#es2022wge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deabruarenjarraitzaileaya-ha · 2 years ago

Text

Eyeshield 21: 2022 Winter Gift Exchange

For @eyeshields

Hope you like it!

❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈

It was January 2nd. The air was cold and crisp, with the sun barely daring to peek through the clouds covering the sky. Tokyo was a dark, snow-covered landscape fit to be captured in painting, but her citizens were otherwise occupied.

The last few days had been full of activity in the temple, as was customary. Ryoukan had helped his father ring the temple bells for joya no kane the 31st of December, and now, during the first days of the new year, he was selling amulets and managing the visitor queue during hatsumode.

“So, how long until you can ditch this fucking place?”

The familiar voice made him perk up. He turned around, and sure enough, there was Hiruma, all bundled up in dark clothes and checkered scarf, looking completely out of place in the middle of the Buddhist temple with his bleached, spiky hair and shiny earrings. A bright pink bubble of gum popped between his lips, and the sight of it made joy bubble in Ryoukan’s chest.

“Hiruma! You came!” He bounded over, smile wide and arms tense to control the impulse to just wrap his friend in his arms and squeeze. Hiruma didn’t much care for physical contact, affectionate or otherwise, and a good friend always took others’ needs and wants into consideration.

Rather than reply to his rather obvious remark, Hiruma swept his gaze through the crowd and looked back at Ryoukan again, sharp eyes focusing on the box of Omamori he was carrying.

“Oh, you want one?”

“Of course not, fucking fatty. Praying to gods has never made any wish come true,” Hiruma said, voice carefully flat.

“Ah, well, I’ve already burned last year’s and got new ones, just in case.” Ryoukan didn’t know if he particularly believed in it, either, but by now it had become a habit to get new amulets each year. There were a lot of Buddhist practices he carried out automatically, as per his father’s teachings, without much thought for their deeper meaning. If doing so meant even the slightest chance that his dream for the Christmas Bowl was closer, he didn’t mind doing them twice, thrice, as many times as it took. If the gods wanted to send a few blessings his way… Well, it definitely couldn’t hurt their chances.

“Kekeke, as long as you don’t rely on them to carry you to the Christmas Bowl.”

“O-of course not!

“Good.” Hiruma gave him a toothy grin of approval. “We are the Devil Bats, and devils don’t ask gods for favours.”

Ryoukan nodded seriously. Of course they would reach the Christmas Bowl through their own work and effort, it was the only way.

Their talk was interrupted by people looking to purchase a few amulets. While Ryoukan worked, Hiruma stood by his side, entertaining himself by pulling terrifying grimaces to unsettle the guests. At least he wasn’t carrying any weapon where someone could see it, a concession to the terrible fit his father threw the last time he caught him. As they waited for more guests to arrive, they talked about the players and techniques featured in the last Football Monthly magazine.

At some point, Dad came out to check on him and glowered when he saw Hiruma there, but the blond just regaled him with his best grin and a little wave. To Ryoukan’s amazement, his father just huffed, gave him a nod and left after reminding him not to leave until his task was finished.

“I think this is the first time he hasn’t complained about you being here,” he mumbled, blinking at his father’s back.

“I’m winning him over,” Hiruma said with a sharp, devilish grin, sounding ridiculously proud. He looked up at him and wiggled his eyebrows. “Soon he’ll be inviting me over for dinner, you’ll see.”

Ryoukan laughed. He didn’t think they were ready for that just yet, but it’d be nice if his Dad gave Hiruma a chance. He had openly shown his disapproval of their friendship during middle school and had just stopped openly criticising it.

Really, Hiruma looked and sounded frighteningly evil, but he really was not that bad once you got to know him: he was the smartest person he knew, a good player and a better friend. Ryoukan wouldn’t have made it this far without him, and he was immensely grateful that the wind blew that little doodle into his hands on that fateful day.

Hiruma’s patience ran out soon, and he started encouraging people into getting more Omamori than they probably wanted with outrageous stories, questionable advice and, when all else failed, intimidation. Ryoukan should feel bad about it, but after a few years he had become desensitized to Hiruma’s efficiently frightening methods, and he really, really wanted to get out and enjoy the evening with his friend. Of course, the box emptied in record time.

“Fucking finally. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The sky was darkening already, and he thought he saw a shiver crawl down Hiruma’s spine more than once while they walked through the dim streets. They were headed to the little coffee shop next to the station, hoping hot drinks would keep the chill away.

