Title: The International Boys School for Excellence

Rating: T-M

Fandom: Beyblade

Warnings: Slash.

Author's Notes: When you read anything about Grammar Schools in here, keep in mind that some of it is grossly stylized and some of it only applies to my grammar school. Which, incidentally, is an all girl's school, rather than an all boys school. So once again, there are going to be differences. On top of that, this is based on an Australian schooling system, so any questions: just ask and I'll be happy to explain as many times as necessary. We could, of course, have just written the whole thing in the English or Japanese system of things, but I know I would stuff it up majorly and get a million reviews just telling me what was wrong with it, so not going there!

Anyway, thanks for the enthused response, it was really appreciated. All though some major sweat-dropping was done about how International Boys School for Excellence (which will be IBSE from now on because who wants to type that out a million times plus) was very enthusiastically responded to compared to some others which were not. My poor brain children! Shunned because of your younger, better-looking sibling! .;;;

Grammar schools like to encourage adversity between other equally rich and posh grammar schools, grades, sports and students just to name a few. So it's only natural that they would encorouge competitiveness between teachers. Like the students, the teachers have cliques and places in the proverbial food chain. Right at the top, we have the Principal. He or She is responsible for all those big meetings with other schools, the Board of Governors (refer: pgs 45-47) and the Parents and Friends Association (refer to pg 48). Next comes the Deputy Principal. Generally it's up to the school how many Deputies exist at any one time. Some choose to employ only one while others have up to four. The facts remains that, should more than one Deputy exist, the competition is fierce. All deputies will battle it out for the chance at Principal when the current one retires. Points are garnered for dressing obnoxiously like said principal, nodding at everything they say and acting like a personal assistant (even though they generally already have one).

Next come the various heads of departments: Maths, Science, English, Arts, Business etc. and then the normal people. Teachers generally tend to populate the staff room/their various bases in groups. Maths teachers will stick together drinking coffee in the teachers lounge, Art teachers in the art blocks, Business in there own little offices, and so on, so forth. Thus, they mimic the social structures that are that of 15-year-olds proving that nothing changes. What sad lives we lead.

-Signo Fine, An ex-grammar guys guide to being posh, pg 38.

Compliments of the International Boys School for Excellence's school library.

The only thing worst than a plane trip is a plane trip with Jack Davenport. And no, I don't mean that spunky British actor; I mean the blonde snot sitting next to me. Remember the one I groped in fright? Yeah, that one. Over the last 8 hours 36 minutes and 43 seconds he has told me everything there is to know about him. I think I can even name every piece of underwear he owns by color and date of purchase. To make matters worse, he's the best fencer in the United Kingdom so he has an invite to the International Boys School of Excellence. This means the next year of my life has just gotten that bit darker. I really don't like Jack. He's not very nice. I take small comfort in that he only got an invite and I got a scholarship. Muhahaha! That makes me better than him. If you can't see me, I'm mentally poking my tongue out right about now.

'Flight DJ 947: Hong Kong to Australia will be landing in approximately five minutes. Please fasten your seat belts and prepare for landing. The temperature is currently 23 degrees and it is now 10:46 in the morning,'

Don't sound like you didn't almost get us killed you evil cow. I know you were the one who let that girl into the cockpit. Oh, god! What is that!...False alarm. Davenport's just doing my seatbelt up for me. How…nice. I really don't like him. He's smiling at me now as if he didn't just try to cop a feel.

'So, you haven't said much about yourself. It's hard to place your nationality. What are you doing heading to IBSE?' Oh, so it's only taken 8 hours 36 minutes and 43 seconds to realize that I actually have a life outside of you.

'My mum's an off root of Chinese and my dad's Russian. Mr. Dickenson offered me a scholarship to come here. My uncle accepted,' I should get a best actor award. He probably doesn't suspect that I thoroughly dislike him!

