Chapter II


As some of you might have noticed, I took down the previous version of chapter two... I just had to change it, since I kind of didn't like how it was going. Just too fast. I know I was really slow in reposting it though, and for that I am very sorry.

Sorry, but this chapter's kind of going to be a filler, in some sense : /

thank you to Chidsengan and GoldenAngel999 for reviewing.

*FYI, the next chapter is mostly the same as what used to be the second chapter, but there's a small excerpt from a so-far unseen character in this fic, and a couple of edits.*


From inside the jet, the engines were nothing but a quiet hum - Tsubasa would have been more grateful, though, if they found a way to prohibit sound similarly, when it came from Masamune.

It was hard enough trying to get all the paperwork sorted out, while in a tighter space than he was used to, without the easily audible crunching of chips, boasts and curses at video games, bawdy and common laughter, not to mention a loud voice in general.

With a slight wince, Tsubasa rubbed his forehead. The headaches were coming back again.

Ah, yes. Airsickness, claustrophobical-paranoia and noisy distractions. This was totally his ideal working environment.

A couple of years ago, his friends in GanGan Galaxy would've made fun of him for being unable to handle planes. Whenever they had to get shipped off to the next tournament in one of these unpleasant steel beasts, he'd sleep off the entire ride in great discomfort, resting to the melodious tones of teasing until they landed. Unlike the old untruthful taunts that still rang through his head, he'd never puked on a plane. It was simply that the unnatural speed of ascension or descent into the atmosphere made his ears pop and ring. He got headaches from the never-ending roar of the turbines and engines. Heights and turbulence didn't bother him; the machine did. He preferred his methods of transportation to be free and natural - but unfortunately, being the president of the WBBA no longer gave him a choice.

Now, at the very least, he knew how Ryo felt - tied down by a desk job.

He held his head with a small groan, as was quickly noticed by Madouka, who was sitting across from him. "Airsick?" She queried, remembering the World Championships.

Tsubasa managed a tired smile. "It's just difficult to work with all the distractions." He was thankful she'd noticed, though - pointing it out would have seemed impolite, he thought.

Madouka glanced behind her, where Masamune seemed to be reacting something from a television show for an amused Ginga and irritably working Hikaru while simultaneously snacking on Cheetos. She made a face. "You want me to tell them to quiet down?"

Tsubasa shrugged. "Nah. It's fine." Before the words had even flown from his mouth, though, Madouka was already on the move.

"MASAMUNE KADOYA! If you don't shut your mouth in thirty seconds, I will personally kick your stupid ass of this plane!"

Tsubasa winced and buried himself behind his papers at Madouka's scream - even after all these years, her temper was to be feared.

He tried not to pay attention as the squabbling ensued - this was hardly any better for his focus - but it was hard not to hear at least some snippets of their back-and-forth sniping.

"But Madouka...just... Hey! ... My Cheetos...!"

"Get them...land in three... Snacking already...something else like sleep..."

Silence claimed the clearing at least, and Tsubasa exhaled deeply.

Peace.

His fingers, instinctively, flew to the leather necklace hidden under his collared shirt, that clutched three precious feathers in a knot: one mahogany, the second rusty-brown, and the last a creamy white.

His beloved eagle had passed away two years ago, and with it, a small part of him and his happiness.

Inwardly, he had to wonder whether or not he was happy as the president of the WBBA - to obtain this position, he had already sacrificed so much: his freedom, his dreams; the qualities that had once marked him as the man he used to be.

By accepting himself as a true heart of the WBBA, he'd given up his freedom to travel and do as he pleased. No longer was he destined to participate in a tournament or even a bey battle. He'd tied himself down to a modern civilization and a society with expectations on his performance and appearance - that had to be amongst what Tsubasa hated the most in his job. A stiff suit, sharp appearance, cropped hair, a decorative office. His apartment didn't need fixing, since he'd always been one for few possessions and a tidy home.

The days of his rucksack campout journeys on the dirt road were over. Now he had a house (or a condo, if you want to be picky), a job, a responsibility, with an entire nation to answer to.

Madouka returned, her face flushed and dress stained. "That idiot Masamune! I swear I will..." She muttered dark vows under her breath, that bore nothing but ill will and death. It would be dark times for Masamune very soon, indeed, Tsubasa cautioned himself with a compressed shudder.

