Title: Beside Me

Summary: Kai gets some news on his parents. Alongside with Tala and Tyson he sets out for an adventure, which gets more and more confusing. A Kai-Tala-Tyson friendship story
Setting: A few yearsafter G-Rev
Rating/Warnings: not sure, perhaps T for some violence, angst and innuendos to child abuse.
Spoilers: Small ones to the end of G-Rev and my other story Visiting Day, but it is unnecessary to read it. I'll explain everything you need to know.
Disclaimer: I really am infringing on someone else copyright, but I mean it in the best possible way.

Author's Notes: Here you have the prologue of my new story. It's a friendship story again (why isn't there a friendship genre?), this time it focuses on Kai, Tala and Tyson. There will be many, many arguments and drama, and some character insights. I hope you'll all like it. It will have around ten chapters when it's complete, but that isn't a promise. More about the fic in the next chapter, which should be posted shortly.
Oh, and I want to thank everyone who reviewed the third chapter of Visiting Day. You are great!

1. Prologue

"Mr. Hiwatari? Are you listening to me?"

The young man looked up, his fists balled on the armrests on his right and left sides. He intensely stared at the man in front of him.
Somewhere around forty in age, the blond man still seemed agile and lively. Definitely not the person one would expect to sit behind a big mahagony desk with nothing more on it than an expensive desk set and a ridiculous grand, polished name plate in his front with the impressive words 'Arthur Bradshaw – Notary'. And of course now there lay the file in front of Mr. Bradshaw. The words written down in there on several papers were the whole reason they sat here.

"I want to see it for myself." The young man's voice betrayed nothing of tenseness his body showed, it was flat, experienced and kind of threatening.

Mr. Bradshaw seemed to have expected such behavior, but the fierceness let him become defensive immediately. "I'm sorry, that I can't tell you more. The information is confidential. There's no way for you to read the will."
He stood up as if the talk was over. "Since there is nothing more to say, I think this is finished now. There's more work waiting for me."

One curve of an elegant mouth lifted, forming the lips into a slight and much-tested smirk. Crimson eyes became even more fiercely and eyebrows were raised a bit, but other than that the young man didn't move. For him this talk wasn't anywhere near over, the dismissal of the older man meant nothing to him.

"You'll have to keep all that work waiting for a bit longer." The words were precisely chosen. Everything was fitting together. The smirk, the voice and the irony, which referred to the absence of any other files and the empty waiting room outside. "Sit down again."

The blond was angry at both himself and the young Hiwatari. He obviously had underestimated the professionalisms the young man had already obtained, he seemed to know his position perfectly and was able to use his traits, such as the talent to intimidate others or to stay calm no matter of the situation. The boy seemed to have more of his grandfather than he had been told.
Despite of his desire to throw this arrogant Hiwatari brat out, he knew he couldn't. And he knew, that if he would demand to read the last will again, he would need to give in. The boy had the law on his side, and if the police would start to look around here, his career as notary would be over.
He had fulfilled his part of the plan long ago. And he was getting too little money out of this nevertheless. Should the others see how to solve this problem. It wasn't his. Just as long as he got the money!

The black-haired young man could literary see the man think. From the moment he had seen the lawyer, he had known that he wasn't trustworthy. Hadn't Voltaire noticed?
He relaxed, when he saw Bradshaw sit down after all. He had nearly thought, that he had to think off another tactic, to get the information he sought. But since it worked, he should stay with preferred strategy of just intimidating his opponents until he got what he wanted. Was it just some time alone or, like in this case, to read his grandfather's last will.

"Listen Mr. Bradshaw! I've known this man better than anyone else. He had no friends, and that not without reason, he would never give any money to charity, if he could not profited of it, and being dead like he is, I'm sure he can't, it would be unbelievable if he left anything to his staff. And still you want to tell me, that despite me being his only relative, I'm not his heir? That he passed on everything to someone else? Try again Mister. I want to read this file, and I know that it is my right to do so!"

There was so much venom in the young man's voice, that the notary involuntary shuddered. Even if he hadn't decided that he would give file freely, he would have done so now. It was like a reflex, perhaps installed in him when he was still child, whenever someone spoke with that much authority, you did what he said. So even now he handed the papers over without further thought.

The young man studied the page in silence. It was filled with a neat, nearly over-exact, handwriting, which he recognized only too good. The date in the top right-hand corner caught his attention. The testament had been written two years ago. He had lived with Voltaire back then, had cared for the old man, when his age and Alzheimer had started to become a too big handicap for him to master daily tasks. He had been the only one who had been there for his grandfather, and that despite everything that had happened before! When the sickness had come to a later stage, he had been the one feeding and washing him, not allowing for the old man to be send to nursing home.
All this was another reason why he could not believe, that Voltaire would appoint someone else as his heir. So who was the one, that had been chosen over him?

'... So everything in my possession, will be passed on to the next generation. I'm pleased to be able to leave my money, houses and stocks in the skilled hands of my only son Fjodor Hiwatari. I hope that he and his wife will be able to even increase my fortune, so that the reputation of the Hiwatari's will live on, even after my passing away. ...'

It continued with information about the burial arrangements, which the man didn't care for. Instead he read and re-read the one paragraph over and over again. The words stood there, but they couldn't be true, could they?
If that Fjodor Hiwatari indeed existed and assumed he really was Voltaire's only son, then he had to be his father. But his parents were dead. Or so he had always believed. The words written down said otherwise. He read the whole page again. Was this a sick game? Or was he dreaming?
He needed to clear his thoughts. Get out of here. Away from the man on the other side of the desk. The notary was staring at him and that for some time now. Interest and expectancy clearly written on his face. The man had known the whole time, he had known what this meant for him, what important information this piece of paper held.
A sudden hate boiled up in the young man. Secrets, so many secrets. But no that hadn't been true secrets, even that guy in front of him had known. If it was true.

He was so confused. Shakily he stood up, the file still held tightly in his hand. "I'm taking this."

Mr. Bradshaw smiled the first time this day. Suddenly the young man wasn't so arrogant anymore, and the self-confidence in his voice had left him. He seemed much younger now, not like the man that he had portrayed before.
"If you want Mr. Hiwatari." The words were spoken in a tone that made clear, that they didn't hold any respect.

The black-haired man didn't seem to care anymore. He hurrying stumbled out of the room without so much as a nod as goodbye.

So what do you think of my first ever written prologue? It was really fun to write it, the next chapter just needs some more reworking and then will be posted.
Comments of every kind would be very welcome. Until next time!