The day after the chaotic baseball tryouts, the Deimon Devil Bats gathered on the ragged practice field that barely passed for a football ground. The grass was uneven, the goalposts bent, and the only crowd in attendance was a group of crows perched along the fence. Yet, to the newly recruited players, this place was about to become the center of their world.
Sena adjusted the strap of his helmet nervously. This was the first time Monta would practice as part of their team, and Sena could see the energy bubbling inside him like a shaken soda can. Monta was bouncing on his feet, his bandana tied tighter than ever, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Alright!" Monta shouted, raising a fist to the sky. "Show me the ropes of this sport! I'll catch anything you throw at me, you hear me? ANYTHING!"
Kurita clapped his massive hands together, beaming. "That's the spirit, Monta-kun! You'll do great!"
Sena smiled shyly, relieved that Monta's passion hadn't wavered overnight. But before he could say anything, a familiar cackle cut through the morning air.
"YA-HA-HA-HA!"
Hiruma strode onto the field, rifle slung across his back, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His spiky hair stood like horns, and his notebook was already open in his hand. The Ha-Ha Brothers trailed behind him, sulking in their new practice gear, looking like kids forced into detention.
"Alright, you maggots!" Hiruma barked, firing a shot into the sky for effect. "Welcome to hell—also known as Devil Bats practice. Today's special: turning a monkey, three idiots, and a beanpole into actual football players."
"Hey!" Monta protested, pointing at himself. "Who are you calling a monkey?!"
"You, dumbass," Hiruma shot back instantly. "Jump around enough, might as well toss you a banana instead of a ball. YA-HA!"
The rest of the team chuckled. Even Sena covered his mouth to hide a laugh, while Monta's face turned red.
TJ, standing with arms crossed, finally stepped forward. His towering presence silenced the field without effort. His voice was calm but firm.
"Enough talking. Let's start practice. We need Monta catching, Sena running, and these three blocking. The sooner they learn, the better."
For a brief moment, even Hiruma's grin faltered. He hated when anyone disrupted his theatrics—but he also respected results. TJ had a presence Hiruma couldn't dismiss, and deep down, Hiruma relished having someone steady to balance his chaos.
"…Fine," Hiruma muttered with a smirk. "Let's see if your little pep-talk method works better than my gun."
Kurita set up cones while Sena jogged in place, too nervous to stand still. Monta paced, repeating "receiver…receiver…" under his breath like a mantra.
The Ha-Ha Brothers dragged their feet, clearly uninterested. Hiruma barked at them:
"You dumbasses are the line. If the shrimp gets squashed, those photos of you spray-painting 'Eat My Shorts' on the principal's car go straight to the cops. Got it?"
The three stiffened immediately.
"Yes, sir," they muttered in unison.
Practice started with the simplest drill: a passing route. Sena would snap the ball, Hiruma would throw, and Monta would run and catch.
"Alright, monkey," Hiruma sneered, spinning the ball in his hand. "Show me those 'amazing hands' of yours. Don't drop it, or I'll staple bananas to your locker."
Monta stomped his foot, veins bulging on his forehead. "Stop calling me a monkey! Just watch—I'll catch it with my LIFE!"
He lined up, Sena snapped the ball, and Monta sprinted down the field, arms flailing like a windmill. Hiruma's throw whistled through the air like a bullet.
Monta dove—arms stretched wide—and SNAP. The ball stuck in his grip like glue. He rolled on the grass, leaping up instantly with the ball raised high.
"SEE?! PERFECT CATCH!" he bellowed, hopping in circles. "Nobody catches like me! I'm the next Jerry Rice!"
Sena clapped excitedly. "Wow, Monta, that was amazing!"
Even Kurita cheered, tears streaming down his face. "So reliable! So dependable! I'm so happy we recruited him!"
But Hiruma wasn't smiling. He crossed his arms, unimpressed.
"Not bad, monkey. But catching one ball doesn't mean jack. Can you do it when someone's about to break your spine?"
Hiruma set up the next drill. Monta would run his route, Sena would hand the ball off, and the Ha-Ha Brothers would try to stop them.
Sena froze. "W-wait, they're so much bigger than me—"
"Shut it, shrimp," Hiruma snapped. "The whole point is for you to outrun them. YA-HA!"
