[Fanfic] Gravity [Chapter 1]
Title: Gravity [Chapter 1]
Rating: T
Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters used here. They belong to their respective owners, namely the creators of Eyeshield 21.
Summary: All they've been doing since they first started working together was keep moving forward and never looking back. But when one person has fallen, and the other is forced to stop, what would they think of themselves now?
Notes: I've been sick the past couple of days with cough and cold, and so the idea for this fic came into mind. What bothered me the most about writing this was the fact that this might turn out to be so darn cliched. There are many fics out there that cover the idea of either Hiruma or Mamori being sick, and what happens, etc. So I have no idea what prompted me to just write this first chapter anyways. I guess as moodylollipop said when I told her of my predicament, it's probably just because I wanted to "get this out of my head". So I guess I'm just writing this to pen down my own idea of "the many possible HiruMamo adventures in Saikyoudai". XD
So here's a laidback, somewhat slow, short fic for you guys to enjoy the next few weeks. Next chapter should be up sometime next week.
~*~
It all started with a slight itch in her throat.
A little irritated but unperturbed, Mamori cleared her throat as she focused on going through the data Hiruma, Captain of Saikyoudai’s American Football team, had just passed to her. While it wasn’t necessary for her to get this done soon, she had hoped to finish this quickly so she could finally work on that report she received the day before. Without taking her eyes off her computer, she rubbed her throat with one hand trying to sooth the itch that developed into a cough every time she tried to clear it.
On the other side of the table was Hiruma, eyes glued as ever to the latest model of Sony Vaio.
The crease on his forehead deepened from concentration to irritation with Mamori’s repeated coughing distracting him. “If you’re going to be this fucking annoying, you might as well head home,” he said to her as he began to retype the data she’d previously organized.
But Mamori shook her head. “I’ll get this done soon enough,” she said, as she coughed a little. “Just excuse me for a moment. I’ll get some water.”
Having helped him move in and cleaning up after him most of the time, she knew his apartment like the back of her hand. She automatically reached into the cupboard for a glass and began to pour herself a glass of water from a flask by the sink.
The water may have cooled her throat, but the itch remained and this bothered Mamori. Could she be falling sick? Thoughts of the million and one things she had to do flashed through her mind and she mentally went through a list of the people she’d met who might’ve passed the bug to her. Concluding that she hadn’t met anyone who looked or even acted sick, she ignored it and resumed working on the data, trying her best not to make any noise or let her throat distract her.
By the time she was done, it was already 8pm. Hiruma offered to walk her home but she declined, reminding him that she was going to meet her mother for dinner. The air was chilly, and did nothing to ease the itch. She continued to cough softly, which seemed to bother those around her, especially those in the bus. That’s strange… she thought to herself. It’s just a light cough.
As she reached her neighborhood, she alighted from the bus and headed towards a nearby family restaurant. Her mother waved eagerly at Mamori as she headed towards the table. She hugged her mother before sitting down. “How are you, mom? How’s dad? Still not feeling well?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Your dad’s fine, he just overworked himself. He wanted to come for this dinner, but I insisted he stay in. It’s not good to run around especially in this weather.”
Mamori laughed lightly and nodded. “That’s true, it’s been chilly lately.”
“How about you, Mamori? How’s college? You just came back from Hiruma’s place, right?”
Mamori smiled nervously. She had mentioned Hiruma so frequently in conversations with her mother that she no longer called him ‘The Football Captain’ or ‘The Demon-Looking Boy’. Her mother seemed comfortable now to call him Hiruma. “Yeah, we’re preparing for the next tournament in the upcoming season.”
“But that’s still a few months away,” her mother replied as she passed a menu to Mamori.
“Two months,” corrected Mamori, taking the menu and looking through. “But we’re not taking any chances. The other teams are getting stronger, and as we’re a team that relies not only on our strength, but on our ability to think and plan beforehand, we have to prepare now.”
“How’re you coping with your studies, then?” her mother asked, looking worried. “I spoke to Sena’s mother and she says he’s flooded with assignments, and he still insists on being in the football team! I know you don’t play, but I’m worried about your workload.”
“I’m fine, mom,” she insisted, but the itch in her throat chose that moment to act up, and Mamori let out a cough.
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Mamori, that doesn’t sound too good.”
Mamori shook her head and cleared her throat a little. “It’s nothing, really, I’ll just order some hot tea and soup,” she said as she looked to call a waiter.
But Mamori’s mother, being a mother, could not help worrying. “You don’t have a cold, do you?”
Mamori shook her head again, trying her best to ignore the itch and remain as calm and collected as possible. “No, just a slight itch in my throat. Really, Mom, there’s nothing to worry about.”
But throughout their dinner, Mamori noticed the crease in her mother’s forehead would not go away. No matter how she tried to come up with better topics (talking about her team members and how much stronger they would be, or how interesting she found her subjects to be), they did nothing to put her mother at ease. After dinner, as she left to take a bus back to her place, her mother grabbed her arm and said, “Call me if you start feeling unwell.”
Mamori resisted the urge to scoff, having told her mother a million times that she was fine. But as the itch in her throat grew, her own instincts began to nag at her that something might be off. So she held her mother’s hand for a moment and nodded as she went on the bus.
