A/N: I tried doing this three times already, but all failed before. However, I think I now have everything planned out. Thanks to a firend of mine, I now have the drive to finish what I started in the Beyblade fanbase.
Standard Disclaimer applies.
She dropped to her knees and certain pieces of beyblade dug into her skin, but she didn't care. Her partner… her family… her life was crushed with no remorse whatsoever. The bit chip that cradled the very essence of her blading spirit was now in shatters, her bit beast literally dead in her hands.
With tears pouring down her face, she hovered over the remains and whispered in a broken voice, "Lucine… I'm so sorry."
"The announcement regarding the next Beyblade World Championship from the quickly rebuilt BBA has brought back a buzz of old and new beybladers around the globe to start competing for that all familiar title; 'Beyblade World Champion.' We haven't gotten word from Mr. Dickinson quite yet, but the news crews have already rallied around one famous face."
"Tyson Granger, how do you feel about this year's Beyblading Championship?"
The screen quickly switched to the familiar dark haired, cap wearing beyblader known the world over. "Well, you never really know what the competition will bring. I mean, last time I went against a bunch of powerful bladers and barely made it through. So, I expect a lot of fierce competition this year."
"Tyson, another question. It's been confirmed that the old setup is set for the Tournament this year. Are you planning on reforming your old team or creating something new?"
"Well, I do plan on getting the old team together, of course! But maybe we could use someone new. However, that can be pretty tough since we arethe best bladers around. We'll just have to wait and see."
The screen switched off on a certain television set inside a living room. A remote fell on the nearby table following sock-covered feet. Following up the tan feminine legs; a pair of black shorts with a small black and white plaid pattern on the edges following a white crop shirt that shown most of her abdomen. Further up, a small face held an amused expression, her hot pink eyes smiling with her mouth. Her black hair was short and feathered with the ends slightly messy, but the most distinctive feature was a few pink highlights that shown from some inner strands.
"Yeah right," she said while rolling her eyes. "If someone was admitted to their team it would hit the world news. No one's up to their skill level."
"Cynthia," a deep male voice called in the back. "I'm going out to get a few things for breakfast. You want anything special?"
The girl looked up and thought for a moment, cycling through everything she could think of. Then it hit her. "How about some noodles? I've been wanting to cook you something for a while."
"Your special?"
"Is there any other?"
Both of them laughed as a door opened in the back. "Touché. Okay then. I'll be back soon."
Cynthia turned around in her seat and called, "Take your time."
The door closed, giving Cynthia cue to switch her position and lay on the couch. 'It's been about two years.' She thought when her mind went back to where she first moved to Japan. By blood, she knew she was European. Since birth, she was American. But now, she's living in Japan with her father. 'Call me culturally versatile, why don't ya?' She let an amused smile cross her face at the thought, knowing the term 'versatile' would not describe her at all.
Cynthia didn't have many talents. Most of what she knew was taught to her and she trained to make sure it was a skill she could live with, but the greatest gift she was born with was something her mother considered useless and her father thought of it no more than a recreational hobby. Cynthia, however, watched the tournaments as a kid and adored the rush of adrenalin the sport gave her. It was a piece of her heart she couldn't live without.
"Preliminaries are going to be held in the Seaside Arena in the next three days." The TV suddenly came on and surprised the hot pink girl to where she jumped to a sitting position at the announcement. "All those still willing to enter are advised to sign up by tomorrow to ensure you'll be in the matches and have your chance to-"
Cynthia found the fallen remote and turned the screen off once more, this time being careful to place the device on the table in a more secure position. "Scared me half to death," she openly stated. "Well, so much for relaxing. Stupid TV, putting me on edge."
She looked around, wanting to find something to do now since her blood was pumping faster. Nothing of interest came to her until she set her sight on her shoes next to the front door. 'Some fresh air may do me some good.'
"What's the rush Max?" The champion beyblader said as he and his close friend walked down the street towards the training center. "We can get in there at any time, so why is now so crucial?" The dark haired champ was wearing his usual attire. A cap turned backwards, a yellow shirt under his red jacket, blue gloves, jeans, and red and white shoes.
"You're the one who made the announcement, Tyson," the blond haired boy stated with slight irritation. "It's either we come to them or they come to us. Besides, even if we don't find anyone, we need to say we at least tried to find someone." Max was wearing his own usual clothes as well. They were a light yellow shirt with green on the shoulders and sleeves, forest green gloves, baggy orange pants, and green and white shoes.
"Oh, come on! Everyone knows where we stand."
