“You won’t understand.” Mamori told him after several minutes of oppressing silence in which Hiruma only gazed right through her. It was a weak comeback and both parties knew it.

 

            “I probably won’t.” Hiruma admitted. “But I don’t think you’d understand how frustrating it is to have every woman you stand next to be accused of sharing your bed.”

 

            Nozomi coughed politely, praying she hadn’t just ruined the conversation. Mamori watched as the waitress set the martini in front of Hiruma. The glass in front of Hiruma completed the picture of the man he was. Hiruma was an observant man, with maturity he used whenever necessary and a calculating ruthlessness that came with being a quaterback in the bloody sport of football. A small v-shaped glass made Mamori remember that Hiruma was dangerous.

 

            “We’ll both take a pear salad, we have an appointment at 2 pm.” Hiruma told Nozomi as he handed her his menu. The waitress nodded, wrote down the order and took Mamori’s menu from her numb hands. Nozomi disappeared quickly, wanting to be away from the tension between the patrons.

 

            “Why don’t you start by telling me everything that happened to you since I lost your number in college.” Hiruma ordered her; there was no question in his voice at all.

 

            “…I moved into an apartment of my own.” Mamori told him. “My cell phone and computer got broken in the move, so I lost all of my phone numbers.”

 

            Hiruma nodded, Sena had mentioned that.

 

            “I never got yours,” Mamori admitted, “at the time I didn’t mind not having it, so I never bothered to pursue getting it.”

 

            “And it never occurred to you that perhaps I wanted to talk to you?” Hiruma couldn’t help but to wonder.

 

            “If you wanted to talk to me I thought you would get my number from Sena or something.” Mamori was honest. “Two years later I graduated. I was looking for some work and applied for a part time secretary position for Toshihiro Aki. I found out when I arrived on the job the first day that it was full time work. I didn’t mind, I was just looking for something to help pay off my loans and my rent while I waited for a real job.”

 

            “…Then you got caught up in your work and found yourself trapped and unable to quit.” Hiruma summarized the rest of it easily.

 

            “I’m not trap-!” Mamori protested.

 

            “Then why haven’t you quit?” Hiruma asked her. “This isn’t what you wanted to do for a living and its making you unhappy. It’s not like you to cling onto something that’s dead.”

 

            “Toshihiro won’t-!” Mamori was interrupted again.

 

            “Bullshit.” Hiruma told her. “He’ll beg and whimper, but he can’t stop you from putting a resignation letter on his desk.”

 

            “The company would-!” Mamori tried to make up another excuse.

 

            “If the company couldn’t survive without you, then it doesn’t deserve to.” Hiruma pointed out to her. “I’m sure Toshihiro can find someone to take your position, there are plenty of woman who actually like your job.”

 

            “…Toshihiro wouldn’t let me get re-hired out of spite.” Mamori pointed out. “He’s got a lot of power and likes to keep things that he thinks are his.”

 

            “That may be true,” Hiruma consented, “but Toshihiro has no power over you if you choose to move to another country.”

 

            “Are you saying I should move away from Japan?” Mamori stared at the proposition.

 

            “I’m saying that you’re not as trapped as you think you are.” Hiruma was deadly serious. “In football, there is no such thing as a dead end nor a perfect player. There is always a weakness to be found in everything.

 

            Mamori found herself drawn to his words, which didn’t surprise her. Hiruma was a professional leader after all.

 

            “Now, I admit that finding that weakness may cost several downs, hell, it can cost several games.” Hiruma spoke from personal experience. “And sometimes when you find it your enemy chooses to rearrange themselves to protect that weakness. But you always get at least one shot at exploiting it.”

 

            “…It’s just like you to use a football analogy.” Mamori muttered with a dry laugh.

 

            “I used a football analogy because I knew you’d understand it.” Hiruma told her flatly. The two sat in silence until the arrival of their food. Mamori picked at her plate while Hiruma ate his salad with a healthy appetite.

 

            “…You came to Japan to tell me how much I fucked up.” Mamori realized out loud. Mamori had been aware that Hiruma had some sort of plan involving her and just now it all made sense.

 

            “Not exactly,” Hiruma corrected her as he took a small sip of his martini, “I came to Japan on vacation at Sena-kun’s recommendation.”

 

            “What?” Mamori blinked, not expecting that.

 

            “After our last game Sena-kun ran over to me and told me I should go to Japan on vacation, to avoid all paparazzi and all that shit.” Hiruma explained. “He also told me I should see you while I was in the country.”

