Summary: After BEGA almost monopolising the sport of beyblade the BBA hosts a Miss Beyblade tournament to build itself back up to its former glory by going after the one market not yet catered for in beyblading, females! However with BEGA wanting total international dominance over the sport, and their CEO, Boris Balkov, wanting world domination, this tournament is going to be much more than a crown at stake.

Inspiration: a) Too many yaoi stories (no offence to those that like them, I have read some beautifully written ones but there is just way more of these than non-yaoi); b) not enough stories focusing on the entire or the majority cast of beyblade eg. Too many Kai centred fiction etc (I love some of these too but I am getting sick of the same old same old.); c) Hardly any stories of non-OC female characters playing major roles. That's right! The girls of Beyblade are going to have some major, kick ass parts! However I have thrown in a few OC's due to the simple fact there are not enough females to satisfy the roles and to add more dramatic tension to the plot.

Genres: Action-Adventure, Drama, Romance, Humour – hey it's a little bit of everything rolled into one messy little package.

Notes: I have not watched all of the G-Rev series so some characters personalities are written with what I've been told and my assumptions, this also goes to the plot (which happens after G-Rev) which I have derived from my knowledge of this series. Any help with this would be greatly appreciated.

Miss Beyblade

Chapter 1

New York, NY, USA

Mr Dickinson was a proud man, was being the operative word. To think that just over a year ago the Beyblade Battle Association (BBA) had a monopoly over all the global, national, regional, heck even most local tournaments seemed over a century ago. Now at 72 he was president of a company whose share's value had dropped over 300 percent and was practically worthless unless the company was taken over by BEGA.

Deep down he knew that the BBA had kicked the bucket and for the sake of the company and its employees, half he already had retrenched only to be picked up by BEGA that he should sell it off to BEGA. In fact if it hadn't been for the Bladebreakers victory over BEGA in the 'Justice 5' tournament his company would be no more. BEGA had bought out literally every hobby shop, training centre, and stadiums existent on the Earth. It had millions of members from all over the globe and millions of dollars too. Who wouldn't join BEGA over the BBA with those kinds of stats?

Those who believed whole heartedly that Boris Balkov was a self centred, greedy, power hungry and spawn of the devil who was still pinning on taking over the world wouldn't. Though there were unfortunately only a handful of those – the Bladebreakers, Majestics, All Stars and F Dynasty to name a few. This is why Mr Dickinson refused to sell the remnants of his company to Boris Balkov and BEGA.

All these facts were being repeated, shouted, yelled and thrown across the American BBA Boardroom in order to determine the future of the BBA.

"Honestly I think it is our social responsibility to ensure that BEGA does not have control over all beyblade activities. If, and I highly believe that Mr Balkov would so, we did we sell the company to BEGA we would be putting all citizens of the world at risk of World War 3!" Judy Tate, newly vice president of the North American branch, screeched like a harpy.

"But if we don't sell this company and we can not start generating some profits we are going to have to declare bankruptcy!" hollered Igor Glesk, the beaky nosed president of the Euro branch.

"But we can make a profit. All we need to find is a niche in the market," David Kettle, president of the Australian branch, reasoned calmly.

"David's right, there is no way that BEGA is catering for all the demands of the international beyblade community in the space of a year of establishment. All we need to do is beat them to that undiscovered market" Douglas Jones, president of the North American branch, stated.

"And do you have any clue as to who would be in this niche market?" Igor asked.

"No but all we need to look at is the statistics of BEGA's annual report. Analyse those and discover its weaknesses and short comings." Douglas informed.

"Actually I have an idea." Judy voiced up.

"Let's hear it," Frederik Vasilev, president of the Russian branch encouraged.

"When I was talking to Emily yesterday, a girl I coach on the All Stars, she brought up the considerable difference between the numbers of registered male beybladers compared to the number of registered female beybladers. Apparently the figure is for every female who blades there are roughly 3.8 males who blade."

"The figure is that high?" Frederik questioned.

"Yes. So obviously our previous tournaments and BEGA's tournaments are not drawing the attention and participation of the female beyblading community. For instance I don't think I have ever seen to my knowledge an all female team compete at an international level. All we need is to create a tournament which will bring these female bladers in and there is our market." The blonde mum/coach put forth.

"That's true my daughter has been beyblading for years and has never competed." David voiced distractedly and then replied as an after thought. "I don't know why she's never competed though?"

