Seven Years in Hell

There are some things time cannot change...

a tyka fic

by Trueangel


Amidst the heavy downpour, a young man in a light blue business shirt ran down the street. All he had was a small black briefcase to shield himself from the rain. His footsteps made giant splashes in the puddles on the ground as he ran. It wasn't particularly late yet, but most of the shops on the street were closed already. The only shelter he could see for miles was a small bar some distance down the street.

The 22-year-old man burst through the door of the bar. He flicked his hands in a fruitless attempt to get himself drier.

"I'm sorry, the bar's closed."

The man looked up. The bartender had light green hair and black eyes. He wore a simple white shirt, with a black bandana on his left arm. He looked to be in his thirties. The bartender was sitting behind the counter, and didn't seem to be packing up or anything.

"I'm sorry, but it's raining outside. Could you just get me a beer? I'll leave as soon as the rain stops."

"Actually, some guy has booked the entire bar for the whole night, and he's done this every night for over two years now. But since he isn't here yet, I guess I could get you something to warm you up first."

"Thanks."

The bartender disappeared into a back room for a moment, before reappearing with a towel in his hand. The younger man walked forward, took the towel to dry himself, before returning it to the bartender. He then placed his briefcase on the counter and sat down. Meanwhile, the bartender poured out a mug of beer for him. The young man drank down a large gulp.

"You know, you look kinda familiar," remarked the bartender. "Have I seen you somewhere before?"

"Perhaps. I was pretty famous when I was younger, but then the glory died off."

"That's the problem with glory, it always dies off. One day you wake up and realize that you might as well have achieved nothing at all. Society tends to forget you if you haven't made any significant contributions to mankind."

"I don't know. I think it's better to know that you have achieved something, even if no one else remembers, than to regret not having chased your dreams and live a meaningless life."

The door of the bar opened again. A second man, about the same age as the first man, entered. He was dripping wet, but he didn't seem to care, or even notice. Ignoring the first man, he walked over to a table at the corner of the bar and sat down. The first man had his back turned to him, so he couldn't see his face. Neither did he bother to.

"Zoro, give me the usual."

The first man's heart skipped a beat. That voice... there was no mistake. It sounded a bit deeper than when he last heard it, but that was over seven years ago, and they had all grown up and changed. It was him alright. To think that they would meet here after so long.

The bartender, Zoro, placed a few bottles of beer and an empty mug on a tray and brought it over to the second man's table. The first man watched as Zoro walked back to the counter. There was no mistaking the second man. Even though he still couldn't see his face, his hair was a dead giveaway.

"Is that him?" the first man asked Zoro.

"Yeah. I don't know his name, but we all call him Blueboy because of his hair."

The first man grinned. Blueboy. Why didn't he think of that name earlier?

"What does he do here every night anyway?"

"Nothing much. He usually sits in a corner silently, drinking the night away. And when he gets really drunk, he'll start saying some word... 'Tako' or something like that. Then after midnight when I'm closing up, he'll stagger out of the bar and down the street."

"Tako? What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. Once I asked him, and he told me it was the name of someone he once loved and still loves. But after that he shook his head and muttered to himself 'It's no use.'"

The young man thought for a while. Tako... suddenly, he smiled.

"So, this Blueboy pays you to book the entire bar every night?"

"Yeah. And I don't mind, since he pays me about twice as much as what I usually earn each night. I just ask my regulars to come in earlier. I'll tell you one thing, Blueboy is incredibly rich. I don't understand why he wants to come in here to waste his life away every night."

The first man nodded. He knew that Blueboy had an enormous inheritance – of questionable source, perhaps, but the police couldn't find a reason to take it away. He had so much money, he would probably be unable to spend it all in a lifetime, even at the rate he was going.

"He comes here even when it rains like this?"

"Yeah, every night without fail, regardless of weather. He just walks through the storm as though it wasn't raining. Heck, if there was a hailstorm he'd probably try to walk through it and get killed."

The young man finished his beer and placed the empty mug on the counter.

"Do you think he'd mind if I went over to talk to him?"

"I don't know. The reason he booked the entire place was so that he could be left alone in silence. But you could try."

The young man picked up his briefcase and walked over to the table where Blueboy sat.

"I hear you've booked the entire bar."

"So get out," Blueboy replied in a gruff voice.

"Surely you wouldn't turn me away as well?" asked the young man.

Blueboy looked up. His eyes widened when he saw the young man.

"You!"

The young man sat down opposite him, and looked into Blueboy's face. He looked similar to what he looked like seven years ago, but there was one startling difference – his eyes. His red eyes no longer burned with the crimson fire of passion like they did in the past. Instead, they were now the dull red color of earth and rust.

"You still have those marks on your face. Are they tattoos?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious."

"Yes."

The first man shook his head, before trying to start a conversation again.

"Where have you been all these years?"

"It's none of your business."

"After the World Championships we all drifted apart. Max returned to America to help in his mother's Beyblade research, and Kenny followed a year later on a scholarship to study beyblading. Rei returned to China to continue his training with the White Tigers. I stayed behind to help out in my grandfather's dojo, but you just disappeared. The rest of us would visit each other once in a while, but we never saw you again."

"So?"

The young man sighed. "You've changed so much, Kai."

"Does it matter to you, Takao?"

