(assumes Lotus position and begins breathing deeply) OK. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS.
This is a prologue.
At least, I hope it will be a prologue and not a lonely little oneshot. I'm about halfway through the rest of the fic, and it's busy dying a horrible, uninspireddeath, so hopefully posting this now will motivate me to finish it. Thanks go to Ranger, my(coughs) beta-reader. Although really all she does is sit next to me at the computer and twist every single world I write. This is because she is gifted with brain-breaking abilities beyond the measure of mortals.I hope you're happy, Ranger: I will never see turnips in the samelight again, and it is ALL YOUR FAULT.
So. Tyson and Kai are presumably going to fall in love, making this shonen-ai.And I don't own Beyblade.And...uh...enjoy? (crosses fingers)
One
It had all started on that one golden evening so long ago, when Kai had stood poised on the brink of the slope and looked down to the river.
The air had been warm even though the first traces of dusk were bruising the edges of the bright sky, and the deep, sweet scent of late summer and clear water had been floating on the breeze. He had come there to find the keeper of Dragoon, and had found instead a boy.
That one boy was to change the world.
That afternoon had been the beginning of everything: it had been the start of what felt like one long, golden, almost unreal dream. At the Regional Tournament, Kai was defeated for the first time he could remember. It had been unacceptable; he hadn't been able to understand it. He did not lose. This was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to happen.
Strangely, he hadn't felt bad about it. This boy was different to everyone else. This boy, a full two years his junior, had looked at him with the same painful naivety of all rookies, had been as full of hope and hot air as the rest of them, had been just as unskilled and clueless as all the others – but he had won.
Kai knew it right then: this kid, this Tyson, was special. He had something inside of him – a spark of greatness, the promise of power. Kai could see it. He could look Tyson in the face and see someone who would someday do the undoable, bring down the unbeatable, run headlong into the last, hopeless fight and win it for what he believed in.
That was when Kai had begun to understand – that if he ever wanted to be the best, that if he ever, ever wanted to succeed, it would be Tyson who stood in his way. It would be Tyson whom he would have to defeat.
And Tyson was the only one he never could defeat.
Sometimes he worked so hard that he could hardly see afterwards. His veins felt as though they had been filled with glue, and his lungs refused to work. His fingers were worn bloody, then healed over, then sliced open again. Tyson was one who gave him the strength to do this. He had to defeat him. It was the one thing he'd wanted more than anything else for nearly three years now.
When they finally battled, it was as though he had given up his entire life just for that one moment – just for that one moment of eternity, for that one glimpse of endless power. He was allowed to touch the stars for one split second, and it had been like going home for the first time in his life, because Tyson had been there with him. They had been apart for so long, and now they were together again, and nothing had changed. They had found each other. That was all that mattered.
When he lost, he wasn't disappointed in himself; he was proud of Tyson. He knew that they would fight again soon; and suddenly he couldn't wait for that moment. He would train hard, and he would grow stronger than ever, and he would beat him. He would do it. He would do the impossible, and he would do it for Tyson.
All for Tyson. It was all for Tyson.
Always.
Brooklyn was drowning him, slowly.
The golden dream was fading away as though it had never been there. Everything that his friends had ever tried, tentatively, to give him, was disappearing. Hope, support, courage, even Tyson's fierce and inexplicable loyalty – none of it mattered.
The battle was over, and he had lost. Kai knew that he had. The colour was seeping out of the world, and things were blurring out of focus as he felt himself beginning to slip through the lips of life. Intention and thought were dying; words pulled themselves apart from the inside with slow, impersonal malice. Nothing meant anything anymore. Dranzer, Beyblading, victory, honour – they were all gone.
They had meant something to him once, but now he felt nothing. As he drifted further and further away from the world, closer to the bright edge of death, he could no longer remember what it felt like to love. He knew that because of this, Beyblading was going to be under Boris's control; he knew that his failure would mean that the one thing he had worked for and believed in was going to be ruined forever.
He knew that with his loss, he had betrayed everyone and everything he had ever cared for – but he couldn't seem to feel upset about it. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. With a reckless sense of calm, he knew that he was dying, and he honestly didn't care.
He had lost. It was over. He was gone.
