Title: The Devil's Shield

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Summary: With Sena in the hospital, Hiruma reverts to his past life to take revenge. Eventual Hiruma/Sena. Rated M for adult themes and language.

Chapter Three: A Pair of Shades

Rui felt sick.

The events of the night were proving a little too heavy for him. Veteran biker or no, he was still in high school, and he could not process things like rape and murder as easily as Hiruma could.

Therefore, it took him a couple minutes before he could gather himself enough to fumble around for the doorknob and step back into the blindingly bright lights of the hallway. Hiruma was nowhere to be seen, but he had expected that.

Absently licking at a cut on his cheek, he considered the hallway and made his way to the bathroom, not looking forward to waiting for whatever Hiruma had in store for him without at least washing off his hands. To think that he had actually touched the shit-maggots.

He immediately regretted his decision.

From the combination of both standing in a bathroom and seeing Hiruma again so soon, Rui nearly wet his pants, but thankfully his body drew on some deeply rooted reserves and resisted.

Hiruma was at the sink, but the sound of running water didn't quite cover the sound of bullets being fitted into the chamber of a gleaming revolver. Each one clicking like knuckles being cracked, one by one.

With a flick of his wrist, the revolver snapped shut.

The gun was put away in his clothes, well concealed behind his jacket. Hiruma didn't so much as look at him as he stepped around him to exit the bathroom.

"You didn't see anything." It was an order, and Rui knew it was for his own good.

But the acrid smell of vomit was still heavy in the air, and Rui noted the careful way in which Hiruma avoided his own reflection. Perhaps not so easy, after all.

"I'm coming with you."

~"~"~

"Yo! Habashiraaa!" The voice on the other end of the phone sounded slightly slurred. "It's been a while, where you been? You still kicking around pig dick?"

Rui cringed. His cell was on speakerphone, and Hiruma was way beyond having a sense of humor tonight. "Listen, I need a favor."

The voice on the other end immediately sobered. "What's up?"

"Remember the place where we got stopped by the Habanera boys? The one near the con-bi store?"

"Yeah?"

Rui detailed what he wanted as quickly as possible.

"I'm on my way there now." There was a rumble of an engine being turned. "Just what'd these guys do, Habashira?"

"Just make sure they're still there. Don't touch anything. If they leave, just follow them. Don't let them know you're there."

"Rui," the voice hesitated slightly, "everything okay?"

Rui stared at Hiruma. "It will be."

He ended the call. He hoped his friend's involvement would be as limited as possible. Accessory to murder was considerably worse than a fight behind a con-bi store.

"You've a good subordinate." Said Hiruma. Rui was surprised, it was the first words he'd said to him since the bathroom.

"Friend." Rui corrected, stiffly.

Hiruma gave a derisive snort and looked out the car window at the passing scenery. Rui, for the tenth time, glanced at their driver curiously. The man seemed terrified of Hiruma, and had pealed into the hospital entrance fast enough when Hiruma had called.

He distracted himself from darker thoughts by wondering at the reason for the driver's unfortunate debt to the devil.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

~"~"~

Hiruma thought of how the last week had played out. He himself was an excellent strategian, usually five steps ahead of any opponent that dared face him. He knew all the strengths and weaknesses of his pieces, his players, and he knew how to use them when it counted, protect them when vulnerable.

But tonight he had failed. Failed in a way so complete and earth-shattering that he could hardly get his thoughts straight enough to think about the next move, let alone five steps ahead.

He considered Rui Habashira, who sat next to him in the car.

Now there was another chess player, a leader in his own right. His moves just as ruthless, but perhaps less rationally justified. What players he didn't have, he took with that freakishly long-armed reach of his. There was no great strategy for him, no back up plans to fall on. The kid had one goal, and as far as he was considered, one way to get there.

Hiruma supposed that it was this same single-mindedness that inspired the shitty yankee to follow him right out of the alibi he had taken the time to construct for him. Without whom, Hiruma might have gone out and done the first thing that occurred to him, which had been to empty his gun – pounded their brains into the pavement, rip out their insides, break every breakable part of them into a thousand more pieces – into those responsible, consequences be damned. Habashira had snapped him out of it with his little stunt, giving him some time to plan, and now Hiruma had one more thing he owed the tongue-freak.

Closing his eyes, Hiruma allowed himself to think of Sena for the first time that night. As expected, every muscle in his body tightened in response. His attempts to quell the anger were largely unsuccessful, his hands would not unclench, but the raging screaming voices in his head quieted to a reasonable level. Underneath layers of fury and frenzy, Hiruma had carefully concealed a level of pain so intense and intimate, that he had to hide it even from himself. To acknowledge it would be to acknowledge something else that he had been struggling to ignore, something that would unmake him. But now, he burrowed deep into it, searching for answers, searching for something that might sate this growing frustration.

He recalled the memory of a few weeks ago, at the clubhouse.

"Hiruma-san?"

Practice had ended hours ago, and everyone else had already made their way, limping and sore, homewards. Hiruma did not look up from his laptop. He had heard the fucking chibi dallying outside the door a full five minutes before entering. It could have been no one else, as if anyone else could fidget that loudly.

"What is it, chibi?" He expected football talk, maybe something having to do with next week's scrimmage location or perhaps a confession as to why Sena had been slightly favoring his right leg all practice. There was nothing that could have prepared Hiruma for Sena's next words.

