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“Sena, I think you should be more careful during practice,” Mamori warned her younger friend, wiping off his dirty and scratched arm.  “You really took a bad fall out there.”

 

“S-sorry Mamori,” Sena muttered.  “I was just running for the ball.  Basic training and all.”

 

“Still…” Mamori murmured.  “I don’t understand why you practice so hard when you don’t actually play in the games.”

 

Sena gulped, growing slightly worried about Mamori’s possible discovery of his secret identity, Eyeshield 21.  Hiruma had forced Sena to keep his position on the team a secret from Mamori in fear that she would convince Sena to stop playing on the team.  “Umm…well…”

 

“It’s for the thrill of play!”

 

Sena looked up to see none other then the team captain, Hiruma, standing over the two, grinning wildly, as he usually did, an large machine gun over his shoulder, also as usual.  “Huh?” Mamori asked.  “The thrill of play?”

“Yeah!  This damn pipsqueak wants to feel what it’s like to be out there on the field!” Hiruma explained.  “Everyone does.  Too bad you’ll never get to feel it damn manager.”

 

Mamori frowned.  “What’s it like?”

 

“Hmm…odd question,” he said, giving his signature smirk.  “Tough to explain.  But I’d say…when that ball is hiked and play begins, you get this jolt.”

 

“Jolt?” Mamori asked.

 

“For the normal kid, it’s half nerves and half excitement,” Hiruma explained.  “But for me, it’s three quarters viciousness and one quarter excitement.”

 

“Typical Hiruma…” Sena murmured to himself.

 

“The jolt is different for everyone,” Hiruma said.  “Even for the damn pipsqueak here.  Everyone’s got a jolt.  It’s needed to win at football.”

 

“Really?” Mamori asked.  “All you need is the jolt?”

 

“Not all,” Hiruma grinned.  “You need the jolt, you need skill, you need tenacity, you need intimidation, and you need a kiss from lady luck.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to believe in luck Hiruma,” Monta observed, walking over to his team captain from the school yard. 

 

“I don’t,” Hiruma frowned and pointed his gun at Monta.  “Now get back to practice, damn monkey!”

 

“ACK!”

 

“Then if you haven’t got your kiss from lady luck, how are you supposed to win?” Mamori asked Hiruma as Monta ran back to the field.  Hiruma paused, looking taken aback slightly.

 

“I just pump everything else up,” he said.  “And I kill the competition.  That’s all there is to it.”

 

“What if you had a kiss?”

 

Hiruma paused.  “Stop asking stupid questions, damn it.  I never get my kiss from Lady Luck.  I never have, and I never will.  I guess I’ll just have to live with it, won’t I?”

 

“So you rely on your jolt?” Mamori asked.

 

“Damn straight,” Hiruma muttered.  “Now c’mon, damn pipsqueak.  We’ve got practice.”

 

But before Hiruma could take another step towards the field, Mamori had risen from her position on the bench and had given him a quick peck on the cheek.  Hiruma’s mouth fell open slightly, and he turned to look at her.  Sena’s eyes were wide, as were Hiruma’s.  However, Mamori seemed quite calm.

 

“There you go,” Mamori winked.  “Your first and only kiss from Lady Luck.”

 

Hiruma paused, then scowled.  “I told you before.  I don’t rely on fucking luck.” 

 

There was a pause between the two as they held each other’s eyes.  Finally, Hiruma spoke.  “But just this once, I’ll add that to my jolt.”

 

“Good,” Mamori smiled warmly. “And I’ll add it to mine.”

 

End!