-the next day, at 12:13, just outside of Mamori’s apartment-

 

            Unlike the last time she had lunch with Hiruma, Mamori was able to be standing on the curb, waiting for him. She checked her watch, 12:14. Looking up, she saw a red car come into view. It was a sleek vehicle, with LED headlights and chrome trim. She saw Hiruma behind the windshield, he was wearing sunglasses and a ridiculous looking black cowboy hat. Mamori sincerely hoped that was not his choice of daily fashion.

 

            With minimal maneuvering, Hiruma pulled the car gracefully up beside her on the curb and rolled down his window.

 

            “Hat?” Mamori couldn’t help but to ask.

 

            “People don’t think it’s me if I’m wearing it.” Hiruma answered simply. Anti-paparazzi protection gear, it was a good enough excuse. Mamori wordlessly walked around the car and got in on the passenger’s side.

 

            “I only wear it when I drive.” Hiruma assured her as he rolled his window up.

 

            “Where did you buy it?” Mamori couldn’t help but to ask.

 

            “Won it from a drunk playing poker.” Hiruma answered with a large, mischievous smirk.

 

            “Ah.” Mamori decided not to pursue that topic. The car started making the chime airplanes did whenever there was an announcement. Mamori shot Hiruma a confused look.

 

            “Car phone.” Hiruma answered and pressed a button on the display. “Hello.”

 

            “Heya, Youichi!” Some deep man’s voice came out of the car stereo. “Where the heck are you going?”

 

            “Lunch.” Hiruma answered simply. “What the heck you want from me, Hanson?”

 

            “You didn’t RSVP for Micky’s birthday, I was wondering if you were coming.” Hanson asked. Mamori found herself biting her tongue, trying to not blurt out the questions she now had.

 

            “I told Micky I was going.” Hiruma remarked, a small smirk on his face.

 

            “Ah, I didn’t think to ask Micky.” Hanson sounded sheepish.

 

            “It’s cool.” Hiruma assured the other man.

 

            “Linda wants to know what you’re getting him.” Hanson explained after a few moments.

 

            “A bike.” Hiruma answered.

 

            “How expensive was this bike?” Hanson sounded a little hassled.

 

            “It’s better than K-Mart quality and not the fanciest thing out on the market either.” Hiruma answered. “It’s just a nice, sturdy bike suitable for a beginner.”

 

            “Did you get him a helmet?” Hanson asked.

 

            “No, Rick’s getting him one.” Hiruma answered. “I have no idea what kind of design’s on it.”

 

            “Probably fire, knowing Rick.” Hanson chuckled.

 

            “That’s what I’d wager.” Hiruma agreed.

 

            “Well, be seeing you next Saturday then!” Hanson sounded a little excited.

 

            “See you then.” Hiruma reached out and ended the call. He turned and faced Mamori. “Questions can wait until we get to Footer’s.”

 

            “Fair enough.” Mamori consented. “I didn’t know you had a car phone though.”

 

            “It’s one of the few numbers the fucking fan club hasn’t gotten a hold of yet.” Hiruma sighed and looked extra tired.

 

            “It’s horrible that they call you.” Mamori glared at nothing in particular.

 

            “They don’t call, they text.” Hiruma corrected her. “Which is why I’ve had to disable texting on my cell phone.”

 

            “That’s why you didn’t get my text when I came in!” Mamori realized. When she had arrived in America, she was supposed to contact Hiruma when she arrived at the airport. Of course, he hadn’t gotten her text so she had wound up taking a taxi to her hotel instead of getting the ride he had promised.

 

            “That would explain it.” Hiruma sounded as though he already knew that.

 

            “Is that the beach we played beach football on?” Mamori asked as she looked out the window and saw a beach advertised one on of the passing by billboards. It was advertising some beach in Huston, so Mamori thought it might have been that beach.

 

            “Yup.” Hiruma answered her. “They’re always trying to get me to announce when they have that fucking tournament every year.”

 

            “Do you?” Mamori couldn’t help but to wonder.

 

            “No.”

 

            “There a reason?” Mamori continued to be curious.

 

            “I don’t like getting sand in my clothes.” Hiruma answered simply. “And beach football isn’t my thing.”

 

            “That makes sense.” Mamori held back a giggle at the clothes comment.

 

            “We’re here.” Hiruma announced as the pulled the car into a parking spot and pulled off his hat and sunglasses. Mamori unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

 

            “Is this a good car?” Mamori asked as she shut the door.

 

            “It’s extremely good in a wreck,” Hiruma answered, “and drives like a dream.”

 

            “You don’t strike me as the type that would want a super-safe car.” Mamori commented.

 

            “I’m paid based on physical performance,” Hiruma reminded her, “the last thing I need is to get fucked up in some car accident.”

 

            “Ah.” Mamori saw the reasoning.