That month’s Football Monthly heavily featured the Christmas Bowl match Teikoku and Shinryuuji had played, of course, but also ran an analysis and ranking of the best players of the year.

“So who’s your favourite player?”

“Probably Shin. That guy is a fucking monster of specialized, defensive techniques.”

“Mine is Onihiei! Definitely the best lineman ever!”

“Kekeke, you’ll have to surpass him soon if we are to get to the finals.”

“Yes, I’ll train extra hard to become stronger than he is!”

“I think you have him beat in raw strength, the problem are his technique and speed.”

Hiruma got himself an extra hot chai, and through intimidation and generous tipping, convinced the worker to use their kitchen’s mixing bowl to put Ryoukan’s hot chocolate in, since the cups were too small for his hands —and his stomach.

Checking that nobody was watching, they climbed to the roof of the building, which had an easy access through the fire escape staircases. Hiruma had to help him carry the bowl while he climbed, but they made it to the secluded rooftop without a hitch. They came here from time to time, when they wanted to hang out somewhere other than the clubroom.

Sitting side by side on the edge, they watched the sprawling city below them, content to sip their drinks in silence. Ryoukan found himself stealing glances at his friend, at the looseness of his shoulders, the lack of frown and slightly quirked lips.

It was such a relief to see Hiruma relaxed and almost content again; since Musashi left he had been all explosive anger and cold silences, and Ryoukan hurt for both his friends.

Ryoukan had been inviting him over as much as he dared, even if it earned him a few kicks in the butt or a torrent of rubber bullets. He knew Hiruma was the happiest when he was working on furthering their goal of creating a proper team and reaching the Christmas Bowl, but imagining Hiruma all alone in that tiny and empty hotel room made him sad.

Ryoukan might not be the brightest, but even he saw that Hiruma thought of plans going awry as a personal failure: the whole thing with Shinryuuji and Agon-kun, even Musashi’s departure, had taken a toll. He seemed as determined and energetic as always, and enjoyed playing amefuto as much as he ever did, but he held a tension he never had during middle school and his temper was blacker than ever. Ryoukan wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. He himself had to remind himself every day to be patient, to stay positive. Some days it was harder than others.

“Your brain will fry and explode if you keep thinking so hard, fucking fatty.”

Startled, he jumped, and Hiruma sent a teasing grin his way. “What’s got you frowning like you’re in science class, hm?”

He shook his head. “No–nothing! I just…”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about the Christmas Bowl?”

“Well… yes, kind of.” Fiddling with the hem of his coat, he continued carefully. “It’s our dream, the three of us will definitely do it. But some days it’s just hard, isn’t it? Right now it’s just the two of us, not really a team. What if this year we don’t find anyone to play with us, either? Mu-Musashi will definitely come back, but we still need more teammates…”

Hiruma twisted his body to give him his full attention, sharp green eyes boring into his own brown ones. After a few seconds of studying him, Hiruma spoke. “You’ve said it yourself, fatty, we will definitely go to the Christmas Bowl, no problem. We only need to find a running back, and once Musashi comes back, even the likes of Shin and fucking dreads will be a piece of cake.”

Ryoukan felt a wide smile tugging at his lips. “You really think so, don’t you?”

“Of course I fucking do!” His grin widened, all of his pointy teeth in display. “And when we win, they’ll build a fucking statue of us in the school yard.”

“R-really?” It really wouldn’t surprise him if they did, since Hiruma, as he so succinctly put it, had ‘the Principal by the balls’.

“Sure! They’ll also give us a hundred awards for outstanding performance, since it’ll be the first win for Kantou. And afterwards, we will take the whole fucking team to an onsen to celebrate.”

“An onsen?”

“Yeah, it’s too fucking cold this time of the year,” he said, rubbing his hands against each other.

Ryoukan chuckled, hesitantly reaching out before clamping Hiruma’s hands between his big, meaty ones. “That’s a great idea! We’ll celebrate the victory by going to an onsen, they are great for the cold and for sore muscles!”

“But before all that, we’ll need to train till we bleed, fucking fatty. We created the Devil Bats to reach the Christmas Bowl; we’ll make no excuses, take no shortcuts. This year is our last chance, and we’ll definitely make it happen!”

“Yeah!”

They ignored the snow falling slowly all around them, grinning madly at each other.

“We are going to the Christmas Bowl! YA-HA!”

“YA-HA!”

❄️❄️A YEAR LATER…❄️❄️

After the Christmas Bowl they were given plenty of awards, as expected, both by the American Football League and the Deimon administration. For the Devil Bats’ private celebration, however, they had travelled back to Teikoku’s territory: Kansai.