'Your uncle?' he flips some of that infuriating blonde hair out of his eyes. You know that guy in Harry Potter? The one that blasted himself into the ceiling? Gilderoy Something? Jack reminds me of him.

'My parents are dead. My uncle and aunt look after me,' I smile and turn to watch the screen in front of me…which is playing Snakes on a Plane for like the hundredth time. Was that the sound of me whimpering?

Here comes the worst part of the plane trip: landing. When I was six I was flown to Hong Kong by private jet, where my uncle was going to be picking me up. This was just after my parents died and so the first time I'd ever been on a plane. I spent the whole trip curled under the pilot's jacket in fright. Anyway, they got me up to the terminal fine and just as we were about to go home, one of those giant jumbo jets came in for landing. My uncle stopped to watch and next thing you know the whole thing had taken a nose dive into the ground and swerved out of control. It just so happened to be the plane that was transporting all these little baby rabbits and next thing I knew, a little furry body had been flung from the cargo hold (which had been torn to pieces on impact) and smacked into the glass wall separating the run way from the baggage pick ups… That bunny still stares at me whenever I go to an airport.

And while I was reminiscing, seems we've already landed. That wasn't as painful as usual. I can practically feel the sweat drop on the back of my head. And you know what; I think I know what being a girl feels like. Jack is now insisting on carrying my backpack. It's not like it's even that heavy buddy! An iPod and a sketch book hardly constitutes as weight. Oh, wait there are a few pencils in there, my mistake. It must be reeeeeeeeeeeally heavy.

Ignoring Jack's apparent lack of eyes (do I look like a chick!...don't answer that): does anyone else think that airports are the worst places on the planet? For someone as short as me, it inevitably means I'm going to get stepped on numerous times. Hey maybe Jack is good for something after all! He's a nice tall, strapping British fellow. People have to see him coming. This means, if I stick close, no one will step on me. But, if I stick close, Jack may get the wrong impression. Hmmm, decisions, decisions: to have a broken toe or to give the limpet more to cling to? Toes heal quickly, don't they?

I sigh, looking around, searching for sign to point me in the direction of the baggage. Jack's prattling on about something again, but I'm not really interested. I wish someone would get him to shut up. But I doubt anything short of some matches and a good old bottle of gasoline could accomplish that.

'Australian idiots. Don't know how to organize an airport. Not a sign in sight,' Jack muttered in his aristocratic accent and I have to role my eyes. If anything, they're guilty of over signage. There has to be about a million signs saying 'Baggage Claim'. I scowl, irritated at his arrogance, and start in the direction the arrows are all pointing too. We're supposed to be meeting the Deputy Headmaster at the baggage collection and if I'm quick enough I can lose myself in the crowd and leave Jack to his un-coordinated self. Alas, my plan is foiled as he places a hand on my shoulder and keeps a firm grip. I feel like karate flipping him over my head and running, but I know I'd just get in trouble later. I want to make a good first impression at my new school…unlike my last one. Did I mention I'd broken a kids jaw? Yeah, that was fun. He wasn't very nice. Kind of like Jack.

A big sign appears indicating Baggage Claim and I steer towards it, snorting as Jack is still muttering about bad signage. I'm quite lucky, my bag is bright green and it has a white tiger sewn down the side. My aunt is really artistic and she tends to decorate anything she can get her hands on. She's done it to a lot of my jeans and shirts, which is cool, because they're kind of what makes me an individual. Some of her designs are a little flamboyant, but she usually keeps everything toned down. And she's sewn me a few bits and pieces that you usually wouldn't buy at a store just because of the originality behind them. Yet another reason people tend to mistake me for a girl. They think my clothes are too, well, feminine to be considered a male's. I intend to don one of my more exotic numbers for the next couple of weeks to hopefully scare off Jack Davenport; conservative extraordinaire.