 

            “Sena told you to go see me?” Mamori blinked.

 

            “I’ve been in town two weeks,” Hiruma admitted, “and in that time I talked to everyone from high school except you at least two times.”

 

            “Everyone?” Mamori thought of the football club, she talked to them more frequently than anyone else, and even then she saw them once every six months or so.

 

            “They all had something different to tell me about you.” Hiruma wasn’t bluffing. “And they all asked me if I knew what you were doing now.”

 

            “They were worried?” Mamori was startled by the news.

 

            “No, they are waiting,” Hiruma finished his martini, “waiting for the old Anezaki to wake up and join them on the field.”

 

            Hiruma stood up and threw some money on the table. “Don’t keep us waiting anymore fucking manager or the game will start without you.”

 

            Hiruma walked away, leaving Mamori with her partly eaten salad and a wad of cash. Mamori counted the money and discovered that Hiruma had left enough for the meal, the tip, and a little extra. Mamori shut her eyes and thought to herself, what had she been doing all these years?

 

            It was extremely obvious to Mamori that this isn’t where she wanted to be; it hadn’t been where she wanted to be for years. She didn’t want this job where her life and time were no longer hers. She didn’t want the large amount of money that was rotting in her bank accounts. She didn’t want to be at this restaurant, sitting at this table and reliving horrible experiences.

 

            Then, Mamori realized, she didn’t have to, all she had to do was let go and leave. Standing up, Mamori felt lighter than she had in years. She pushed her chair in and walked away from that table, that life, and took her first steps forward in a long time. She was alone in the elevator on the way down, which gave her the peace of mind to choose her next actions.

 

            ‘I need to go home and change.’ Mamori glanced down at the red dress Hiruma had got her, the red dress that she no longer needed. It would be a waste to throw it away, but what good was it going to do her?

 

            “‘Never know when you’re going to be spending it.’” Mamori found herself quoting Hiruma. Though Hiruma had been talking about his large mass of money, some of which he just shamelessly spent on her, his ideal could be applied to other things as well. The dress was still useful to her, just not right now, so there was no need to throw it away.

 

            The elevator arrived at the lobby, Mamori walked out of it quickly, not looking back. Once she exited the building she saw Tetsuma standing there on the sidewalk, waiting.

 

            “Tetsuma!” Mamori looked at him, then recalled he had been driving her around all morning around. “Where’s Hiruma?”

 

            “Another appointment.” Tetsuma answered.

 

            “...Can you take me home?” Mamori asked the man.

 

            “…Where do you live?” Tetsuma asked the one thing he needed to know. Mamori gave him her address. “Yes.”

 

            “Thank you.” Mamori smiled at Tetsuma.

 

            The drive to Mamori’s apartment was uneventful.

 

            “Is there anything else?” Tetsuma asked her as he helped her out of the limo.

 

            “No, I’ll be fine on my own. Thank you for driving me around today.” Mamori bowed politely to Tetsuma.

 

            “Thank Riku.” Tetsuma told her as he got into the limo again. Before Mamori could ask what he meant, Tetsuma shut the door and drove off.

 

            “Rikkun?” Mamori muttered, trying to figure out what the ex-receiver had meant. She shook her head and walked into her apartment. It was neat and orderly, as she liked to keep things, but as she walked around, she realized how empty it was. Her living room furniture hadn’t had people on it since college and had spent the last few years collecting dust. Her walls were mostly bare, with the rare picture to disrupt them. All the pictures were from college or high school.

 

            Upon entering her bedroom, Mamori thought about how alone she’d been these last few years. Without much difficulty Mamori shed her red dress and her underwear. She turned and looked at her nude body in the mirror.

 

            She was paler than she had been in college. Her body still had graceful curves and her breasts were still as full and soft as they ever were. She looked a little gaunt on the edges, her job made getting regular meals difficult sometimes. She was not as strong as she had been in high school and she doubted she could keep up with Hiruma on a bicycle like she had done in high school. The hand she had ran down her body stopped just above her curls.

 

            Though you could not see it, there had been a change in the part of her that lay just bellow Mamori’s hand. The innocence that had once been there, the sacred virginity, was gone. Stolen by a greedy man, his innocent mask, and a lot of alcohol. Mamori dropped her hand and sighed, she had been prettier in college.

 

            “I guess its time to be pretty again.” Mamori announced to no one in particular. She found new underwear, ones that were not covered in lace and silk, and put it on. She continued to dress as if she was going to work out, putting on sweat pants and a red t-shirt. She brushed her hair and chose to leave it out of the bun. Finding a pair of socks proved no difficulty, though finding her tennis shoes involved fetching a chair to get them out of her closet.