TJ knelt beside Sena, his calm voice cutting through the noise.
"Just focus on your speed. Trust yourself. If they come close, I'll step in during real games. For now, think of it as practice dodging obstacles."
Sena took a deep breath, nodding. "O-okay. I'll try."
The whistle blew. Sena darted forward like lightning, Monta sprinting beside him. The Ha-Ha Brothers lunged, trying to close the gap—but Sena's reflexes kept him just out of reach. He pitched the ball to Hiruma, who lobbed it downfield.
Monta leapt again—this time with Kuroki right on his heels. The ball sailed inches above Kuroki's hands, but Monta's fingers stretched impossibly wide.
SNAP! Another perfect catch.
The team erupted in cheers. Monta landed on the ground, puffing out his chest. "Told you! My monkey hands never fail!"
Even Hiruma cracked a grin. "Heh. Not bad, monkey. Guess you've earned your banana split after all."
As practice continued, Sena's confidence grew. With Monta as a reliable target and TJ acting as a steady presence, Sena's nerves began to fade. For once, he didn't feel like he was running alone.
Between drills, Monta threw an arm around Sena's shoulders. "You're fast as hell, Eyeshield! With my catches and your speed, we'll be unstoppable!"
Sena laughed nervously. "I-I hope so…"
TJ walked past, patting Sena's back. "No hope about it. Just keep running like that, and we'll make it happen."
Sena blinked up at him, surprised by how much weight TJ's calm assurance carried. Unlike Hiruma's threats or Kurita's emotional encouragement, TJ's words felt solid—like a wall he could lean against.
Meanwhile, the Ha-Ha Brothers fumbled constantly in their new lineman roles. They tripped, missed blocks, and even collided with each other. Hiruma's patience wore thin fast.
"You three idiots! Even a traffic cone would block better than you!"
Jumonji growled. "Shut up! We didn't ask to be here anyway!"
TJ suddenly stepped in, his voice low but commanding. "Enough. If you're on the field, you play for the team. Sena depends on you. Monta depends on you. We all do. So quit whining and do the job."
The three froze. For the first time, someone wasn't mocking or blackmailing them—just speaking plainly, expecting them to rise up.
Jumonji scowled, but deep down, something shifted. "Tch… fine. But don't think we'll roll over just because you said so."
"Good," TJ replied simply. "I don't want you to roll over. I want you to stand tall."
As the sun began to set, Hiruma decided to end the day with a short scrimmage: Devil Bats offense versus a mock defense.
Sena lined up behind center, heart pounding. Monta bounced on his toes, eager. Kurita crouched like a mountain at the line. TJ positioned himself wide, arms loose at his sides, calm as ever.
"YA-HA!" Hiruma barked from the sideline. "Alright, shrimp, monkey, and musclehead—show me something worth my ammo!"
The whistle blew.
Sena sprinted forward, faking a handoff. The Ha-Ha Brothers held their ground better this time, giving him just enough time to look up. Hiruma, acting as QB, fired the ball.
It soared. Monta leapt.
The world seemed to slow down. Sena held his breath.
SNAP! Monta clutched the ball mid-air, twisting his body to land inbounds. The small group of teammates erupted in cheers.
Kurita cried openly. "So beautiful! So reliable!"
Sena's face lit up. Monta had really done it—he'd become a true Devil Bat.
Hiruma smirked, hiding his satisfaction behind his cigarette. "Heh. Not bad. Maybe this circus act of a team has some bite after all."
TJ simply nodded, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. "Told you. He's a natural."
As the team packed up, Monta tossed the ball in the air, catching it effortlessly. He looked at Sena and TJ, his grin wide and confident.
"This is it, guys. From now on, I'm Deimon's number one receiver! Nobody's stopping us!"
Sena laughed, running circles around him out of habit. "We'll make a great team!"
TJ clapped both their shoulders, his calm voice steady. "This is only the beginning. With the right work, we can take on anyone."
Behind them, Hiruma scribbled furiously in his notebook, that devilish grin never fading. The Devil Bats were still weak, still unpolished, still underestimated—but with each new recruit, the pieces of his grand scheme were falling into place.
The road to Christmas Bowl had only just begun.