This is a little after Doji steals L-Drago...

I don't own MFBeyblade... Enjoy?

Father… Father… Dad…

The redhead curled his back against the dry and dusty bark, too overcome in sorrow to get into a comfortable position.

A sniff escaped his plaster-covered nose, as he huddled his arms around each other, squeezing himself softly. A bone-chilling squall blew forcefully through the air and into his face, bringing a few raindrops with it. The tree that he sat under did not provide a proper shelter against the frosty zephyrs that rushed between its shaky frail leaves.

It seemed as if the elements were encouraging his grief, as air and water combined themselves with each other, to make the environment as dark and dreary as they could. Mist wove itself into shrouds of coldness, and covered everything in sight- including the old tree that the redhead hunched up under. Particles of water rose into the air, merging into long and grey clouds that burst with rain.

It was as if they wanted to make him feel as horrible as possible.

The redhead did not care. He slowly opened his eyes, watching a single droplet of water make its descent from the sky, in an almost eager way- only to shatter like a crystal the moment it touched the ground. Sighing, the redhead shifted his position, his back to the grey sky and his face towards the tree. He laid a hand on its rough exterior, tracing across the many indents.

He had been like that once. Like the raindrop- as peculiar a comparison it may have seemed. He had been ambitious and happy, never thinking, never once dreaming, that his joy would one day come crashing down like a rock.

The redhead shuddered. He had lost so much that day- the day the helicopter with the dark, violet, and jagged emblem invaded his village to steal L-Drago. The day the dark, red-eyed dragon was broken out of its prison. The day Ryuga acquired it, along with the destructive Dark Power.

A growl escaped the redhead abruptly, as he clenched his fiery hair. His angry fists felt the soft fabric of his blue bandana, with the imprinted Pegasus emblem- a bandana similar to the one that Ryuga had so insolently ripped off his father's forehead and used it to polish the dark L-Drago. A perfect recollection of that moment played in the redhead's mind, searing its great pain into his nerves.

"Feeling a little frustrated? Slightly hateful? Somewhat miserable? If you're gonna be mad at something, be mad at yourself, for being such a helpless fool!"

The redhead growled again, as Ryuga's contemptuous cackle echoed rapidly and painfully in his head, accompanied by a disturbing picture of his father lying helplessly on the ground.

The voice sounded again.

If you're gonna be mad at something, be mad at yourself, for being such a helpless fool!"

And again.

"For being such a helpless fool!"

Now growling viciously, the redhead shot to his feet, and screamed at the dark and misty abyss in front of him. "My father was a great man, and you're going to pay for what you did to him, you good for nothing monster! Compared to him, you're miserable! Compared to him, you're helpless! Compared to him… to him…"

Exhausted by his own outburst, the redhead fell back and curled up again. The rain had now started to fall and it slowly gained speed as the drops pounded on the surface of the ground. They beat out a rhythm alike to that of a marching army, as they pattered incessantly.

What made it ache even more was the fact that nobody even understood him. Yes, he may have lost his father, but he was being overemotional, they said. It was a thing of the past; he'd have to move on soon, they had advised. His father had died with honor, said some, who had not even been there with him at the time.

They did not understand.

So what if he was being overemotional? So what if he was being unreasonable? Who were they to judge him? He had lost his father. His hero. His mentor.

The redhead curled up tighter, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to block the tears that threatened to flow. Another memory flashed into his mind- this one, not as angering as the former one.

A black silhouette stood against a background of blinding light, as large rocks fell around it. It was of a man with spiky hair, and a scarf floating around him like the wings of an angel. He held up his thumb encouragingly. "Become strong, my son."

"Father…" the redhead sighed. He reached into a container on his belt, and brought something metallic out of it. The legacy his father had passed on to him. The redhead delicately traced his fingers over the three wings of shiny metal on the beyblade's fusion wheel. He looked at its facebolt- the white face of a horse on a cobalt background, outlined in yellow and red. Even on this misty night, it shone unnaturally bright, as only a bey could.

"Storm Pegasus." He mused, turning the bey in his hand. "It's an honor to own you."

The redhead looked up at the sky, not bothering to shield his eyes from the heavy raindrops that showered down from the sky. He looked up at the enormous nimbus clouds that were beginning to part, ever so slightly. "Don't you worry, father. We will make you proud!" he held up the beyblade. A thin sliver of light reflected on it, and, in the midst of the ending storm, it shined like a confident star in a vast universe. "Pegasus and I!"

"That's right, my son. Overcome the tempest with your shining bey spirit." A figure with a long, scarlet coat murmured, rain dripping off his yellow hair, and onto his metal mask. His mask's amber eye sockets shone. "And like the drop of rain that rises from the ground again when light touches it- reborn -rise from your defeats and increase your bey spirit. Never let go of the Light of Hope."

"Gingka… you will always make me proud."

End! You may have heard of this from my TTCO's A/Ns, right?

So... how was it? It's my first Hurt/Comfort fic, so Concrit is welcome :D