"Which is exactly why they would want to join us!" Max's face tightened, worrying Tyson. "If you didn't open your big mouth we could do this secretly and without that much trouble!"
Tyson jumped from surprise at Max's heightened tone and threw his hands up in defense. "Well, sorry! You know I get kinda excited talking to the news people."
The defensive player ran his hand through his hair in an effort to calm himself. "Yeah, well, we need to start scouting. Kai and Ray should be here a day or two before the regionals."
"Hey, don't worry about it. I know great talent when I see it."
Max cocked an eyebrow at his friend in amusement. "Oh really?"
Tyson gave a big smile. "Of course! I mean, I'm the best there is, so I just have to look at their skill and compare it to mine and then we'll see how things will turn out."
"Well, that shouldn't take long," Max said, sarcasm dripping in his voice.
"Sure, go ahead and laugh, but trust me. Our list of possible teammates will go from this-" In an effort to show what he was talking about, Tyson threw his arms wide open for a visual aid, but in turn hit someone who was turning the corner they were next to. The boys froze for second before looking at the champ's victim.
A girl was passed out on the ground, the visible side of her head red just above her eyebrow. Her hair was black with pink highlights and she was wearing a black short sleeve jacket with shorts and pink tennis shoes. She was lying on her side with no obvious signs of her moving, worrying the two.
Max dashed around and shook her a bit, saying, "Hey, are you okay?" There wasn't any response, making Tyson stiffen. Max looked down and then noticed her chest was rising and falling slowly as if she was simply in slumber, relieving his mind. "Well, you literally knocked a girl out, Tyson. Never thought you could do it."
Tyson groaned in irritation from Max's comment. "It's not like I meant to!" However, looking down at the girl, the champ couldn't help but feel responsible. "But maybe we should get someone to help her. I mean, we don't have a first-aid kit."
"Ow…" The boys looked at the girl again, noticing her eyes were slightly opened.
"She's awake!"
Max crouched down, trying to assure the girl that someone was there watching after her. She soon noticed this and looked up, seeing the blonds face. "How are you?" He asked, keeping his voice down.
The girl slowly brought herself up, keeping a hand on her injury. "Like a truck hit me," she answered, making Tyson blush. "What happened?"
"Someone wasn't paying attention and hit you by accident. They're very sorry about it." During his explanation, Max helped the dark haired girl up to her feet while acting as a support.
"Well, you shouldn't apologize for them. They need to have the courage to say it themselves." Tyson couldn't help but feel smaller and smaller with each word that left her mouth. Both he and Max could tell she had an upfront personality.
Tyson stepped up, scratching the back of his head while trying to find the words to say. "Uh…" was all that came out at first.
The girl acknowledged his presence, her face simple and understanding. "Yes?"
Looking at her, Tyson felt comfortable in talking further. "Well, you see, I'm actually… I mean… I kinda-"
The girl sighed, cutting him off. "Tyson, are you saying that you're the one who hit me?"
Tyson was taken aback at her straightforward question. "Uh—Y-yeah, I was."
"Listen to me. I'm not mad at you for doing so, so don't be so reluctant to confess your guilt. I'm more than willing to forgive you, but only if you ask for it."
Max smiled, amazed at how mature this girl was. "Well, Tyson?" he urged his best friend.
Tyson, feeling like a timid little kid in this situation, put his head down as he whispered, "Sorry."
The girl cupped a hand around her ear. "Excuse me? I'm not sure I heard you."
Tyson groaned once more and lifted his head, saying again in a louder voice, "I'm sorry."
The girl crossed her arms and smiled, proud of the accomplishment. "There. Now, was that so hard?"
"For Tyson," Max came in, "I'd bet it was torture." Tyson growled under his breath, feeling insulted. "So, I guess you're okay then?"
"Kinda." The girl checked her injury again and flinched when she touched it. "But I better get some ice on it or something."
"Then why not come to my place? My dad has some first-aid training, so he should be able to fix you up."
"Well, I don't want to impose."
"Of course not!" Tyson said. "Call it a better way of saying 'sorry.'"
"Only I'm the one doing the apologizing," Max joked.
The girl laughed, amused by the interaction. "Okay then," she said. "Thank you, Max."
Max stared at her for a second. "You know my name?"
She nodded. "I watched the Bladebreakers since their debut. I know all of your names."
"Then we're at a serious disadvantage," Tyson stated, confusing the girl. "You know our names, but we don't know yours."
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude like that. My name's Cynthia Krest. Some of my friends call me Cyn."