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You ignore the low rumble of commentators and clashing sounds leaving the flat screen inside your living room while Shoko's soft voice masks over the background noise of your husband's game. The heavy weight of the large stainless steel chef's knife continues its rhythmic pattern as you chop up carrots for your soup.
"It's nice that we finally have an home game," Shoko says with baited breathing as you hear her body plop down onto what you assume is her couch. You hum in agreement and continue focusing on your cooking as you reply with, "Yup and if we're lucky Vancouver's center will keel over and leave our boys with an easy win."
Shoko snorts. "That'll be a fuckin' blessed thing for us."
You finish putting the carrots with the potatoes and turn away from the stove and wash your hands. Over your marble countertop, you take a peek into your living room to see what's happened since the start. It's only seven minutes into the third period, and you catch a glimpse of a black and yellow jersey with a capital 'C' on the front and then a close up of Hiromi's stern expression on your TV screen.
You grin at the familiar sight of your husband's focused face as you wipe your wet hands with the kitchen towelette. A beeping comes from the stove, and you turn away and pay attention to your meal once again.
"Hey Shoko!"
"Yeah?!"
"Keep me updated on the game, I gotta make sure this thing comes out perfect!"
"I gotcha!" She yells back as she increases the already booming volume of her TV up a notch.
It was just the beginning of the hockey season and Hiromi had discussed with you his plans on wanting to win the cup this year. It's his first year as captain and the pride of taking the team that drafted him to the national championships lit a fire under his ass so much so that it even gave you an extra wave of confidence being side by side with the man you love who you knew would get the job done.
You're dropping the bowl of cut veggies into the already sizzling beef roast when you hear a shout from your phone speaker.
"What the fuck?!"
"What's happening Shoko?"
"Hiromi dropped his gloves!"
"WHAT?!" You yell back at her as you let go of the empty bowl. Your hand reaches for your phone, and you run with it to your living room and stand in front of your TV. On the ice you can see Hiromi, glove less, as he removes his helmet and starts yelling at Jasson, Vancouver's right ring, who yelled right back at him.
Seconds passed while your eyes widened as you watched your husband close his mouth and furiously throw a left hook right into Jasson's jaw, just right under the man's visor.
And then all hell broke loose.
Your mouth hung low, as Shoko's screams rang from your phone. The scene before you was...jarring. Hiromi wasn't a player that usually fought on the ice. He always wanted to keep it clean and fair with the other teams, but this was something else entirely. The pure rage in your husband's gaze and the ferocity in which he fights Jasson with is unlike any regular disagreement you had seen him endure in his entire five years as an NHL player.
The rink was swarmed with players from opposing teams, refs, and soon medics, as the brawl continued on the ice. Masaki, Shoko's twin brother, and Solares, the other assistant captain after Masaki, came to Hiromi's side and tried to pull him back from his and Jasson's fight. Bodies surround them as the rapid camera angle changes on the TV tries to capture every moment of the confrontation. Masaki and Solares were finally able to pull Hiromi away from the huddle and skate towards the boards of the rink.
Your mouth shut instantly as you looked at the state of your husband. Hiromi's face was wrecked. A corner of his lip was busted, while a cut on top of his nose & his actual nose had blood slowly trickling down his face, and his right eyebrow was clipped a bit bloody as well. His left cheek was completely red from Jasson punching him repeatedly, and that definitely was going to leave a nasty bruise, but that wasn't what caught the main attention of your focus.
Hiromi is strapped in the middle of Masaki and Solares as his teammates hold him back against the boards, their arms covering your husband's chest and back while they fight to hold him down. It is then when the screen pans to another close up of your husband's scowl turns almost feral as he animalistically licks the blood running down from his nose while he watches Jasson with a satisfactory smile, struggling to get up from the ice, even with the help of his teammates.
Hiromi's brown eyes are dilated and the smile his lips have shaped is downright incredulous to you. He bares his teeth, covered in a pinkish red color from his own blood, and he looks...vicious. Your heartbeat is pumping at an abnormal rate as you stare down at Hiromi. You've never seen that kind of look on his face. That look that felt like his intentions were as clear as day that he genuinely wanted to hurt someone. Badly.
You sensed the shiver that ran underneath your skin but you couldn't care to even react to it. Your eyes were fixated on your husband, looking downright sinister on the ice after beating the shit out of Jasson and your body could only find itself stuck on the tantalizing view and wholly flushed with heat.
"This has got to be one of the most intense brawls we've had in the last two years, and this season's only begun! Pittsburgh's own captain, Hiromi Higuruma, and Vancouver's right wing, Hansel Jasson, dropped gloves and started throwing punches out of nowhe-"
"What the fuck...," was all you muttered lowly as you ignored the commentary coming from the screen.