"Perhaps the frequency of male bladers is quite intimidating," Igor shrugged indifferently.

"Maybe," Mr Dickinson spoke up, for the first time in at least fifteen minutes capturing the attention of his colleagues in an instant, "but Judy is right if we can get a grasp on this market the BBA will be on top again in no time."

Yamanaka-Tokyo, Japan

Obsession is a funny thing. It sparks emotions such as jealousy, anger, competitiveness and perhaps triggers insanity. Take for an example, Kenny Daidoji's obsession with a certain pop idol/world class beyblader, Ming-Ming Chen. He owned every single one of her albums, singles and compilations with a song of hers on it; his bedroom was painted with her posters; he had a Ming-Ming bend and pose doll; he had downloaded every one of her interviews including those in French; and had a picture of her in his wallet that he had snapped at the BEGA verse BBA 'Justice' Tournament, which of course he had all her battles on tape. Speaking of Ming-Ming, her 'Hello Japan' tour tickets were to go on sale tomorrow at 8:00:00am nationally, however at 7:00:00am at BEGA's head office in Tokyo.

Last Tuesday Kenny had invited Tyson and Hilary to come with him, admission paid by himself, for Ming-Ming's concert during English. Hilary's eyes diluted into narrow slits with previously unseen rage and her hand twitched as she went to pick up her pen subsequently sending Tyson into a fit of laughter that rattled the Earth. It was common knowledge that Hilary loathed Miss Ming-Ming with every ounce of her being, ironically though she happened to know all the lyrics to her songs…

Once his laughter had died down, Tyson remembered that Ming-Ming bladed for BEGA and demanded to know why on Earth he would want to support a lowly crap sucking Spice Girl wannabe (which Kenny profusely denied) that blades for BEGA, especially attending one of their star bladers concerts.

After a heated debate that landed the three of them in clean up duty, Tyson decided that he should go along to ensure that BEGA wasn't doing anything illegal, if so rat them out and to also ensure that they don't try anything funny like brainwash people or try and hold the audience hostage. Tyson then began to fruitlessly persuade Hilary to aid him in his noble quest and keep him company, repeating over and over again like some broken record that they didn't even have to watch the concert and they can just hang out in the foyer and snoop around.

He hit jackpot though when he said that they could throw rotten fruit and vegetables at Ming-Ming, when Hilary replied with, 'What about eggs?' This caused Kenny to drop the mop and lecture the two on how wonderful Ming-Ming is and how she is really nice & a pure hearted person (Hilary seemed to have a slight asthma attack at this). Thus motivating Hilary even more to egg the blue haired pop star senseless and therefore go to the concert. Plus she did have a crush on the world champ; spending a little extra time together couldn't hurt.

After persuading those two to come to the concert Kenny somehow even managed to convince Tyson and Hilary into getting out of bed at 1:00am on a Saturday morning (who'd a thought that blackmailing them proved so effective? If only he had thought of it from the beginning…) and shoving them on a four hour train trip from their home town, Yamanaka to down town Tokyo. Why do you ask? To snap up the tickets that went on sale at 7:00:00am to ensure they wouldn't sell out. Usually the three of them and every other teenager in the area had school for half of the day on a Saturday but today the High school teachers had a union meeting so unable to teach the high schools in the region had been called off, much to Kenny's luck.

"Kenny, tell me again why we are on a train this early in the morning?" Hilary pondered in utter disbelief and slight annoyance with a long lion like yawn.

"So we can buy gold-class tickets to Ming-Ming's 'Hello Japan" tour and have access to the exclusive mosh pit." He stated as if it was the most obvious and important thing in the world.

"And why couldn't you buy them online?" She questioned irritably.

"In case they were all sold out!" he shrieked unusually high pitched as if the very thought not being able to go to Ming-Ming's concert would send the entire world into an apocalypse.

"Right," she concluded nodding her head, sending the carriage into a pool of silence. On rush hour at 9am or 5pm this carriage would resemble a human sardine can compressed one hundred times over but at this hour of the morning it was only the three of them, giving the carriage an empty feel or that feel they were about to be mugged. Watching Kenny plug his i-pod ear plugs into his ears, no doubt religiously listening to Ming-Ming, Hilary sighed. What on Earth made her agree to this capital punishment? The answer was sitting right next to her, a sleepy navy locked lad named Tyson.