"Do you know what he did? I walked off to go to the bathroom, then when I was walking back, he purposely spilled his drink on me!" She rolled her eyes. "That asshole! He can be so immature sometimes! Honestly, I wish Yu or Kenta were here to straighten him out."

She snatched a napkin from her tray and dabbed at the white fabric, mourning. "Oh, it was such a nice dress, too... Can you believe the nerve of that idiot? 'Oops,' doesn't even apologize..."

Tsubasa quickly recognized the dress from the golden collar and frilly hem. "Hey...isn't that...the dress I gave you last Christmas?"

Madouka froze halfway through her cleaning and instantly turned crimson. "Yeah, well, I thought it'd be a nice gesture, that's all..." She trailed off at Tsubasa's disapproving "tsk".

"This won't do," he said regretfully. "This will not do at all. Some full-time payback is in order."

A wicked grin flitted across Madouka Amano's normally innocent face. "You bet," she chuckled, sliding back into her seat.


Ginga liked planes.

Planes were really cool. The view was great, there was a steady provision of food, and you could relax while travelling thousands of miles. They were more comfortable than cars, and faster than trains. The ride was even better than usual; Masamune was a hoot. From a few minutes into the flight, he started getting bored and reenacting scenes from his favourite American TV show, called Wipeout. Ginga still didn't have a clue what it was about, but apparently there was a lot of accidents and something involving 'big balls'. It was hard not to chuckle at that.

His friend was completely pumped to revisit his hometown. "I can show you my old apartment, I'll introduce to Toby, and Zeo, and maybe some of my middle school buddies!" His face split into a wide grin. "Or Coach Steels! That guy was the best! He was the one who trained me, you know. Let's - go! Duuuun -geon!" He cheered.

Ginga watched in amusement, but Hikaru, beside him, was rather annoyed. "Pipe down," she snapped when Masamune began pretending to box himself. "There's a few of us trying to work in here. And hell knows that Tsubasa and Julian need quiet, with all their paperwork and business."

Masamune just shrugged and went back to eating his Cheetos.

Ginga stared out the window with a sigh. The clouds looked like a great, fluffy floor below them, for one to jump on and enjoy, though he knew it wasn't so.

The last time he'd been on a plane was when he was returning to Japan almost three years ago. His search for a certain Leone blader had resulted unsuccessful, and his temporary retirement from the competition became permanent with all the confusing advancements in beyblade. Age was a strong factor, he realized, in a more teenage or childish sport like beyblade. The moment you grew up and out of the zone, you were gone forever.

Kyoya was a missing fragment of his past, one that Ginga thought about every day; a green-haired, powerful, fierce, punkish and daily obsession. His dreams were still locked in fierce battle with his rival, but whenever he awoke, realizing it was all just a dream, every shard of sadness that was consequence of Tategami's disappearance returned to him. All he could think about after dreams like that was how lonely he felt. The real problem wasn't Kyoya being a missing fragment, it was because the Leone blader was the only fragment he really missed and wished desperately to return.

In the seven years he'd left, everyone seemed to retreat into their own group of friends. The girls had formed a small clique, and Tsubasa was occasionally in their midst. Team Excalibur still stuck together like glue - they even sat in a separate section of the plane from everyone else, per request. Yu, Kenta and Benkei were staying behind in Japan, which had sorely disappointed Ginga, but even those three, he had to admit, were closer to each other than to him. Wild Fang was...well, Wild Fang and had never exactly shared any close or special connection to him at all, besides Kyoya. Even China's representatives, Wang Hu Zhong, seemed completely disinterested in their distant Japanese buddies, minus MeiMei, of course.

Masamune and Ginga were well-connected in this sense, though. The lackwit youth was still plenty of fun to hang around with; he and Ginga still occasionally duelled with their blades from time to time, in the privacy of Koma village.

But now, Masamune was going to see his old friends. And where would that leave Ginga? Well outside the rest of the group, back at the beginning, without a single friend.

He recalled his days at Battle Bladers and the World Tournament. Back then, he was the leader. The glue of the group. How did things change so drastically, with the untraceable disappearance and simple, unsuccessful search of a Leone-wielding, green-haired teenager?

It wasn't the search that had divided them, Ginga knew deep down. It was time. Their drifting friendships were separated by time and distance, now to perhaps never return to each others' shores.

Although he hoped it wasn't so, Ginga had grown up already, alongside the others. He knew to finally recognize, as they already had, that the will to keep these bonds as tight as they could might just mean they required severing.