 

            “Besides, it has a bitching two-stage turbo.” Hiruma grinned, obviously liking that feature.

 

            “That’s more like you.” Mamori chuckled as they walked into the doors of Footer’s.

 

            “How many?” The hostess asked. Hiruma was right, big breasts, tight shirts, and short shorts.

 

            “Two please.” Mamori told the woman.

 

            “This way.” The hostess grabbed two menus and led them into a discrete booth on the side. She set the menus out.

 

            “Sammy’ll be with y’all in just a minute.” The hostess assured them before she trotted off.

 

            “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to y’all….” [2] Hiruma muttered. Mamori chuckled.

 

            “Say, who was that Hanson guy?” Mamori asked, as she opened up her menu, flipping to the page with all the hamburgers.

 

            “Hanson? He was a lineman when I first came onto the Armadillos.” Hiruma answered. “He retired two years afterwards, but we still keep in touch.”

 

            “And who’s Micky?” Mamori asked as well.

 

            “My godson.” Hiruma smirked as he watched Mamori’s jaw drop.

 

            “H-how!?” Mamori was flabbergasted.

 

            “Linda, Hanson’s wife, was pregnant when I joined the team.” Hiruma explained. “I beat up some punks that were trying to mug her over by the stadium. Later that day I learned she was Hanson’s wife.”

 

            “Ah, I see.” Mamori nodded.

 

            “And I was with her when she went into labor,” Hiruma added, “drove her to the hospital too.”

 

            “That’s why they made you the godfather then?” Mamori asked and Hiruma nodded.

 

            “Which somehow made me a fucking babysitter as well.” Hiruma rolled his eyes.

 

            “Why was Linda concerned about the bicycle?” Mamori wondered. At that Hiruma smirked again.

 

            “I am notorious for spending a lot of money on Micky.” Hiruma explained. “It’s one of the few indulgences I allow myself.”

 

            “You’re trying to spoil him?!” Mamori gasped.

 

            “No, I just buy the more fancy gift when I go shopping.” Hiruma chuckled. “Linda’s been on my case about that lately, it’s annoying.”

 

            “I would be too if I was in her shoes!” Mamori glared at Hiruma.

 

            “Micky’s turning nine.” Hiruma told Mamori before she could ask.

 

            “What do they look like?” Mamori wanted to know. Hiruma reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. After flipping through several cards, Hiruma pulled out a photograph.

 

            The picture was of a black family. The man, Hanson, was of a large build and had a huge, happy grin on his face. Linda was a chubby, petit woman. In front of both parents was a bulky-looking boy who had a hair style that resembled Hiruma’s.

 

            “I see where he got the hair cut inspiration.” Mamori commented with a laugh.

 

            “I did not encourage that.” Hiruma admitted. “It was Linda’s fault- she made me take him to the hair parlor.”

 

            “I’m sure it was.” Mamori chuckled. “I can’t say I was expecting to hear that you are a godfather though.”

 

            “I wasn’t expecting them to ask me.” Hiruma admitted. “I accepted because I didn’t think that saying ‘no’ was an option.”

 

            “If its anything like it is in Japan, I’m sure it’s not.” Mamori nodded.

 

            “It turned out to be extremely useful though,” Hiruma added, “gave the team respect for me, despite my age and heritage.”

 

            Though Hiruma had said it casually, Mamori realized that Hiruma must have had a hard time when he first joined the Armadillos. Most people who try out for the NFL are college-aged, Hiruma was fresh out of high school and Japanese on top of that.

 

            “They really treasure family around here,” Hiruma explained, “becoming a godfather made me family.”

 

            “…How do you feel about kids?” Mamori asked. Hiruma stared at her, confused. “I’m just curious, you didn’t seem like you wanted anything to do with children in high school.”

 

            “That’s because back then I did feel that way.” Hiruma admitted. “…I grew up pretty fucked up, I didn’t think I could be a proper father.... Micky showed me that I can actually do a good job.”

 

            Mamori smiled, sincerely happy to hear that Hiruma had gotten over his childhood. Micky seemed to have been a good influence on him.

 

            Both Mamori and Hiruma jumped in their seats at the sound of a tray clattering to the ground, with glass shattering. Snapping their heads in the direction of the source of the noise, they found a teenager standing there, her hands posed to hold a tray that was now on the floor. The waitress had a stunned expression on her face and looked like she was seeing a ghost.

 

            “Are you okay?” Mamori asked, eyeing the shattered glass all over the floor at the girl’s feet.

 

            “S-sorry!” The girl sputtered and looked as though she was about to start walking away. Hiruma leaped out of the booth and grabbed the girl’s shoulders before she could start walking somewhere.

 

            “Take a few deep breaths.” Hiruma told her in a firm voice that left no room for argument. “Now scoot your left foot back a little.”