Jack's bag arrives before mine, and I spot the emerald green sports bag the instant it comes into view. Weaving my way through the crowd, I make to scoop the rather large bag up. A lot of my stuff has already been sent out. Considering I'm spending the whole year in Australia, I'll need a lot of my stuff. Mr. Dickenson said I was one of the lighter packers and I didn't believe anyone could exceed my six suitcases until I met Jack Davenport. I'd be surprised if he didn't get the entire contents of his six floor mansion shipped out. How he's going to fit it into a two person dormitory room is beyond me, but I intend to be around to witness his distress when he figures out that maybe the sixth century suit of armor will have to go into storage: shock, horror, and disaster.

Once again I am foiled of my plan when Jack bends over and scoops up my bag for me. You know those days where everything just gets on your nerves. Well I'm having one of those and having Jack-bloody-Davenport playing knight in shining armor is really getting on my nerves. Irritation makes me strike quickly as I swipe the bag out of his hands and gave him a swift flick in the head with it. Unfortunately that doesn't go quite as planned and it slips out of my hands and rather than a painful swat, Jack receives a face full of bag and is sent propelling backwards into the pole standing stoically behind him. I wince as he collides, knocking his head forcefully.

It's nice that someone stops to help him. Some people are even just stepping over him and continuing on their way. I love that society now-a-days are just so obviously concerned for there fellow human beings. Oops, there's the solution. They obviously sense that Jack obviously doesn't belong on earth with us 'mere mortals'… I wonder if he's conscious. He hasn't moved for a bit. Maybe that's an indication. I poke him with the toe of my soft shoes…nope out cold. Okay, time to go. I pick up my bag and turn in the direction of the entrance. Shit happens and Jack's a big boy: he can look after himself. The crowd parts as I walk away. Maybe's it seems strange that I'm leaving my supposed friend on the ground. Ouch, did someone just step on him? Eek, there go the family pride and joy. That looks like one heavy boot. Oh crap, is that security. Time to speed up and find this Deputy Head me thinks.

Oh look, that must be him. He's holding up a sign, dressed in black slacks and a navy blue dress shirt. I like his hair. All silvery-blue and pretty and stuff. Makes me want to brush it. I walk up to him, smiling happily, as if I hadn't just knocked out my fellow classmate.

'Are you Rei Kon?' He asks, sticking out a hand for me to shake.

'Yep, that's me,'

'Cool. I'm Hiroshi Granger. You can call me Mr. Granger. I'm the Deputy Head of the School,' Wow, he's spunky. If all the teachers are this nice-looking I think I'm going to like this school very much indeed-y, 'So, there was supposed to be another boy on you're flight coming with us. You know who he is,' I put on a showoff thinking hard.

'Hmmmm, I don't think there was anyone else my age on board. I mean, it was a pretty empty flight, so I would have seen him right?' Hiro grins, a suspicious sparkle lighting his eyes, but he nods anyway. Funny one, he is. I'll have to keep an eye on him if he can see through my fantastic acting skills…well maybe not, but hey.

'Well in that case, let's get you settled in at the dorms and I'll check with Mr. D what's going on. Maybe he missed the flight,' I nod and follow him, smirking at the crowd that had gathered around Jack by now.

A/N: I was reading Shin Rigel's profile yesterday, and I have to say, something she wrote sums up what I'm going for with Kai perfectly:

'THE ABBEY! Ohnoes. Sorry, but I follow the manga on this aspect. Kai grew up in a happy (rich) family environment. His parents are both alive and well. Kai went emo because he's a brat. That's just the truth of the matter. He wasn't beat, raped and tortured in THE ABBEY.

I hope she doesn't mind terribly that I include this, but honestly: as much as a love Kai, I do like Manga Kai's past better than Anime Kai's. It just seems to fit him way better than tortured-anguish ridden, never-going-to-get-over-it Kai. And that she called him Emo is so true and just makes me smile so much!...No offence to the Emo's…'

...And does anyone think that Rei just a little bit evil?