Disclaimer: I don't own beyblade.
I wanted to write something to surprise people. Usually MoonlightSerenity knows when I so much as touch the keyboard with a story in mind. So, I decided to give everyone a bit of a jolt, and since Ray-Tiger-Cat inspired me (The Talk was the best story ever), I thought I'd go for it.
And upon writing this, I've realized something: It isn't going to be a one-shot! Maybe seven or eight chapters, though.
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She walked deliberately. If the sidewalks of eastern side of Bakuten were a run way, she would have owned them long before. Something was different about this girl. She had flavor, passion, color... she walked with a purpose that only she decided. After all, no one would tell that siren what to do. The matter had been proved back in the eigth grade.
Since that eventful year, she had been set aside from everyone and everything "normal," instead opting for a life full of twists and turns, excitement and dangers galore. Her childhood friends envied her and thus felt the need to criticise her actions. No one acted the way she did in the limelight. It bothered them because they were jealous. It bothered her because she inwardly felt like a premature clutz.
The term late-bloomer came to mind. She knew with all her heart and soul that she would one day wake up and feel the pride and power of womanhood upon her. That day had come and gone, she supposed, since curves had balanced out her once figureless body, leaving behind all traces of girldom.
They had never seen it, though.
Her walk only intensified, waves of passion emitted from the light stomp of her heels upon the cement. 'They,' were her friends. Friends she had not seen in years. It had not been a dispute that separated, or a calamity of any kind. No, instead, they had gone their separate ways. 'They' being the ones to follow their championship path as far as it could take them, leaving her to finish the last few years in complete normalcy.
She liked being normal, really, she did. People followed her around for the first month or so, trying to figure out the exact reason that evoked her departure from the group of boys she loved so much. That eventually died down, leaving her as a plain-Jane, spitfired teenager.
Missing them was the hardest part. As with all long-distance relationships, the first year was filled to the brim with e-mail and phone conversations that dwindled over time. The second year, she was contacted on big holidays, just to make sure she recieved the gifts they had sent. The third, well, it had passed years ago. She had talked to Kenny once since then via e-mail.
The third year was the most earth-shattering too. That was when she truly began to evolve into the butterfly form, rising from the pupae of the past five or so years of pre-teen stature. She continued walking, nearing a building she had not stepped foot into for that entire stretch of normalcy. The decision to go their own ways would be tainted, should the old man get involved. He would guilt her into staying involved, something that she would do for only one group of boys who were in the midst of another tour as the champions.
Her reasons for coming to the location she had chosen were simple. Part of it was closure. To end the past, begin the future. A full six year before, when she held her high school deploma a year before any of her famous friends had even come close, she knew that the era in which she had been tied to them had ended. She was a whisper. She was no longer tacked on as the famous groupie all greats had. No, she was an adult.
She had watched them on the television recently. Their joyous spark had not diminished once since the month after her departure from their group, their family. They each held their own personalities, harbored their own personal strengths and weaknesses. She was proud of their integrity. Proud of them, though they were no longer her boys. It saddened her a bit, but not that much. The melancholy feeling was soon replaced when she realized their differences.
She had grown up. They were still the same fourteen-year-old kids they had been nine years ago.
Maybe it was pity she had felt, amongst the burning sensation in her stomach. Acidity. She was not jealous of their behavior, since it was quite honestly appauling. She was not their mother figure anymore, though it seemed they needed a swift kick in the rear to convince them to grow up.
It was not to say that they were exactly the same. Sure, they had grown physically, it was evident in their faces. They held hints of incoming maturity, but it was not the same as the way she had been molded the past few years.
Still, as she pounded her way down the sidewalk and into the downtown area, she realized she wished to issue a challenge to them. It was time that they grew up. It would make them better beybladers too, she reasoned mentally. They would only need to realize it.
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The secretary at the BBA's exquisitely luxurious edification in downtown Bakuten rolled her eyes tiredly. She yawned demurely and took a sip of the coffee that kept her awake through the lazy hours of the afternoon. Her boss was almost finished with a meeting and soon she would be busy again, dealing with complaints, other competitors, and the occasional visitor that warranted his attention.
