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Devil's Poison

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“...Where I’m from, kicking is considered the most useless part of American Football,” Sena said.

“What? That’s stupid! DEIMON IS A KICKING TEAM AND WE ARE THE BEST!” Kotarou yelled and Sena nodded along, “We’re SMART like that!”

A soft laugh escaped Sena as watched another ‘SMART’ ball was kicked perfectly into the field goal.

“I’m really glad I came to Japan,” Sena whispered softly, in English.

“You say something?”

Sena shook his head at the kicker, “No, nothing.”

“We’re going to the Christmas Bowl! As a Kicking Team! Because that’s SMART!”

The brunette relished that single moment of almost silence before Hiruma came in, guns ablaze.

No really.


“Hai!” Sena rushed off to do his basic steps.


Battling against Gaou was the worst thing that their small team of Deimon could say.

Hiruma crumpled to the floor and everything just felt like it was ending.

But then, it was Eyeshield that went up to their hell commander and said, “Rest well, Youichi, because when you wake up again, we’ll have those tickets to the Christmas Bowl.”

Just like that, Deimon found their fighting spirit once more and then they had the entire team (or what remained of it) huddled up in a circle on the field.

“Okay, so what are we going to do? Who’s going to be quarterback?”

“I’ll do it,” Musashi stated, stepping up to the plate easily.

“You ever touch the ball with your hands?” Kotarou asked and Musashi didn’t even hesitate.

“No, never. But it’s better if my body, that I forged through all my years of carpentry than you guys scrawny bodies.”




“That’s not SMART!”

Obviously enough, Juumonji, Kuroki, Toganou, and Kotarou all had issues with this.

“Besides, even if I go down, we can still win with the power of your kick,” Musashi said.

Kotarou bit his tongue at that, but Akaba wasn’t going to take this.

Funny enough, it was the soft laughter that stopped everyone and then turned to the source. They turned to their Eyeshield, their strongest runner, who turned to them and talked with complete and under-confidence.

“I’ll be the Quarterback,” Eyeshield said, “Set up. I can’t do long passes or anything but Deimon will not go down.”

They turned as a unit and Musashi got ready for the kick.

“This is our answer to you,” Musashi said.


And Deimon fought.


Akaba has seen players be slammed onto the ground. It was nothing new to him. Not even when Sena slammed to the ground. But this.

This was something new altogether.

Something about Gaou, about him doing nothing to destroy and damage Sena, and break Sena the same way that Hiruma was broken, nearly killed him.

But Sena always got back up, a soft grin on his face and a part of Akaba wondered if this was what makes American players so different from other players.

“Sena,” Monta walked up to him and he waved it off.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But this is great,” Sena stood taller, and faced Gaou.

“Hn?” Hakushuu Dinosaurs, Deimon Devilbats, and pretty much everyone in the entire stadium strained a little harder to hear.

“This is the thrill that I have been waiting for. This is why I play football. To carve your way up from the bottom,” Eyeshield said, “Thank you for that.”

Something about that bothered the musical player a little more than it should have, but he didn’t say anything.


And when they won, because the power of kicking will not lose to anyone or anything, Sena stared at the ground. He didn’t really scream and celebrate winning (he never really did, not like the rest of the freshmen did), but he sighed.

“It’s cold,” he whispered out, oh so softly, but certain people heard.

Majority of the people though, were too busy cheering along with Deimon, or giving polite claps and such, to really notice.


“Sena, I have a question for you.”

Juumonji paused in the middle of changing out of his uniform, much like everyone else, as Akaba turned to Sena.

Sena, who was in the process of taking his padding off and then blinked, “...Did I do something wrong?”

“Fuu, nothing like that,” Akaba stated simply, but before anyone else could speak, he continued, “Is Football more fun here or back when you were in America?”

Everything came to an awkward halt, the tension in the room rose and everyone turned to Sena.

Sena answered slowly, as though he was thinking of an answer as he spoke, and everyone listened intently, “Where I was from, I never trained as hard as I do for Deimon. I never had a real team that depended on my as much as I depended on them. I...”

He paused a little more, and then he continued.

“But there was more challenge in America. So in that sense, playing in America was much more fun. But here, it’s a team challenge. Team wise, it’s more fun,” Sena said.

“So, overall?”

Sena hesitated, and that was more than enough for Hiruma to fire his gun and alert everyone to get the fuck out of the clubhouse.

The team, moreorless, rushed out.

And no one asked Sena for the real answer, more fear of the answer than anything.


It was during the time when the Dream Team worked to fight together that Akaba Hayato was forced to face the truth about his question, and Sena’s answer.

“The wall of the Speed of Light...” Shin murmured, “The wall of 4.2 has been broken,” he nearly gasped.

Sena stumbled forward, getting closer to the field while Panther jumped the ledge.

And the Team of Japan, created by and with the best of the best in their country, stared as the two, probably fastest men in the world in this era stood in front of each other.

“I’ve been waiting,” Sena said first. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to join us at the top.”

“Nishishishi... I’m not the same guy that was defeated by Shin, or you,” he had said.

“I can tell, you got faster.”

“I’m just like you now.”

Another silence and Panther was yelled at, so he hastily made his way back down.

“And this time, I won’t lose to you!”

Sena smirked in response, and swiftly moved to leave the stadium.

“Oi, fucking chibi, what are you doing?” Hiruma asked, popping his gum as he kept steady eyes on the smaller male.

“It’s going to be a hot match, Youichi,” Sena said, “I need to be at 100%, so I’m going to go practice running back to my top speed.”

Many heads of the Japanese players snapped over to the brunette.

“Alright! We’re going to win against America with SMART kicks!” Kotarou said, “Let’s go back!”

“Yeah! Defeat the Americans MAX!”

“...That was the first time,” Akaba commented.

“First time what?” Riku, who had heard him, turned to ask.

“That the fucking chibi called a match hot,” Hiruma frowned at this, and then cackled, “Guess this is going to be a crazy match.”