Log in

OOC: Log with the Trio! <3 - Devil Bat RP! [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
The Devil Bat RP!

[ Rules of the Game | livejournal userinfo ]
[ Game Data | journal archive ]

OOC: Log with the Trio! <3 [Mar. 28th, 2007|02:49 am]
The Eyeshield 21 RP community


Kurita burst into the clubhouse like a battering ram, and woe betide anyone who happened to be caught behind it. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he huffed from exertion. He'd run all the way there.

Hiruma looked up from where he was examining a piece of crepe paper, making sure its color was red enough for his purposes, when he was startled by Kurita's entrance. "The fuck, fatass?!"

Musashi eyed the slung open clubhouse door before stepping inside. Seeing the crepe paper made him pale. "What the...?"

Kurita was so blissfully happy that his mind didn't even register the insult. Or maybe he never noticed it anymore, because when it came from Hiruma the gigantic lineman knew instinctively he didn't mean it. "Waiii, Mu-sa-shiiii!!" Ignoring the distress of others when in proximity to Hiruma was second-nature to Kurita, too. He pulled the kicker into a hug, managing to even lift the tall player a few centimetres off the ground.

Hiruma sighed and moved out of hugging proximity. He answered Musashi's question testily. "Shit for your party, fucking old man, didn't I tell you?"

Musashi stifled a surprised sound as his excitement prevented him from dodging Kurita's crushing embrace. His legs swung wildly in the air until he was finally put down, catching his breath from having the life squeezed out of him.  "Good, to see you too, Kurita," Musashi gasped. He couldn't hide a smile, but a thick eyebrow was raised as he turned to Hiruma.  "A party? Is that even necessary?"

"OF COURSE IT IS!!!!" Kurita exclaimed, obviously shocked at the very notion that anyone would believe otherwise. "The founding members are together again! We have a chance now of keeping that promise!"

Hiruma smirked at Musashi, knowing that once Kurita was excited about something, Musashi wouldn't be able to say no. "Like the red, fucking old man?"

Musashi's eyebrows knitted together as he turned from Kurita's overly enthusiastic smile to the streamer. "It's... perfect," he forced out, unwilling to dampen the lineman's mood, though he knew it wouldn't be deterred so easily anyway.

"YES!! Everything is going to be GREAT!" Kurita clapped his hands together. His expression was intense.

"Great, he says." Hiruma approached Musashi with a rather predatory grin. "Hear that, fucking old man? It took you long enough to come back, you know..." He poked him in the belly.

The kicker quickly swatted Hiruma's hand away. "Had stuff that needed to get done," he grumbled as he looked around the clubhouse. "You went all out."

Kurita danced over to the sink where he'd been chopping up massive quantities of sashimi-grade fish and vegetables for the sushi they'd be having at the party. This was a special occasion; leftovers from the temple just wouldn't do. He did a little dance before picking up the knife, humming happily to himself.

Hiruma's eyes flucked to Kurita in amusement, then settled on Musashi again. "Shit needed to get done, eh? Feh." He shoved him playfully.

Musashi smirked as he clapped Hiruma on the shoulder, his modesty turning into a sense of gratitude as he watched his friends celebrate his return. "I really don't deserve any of this," he insisted as he looked around the clubhouse and walked over to his locker to put away his school bag.

Kurita arranged the unagi platter in the shape of a football and placed tuna rolls on their sides to create the illusion of laces.

Hiruma cackled, shaking his head. "You're not a fucking culinary genius, fatass!" He went to raid a few pieces of sushi.

Musashi blew at his bangs as he stared at his locker. He... truly was back. Putting away his school bag, he reached up to pick up the long abandoned kicking tee, a sense of completion filling him. In his mind, he could hear the ticking of a second hand moving once again as he stood there transfixed by it.

In the background, Kurita made a feeble protest about presentation while Hiruma held him off with one hand.

Hiruma swatted at Kurita, "Fuck off, m'hungry."

"You guys didn't even bother cleaning it," Musashi noted as he twisted the kicking tee around.

Kurita looked over at Hiruma who had stopped laughing and was abruptly staring at nothing. "Uh...." He said, trying to fill the empty air with words that would distract them all. "It's yours, so--"

"No one touched it since you left." Hiruma bore a fang and ate another piece of sushi.

Dark eyes stared at his best friends fondly, a small smile on his face. "Nothing's stopping me now from fulfilling our promise." He placed the kicking tee back into his locker and walked over to them, staring at all the food. "Kurita, are you preparing for a funeral!?"

"Hooeeee! Don't say ill-omened things!" The gigantic defenseman swatted the air, as if he could erase the bad luck that way. "I just wanted to make sure there was enough!"

"Trust me, fatass, there will be enough." Hiruma snagged one more, and went to root around for some water.

"It looks delicious," Musashi said in an attempt to calm down Kurita. "I was just kidding; is there anything I can help you with?"

"You're the guest of honour! You shouldn't have to do anything... except...." Kurita pushed his index fingers together and looked at the ground. "Maybe you could... go outside with Hiruma-san and uhm practice a bit if that's okay...."

Hiruma smirked and sauntered outside, giving Musashi a smug look.

Musashi followed, unsure of what was going on, but he'd humor them if they were planning anything. "Practice? We're not suited up at all."

Kurita smiled and serenely plastic-wrapped the plates of sushi.

Hiruma grinned at Musashi and twirled a football that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Musashi loosened his school tie and placed it in his pocket, still unused to the uniform. Familiar with Hiruma's antics, the football didn't phase him.

Kurita moved the sushi to the fridge which was bursting with party favours as it was. Gingerly, he shifted some bottles of diet pop around to make room for the platters.

Hiruma produced Musashi's kicking tee, though Musashi hadn't seen him snatch it. "I want to see it, old man."

Now that caught him off guard. "Right now?" He had destoyed a soccer net and a goalie with his kick, but right before the party?

Kurita went to the window and nearly warped the metal as he grabbed the frame in anticipation. Was Musashi rusty after all this time?

Hiruma knelt and placed the football on the tee, laces out. "Do it. Show him."

Musashi looked over at the window and saw Kurita's anxious expression. Filled with the need to prove himself, Musashi closed his eyes to concentrate, leaning onto his right leg in the standard kicking stance.  When all he could see was Hiruma and the football, he took a sharp intake of breath and let out a grunt, kicking with all of his strength. The football went soaring long and far, piercing the clouds.

Kurita's squeal of delight carried through the insulated walls of the clubhouse as if he hadn't bothered with the extra foot of soundproofing.

Hiruma cackled, shoving Musashi in utter glee. "Fucking old man..."

Musashi let out a laugh as the football finally landed in the distance. "Takes more than a year to undo me. We made a promise after all."