The Fatal Delay
Chapter One
Tomeo had never felt the edge of his blade cut into his hand as much as this before. Usually he would grasp his Beyblade gently as if it was made of soft rubber, handling it with the upmost care. This time, however, as the darkness surrounded him and the sun slipped entirely over the horizon, he knew he was in for a tricky battle and one that he had to win.
For five years his neighbourhood had been running an annual Beyblade challenge to find the best 'blader in the village. Each year Tomeo had been too shy to compete, too afraid of failure and too afraid that he would embarrass himself in front of the crowds that would line up along the street, chomping popcorn or waving crude homemade banners. It was only through the pressure and encouragement from his best friend that he'd stepped up and chalked his name on the challengers board a week earlier. Only they, with their friendly smile and words of support, could be responsible for the nerves of Tomeo on the chilly March evening as he stepped awkwardly down the street, a scarf wrapped badly around his neck and a fleece slung over his shoulders.
In his left hand was a 'blade, the 'blade that would be hopefully putting him through the final of the three challenges in the first round and onto the second. So far the battles had gone smoothly and in his favour, but any confidence or cockiness this would create in a normal person was absent in Tomeo who had seen the wins as more luck than good management.
Across the street his eyes fell on his opponent, a tall lanky lad of about fifteen with crooked teeth and an equally skewed smile. A piece of ribbon was wrapped uneasily around his forehead and his arms hung by his side as if a cowboy in a bad b-movie. Tomeo moved closer to him, trying to hide his furrowed brow by looking upwards at the moon, hovering over them like a pale spaceship.
"Evening," Tomeo mumbled, trying not to make eye contact with his opponent, who repeated the word but much more clearly. Tomeo coughed and grasped his left hand even tighter around his 'blade, the sharp points etching into his skin, leaving a reminder of what was about to happen. His thoughts – negative as always – tried to calm him down in a roundabout way.
"Don't worry Tom… it's a cold night, there's hardly anyone out. If he does beat you then hardly anyone will see."
Even though he was nervous and mostly self-effacing, he still had his pride. He now stood directly in front of his competitor, their eyes finally meeting, their vision slightly obscured by their exhaled breath that hovered casually in front of them.
"Ready?" his competitor said. Tomeo nodded and took a few steps back. He coughed and prepared his 'blade.
"Let it rip!" they shouted in unison, both launching their 'blades into the air, each landing with a dull thud on the cold concrete, spinning in concentric circles around each other, not meeting. Tomeo and his opponent just stood back, their eyes focussed on the duel. If it had been a cartoon their pupils would have been spinning around in their sockets as well.
The few people that were observing this late night match weren't particularly interested. A couple of teenagers were perched on a fence embracing and kissing passionately under the moonlight. An elderly man had a cigarette, taking the occasional drag from it and coughing vigorously with each suck. The only character taking a vague interest was a cat resting on top of a bin, but only because it could see a mouse scurrying about between Tomeo's feet.
Eventually, after four kisses, three drags and a meow, the two 'blades met and sparked as they collided, each bouncing off in opposite directions before meeting again and once more for good luck. Neither seemed to have the upper hand and it made for a lacklustre game, one that was hardly going to distract the teenagers from each other, the man from his cigarette or the cat from contemplating a tasty supper.
It was with a few clicks and a scratch that the winner was decided, Tomeo's 'blade still spinning whilst his foe's gave up the ghost. Tomeo closed his eyes for a moment's reflection before kneeling down to pick up his Beyblade. He stood back up and pushed out his arm to meet his opponent's in an acknowledgement of each other's abilities. A quick nod from each other prompted the parting of ways as each turned around and walked off in the direction of their home. Tomeo was through to the second round of the competition and he was pleasantly happy, but equally looking forward to a glass of milk and bed.
The next day was when the second round lots were drawn in the old wooden house on the edge of the village. Set up in the main room, among the throng of people, was a large blackboard with names on it. A wizened old man was sat perched on a stool by it, sipping from a cup of green tea, seemingly oblivious to the noise coming from the competitors and their friends standing around chatting.
Tomeo was there with his three friends who had, about seven months earlier, formed a Beyblading group they'd dubbed 'The Cats'. There was Haro, a tall and beefy fifteen-year-old boy with a bubbly personality; Isi, a fourteen-year-old boy with short, cropped hair and a vain personality; and Chika, a fifteen-year-old girl with long, flowing hair and a beaming smile. Tomeo had known them all for about 18 months. He'd met Chika at school and they'd become good friends; Isi not long after through Chika; and he'd met Haro through a Beyblading day and he'd latched onto their group.
As their conversation about the first round tailed off, the elderly man by the blackboard got up onto his feet and began to shuffle about on the floor. After a few moments he raised his hand to his mouth, coughed loudly to grab the attention of the crowd, and waited. The muttering of the audience soon subsided and all eyes gazed on the small man in very ornate clothes.
For the next fifteen minutes the man began pulling out names from a hat, each name written in very precise calligraphy on a small slip of paper, pairing the people up (round two was "doubles" with two against two) and choosing their opposing double act. It was a tense time, only alleviated when names were called and opponents discovered. Soon it came around to Tomeo, his name echoing around the small room. He waited nervously to hear who he would be partnered with and, when they were announced, almost burst into laughter. He'd been paired with Chika.
"Of all the people in the room!" she said, hugging Tomeo in a tight squeeze. They separated and smiled at each other.
"Looks like we have a head start."
With their competitors announced and the partnerships of Isi and Haro following soon, the foursome heading back to their respective homes to get some rest before the matches. Tomeo and Chika planned to meet up at four that afternoon to discuss tactics over lunch, but before that bed called!
Round two was set to begin the following day and already the tension in the village was palpable:
Next time: Round two begins and relationships blossom…