Shoko had said your name and then added, "Hiromi...he dropped his gloves first."
Shoko's words and a beeping from your oven sobers you up as you remove yourself away from the TV and you go back to cooking your forgotten meal.
"I have to go Shoko, we'll talk later."
"Okay, but are you alright?"
You hesitate for a second. "Totally, I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Both of you say your goodbyes, and you place your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. Thankfully, the food hadn't burned, as you mindlessly finished the roast and let it cook slowly.
You take a deep breath in and slowly exhale while you leave the kitchen and drop your body on the large plush sofa. The game was finally over and the player interviews were beginning to be shown. A live flash of Hiromi pops up, and you grab the remote to turn up the volume on your TV. Hiromi's long sleeved white compression shirt has a few drops of dried blood on it, but his face seems to have been cleaned up by the medics. His gaze is sharp as he passes almost a dozen microphones while they pour in and out of frame of the camera as interviewers try to get a comment from your husband.
"Captain Higuruma, can you talk us through what caused that fight between you and Jasson?"
"Higuruma can you give us a comment on what occurred tonight?"
"What was going through your mind before Jasson shoved you, Captain?"
Hiromi stayed silent and didn't glance not once at the journalists as he swiftly moved past them to head towards the dressing room.
Removing your phone from your pocket, you send a text message to him.
[9:59 P.M.]
You: Are you alright, honey?
Nervously you await his answer as your leg begins to bounce.
[10:02 P.M.]
(Photo Attachment: A selfie of Hiromi smirking wildly with a close up of his more cleanly beaten face, as his teeth still have a slight bloody tent on them.)
Hiromi: A whole lot better now since you've texted me ;)
You almost laugh at his response, and though you suppress it you can't help the smile that forms across your face.
[10:03 P.M.]
You: I'm glad you're able to find amusement out of this situation, but what the hell happened out there?
You watch as he begins typing and then stops. Then starts. Then stops. It takes him two minutes whole to reply.
[10:05 P.M.]
Hiromi: We can talk about it once I'm home.
Reluctantly, you agree.
[10:05 P.M.]
You: Fine... I love you
[10:06 P.M.]
Hiromi: I love you too, baby
Leaving your bedroom after your shower, you're sitting back on your sofa as you hear the front door begin to open. Rounding the corner, you see Hiromi in all his glory standing in the fourier.
He looked depleted.
"Hiromi?"
He lifted his face up at your voice and a smile sprawled on his face as he dropped his bag and opened up his arms to you. It took only a few quick steps for you to jump onto him and Hiromi let out a soft pained exhale from his mouth.
"Oh! Sorry."
A chuckle leaves him. "It's alright baby," Hiromi whispers as a rabid breath escapes him. His arms bring you closer and together the both of you stand hugging one another and taking in the presence of the moment.
After awhile, you pull back and raise your hands to caress the sides of Hiromi's face. Your right thumb grazes over his chin and your left moves near the prominent split in the corner of his lip. Hiromi finds himself almost drifting into a daze as he greedily accepts the careful touches you give him.
"What happened, Hiromi?"
He hadn't realized his eyes had closed until he opened them and met your worried stare.
"Jasson couldn't keep it professional. I said he was a being hypocrite considering how scandalous he is on and off the ice," Hiromi steadily says as he then finishes arrogantly, "He didn't like what I had to say, apparently."
A humorous scoff leaves you as you turn away from his face for a second to take it all in. Hiromi's hands find your waist and his worried eyes try to catch yours again.
"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to scare you."
You turn to match his gaze, a small grin finds your face.
"I know, I know...," you trail off.
A bold thought then comes to mind.
"Actually honey, if we're being honest..."
"Hm?"
Your hands place themselves on his pecs, as you can feel the firm, yet soft muscle under his new black compression shirt.
"I thought you looked quite sexy out there."
Hiromi's eyebrows raise, but then fall just as quickly while a smirk and a similar feral expression like the one he wore on the ice an hour ago finds itself on his face. A tutting sound of faux disapproval falls from your husband's lips as his arms wrap themselves around your waist and pulls you up closer than you were before.
"My, my, don't tell me you like it when I'm all beaten and bloody, baby?" Hiromi teasingly asks, while staring down into your eyes.
You moved your face closer to his as your lips lightly brushed against each other while you stared into his darkened eyes as you mischievously say, "Maybe."
"Maybe, huh?" Hiromi questions. He lifts his head up as if he was pondering about something and then takes a deep breath. His lips move before you even realize you're being lifted off the floor and carried in his arms.
"I can definitely work with, maybe."