"Would you like to sleep with me?"

Hiruma froze, not trusting himself to breathe. It was no small feat to immobilize the mind of Deimon Bat's quarterback, but Sena had seemingly done it with seven syllables and very little apparent difficulty.

Sena continued, unaware. "I just thought that if you wanted, you could sleep over at my house, rather than… here."

He faltered at the odd expression on Hiruma's face. It was severe disappointment, but Sena wasn't to know that.

"How did you know I slept here?" Hiruma said instead.

Sena looked uncomfortable but was prepared with an answer. "I came to practice early yesterday morning. You were sleeping," he gestured over to the locker room couch, "and I realized that you were always the first one here, last one to leave." He took a breath. "So I thought maybe, if you wanted… well, my parents wouldn't mind."

His parents wouldn't mind, was it? Hiruma snorted. He was sure that they would object if they knew his true intentions towards their boy. And as for what he wanted…

"No." Hiruma declined before he let his mind wander down that particular line of thought and actually consider accepting. Something in him became inexplicably angry at the disappointment on Sena's face. "I like it here." He felt obliged to explain, if only to clear the worry from Sena's overactive conscience. "I feel comfortable."

"And your…" Sena flushed, looking as though he desperately wished he could take back those two words.

"My parents? They don't care." Said Hiruma coolly, honestly. "And I couldn't give two shits about what they care about."

Sena looked supremely uncomfortable now, tipping dangerously into panic-mode. Hiruma resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, he did not mean to be so abrupt, but then Sena shouldn't have wound him up like that. His brain was too distracted with certain positions of a certain running back to be filtering the words coming out of his mouth.

He was about to tell Sena that he shouldn't care either, or something to that effect, but the treacherous part in him – the part that twisted viciously whenever Sena was near – commandeered his voice and spoke for him.

"Are you free?"

Sena looked surprised. "Yes," he answered cautiously.

"I could use another pair of eyes for these tapes from last season," he indicated the laptop, "I was planning on going over the running backs tonight anyway."

Hiruma inwardly recoiled from how inordinately pleased Sena looked at the begrudging invitation. He should not be doing this, he told himself that he wouldn't-

He did not rescind the offer.

Sena volunteered his eyes gladly – looked as though he would just as happily hand over his arms and legs should Hiruma require them – and then rushed out the door again with the promise of returning shortly with refreshments for their impromptu study session.

He was gone before Hiruma could call him back. Fucking chibi must've thought that soda and vending machine snacks were the way to please everybody. Kid had been a gopher for far too long.

But damn if he wasn't fast. Bearing bags of chips and sports drinks, Sena returned in record time.

And every after-practice meeting after that – and they had practice six days of the week, Sena never failed to bring along some snacks from the nearby convenience store. Even after Hiruma's repeated insistence that he did not need to (though, Hiruma had little else to offer in the way of refreshment but protein bars and shakes), Sena continued to bring his own little contributions. Occasionally Kurita or the little monkey-shit would attend as well, but for the most part, everyone was too tired to even think of staying after practices.

Clearly, Sena was tired as well – Hiruma made sure everyone gave their all at practices – but despite that, he always made that extra effort of keeping Hiruma company. And while Hiruma had not once admitted any comfort in his presence, he never turned Sena away.

After they went through all of last season's tapes, they went through some college level footage, and after that, they compared it to some footage of that shitty Panther's team. They discussed various plays, that day's practice, the merits of one athletic brand versus another. Mostly, it was Sena talking and occasionally Hiruma would interject with a comment or two. They were both obsessed enough with football to find the topic inexhaustible, but within two weeks of their first after-practice meeting, they had moved on to other areas of conversations, like:

"Have you ever played any other sports, Hiruma-san?"

And, "So how the fuck did you and the shitty manager meet up anyway?"

And one particularly memorable conversation, "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

It was on one night after a particularly brutal scrimmage game (if it could be called a game, Hiruma had invited/coerced almost all of their past available opponents to play them, all at once), that Hiruma's cell phone had rung.

Thinking it was Sena, he reached for it – intending to tell the chibi for the hundredth time that Sena getting snacks was a serious waste of time (when the clubhouse already had plenty of food stocked) and to hurry up and get his ass back to the school. Instead, the name that came up on the caller id was one Rui Habashira, or "Fucking Lizard-Loser" as was the actual name flashing on the screen.

Hiruma thought about letting it go straight to voicemail ("YA-HA! You have reached your lord and master, Hiruma of Deimon Bats. If I thought you were important enough, I would have answered by now, so if you leave a message after the beep, I'll fucking kill you."). Habashira had, after all, neglected to come to today's meeting.

But he might as well listen to the shitty lizard's excuses as he waited for Sena to return. Hiruma frowned absently – Sena was taking an awfully long time, especially for him, probably sidetracked by the fucking monkey or something – and flipped open the phone.

A/N - I had neither expected such a great response nor that Rui would be continuing to lead the story! Delinquent until the very end, he steals even limelight. Seriously though, it was through your very supportive and dazzling reviews that created this miracle: the unexpected update. With any luck, there shall be more within a more reasonable time period (but you all know better than to trust my flimsy promises). I have no suitable apology and can only hope for all of your continued undeserved support.