 

            The girl scooted her foot away from the glass.

 

            “Now you can step away with your right foot.” Hiruma released her and stood by her until she was clear of the glass. Without any further words, Hiruma walked back to the booth and sat back down again.

 

            “Sorry.” The girl muttered again.

 

            “It’s okay.” Mamori assured the girl with a warm smile and a wave. The girl walked away from the mess, still a little unsteady on her feet.

 

            “Fuck.” Hiruma muttered putting his face in his hands and rubbing his temples tiredly.

 

            “Hiruma-kun?” Mamori called to him, not sure how to interpret this behavior.

 

            “That girl fucking dropped the tray because she recognized me.” Hiruma told Mamori. Mamori shut her mouth, understanding the situation now. The male manager dashed out from the back with a trash can and a broom and began picked up the glass.

 

            “…How often does this happen?” Mamori couldn’t help but to ask.

 

            “Every time.” Hiruma answered tiredly. “It’s only a matter of time before the paparazzi shows up.”

 

            “What?” Mamori blinked, not expecting that.

 

            “The girl just went in back, she’s probably going to get on her cell phone and contact one of her friends. She’ll talk about how she saw me, freaked and dropped the tray. She might even brag about how I helped her out of the mess.” Hiruma explained still looking tired. “The girl’s friend will contact other friends until someone in that fucking fan club catches wind of it. Then they will contact the paparazzi.”

 

            “…How long do you think-?” Mamori asked.

 

            “They won’t enter the restaurant, but getting back to the car is going to be a bitch.” Hiruma let out a long breath. “The actual time it takes varies, but they’ll be here within half an hour.”

 

            “I’m so sorry about Sammy,” the manager apologized, “I’ll take your order right now.”

 

            “I want a cheeseburger with a side salad.” Mamori ordered, surprising Hiruma.

 

            “Anything to drink?” The manager asked.

 

            “Hmm… a Coke.” Mamori handed the manager the menu.

 

            “Anything for you sir?” The manager turned his attention to Hiruma.

 

            “…Same exact thing.” Hiruma told the man and handed him the menu. “Could you make it quick?”

 

            The manager was about to protest when he noticed the bills sticking out of Hiruma’s menu.

 

            “Yes.” The manager answered and walked off.

 

            “You just bribed him.” Mamori gave Hiruma a flat look.

 

            “The less time I’m in this fucking place the easier it’s going to be to leave.” Hiruma told Mamori flatly.

 

            “Which table did we sit at last time?” Mamori decided to change the subject as she looked around the room.

 

            “This isn’t the same building,” Hiruma reminded her, “but they layouts are the same. The one in the middle there, by the TV.” Hiruma pointed at the table in question.

 

            “Oh that’s right, we watched the NFL game on the screen while we were waiting for desert….” Mamori remembered.

 

            “San Antonio vs. Boston.” Hiruma recalled the game. “It was a pretty horrible game, both teams made a lot of mistakes.”

 

            “Yeah, you and Kurita kept on pointing them out, really loudly.” Mamori smiled. “The manager came out and yelled at us for being so loud.”

 

            “And one of the waitresses bumped into baldy when picking up dishes and made him snort soda through his nose.” Hiruma snickered at the memory.

 

            “Oh god! It took forever to get the brothers to stop laughing!” Mamori moaned at the memory. “You were not helping at all.”

 

            “But it was funny!” Hiruma protested with a frown.

 

            “It was mean.” Mamori corrected him with a glare.

 

            “The rest of the team laughs when they remember that, even baldy,” Hiruma pointed out, “you’re the one that’s lagging behind.”

 

            “Say, why did you order the same thing as me?” Mamori couldn’t help but to wonder.

 

            “Because it’s what I wanted.” Hiruma answered simply. “…I have a personal question for you.”

 

            “A personal question?” Mamori blinked slowly, stunned that Hiruma not only changed the topic quickly, but was asking permission.

 

            “It’s been bothering me for a while,” Hiruma was somber, “what exactly happened the first time you went to Cataluna?”

 

            Mamori didn’t answer right away, the question itself shocking her and brining up all the horrible memories of that time. She realized, since the man she had been with was German, that Hiruma was probably only going to be able to learn the story from her.

 

            “…Occasionally I was asked to take clients out to eat to ‘soften’ them up before they met with my old boss.” Mamori explained. “…This man offered to take me to Cataluna and I accepted.”

 

            Hiruma nodded once, that was were his information trail went dead.

 

            “Dinner was fine. But… now that I think about it, I might have had a little too much wine….” Mamori took a deep breath. “He offered to take me home and I accepted….”

 

            “He didn’t take you home.” Hiruma concluded.

 

            “A hotel.” Mamori answered. “…It was horrible.”