There was a moment of silence as Kai drank his beer.

"You should take off your wet clothes, otherwise you'll catch a cold. Why didn't you use an umbrella or a raincoat?"

"Why do you care?"

"Of course I care. I've never stopped treating you as a friend."

Kai turned away and sighed. "As a friend..." he muttered under his breath.

"Tell me, what have you been doing all these years?" asked Kai.

"Oh, nothing much," Takao said sheepishly. "I'm trying to be a writer."

"I've never seen any of your books."

"That's because all I've been getting so far are these."

Takao took a folded letter out of his pocket and passed it to Kai. Kai quickly scanned through it. It was a rejection slip. Meanwhile, Takao walked over to the counter and asked Zoro for a towel. He then walked back to Kai.

"Here, use this to dry yourself. And at least take off that soaking wet black shirt of yours. I can lend you my shirt if you're feeling cold. I don't understand why you're wearing a long-sleeved shirt. You used to prefer sleeveless T-shirts, like the one with metal studs that you always wore."

Kai took the towel and dried his hair, before wrapping it around his body. There was a moment of silence.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?"

Kai remained silent, but he pulled the towel closer around his body.

"Why are you wearing a long-sleeved shirt?"

"It's none of your business."

"Please, Kai, tell me. I want to help you. I..." Takao stopped.

Kai glanced over to the counter. Zoro had disappeared into the back room for a while, probably to do some work.

"What is it?"

"Zoro told me about how you call my name whenever you get drunk. You love me, don't you?"

Kai turned away. "Then why do you still care?" he said, almost whispering to himself.

"Because I love you. Please, Kai, let me help you."

Kai looked at Takao. "Takao, do you know how painful these seven years have been for me? I've been blaming and punishing myself for falling in love with you."

"What do you mean?"

Kai put down the towel, and hesitantly, pulled up the sleeves of his shirt. Takao gasped when he saw the numerous scars on Kai's arms. There were even some traces of dried blood that were no more than a few hours old. Cautiously, Takao ran his finger over one of the scars. The smooth, unblemished skin he remembered seeing whenever Kai launched his beyblade... it was now ruined with countless ridges that went in all directions. Many of the scars were years old and would never disappear.

"Kai..."

"The pain... it's the only thing that can ease my guilt when I face my demons in the night."

"Does it really help? Kai, why?"

"I- I'm sorry, Takao... I've been so stupid."

"No, it's not your fault, Kai. I loved you so many years ago, yet I was too afraid to tell you."

"All I could do was love you from afar, Takao. I could never tell you how much I loved you... it was so difficult. After the tournament, I ran away. I hated myself for loving you, and I wanted to get away and forget you. But I couldn't. I couldn't forget my love for you. And I hated and despised myself for it. Do you know that, at one point, I wanted to track you down and kill you to end it all? But I couldn't bring myself to do it. These seven years have been hell for me, Takao."

"Kai, you don't need to blame yourself for loving me. There is no right or wrong in love. All that matters is if your feelings are true. The only thing I've blamed myself for all these years is not having the courage to admit my love then. I never knew it would end up like this, hurting you so much. But now I've told you. You don't need to blame yourself anymore, Kai. I'm with you now."

"Takao..."

Sitting in his place, Kai began to cry. Takao walked over and sat down beside him. He put his arm around Kai's shoulder, but couldn't help but wince as his hand brushed against Kai's scars. Takao felt like screaming out to the heavens for torturing Kai like this, but he didn't. He decided to do what he could as a human.

"It's alright, Kai... you're with me now. I won't let anything hurt you again."

"Don't you despise me now for what I've done?"

"I'd never do that. Everybody makes mistakes. What's important is how we move on from there. Everyone can have a bitter and dark past, but what matters is how we create our future. The painful times you've had are all in the past. From now on you have me with you."

"Takao..."

"I promise, I'll take care of you from now on. I'll never leave you again, Kai."

"I'm so glad I met you today, Takao."

"Me too."

"You know what I feel like?"

"What?"

"I feel as though I'm in heaven now, and you're the angel that has brought me up here, Takao."

"Well, your angel is going to bring you home tonight. You should stop drinking from now on. I'm going to find some dry clothes for you to change into, and..." – Takao glanced at Kai's scars – "...and I'll clean up your wounds."

Kai looked out of the window. "Look, it's stopped raining."

"I guess we can go now." Takao called out to the bartender. "Zoro, we're leaving."

Zoro appeared from within the back room. "Leaving so soon? Alright, see you again."

Takao and Kai moved to exit the bar, but then Kai stopped. "You go out and wait for me. I've some things to settle with Zoro first."

Takao nodded and went out of the bar. Kai walked back to the counter where Zoro stood.

"You heard everything that we said, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, I won't be booking the place from tomorrow night onwards. But, I'll pay you the same as I'm paying you now if you promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone."

Zoro nodded. "You can trust me."

Kai smiled. "Thanks, Zoro. See you another time."

Zoro watched as Kai left the bar and walked down the street with Takao, before breaking into a wide grin. He'd known right from the start... Takao's expression when Kai first spoke gave it all away. As he wiped the counter, Zoro smiled to himself. He was going to be so rich.

-{= END =}-


Sigh... what can I say? The plot bunnies are biting real hard.