The doors slid open automatically, as they did for anyone who got within a meter or so of the door. A young woman stood in the afternoon sunlight, looking rather well put together for someone so young. Her dark chocolate hair burned bronze in the sunlight, though when she entered, it took on a well-blended look. The young woman obviously took pride in her appearance, wearing a simply black dress with a white sash and sophisticated black pumps. A briefcase was held daintily in a single hand, meritting some attention from the middle-aged secretary.
This girl looked important, but the question was, was she?
"May I help you?" The secretary asked simply, neither sugar-coating nor hardening her voice.
The young woman's hair was styled into a well-executed side ponytail. She smoothed out the train of mid-length hair that crossed her right shoulder elegantly. The younger smiled. "Meilin, do not tell me that you've forgotten me already," She said with a hint of humor in her dancing ruby orbs.
Meilin, the secretary, looked at the girl with confusion. She looked a slight bit familiar, but not enough to place a name. "You look familiar," The woman admitted. Sheepishly, she continued. "However, I do not remember your name."
A crisp nod was met at Meilin's statement. "Well, in any case, I have a meeting with Mr. Dickenson. Is he free yet?"
Meilin picked up the phone stationed on her desk, holding down a navy colored button as she spoke. "Kenji, is Stanley free yet?" Silence. "Alright, I'll send his next appointment up."
The brunette clicked her heel against the tiled floor. "I take it he's ready?"
There was a nod. Meiline checked up on the very full calendar before her. "You're the executive from Nitrostoa Industries, correct?"
"Yes ma'am," the younger responded. "Thirty-seventh floor, correct?"
Looking up at the younger from under reading glasses, Meilin examened the girl. "I take it you've dealt with my boss before?" It was an uncommon occurrance for someone who was not a regular around the beyblading world, epecially a young woman, of all people.
Another nod was dealt the woman's direction. As the brunette headed for the elevator, she could have sworn the young executive said that her name was Hilary.
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Thousands of miles away, in New York City, she had begun to take classes in business. The corporate ladder had always interested her, and with the use of her single mother's earnings as a successful lawyer along with her earnings from being involved with the BBA for as long as she had been, she was able to get a good background in the way the world works.
Two years ago, had been when the real change had occurred. The head of the organization she was working for had turned out to be a bit malevolent, wasting money on his own desires. The man was not genuinely evil as Boris Balkov or any equivalent evil had been, but he was a theif and not exactly talented at managing his own business.
Her powress had suddenly come in full swing when she had rallyed his staff against him to override her former boss, resulting in corporate take-over. The beyblading world was in a coma where this had been concerned, though she made no move to induce their interest. The past two years had been spent designing clothing suitable to many professional athletes. It had begun with snowboarders, since she had taken up the sport herself after her separation from her friends.
Now she was about to open up a line of gear for both beyblades and beybladers that she figured Stanley would be interested in. Of course, she had kept herself anonymous, choosing to let her underlings take care of the phone calls and meeting organization. She had flown in a week before to visit her parents and check upon the dojo she once 'lived' at. It was long since abandoned, its occupants choosing to tour the world with the people she had left.
As the elevator opened, she took a deep breath. She looked at Kenji, who was obviously waiting for her arrival. She smiled daintily at him, watching for his movements.
"You're rather young to be sent from a major industry," the burly man said. "You're boss must have a great deal of faith in you."
She smirked. "I am the boss." Looking down the hallway to an office she had visited far too often many years ago, she then returned her attention to an embarassed Kenji. "Common misconception," she said calmly, as if it was an every-day thing. "You aren't the first, and most certainly won't be the last."
"Gomen, ma'am. I'll take you to Stanley's office."
"Arigatou," She said simply, allowing the man to lead the way.
At the end of the hallway, Kenji knocked three times, keeping a steady beat between them. She heard Stanley Dickenson bid them entry, and noticed the man take his leave.
"Once again, my apologies," he said honestly, bowing.
She touched his shoulder once to confirm that it was no issue and bowed in response. A jolt of adrenaline rippled through her as she touched the golden colored doorknob. The feeling of making a big deal always excited her. She was pumped up, because as she had learned, she was quite the siren. People had trouble saying no to her.