How on Earth Kenny found out about her crush on him she was totally stumped. She had kept it hidden well… kind of. She did stare at him sometimes, but no one was ever looking! One thing she'd never thought she'd see is Kenny blackmailing her, using 'I'll tell Tyson you know what' as his threat. Sure he blackmailed Tyson all the time with 'I won't upgrade your blade!' but her? Never in a million years! She had given him her vanilla pudding, the last at the school's cafeteria, when he had sniffed sadly at their table only last week! But when it comes down to Ming-Ming she hypothesised that Kenny was as ruthless as the devil. Yawning, she wished she had never gave that pudding to him and kept it to herself or offered it to Tyson. Yawning again, she eyed the pony tailed boy next to her, his long navy bangs draped cutely over his tan face and his eyelids seemed weighted, tempting him into sleep. Poking him in the side to grab his attention she murmured softly, "Hey, what's the time?"

"Three thirty three." He replied glancing down at his silver watch Hiro had given him as a sixteenth birthday present. "Another two hours before we reach Tokyo Central." He muttered, yawning after he finished the sentence.

"We still have ages," she whined childishly, lengthening the last word. "I should have bought my pillow." She wished giving her sore neck a woeful massage from the uncomfortable seat she was occupying.

"Here you can lean on my shoulder," Tyson offered shifting over closer to Hilary.

"Thanks," she murmured with a secret smile to herself. "Just don't complain if your arm goes dead." The brunette teased with a yawn, testing her body weight on his shoulder before totally making herself comfortable. This was one of the perks of Kenny's torment, spending quality one on one time with Tyson without the always interrupting Daichi. He couldn't have tagged along as he had school this morning being in Middle School though, Hilary thought with a grimace on her face, that wouldn't stop Daichi stalking them.

"I won't," he yawned again before resting his head on hers before the two of them eventually drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Well as peaceful as you could sleep on any mode of public transport and Kenny's mumblings of 'Go Shoot for Love.'

Stamford, NY, USA

Max logged off from his msn account and proceeded to shut down his computer. He was looking forward to going to his friend's (well actually he was more of an acquaintance but being a world class blader had its perks) eighteenth roof top party and just hanging with Eddie and Rick. The rest of the All Stars didn't live in New York and had gone home for spring break. Now he had to baby sit some family friend/workmate's daughter, who had some peculiar name he could not recall and have her tagging along with him all night. His mum had practically dumped her in his lap whilst she went out with her parents and some other friends for dinner. She had given him the option of either inviting her to tag along to the party or ditch his plans for that Friday night and go to some fancy restaurant so she would have someone her age for company. He chose party and host an almost complete random any day over his Mum's posh restaurant get togethers where the guests would comment endlessly on what a lovely young man he had become.

Sure he and David Kettle's daughter were the same age and all and he was a social, friendly guy but the last time he had seen her was when they were ten and they broke the awkwardness of introductions by playing tag with her brothers. He doubted this time they could break the ice by playing tag. What if she didn't click with his friends? She'd be all uncomfortable and bored whilst he attempted to entertain her. Besides what if she was anti-social and wanted nothing to do with him or the party?

A paging of the intercom snapped him out of his thoughts. "Hey Max. It's Darla Kettle, David's wife." A cheery voice introduced.

"Hey, I'll buzz you in," he replied into the intercom, pressing a button above the kitchen bench to unlock the door to his apartments. As he crossed the luxury apartment to greet them, he briefly wondered why his mum didn't let herself in but his wonderings were soon put to a halt when Mrs Kettle and her daughter, whom her name would hopefully come up soon, arrived at his doorway.

"God you've grown, Max!" Mrs Kettle declared in her Australian accent after the exchanging of greetings. Yet another reason to avoid his mum's get togethers, never all less he smiled god naturedly at her comment, she did seem sincere after all. Mrs Kettle hadn't changed much since the last time Max had seen her, a tall, permed blonde, azure eyed lady who was the homemaker version of his mum. "You remember my daughter, James?" she inquired, at which James took a step forward. Max's lip curled at this, he no longer had to tackle the awkward question of what her name was.