Youichi had chosen an onsen in Nachikatsuura, in the Wakayama prefecture. Nothing too fancy; a nice little ryokan with decent food and huge rotenburo that had enough room for a group of 18 this late in the year. He had actually made the reservation at the beginning of December, because deep down he was apparently an emotional fool.

The bus ride had been noisy. For a group of guys that had almost died on the field hardly a week before, these brats sure had a lot of fucking energy. They laughed and shouted and sang for hours, even fell asleep for a while, though their snores were almost worse.

Musashi had sat himself next to Youichi, and while he was a good conversational partner most of the time, he had oh so subtly tried to interrogate him on where the funding for the trip had come from. Fucking old man was worse than Anezaki.

The ryokan had a few guests already, but the onsen were currently empty, so they wasted no time in leaving their bags in their rooms and changing out of their clothes. They had chatted excitedly as they showered and dipped into the baths to prepare their bodies. When it was time, they ran to the rotenburo outside, howling at the glacial wind nipping their noses and roughhousing like the feral teenage idiots that they were.

He smirked; he really was unbearably fond of his little band of dumbasses. However, he knew better than anyone that a bit of direct action was needed to calm them down. Before the fucking manager or anyone else could object, he casually took out a few grenades and threw them into the thick of it. The resulting boom sent the brats flying into the pools and added smoke to the already thick steam coating the air.

During the confusion, he soundlessly slipped away to a secluded corner of the springs. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy spending time with the brats; on the contrary, it was lots of fun being around these idiots. But Youichi was, at his core, a private and introverted person and social interaction had a way of tiring him eventually. Which is why he’d relax for a while on his own away from everyone, recharge his batteries and go back to the group before they got too rowdy again.

He folded his robe and dipped a foot in the spring. The freezing air and hot water made an interesting contrast, and goosebumps erupted all over his skin. Stepping in, he slowly sat down against the edge, overlooking the gray, choppy sea.

Youichi allowed himself a deep sigh and went boneless, sliding down until only his head rested above the water, against the edge of the pool. The frantic work for the Christmas Bowl and the painful rehabilitation and treatment of the last three weeks affected even him. He knew he couldn’t afford to slack off training even a single day, not if he wanted to be prepared for the world tournament and college league, but just for today… His lips twitched. Perhaps…

The hot water relaxed muscles he felt hadn’t been loose since middle school. The air was foggy with steam, his hair was so damp even the gel couldn’t keep it up and the whole experience was making him drowsy. His blinks grew longer, and he did nothing to remedy it, content. Blink.

Blink.

Blink…

“Hiruma?”

His eyes snapped open and he locked his muscles up to keep from flinching. Pointy ears twitched at the sound of a large mass waddling through the water. The fucking fatty, of course.

Kurita’s huge body soon came into view from behind a rock, covered in a towel as long as Youichi was tall that still looked tiny on him. The thoughtful frown on his face soon transformed into a large, guileless grin that, if he had to be honest, still amazed him.

“Hiruma! I thought you may have left when I didn’t see you with the others.” He paused, taking him in. “Do you… want me to leave?”

Ah, the kind-hearted fool was too considerate.

“Sit the fuck down. Since you’ve gone through the trouble of finding my hiding spot, you may as well stay, fucking fatty.” Despite his harsh words, his tone was light and teasing, grin tugging at his lips.

Positively beaming, Kurita took his robe off and carefully lowered himself right next to Youichi. The water barely reached his pectorals.

“I’m so happy we could do this, enjoy our time together as a team while we can. And the onsen are so nice! After the whole tournament and with this cold weather, a hot bath is the best.”

“Kekeke, that it is! And they are great for sore muscles. It also gives you perfect skin!” he said with a mocking grin. “Softer than a baby’s ass. Isn’t that why we decided to drag the team down here?”

Kurita nodded enthusiastically, chuckling. They grinned at each other, eyes alight with the satisfaction of successfully completing a three year journey full of obstacles and hardships. They already had their sights on their next goals, the World Cup and the Rice Bowl, but it wouldn’t hurt to bask in the feeling for a while. They had done it, just as they always knew they would, even back when the Devil Bats were just the two of them, the shadow their kicker left behind and a dream held together by duct tape and determination.