Stanley Dickenson would be her true test. He would not be swayed by her newfound beauty.
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The elder man looked upon the woman who entered the room, regarding her carefully. She was beautiful and young. Her eyes held a spirt that was long since void from his Association. She might be a part of the key to bringing it back, assuming she was not childish and ill-tempered. She would need intelligence to make a deal with him.
She sat before him in a plush chair of black leather. Her dress was conservative for a woman of her age and stature. He noticed, she figured, by the glint of interest in his eye. It was not in her body, but rather in what she was here for. He knew for a fact that she had to be rather cunning to be sent by a company instead of an older, more mature associate.
He drew himself into business mode, a mode his beyblading kids barely ever saw. He was much tougher in this state, instead of the fatherly figure he usually was. "I am a very busy man, miss," he said in fluent Japanese. Though this place was his typical home, the man was from San Fransico to boot. "Your name?"
From experience, she knew that he prefered to speak in English, as he did so often with Max and Kai, both of whom were just as fluent as he was. So she decided she would speak his language instead. It would most likely be of little importance for any other, but the girl he remembered could barely tell a person her name in the language.
"Hilary Tachibana," she said, standing up to shake his hand. She dropped the Japanese accent instantly, choosing a well constructed, cosmopolitan English. "from Nitrosoa Industries."
She could have sworn he was about to have a heart attack, as he sputtered for a response. Her urban look caught his attention, and he realized he was working with someone who had a great idea of what was going on. For her to be here, especially on business, it was rather surreal.
His eyes hardened. What was her purpose? After all, she most likely wanted something for herjob. That was why all companies came to speak to him about some matter or another. "Why are you here now, all of a sudden? I spoke to your mother months ago. She said you had left Japan." He paused to consider his wording. "Hilary, my dear, if your employer thought that you would be a helpful asset in gaining my support, he should have thought to consider that I do not play favorites. You know that very well."
Hilary nodded gravely before she met his gaze with equal seriousness. "As my own employer, and as a CEO of a very profitable industry in NYC, I personally flew myself out here instead of making you deal with my underlings. As with all other things I persue, I expect nothing less than a challenge, Mr. Dickenson. That was why I held the take over the company and made it my own." Her tone was even, not loud, but above a whisper. She spoke directly, choosing to spare the dramatics so many others would place upon the aging man.
"You're the CEO of Nitrosoa?" He asked plainly, his fatherly side showing. "That's quite an accomplishment."
"Thank you," She said simply, keeping the business tone. "That would be the reason why I decided to fly out here. I've begun a new beyblading line. I thought it would be useful in your upcoming tournament."
"Clothing or beyblades?" He asked. "If you're selling clothing only, it would be a bit of a waste."
Hilary pulled out a small sample. It was beyblade designed much like Ray's Drigger, but in an ice blue color. "You can test it if you'd like, but I've tried it against beyblades built like those of your champions. They are above that level and then some."
Mr. Dickenson looked at her for a moment. "Those champions are your friends," He said quietly. "Why don't you refer to them by name?"
She did not shrug, but met his gaze all the same. "I haven't had any communication with them in more than five years. It's been almost a decade, you know."
A saddened smile took precidence over his facial features. "They would be incredulous if they saw you now."
"I've moved up in the world," Hilary said, handing over the beyblade. "It's time I got recognized for my own works, rather than being in their shadows."
Dickenson nodded, his mind calculating just how long it would take to work up a contract. It would have to go by how well his beyblader did against her beyblade, but he could see that if she had come here, on complete business, her word was still good. It was earthshaking though, to see how much she had changed. Upon this appearance, he wondered just what she would be like if she were still with his Team BBA.
His envisionment faded by the passing second as she allowed him to escort her to the training physility. She carried herself confidently. It was as if she knew she already had the endorsement deal.
He glanced at her. She was taller than he, resting at a full five foot eight inches, plus an extra two provided by the pumps. "You think you've got this in the bag, don't you?"
She nodded. "Of course I do. And I'm not being cocky when I say it, either."
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Author's Note: Interesting chapter, huh? Hope you liked, and don't worry, this will be KAIHIL. There will never be enough.
Please review!