"Who wouldn't? I'm a chick with a guy's name, Mum." James somewhat jested, challenging her mother to protest at this. Whilst Mrs Kettle hadn't changed much only in age, the girl now known as James had changed dramatically from what Max had remembered of her. She had obviously matured over the six years with her body filling out and her features more defined and feminine. She was almost a carbon copy of her mother except that her hair was straight instead of permed. Her posture was tall and confident, obviously not a shy girl at all, in fact with her travel bag hung from her left shoulder in a sought of relaxed yet choreographed stance she was rather hot. An almost preppy feel emitted from her and even the aroma of the perfume she wore had this same feel to it, having a citrus yet spicy fragrant to it that energized the senses and radiated a need for excitement.

"Yeah, I remember you. We played tag with all your brothers last time we met." Max answered their eyes meeting for the first time in the introduction.

"That's right! And all you boys ganged up on me!" she smiled in remembrance. "That was so unfair!"

Max smiled in response, well that crosses out anti-social, he thought. Maybe she wouldn't be too bad to have tagging along. "How come Mum isn't back yet?" he asked curiously.

"Oh that reminds me. Judy told me to tell you that her meeting is running late, so she won't make it home and will go straight to the restaurant. She also told me to remind you to lock up and take the keys with you as she doesn't know when she'll get back. Oh and if you need anything just page her." Mrs Kettle informed. "Anyway I better be heading off now because by the time I find my way through these streets the meeting will be long finished and the entrée will have been served," she stated looking at her watch.

"Now James don't go off doing anything stupid, don't accept any drinks from strangers so that will be no one, make sure you have your mobile on and on vibrate in case you can't hear it over the music and don't leave the building unless Max is with you okay? If you get into any trouble remember the emergency number is 911 in America not 000." James's mum lectured in a mother hen tone, with James piercing every break her mum took for air with, I know Mum; yep; okay Mum; sure and finally a yes I know; which left Max wondering if she had to endure her mother's sermons on the drive over here. He had to commend her for resisting the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes.

"Don't worry Mrs Kettle; I'll look out for her." Max insisted offering James a small smile which she also gave in reply.

"Call me Darla, Max. Mrs makes me sounds old" she insisted. "Anyway have fun you two and I'll see you later."

"Bye Mum,"

"Oh and make sure you take a jacket it's a bit nippy out there," she advised.

"Okay Mum, bye." James repeated eager to shoo her off.

"See ya later," Max voiced.

"Right, goodbye," Darla farewelled departing the apartment rather hesitantly as she felt there was another important piece of advice she'd forgotten but her mind was at a blank.

"Mothers," James sighed in exasperation to herself in a way that mothers say 'children' or 'ironing' when they had a basketful to stagger through. "Um Judy said it was okay for me to get ready here," James stated turning around to face Max with an unsure look plastered on her face.

"Sure, bathroom is on the first left down the hall." Max answered.

"Thanks. Oh and what time do you want me to be ready by otherwise I'll take hours if I don't have a set deadline." She asked.

"In about forty-five minutes?" he offered, hoping she didn't need to take any longer to apply her face.

"I can do that and just one last question what's the dress code for these things?" she asked curiously.

"Dressed up casual," When she raised an eyebrow at this, Max added, "like no board shorts, flip-flops and stuff." He explained.

"Flip-flops?" she inquired, the word seeming foreign on her tongue, with a confused look.

"They're shoes and you were them usually to the beach. They have this Y-shape strap thing that holds them to your feet." He illuminated.

"Oh, you mean thongs." She stated in realisation in a slow drawl. At this Max was convinced that this was perhaps the blondest girl he had ever met.

"No… I'm pretty certain that's a type of underwear." He replied in a serious tone at which she started to laugh causing her shoulders to shake.

"Yeah it is but in Australia we call 'flip-flops' thongs as well." She enlightened with a large grin on her face.

"Isn't that confusing though?" he reasoned logically.

"Not really, we usually call them g-strings." She responded her eyes filled with humour at the cultural misunderstanding.

"Man you Australian's are weird…" he declared.

"No way you guys are weird. Calling tomato sauce 'ketchup,'" she retorted so sure of herself that it made Max laugh.

"Whatever you reckon," he chuckled at which James smiled.

"So first right, right?" she asked.

"Left," he answered.

"Left," she confirmed with a nod before swivelling around to make her way to the bathroom and with the word thong still floating in his head, Max took the chance to shamelessly check out the view of her jeans clad backside.

Okay I need feed back! Like it, hate it? Good intro, bad intro? Do you want me to continue and stuff like that? Your comments mean a lot to me.