A sea of cameras flooded them in flashing bulbs of light as they disembarked from the plane.

The instant they stepped out and realized this, Madouka ran back inside the plane, embarrassed about the awful brown stain on her dress. She finally succumbed when Masamune found her a jacket she could wear on top to cover it with. Though they hadn't spoken since their little spat, Ginga was almost certain that Masamune felt guilty for his actions, and was taking responsibility for it.

"Here. Let me take that," he chuckled Masamune tried to untangle the sleeves of the coat. With swift, deft hands, Ginga undid the zipper and pulled out the sleeves, then draped it over Madouka's shoulders."Here you are."

Madouka gave him a warm smile. "Thanks, Ginga."

He swelled with pride. "No problem."

Tsubasa shouted a few orders to some of the flight attendants and pilots, then grabbed a small briefcase before turning back to the rest of them, who waited patiently. "Leave your heavy luggage here," he ordered. "Take nothing but your carry-ons. There's a swarm of photographers out there."

Ginga winced at the crowd. Swarm was right. They all crowded together like bugs, yelling and pushing one another out the way to get a proper view of the new WBBA president. If not for the barricades and numerous authorities keeping them at bay, he was certain they would have surged forth and knocked them all down.

Tsubasa was the first to plunge into the crowd, quickly followed by the ever-obedient Hikaru and a hasty Julian Konzern. His friends were only too eager to follow his lead: Wales rushed down the stairs, at his heels, his hand closed tightly over Sophie's for safety. Klaus walked past the crowd indifferently, as if he didn't notice a single thing was amiss. MeiMei speed walked behind him, giving the occasional shy smile when asked by one or two people.

Ginga took a deep breath. "Ready?" He asked his two remaining friends. Madouka shot a pointed glare at Masamune.

"No theatrics," she growled.

Masamune gave her a look so puzzled that Ginga couldn't tell whether it was false or not. "What're you talking about?" Madouka didn't have time to answer, because Ginga dragged them both to the stairs with him.

Immediately, his eyes threatened to be overtaken by the bright, flashing sea of lights. The cameras were still pointed in the others' direction, as they were the most recent celebrities, but the moment the paparazzi seemed to spot them, the lights began flashing in their direction.

Blushing furiously and walking briskly, with her jacket pulled tightly over her shoulders, Madouka did her best to avoid the camera glare. "C'mon," she muttered, ducking her head as she squeezed past Ginga. He was quick to follow her lead, but had to drag a seemingly stunned and star-struck Masamune with him.

They whisked past the cameras, following the staggered line their friends had created in their desperate escape from the media frenzy.

They made a beeline straight into a limousine, and just when they'd settled in, Julian barked "drive!" and they sped away.

"That was close," Hikaru sighed, pulling out her laptop.

"What was that all about?" Queried MeiMei curiously. "People never freaked out like that in Japan.

"Paparazzi," replied Julian, Hikaru, Tusbasa, Sophie and Masamune in unison.

"The media is crazy in America," said Julian quietly. "Every time a celebrity shows up in public, they get hassled by photographers trying to sneak in and maybe grab a picture or two." He gave a disdainful sniff. "It's quite intrusive, here."

"You'll get a lot more press here than you did in Japan," Masamune pointed out in Tsubasa's direction. "Beyblade's really taken off in America - you weren't kidding when you said it was popular. If anyone hits it big-time in the United States, they pretty much become an instant celebrity."

With an anxious glance at the former eagle blader, Ginga wondered if he would adjust with his normally quiet, relaxed and unresponsive nature. America might seem like a bigger change than they originally thought.

Tsubasa seemed to be brooding to himself again, perhaps dwelling on this problem or another. He could never tell with the eagle blader really - in fact, come to reflect on it now, many of the people Ginga had staked as his new friends probably hadn't been halfway close. Team Excalibur had always been more the legendary rivals, and he'd known more myths and grand stories about them than having actually talked with them. Same counted for Tsubasa, he supposed, since the silver-haired blader had always been something closer to a loner, but his occasional and temporary team ups had always been nothing more.

Ginga blinked rapidly, almost confused by this new, distorted perspective that was so warped from his youth. Had he really been so blind all this time? How could he have perceived so many 'friendships' the wrong way?

Masamune was pouting at the window. "Did you see all those paparazzi, though? Think any of them recognized us as Japan's former..."

"I hope not," Madouka snapped, "and it didn't help that I had coke stains on my dress!"