They turned to watch the horizon. The sky and sea were a different shade of gray separated by a thin line of white. Youichi wasn’t particularly interested in the painted arts, but it looked magnificent: dark, dangerous and beautiful, with the stubborn sunbeams that managed to cross the stormy clouds painting golden streaks in the sky and the softly falling snow giving it a picturesque feel. He might even take a photo before leaving, a striking picture to go along with the stunning feeling that winning had given them.

“So…”

He lazily tilted his head to the side, regarding his friend with a raised eyebrow. Kurita was wearing his usual big smile, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that Hiruma rarely got to see.

“When are we getting that statue?”

Youichi blinked, then threw his head back with a wild laugh. He heard Kurita laughing along with him.

“Fucking fatty,” he wheezed, “if you want a statue of yourself that badly, I’ll get you one.”

“Ah, thanks, but it was just a joke. You know, because you–”

“No, no, think about it. A big statue in the middle of the yard, perhaps made out of clay? Nah, we can do better: a golden one! With a straw hat on its head and a bottle of sake in its hand. And lastly, these huge, gigantic pair of ba–”

“Isn’t that just a tanuki statue!?” Kurita looked a bit distressed by the comparison, but mostly exasperated. He knew Youichi well enough —ah, the mortifying ordeal of it all–– to know that he just said the most outrageous and insulting thing possible to get a reaction, and had stopped taking anything to heart since the fifth story about his parents Youichi had come up with. “I don’t think I’d like that…”

“Ah, but think of our poor kouhai next year. They’ll need all the luck they can get, so if they just rub the statue all over, including those massive nu–”

“NO! No statue!”

Kurita’s face was even more hilarious than the mental image of the statue was, so he just cackled and cackled. His friend bravely tried to keep a frown on his round face, but was failing miserably.

When Youichi finally ran out of breath, he elbowed him good naturedly and turned the conversation to other topics his friend would enjoy more. Sure enough, after discussing the latest American college league match they had watched and mentioning their plans for the weekend, Kurita was now delighting him with a list of local delicacies he was hoping to try on this trip.

“You know, Hiruma, you’re one of the most important people in my life,” Kurita said once he finished his description of fermented fish dishes, a bit out of nowhere. “I’m so happy we met; without you I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

‘Without me, you might have entered Shinryuuji without a problem,’ he thought to himself, but stayed silent. It was old news, hardly relevant any longer now that they had achieved their dream; he really should let that frustrating guilt go. Besides, even if Shinryuuji had Kurita on their team, they would have been hard pressed to win the Kantou tournament, let alone the Christmas Bowl.

Instead, he lazily kicked Kurita’s ankle underwater. “Stop being gross, fucking fatty, you know sugar makes me sick.”

“But it’s true!” he said earnestly. “I’m so glad we got to play together all these years, even if we only had a proper team for one of them. It’s a pity we can't play next year. But perhaps, in university…”

He carded a hand through the damp bangs sticking to his forehead and swiped them back. Kurita’s hesitation didn’t surprise him; the three of them wanted to keep playing together, of course, but Musashi’s situation was uncertain. With his father’s declining health, he might not be able to afford wasting time in university, and he hadn’t wanted to make any promises.

Youichi wasn’t too worried; there were ways around it, plans they could make. The Rice Bowl was played between the best university team and the best semi-pro team: if Musashi wasn’t in university, he could join the semi-pro league.

But he didn’t want to discuss it here, without the kicker being present, so he just grinned. “Well, don’t start weeping just yet, there’s a World Cup to win before the end of the semester.”

“Yes, the World Cup! I can’t wait! Oh, do you think they’ll pick me for the team?”

“Of course they will, dimwit, you’re the best fucking lineman in Japan! They’d be morons not to pick you; the team wouldn’t stand a chance against America.”

“Aaaaah, Hiruma! I’m so excited! To face strong opponents, of course, but also to play with you and the others for a bit longer.”

Youichi knew his grin had grown unacceptably fond, but he was helpless to change that when Kurita’s answering smile was so bright and affectionate.

Bam!

There was a sudden crash. Multiple shouts were heard, ranging from startled to panicked. Youichi felt a vein pop in irritation.

It hadn’t even been a fucking half hour.

He jumped out of the water and, pulling his robe on and an AK-47 out despite Kurita’s protests, jogged towards the rest of the group.

“Fucking brats! If you’ve broken anything I’m chopping you to bits and feeding you to Cerberos!”

Not a fucking day of rest with these idiots.

THE END

#es2022wge #eyeshield 21 #hiruma youichi #kurita ryoukan #kurita ryokan #es21

19 notes · View notes