 

            Afterwards Mamori grabbed her purse, her keys, and that blasted PDA she used to keep Toshihiro organized. She hadn’t quit her job yet, so there was no reason for her to not take it. Upon reaching the street, Mamori nabbed a bus to the train station and took a train the rest of the way to Deimon High School.

 

            During her train ride Mamori felt the nostalgia wash over her, remembering all the conversations she had had with Sara and Ako on this train. All the moments giggling and whispering about who was dating who returned to her. Mamori smiled remembering the happier, simpler times in her life.

 

            “Deimon Station!” The conductor announced and the train doors whizzed open with a hiss. Mamori stepped onto the platform and made her way through the crowed station. Two blocks later she was walking through the gates of her high school. Her feet walked down the familiar path to the American Football Clubhouse.

 

            The extremely gaudy sign Hiruma had Musashi build years ago was still there, though all the reds on it had long since faded into pinks. The neon had been battered over the years, Mamori wondered if it still worked. The actual building was still its disgusting shade of pastel green and the door still had the bullet scorch marks on it.

 

            “-yeah I hear that Hiruma-sama will be here today- who are you?” A boy walked out of the clubhouse wearing football uniform number 7. The uniform design had gone back to the simpler uniforms the Devil Bats had started with, white and black sleeves, red jersey, white numbers and pants.

 

            “I’m Anezaki Mamori, I used to be Deimon’s manager when I went to school here.” Mamori explained to the kid simply. “I’m meeting up with some of my teammates.”

 

            “Your teammates?” The boy asked, cocking his head. He was a small kid, with messy red hair and black eyes. Another boy, wearing uniform number 80, walked out from behind the first kid.

 

            “Ah! You’re in that picture!” 80 remarked pointing. “You know Monta-sama!”

 

            “She knows Monta-sama!?” 7 turned and stared.

 

            “Yes, and Hiruma-kun.” Mamori chuckled watching the boys stare at her in awe. “They’re the ones I’m meeting up with.”

 

            “No way!” Both 7 and 80 gasped.

 

            “I bet they’re on the field.” Mamori chuckled and walked on by out to the football field. She had been right, all of the old Devil Bats were standing around, wearing more causal working clothes instead of football uniforms. Hiruma, notably, had changed his clothes and pulled a gun out into the open. Sena, on the other hand, looked like he had been on an airplane recently, and seemed to be almost falling asleep on his feet but he wore a content smile.

 

            “Mamori-neechan!” Sena called out to her, waving and nearly falling over from overbalancing himself.

 

            “Sena!” Monta caught the runningback before he had a confrontation with the dirt.

 

            “Sena, are you alright?” Mamori called as she rushed over, her mothering instincts kicking back in.

 

            “Already back to mothering?” Hiruma almost moaned.

 

            “Mamori!” Kurita rushed over and pulled her into a large, warm hug. “It’s been so long!” The lineman was crying.

 

            “I hear you’re finally quitting that shitty job.” Juumonji commented, smiling. “That’s the best news I’ve heard recently.”

 

            “Kurita, could you put me down?” Mamori asked, but she doubted he heard her over his own crying.

 

            “You know, old man, you should fix their sign while you’re here.” Hiruma commented, already deciding to have a side conversation.

 

            “Yeah, yeah.” Musashi agreed in his usual causal manner.

 

            Mamori’s PDA buzzed with some sort of alert. Hiruma took this opportunity to pull it out of her pocket and look at it.

 

            “Hiruma wait-!” Mamori reached out for the object but Hiruma just pulled it away from her.

 

            “Hey, let’s go fuck up this piece of shit.” Hiruma suggested and started walking towards the southern goal post where they had, years ago, fucked up Jerry Rice. The rest of the Devil Bats followed him.

 

            “Hiruma that’s my PDA!” Mamori protested while Kurita carried her.

 

            “Aren’t you quitting your work?” Hiruma asked her. Mamori had made that choice and she realized he was right. She still needed to let go completely.

 

            “…Give me the gun.” Mamori held out her hand. Hiruma smirked and handed her his semi-automatic pistol. Hiruma tossed the PDA into the air and Mamori took aim and fired.

 

            Bits of PDA fell to the ground, glittering in the sunlight beautifully. Upon hitting the ground they were immediately trampled by the old Devil Bats with Hiruma coming up the rear to set the bits on fire.

 

            All and all Mamori found the ceremony very satisfactory.

 

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