"Masamune shrunk back. "I'll buy you a new one..." he whimpered, but didn't say another word after that.

The limo took them directly to the Konzern mansion, which lay behind a set of back gates. The driver spoke into the intercom, and then they drove through to arrive at the front steps of their new home in America. For now, at least.

Everyone "ooh" and "aah"ed at the magnificent cottage.

The mansion was primarily built of solid black stone. Gray tiles were strewn across the ground to make a path leading to the wide front stairs. Balconies overlooked the grounds from three stories high, and sunlight streamed through wide, scenic windows.

"You come here just for vacations, Julian?" Masamune exclaimed, his voice two pitches higher from sheer excitement. "Heck, I'd live here of I could!" Julian's expression of boredom turned quickly to panic at those words.

As some servants collected the bags they had brought with them from the jet, MeiMei sighed dreamily. "Sophie, girl, when I get married, my man and I are coming to live with you."

Sophie chuckled, but clicked her tongue disapprovingly afterwards. "Not my house, Julian's," she reminded the Chinese girl.

"Sure," Julian grumbled. "Just let the whole lot run wild in here, but they have to pay for every scratch and spill."

Klaus's laugh was a deep rumble. "You could always make them pay rent."

"I suppose," Julian admitted distastefully.

Each of them had their own room, where their bags had been previously deposited after the flight, complete with a personal bathroom and television. Sophie, Wales, Klaus and Julian already had their own assigned rooms, of course, but the others required escorts as to not get lost in the complex halls of the Konzern household.

Masamune literally screamed when he saw his bedroom, though the others' reactions were much more mature and dignified. After seeing the fancy exterior, nothing inside could surprise them. About the Konzern household. "Lunch and dinner start at assigned times," Julian growled as they all split up, "but they're open until everyone's eaten, except for breakfast." He shot a meaningful glare in Masamune's direction, who gave a clueless shrug and a pitiful whimper. "I know some of you like to sleep in."

"Couch potato," MeiMei chuckled under her breath, but it was clearly audible in the silence in between Julian's words, making everyone laugh.

"If you need anything, just ask one of the workers," Wales told them, throwing his auburn locks to the side, away from his face.

"Workers?" Masamune glanced around. "You mean like the butlers and the maids, and serv-"

"I prefer not to use that terminology," Julian cut in coldly. "They are all well-paid workers, just as any other, and not anyone can treat them as they please." He glared around the small group, as if threatening them all should they abuse his employees.

No one dared argue, though. Not even Masamune over the breakfast schedule. For, although they might have defeated him in a bey battle a handful of years ago, Julian was a Konzern, and that meant he won everything, from the hugest corporate debate to the tiniest argument over his servants and breakfast. Especially not when it meant messing with his household rule.


Madouka was glad for the opportunity to finally settle down and change out of her splattered outfit. She switched it for a white blouse, black pleated skirt, and a brown jacket.

As she walked out of the bathroom, tossing her dirty clothes in a nearby laundry hamper, she jumped upon seeing Ginga, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"Ginga!" She exclaimed, dropping all the things she was carrying. "What's wrong?"

"Oh...well..." He looked strangely sheepish. "I was just wondering, if you managed to get that stain off your dress."

Madouka practically tripped over herself to reassure him. "Oh, Ginga, don't worry about it! The fabric was always too light, anyways. And that was Masamune's fault."

"Yeah..." The redhead still didn't sound entirely convinced. "Are you sure you don't want me to buy you a new one?"

Madouka gave him a warm smile. "Totally. Don't sweat it."

Even then, Ginga hesitated. At first the gesture had been sweet, but now it was really starting to get on Madouka's nerves, since he wouldn't let the subject drop already. Even so, his next question surprised her. "That dress meant a lot to you, though...wasn't it the one you got for Christmas?"

Madouka was surprised he'd even remembered; that had been at least a couple of years ago. Somewhat stunned, she slowly nodded. "Well...yes, but you still don't have to pay for it, Ginga."

"Alright." The redhead finally relaxed, and Madouka let out a relieved sigh. He gave one last smile and waved before he headed for the doorway.

"Are you sure there's no way for me to make up for it, Madouka?"

She paused at Ginga's question. "Actually..." A mischievous grin flickered in her eyes. "If you can help me guilt that cheap ass Masamune into paying for the dress, I wouldn't mind."

Ginga bowed and saluted her, a silly grin on his face. "Will do, ma'am."

She giggled as he left.