And then Tyson had reminded him what life felt like. Tyson was the only one who could reach him, who could help him back up. Tyson was the one he'd worked so hard to defeat, and he refused to rest until he had proven himself. He would not do Tyson the dishonour of giving in. He could not let Tyson see him lose.
Brooklyn was nothing. Brooklyn was just an obstacle. Obstacles could be taken care of.
Kai won.
Pathetically, Tyson's heartbeat was the only sound that mattered to him.
It steadied him, giving him a place to come home to, giving him a refuge, for however small a time. The crowd was cheering all around them, and the commentator's voice was echoing through the stadium, and people were talking and arguing, but it was that one singular, human heartbeat, loud and frightened, to which Kai listened.
Although it was short-lived, it was that moment of warmth that anchored him in the world, and that gave him the courage to walk away, his entire body feeling as though it were going to fall apart with each step. This was Tyson's battle now; he was the one who would win this.
Kai believed in him.
The air outside the stadium was cold, and his head was ringing painfully, black bursts of starry light swamping his vision. The sickening, intrusive pain in his chest had doubled, his legs shaking so badly that he could hardly walk.
He had barely registered the fact that he was falling before he hit the ground. He crumpled against the wall, leaning his forehead against the cool surface. Slowly, slowly, his fingers flopped open, and he felt the Beyblade slip from them for the last time.
Dranzer died then.
It was as though Kai had been scraped out of his body and thrown away. He felt hollow; he felt light-headed, robbed of everything. He was a husk of cold horror. Only a few, small pieces of his mind were left alive, shrivelled and battered.
It hurt, and that was good. He was able to feel this pain, this resilient, disbelieving devastation, and know that it hadn't been for nothing. He had won. He had won the last battle he would ever fight, the one battle that would help to save the things he loved. The pain, the exhaustion, the loss – they could all be endured.
The look in Tyson's eyes had made everything worthwhile.
For as long as Kai could remember, he had been on the outside looking in, watching the others quietly from a distance. He was fighter by nature, but in this one aspect, he had been hesitant to break in. The circle of friends had been complete, arrayed in a golden symmetry: and no matter how brightly Tyson had smiled up at him, Kai had always been uncomfortable, unwilling to touch the charmed, glowing pattern in case it imploded in a drift of ashes.
He had always been standing outside in the grey silence by himself, strong in solitude and aware of everything; and now, for the first time, he could tell himself that he had truly played his part. He had done what he'd set out to do, finally and forever: and the things that he loved, the things that truly mattered, would never die.
For Kai himself, it was all over. His time had ended. The struggles, the battles, the exhilaration: all of it was gone, slipping away – but this time, he knew that he could survive, and not merely in the physical sense. His life might end, but something else outside him would go on. His sacrifice had meant something - to Tyson. It didn't even seem like a sacrifice anymore: it had been necessary, and it had been right, and that was all that mattered.
Faintly, he knew that he would miss Tyson terribly, but he could bear that. He had done it. He had achieved the last goal; he had done the undoable. Tyson had been depending on him, and Kai hadn't failed him. It was Tyson's turn now - he was the one who would go on. That was how Kai wanted it to be.
Gulping down air between dry lips, he pressed his hands to the cold wall, and slowly pulled himself up, steadying himself. He sucked down breath after burning breath, his body feeling brittle and feverish, his head ringing with black pain. The blood seeping from the wounds on his chest was already beginning to clot thanks to the prolonged contact with oxygen, becoming rubbery and sticky, fusing the cloth of his shirt to his skin.
He took one step, and found that he could walk. Away from the noise, away from the brightness, he dwindled into the grey, cold world, on fire with pain. Leaving everything behind, he walked out into the open air, and let the pale autumn sunlight rinse through him like water.
It was Tyson's turn now.
Reshki: I don't know...ah, hell, I really don't...
The Voice of Reason: Uh, yeah, hi - I really thought you'd given up fanfiction?
Reshki: So did I. Excuse me. (climbs into shoebox and goes to sleep)
The Voice of Reason: (mails shoebox to Antarctica)
Inspiration: Quick thinking, that.
The Voice of Reason: Shut up.
Inspiration: Thank you. (waves at theuniverse in general) Hello. I'm Inspiration. Reviews will help me to grow up big and strong...