The next morning, Mamori woke up with the itch in her throat blown to a full out sore throat and a headache.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Rating: T
Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters used here. They belong to their respective owners, namely the creators of Eyeshield 21.
Summary: All they've been doing since they first started working together was keep moving forward and never looking back. But when one person has fallen, and the other is forced to stop, what would they think of themselves now?
Notes: I've been sick the past couple of days with cough and cold, and so the idea for this fic came into mind. What bothered me the most about writing this was the fact that this might turn out to be so darn cliched. There are many fics out there that cover the idea of either Hiruma or Mamori being sick, and what happens, etc. So I have no idea what prompted me to just write this first chapter anyways. I guess as moodylollipop said when I told her of my predicament, it's probably just because I wanted to "get this out of my head". So I guess I'm just writing this to pen down my own idea of "the many possible HiruMamo adventures in Saikyoudai". XD
So here's a laidback, somewhat slow, short fic for you guys to enjoy the next few weeks. Next chapter should be up sometime next week.
~*~
It all started with a slight itch in her throat.
A little irritated but unperturbed, Mamori cleared her throat as she focused on going through the data Hiruma, Captain of Saikyoudai’s American Football team, had just passed to her. While it wasn’t necessary for her to get this done soon, she had hoped to finish this quickly so she could finally work on that report she received the day before. Without taking her eyes off her computer, she rubbed her throat with one hand trying to sooth the itch that developed into a cough every time she tried to clear it.
On the other side of the table was Hiruma, eyes glued as ever to the latest model of Sony Vaio.
The crease on his forehead deepened from concentration to irritation with Mamori’s repeated coughing distracting him. “If you’re going to be this fucking annoying, you might as well head home,” he said to her as he began to retype the data she’d previously organized.
But Mamori shook her head. “I’ll get this done soon enough,” she said, as she coughed a little. “Just excuse me for a moment. I’ll get some water.”
Having helped him move in and cleaning up after him most of the time, she knew his apartment like the back of her hand. She automatically reached into the cupboard for a glass and began to pour herself a glass of water from a flask by the sink.
The water may have cooled her throat, but the itch remained and this bothered Mamori. Could she be falling sick? Thoughts of the million and one things she had to do flashed through her mind and she mentally went through a list of the people she’d met who might’ve passed the bug to her. Concluding that she hadn’t met anyone who looked or even acted sick, she ignored it and resumed working on the data, trying her best not to make any noise or let her throat distract her.
By the time she was done, it was already 8pm. Hiruma offered to walk her home but she declined, reminding him that she was going to meet her mother for dinner. The air was chilly, and did nothing to ease the itch. She continued to cough softly, which seemed to bother those around her, especially those in the bus. That’s strange… she thought to herself. It’s just a light cough.
As she reached her neighborhood, she alighted from the bus and headed towards a nearby family restaurant. Her mother waved eagerly at Mamori as she headed towards the table. She hugged her mother before sitting down. “How are you, mom? How’s dad? Still not feeling well?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Your dad’s fine, he just overworked himself. He wanted to come for this dinner, but I insisted he stay in. It’s not good to run around especially in this weather.”
Mamori laughed lightly and nodded. “That’s true, it’s been chilly lately.”
“How about you, Mamori? How’s college? You just came back from Hiruma’s place, right?”
Mamori smiled nervously. She had mentioned Hiruma so frequently in conversations with her mother that she no longer called him ‘The Football Captain’ or ‘The Demon-Looking Boy’. Her mother seemed comfortable now to call him Hiruma. “Yeah, we’re preparing for the next tournament in the upcoming season.”
“But that’s still a few months away,” her mother replied as she passed a menu to Mamori.
“Two months,” corrected Mamori, taking the menu and looking through. “But we’re not taking any chances. The other teams are getting stronger, and as we’re a team that relies not only on our strength, but on our ability to think and plan beforehand, we have to prepare now.”
“How’re you coping with your studies, then?” her mother asked, looking worried. “I spoke to Sena’s mother and she says he’s flooded with assignments, and he still insists on being in the football team! I know you don’t play, but I’m worried about your workload.”
“I’m fine, mom,” she insisted, but the itch in her throat chose that moment to act up, and Mamori let out a cough.
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Mamori, that doesn’t sound too good.”
Mamori shook her head and cleared her throat a little. “It’s nothing, really, I’ll just order some hot tea and soup,” she said as she looked to call a waiter.
But Mamori’s mother, being a mother, could not help worrying. “You don’t have a cold, do you?”
Mamori shook her head again, trying her best to ignore the itch and remain as calm and collected as possible. “No, just a slight itch in my throat. Really, Mom, there’s nothing to worry about.”
But throughout their dinner, Mamori noticed the crease in her mother’s forehead would not go away. No matter how she tried to come up with better topics (talking about her team members and how much stronger they would be, or how interesting she found her subjects to be), they did nothing to put her mother at ease. After dinner, as she left to take a bus back to her place, her mother grabbed her arm and said, “Call me if you start feeling unwell.”
Mamori resisted the urge to scoff, having told her mother a million times that she was fine. But as the itch in her throat grew, her own instincts began to nag at her that something might be off. So she held her mother’s hand for a moment and nodded as she went on the bus.
The next morning, Mamori woke up with the itch in her throat blown to a full out sore throat and a headache.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2