 

            The two kept to their own thoughts until their food arrived. Mamori stared at the hamburger, no longer having the appetite to eat it.

 

            “…I’m still a virgin.” Hiruma commented off-handedly startling her. “So I’m probably not the best person to talk to about this.”

 

            “No, you’re not.” Mamori couldn’t help but to wonder why Hiruma had never gotten around to having sex. Mamori had a few boyfriends in college and had had sex several times before the incident at Cataluna.

 

            “How does a 28 year old football star go about not having any sex?” Mamori couldn’t help but to wonder how that came about.

 

            “Never could find anyone I wanted to do it with.” Hiruma answered. “My fucking bastard only had one fucking thing right, that was that you only fuck someone you love.”

 

            “Ah.” Mamori recalled that Hiruma didn’t go to college and playing in the NFL had put getting a love life on hold. Mamori found a little bit of appetite and started eating.

 

            “I wish you could play football and not be fucking famous in this fucking country.” Hiruma growled, his frustration with the paparazzi evident. Mamori ate as much as she could stand as quickly as she could.

 

            “Looks like I’m not the only one with problems….” Mamori muttered as she watched Hiruma finish his hamburger, glaring all the while.

 

            “Everyone has fucking problems.” Hiruma pointed out wisely.

 

            “That’s true I suppose.” Mamori admitted. Hiruma made eye contact with the manager and the check was brought to them. Hiruma pulled out his wallet and paid in cash. Without needing any prompting, Mamori got out of the booth and followed Hiruma towards the exit.

 

            “…It’s worse than a game.” Hiruma warned her and opened the door. The sound wave slammed into them, squeals and screams so loud that Mamori’s ears popped. There were people, mainly young girls, standing as far as the eye could see. Hiruma’s car was parked only 60 yards away, but it seemed impossible to get there through this mass of people.

 

            Cameras were flashing too, causing Mamori to be somewhat dizzy from the sounds and the flashes. She grabbed Hiruma’s arm to steady herself.

 

            “…Fuck.” Hiruma muttered knowing that Mamori had put them into a compromising position. The reporters with their cameras were having way too much fun with their picture taking now.

 

            “Ungh!” Mamori muttered, pulling a hand up to shield her eyes.

 

            “Who is she!?” Was the general remark from the crowd, to them Mamori was some unknown face latching onto the arm of their idol. Hiruma opened his mouth to say something, but Mamori beat him to the punch.

 

            “I’m his fucking girlfriend, now out of my way before I kill all of you!” Mamori screamed in a very Hiruma-like fashion. The crowd parted obediently, allowing Mamori and Hiruma a straight path to his car. Mamori pulled the slightly dumb-founded Hiruma along and got them both into the car and on the road without much trouble.

 

            “…What the fuck was that?” Hiruma asked Mamori as he drove towards her apartment.

 

            “I’m following a bit of Suzuna’s advice,” Mamori explained, “the reason the paparazzi is so fascinated with you is because you’ve given them something to speculate about. If you got yourself a girlfriend and didn’t have any public romantic issues, you’ll lose anything worth speculating over and fall out of interest.”

 

            “Fucking skates told you that?” Hiruma asked her, amazed.

 

            “It was the same with Sena.” Mamori answered simply.

 

            “Now we’re dating.” Hiruma stated.

 

            “In public yes, in private we can still be just friends.” Mamori told him. “This isn’t the first time you’ve used someone like this I’m sure.”

 

            “…I don’t fuck around with dating unless I’m doing it all the way.” Hiruma told Mamori flatly. “…So we’re fucking dating.”

 

            “Okay, we’re ‘fucking’ dating.” Mamori agreed.

 

            “Fuck.” Hiruma muttered again, feeling like his life had been thrown into a new kind of chaos.

 

            “I say we blame Sena,” Mamori suggested, “he’s the mastermind behind all of this.”

 

            “And fucking skates too,” Hiruma added, “I’m sure she’s the one that put these ideas in his fucking head.”

 

            They stopped on the curb outside Mamori’s apartment.

 

            “Why don’t you come inside?” Mamori offered as she stepped out of the car. “I’ll make coffee.”

 

            “…Sure, you make good coffee... fucking girlfriend.” Hiruma remarked.

 

            Mamori rolled her eyes. “Be glad I put up with you, Youichi-kun.”

 

            Something changed when the two stepped into Mamori’s apartment. It wasn’t anything that you could see or hear, it was simply something you felt. It was the feeling that something had ended….

 

            And that something else had begun.

 

_=_=_=_=_

Please comment.

 

[1]- My mom just bought one of these. It doesn’t look like it’s a really fancy, super-high performance sporty kind of car, but it is one. I thought it would suit Hiruma.

 

[2]- This is the southern US, they say ‘y’all’. Y’all means ‘you all’, it’s just what they say locally there.