moments to think about it.
“I want to ask you 20 questions and I want them answered truthfully.” Clifford began a small smirk forming on his lips. “And you can’t question the nature of these questions, nor can you tell people that I asked them.”
“That’s it?” Mamori had been expecting something much worse, 20 questions were remarkably innocent.
“Yes.”
“Then start asking!” Mamori insisted.
“Does Hiruma Youichi wear boxers or briefs?” Clifford asked. Mamori blushed. “I know you know the answer.”
“Briefs.” Mamori answered, mortified. Just now it had occurred to her how often she washed Hiruma’s clothes, underwear included. She then realized that these were not going to be 20 easy questions at all.
“How much of your underclothing matches his tastes?”
“You did not just ask me that…..” Mamori muttered in embarrassment.
Not all of Clifford’s questions were personal or strange. Some of them were as begin as ‘what day were you born?’, others were confusing ‘which would you rather travel on, a car or a train?’, and some were Hiruma-related ‘what’s his favorite food?’. The last question was not one she had been expecting.
“Are you aware that if my grandfather thinks that you’ve manipulated him, he’s going to shoot you?” Clifford asked, his expression something closed to worry.
“N-no.” Mamori admitted. “Would he really shoot me?”
“He’s a crazy old man from the mid-west, yes he would.” Clifford was completely serious and Mamori felt like she’d just gotten in way over her head.
“I sure hope you came up with a good charade to play or we’re both going to be in a world of hurt.” Clifford muttered as they walked into the house.
Gambling training began about three hours after talking to the old grandfathers. Clifford pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and began teaching her Texas Hold’em. He started with the basic rules, then basic tactics, then to helping her make her own poker face.
“I use unwavering confidence and insane amounts of money, that brat uses a shit-eating grin and insults, and neither of those will work for you.” Clifford remarked concerning the matter of a poker face. “You’ll have to make something he won’t realize is one….”
“How?” Mamori asked.
“Let’s start with your personality and habits and work from there. A natural poker face is the easiest one to maintain and the most deceptive.” Clifford smirked. “Oh that brat won’t know what hit him!”
From there he went on to teaching her how to bluff within the bounds of her own poker face. It had not occurred to Mamori that bluffing had to happen within your poker face.
“If you bluff outside of your poker face it breaks.” Clifford explained. “That’s why I insisted on the one you’re developing right now- it has the most range for you to bluff in.”
Clifford also decided some football was in order as well when he discovered Mamori did not actually know how to throw a football. He didn’t teach her anything fancy, just basic throwing and footwork. Then he took her to the park and told a group of girls that were standing around there that Mamori was their quarterback and left without a word.
Needless to say, Mamori had gained a very immense understanding for Hiruma’s job having played quarterback for a team of girls against girls. And she found that she was surprisingly good at playing one too. In fact the experience had been both so satisfactory and enlightening, she elected to not smack Clifford with her broom the next time she saw him.
By the time the summer was drawing to a close and Mamori would have to return to Japan Clifford had told her that she was ‘as good as she was going to get’.
“I’m not able to get better?” Mamori asked, frowning.
“Oh, you can certainly still improve but-“ Clifford looked her up and down, “there’s nothing else that can be done in the three days you have left.”
“Oh.” Mamori realized.
“Just practice.” Clifford advised.
“Alright.”
After a long flight, Mamori returned to Japan, to her football fields, and to Hiruma and the enigma he was. She stood in front of him in the club room with a pack of cards in one hand, a clipboard in the other, with a confident smile.
“You’re going to gamble with me?” Hiruma asked her in front of the team as he held in laughter at the notion.
“No, I’m going to tell you that I won the bet.” Mamori answered.
An excited pause filled the room.
Hiruma raised an eyebrow.
“I manipulated Clifford D. Lewis into teaching me how to gamble.” Mamori smiled. “These are his cards.”
Hiruma swore when he put his hands on the deck, recognizing it immediately as having come from the casino where he and Clifford had last played against each other. A tad bit more examination proved the cards to have been the ones that they had played with- a deck only Clifford would have been in possession of. How had she managed such a feat?!
“Now, would you kindly stop frightening people for talking to me?” Mamori had one of those distinctly scary smiles that were associated with a woman’s wrath.
“Che.” Hiruma spat his gum out into a nearby trash can. “Oye, stop loitering and get out on the fucking field!!” Guns were blazing and the more easily intimidated football players were running out of the locker room for their lives. Ones who were not as intimidated included Agon and Yamoto, but they didn’t loiter and stick around either. Hiruma was not unwilling to actually hit them with wax bullets in the past- the present was probably no different.
“You’re going to have to tell me this story.” Hiruma told her, bemused that she was managed to pull that off.
“Only if you actually can beat me at cards.” Mamori smiled coyly. “I do want to see how strong I’ve become.”
“Actually fucking manager, I win.” Hiruma told her, a large grin returning to his face.
“What?” Mamori frowned.
“I thought you could use a good bit of specialized training yourself.” Hiruma explained. The team had been having specialized training sessions all summer in various places. “But you wouldn’t have benefited from it unless it was your own idea, so I forced you to fly to fucking America and pick that fucking big nose’s brain.”
Mamori stared.
“I know that your grandfather and his are fucking best friends.” Hiruma smiled. “I also know that fucking big nose likes his old man enough he’ll listen and that he would very much enjoy helping a pissed off pretty lady take down an evil bastard like myself.”
“So the entire purpose of this bet was to get me to learn how to gamble from Clifford?” Mamori asked him dryly.
“Ke ke ke! Not just that fucking manager- he taught you how to be a quarterback too.” Hiruma laughed at her shocked face. He simply pointed at her right hand. “You’ve got calluses now.”
“Hiruma-!” Mamori hissed dangerously.
“And I will fucking stop scaring fucking bystanders that are talking to you.” Hiruma assured her. “You’ll quit being useful if you’re too stressed.”
Mamori was angry. She’d put a lot of effort into that summer only to see she’d just been played right into his hands. Even if he was going to stop what she’d asked him too, she felt very unsatisfied. But that’s when Clifford’s parting words came back to her.
“He does have an unhealthy infatuation with you- you read that perfectly.” Clifford told her. “The real issue is that he’s not actually aware of it consciously. But he doesn’t do things because he feels like it. He does them because he has a reason. So he’ll have some sort of alternative agenda going on if he’s going to be a little jealous bitch.”
“…I’m wearing black lace panties.” Mamori commented offhandedly and watched as Hiruma both blushed and had a small nosebleed. He looked both horrified and confused at his body’s reaction to those words.
“And you really do need to do something about your crush on me, Hiruma-kun.” Mamori told him.
Mamori walked out onto the field with a small grin, having still found victory at this game in the depths of defeat.