-1Author's note: These lyrics are translated from the original Russian song as there isn't an English version, so some of it does sound a bit weird. Just to warn you.

White Robe

By EpitomeOfMisery

Traitor.

He had betrayed them. Failed them. Their defeat was his entire fault.

It was ironic really. Somewhere in this mind he had had this naïve idea that if you did the right thing, everything would work out. If he hadn't 'done what was right' they wouldn't be treating him like this right now.

I'm drawing with black paint

A dumb word on the wall

They had caught him. Taken him and brought him back to the place of his fears. His nightmares.

This hell they called the abbey.

All because he had won. Won with his… friends. That's what they always told him he was. A friend .

He didn't completely understand the concept. He hadn't experienced it before. At least, not for a very, very long time.

The word is not important for me

What did all that matter now.

The word is not new for you

He stared through the black bars of his cell with an empty gaze. Silently, he wondered what they were doing now. Sleeping. Blissfully unaware of his absence.

It didn't matter. They didn't need him. Tyson had always said. He was this fifth wheel in their group. He didn't need friendship like they did.

It's vain for me

It's necessary for you

He knew that at one point, he had been like them. Somewhere in the past. Long, long ago.

Somewhere in one of those gaps in his memory.

I'm drawing with black paint

This drawing is very messy

He sighed, resting his chin on his knees. Somewhere in the distance he could hear footsteps.

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Boris smirked, walking superiorly down the corridor, in the lead of several abbey guards and one teenage red head.

The teen looked eerily calm for someone walking just in front of several guards clad in black. Each one holding a riffle.

Bullet in the head

Brain on the door

"Time for you to restore your loyalty, young Tala."

The boy barely registered Boris' voice, his eyes fixed in front of him, focused on his task.

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He stared at the floor with an empty gaze, hugging his legs to his chest as if to protect himself. His hair hung over his face, shadowing his eyes.

Nimbus and wings

Red flashed over the bit chip of the blade clutched in his hand.

We're putting on

This white robe

His head snapped up as he heard footsteps stop outside his cell. The door slid open with a bang as he was ceased and pulled up forcefully.

Soul to heaven

He didn't bother putting up a fight as he was marched through the stone corridors. He knew there was no point fighting anymore.

We put it in a box

He just let them pull his shirt over his head. He let them pull up his arms and chain him to the pole. He just watched as the guards lined up. He just watched as he was pinpointed by several riffles.

We let it go

His eyes widened as a last figure stepped into the large and empty room, right behind Boris.

Thoughts. Memories. Flashes in his mind.

The childhood. The childhood he'd forgotten. Flashes. Laughter. Brief moments of happiness. Friends.

A time he had hated yet loved at the same time.

Time is 20:10 again

But he'd lost people since then. He stood here alone, at gunpoint.

He watched silently, breathing heavily. His eyes were fixed on the red haired figure. Those icy blue eyes stared straight back at him.

Emotionless. No compassion. No longer a friend.

We're not together now

You're sitting in the corner and crying

The sound cut out around him. He couldn't hear anything. Nothing except the ringing in his ears. The screams from the past.

He could only read the words from the red head's lips.

Maybe your fooling me

I enjoy listening to you

Ready.

Open only your soul to me

Aim.

Thoughts won't be needed here

Fire.

The time is 20:20 again

The only sound was the echoing off the shot off the walls and the clatter as the blue Beyblade fell to the floor. The bit chip cracking with the last cry of a phoenix.