So, in lack of inspiration to Bound to Change, I have written this story instead. I'm afraid I might not have completed the style I had from last chapter, because there is far more action than thinking in this chapter, but I just hope I did it well enough for it to be truthful, if you know what I mean.

Disclaimer: Do not own anything else than OCs, and you know who the OCs are. I also own the plot, but all of Beyblade and whatever other things that others own.

Warning: First chappie, folks! I'll tell if anything changes.

Reviews:

Alla Bethony: Damn! I thought I had found them all! English isn't my first language, but that isn't an excuse not to do it right. Anyway, the writing-style changes for an important reason that I probably am the only one able to figure out… Well, whatever, I do it no matter if it meant anything, cause I would die if I continued doing it!

San child of the wolves: Thank you. Hope you like next chapter too, and yeah, I think it fits him a lot too.

Just a little note. All the things they say in the beginning is in Norwegian. Normally, I would write the words in Norwegian, but since it's so much that is said in that language, I'm going to get a headache if I should try to make a translation of everything.

Sailing without destination

Seven years

To walk to Oslo is pretty far. Especially if you live in the northern part of Norway. Espen knows this. The boy isn't stupid. Walking to Oslo would be stupid. So he has found another way to travel. Nikoline doesn't know. Neither does the man. If they knew where he is, they would get angry at him. The boy also knows this. No, he really isn't stupid.

The bright, aqua eyes seek over the screen. Next train to Oslo won't come for three hours, which means he has to wait for some time. But he has taken two busses to get to the station, so Nikoline and the man won't be able to find him. And for what reason would their little son be in a train station on his way to the capital of Norway? They won't even look for him before the sun begins to set and the pure, little boy doesn't come back from the forest, as he normally does.

Three hours. Three hours aren't a long time. But three hours is enough time to get bored. The boy doesn't have anything with him. No clothes. No possessions. Only a little money. And especially nothing to fight off the boredom. So he just sits on the benches by the wall and waits without doing anything, sad that the station is placed inside so the animals are unable to reach him. His white clothes are slightly dirty after having been outside in the forest, as he had taken a shortcut to the nearest bus stop. It is two days since he celebrated his birthday with the family.

A woman suddenly approaches him with her teenage-daughter by her side. She smiles, and the boy decides he will name her Tina. She looks nice, and she looks like a Tina. "Hello, little darling," she says, and slight concern passes through her eyes. "What are you doing here? Are you all alone?" He likes her. She is not him mother, but he still likes her. She is nice. She deserves her name.

"I'm on my way to Dad," he tells her. He does not lie. He would never lie. Though he knows Dad is a liar. He does not know where Dad is. But he'll find him nonetheless. Destiny has decided it, and only waits for his movement. He knows this. Like he knows he is not like anyone else on the planet. Destiny is on his side. Always.

"Are you going on the train? Do you have your ticket?" The teenage girl looks just as concerned for the little child as her mom, though being in the age of sixteen and normally hating the embarrassing woman by her side. The boy does not understand why big children can't stand their parents. Maybe it is because he has none of his own?

With a slightly hovering look in his eyes, the aqua locks with the woman's, and then the girl's, eyes, wondering if he shall answer. Though he doesn't lie, he can avoid the truth. He can avoid talking. "I hope to find him in Oslo." But he decides to talk. Tina can't cause him any trouble, so he decides to talk.

The woman looks to the screen with the times of the different trains, then back at him, hesitating slightly. "We'll just take a later train," she says, wanting to protect the sweet, little kid, who is looking at her with a different sight than the rest of the whole world. Yeah… She really looked like a Tina. "It's only an extra hour."

"Mom, we have to go home!" the girl argues. He won't name her. She can have whatever name she wants. She's nothing special. Just another weird, big girl. Like all those big, weird boys.

"We can't leave him here either. Not alone. What mother lets her child go on a train in that age for such a long ride? It's irresponsible! Especially when he is so small!" The girl rolls her eyes, but does not argue. She can see that her mom is going to stand firm and is also concerned for the little boy. He is quite cute and looks small. Like a five-year-old. The girl normally doesn't like children in that age, but this is a special one.

But the boy isn't happy about it. Actually, he hates it. Cause an image push itself into his mind. They come more often now. They break his barrier to that part of his mind. So he sees them. He hates to see them. And he sees that the train is going to crash, and that the two of them would die in it. If they take the later train, they'll die. "You should go," he says. The woman will argue. She's going to argue. He can feel it. He doesn't want an argument. He wants her away. "GO!" The voice is so loud and intimidating that both woman and daughter take a step back. Their eyes are wide. They are scared. His voice is hoarse and angry like a wild, big predator. People are staring.

And there is a look in those small, aqua eyes. It isn't his eyes. It is someone else's. Or something else's. Something inhuman. And people don't like it. And people move away as fast as they can.

Alone in his part of the station, the kid smiles slightly. He is happy. Though alone again, as he has been for all his life, he is happy. The only thing on his mind is his Dad. And he is going to get his Dad. After a little more time, the train arrives, and he is on his way to the capital of the country he is born in and about to disappear from.

Coming to Oslo is a great disappointment for the child. He took one look into the skies and then had to fight back the tears. The wrong city. Destiny pulled him here… but it is the wrong city. He doesn't understand. Why would destiny take him to the wrong place? Why did it take him here? There is not enough really tall buildings. It's not the right city!

Feeling hopeless and helpless, the prodigy walked the street. His head is bowed. He knows he is not supposed to go back to the place that is not home. But he also knows he is in the wrong place. What should he do? It is also wrong to walk from the city. The boy trusts his instincts. Instincts are good. They are what keep the animals alive. And what will keep him alive. Cause he's alone. Now, he is all alone.

As he has always been supposed to.

He comes close to the harbor, and looks up with new hope. The pull. The pull of destiny. He leaves the TV-shop he had been staring at, showing the train-incident his mind had predicted earlier. Destiny is more important than already known accidents, and so, he begins to close in on the big freighters. Containers in different colors and with different letters on get on or off the giant ships, but no-one notices the little boy as he sneaks in to the forbidden area.

The workers are busy getting the big metal boxes onto or off the ships, and the boy suddenly runs on to the ships and push himself into the small spaces between the already placed containers. The boy doesn't believe in luck. Luck is wrong. Luck is nothing. Only destiny is. Everything happens according to destiny's path. The boy knows this. He also knows that special persons are able to change the path. And that the ones that can see destiny aren't the ones to change it…

But no matter if luck is there or not, the luck isn't on his side. He hears a worker come closer, and with wide eyes he pushes himself even further into the maze of creaks and cracks between the waving metal. But on his way around the corner, the space between two of the containerwalls slims in to nearly nothing, and suddenly he finds himself stuck between a rusty-red and a blue metalbox. The boy tries to get out, but can't. Stuck.

He whimpers and try to get himself free, but only managed to get himself into a new position, which makes him nearly unable to breathe. Panic clouds his mind and makes him fight even harder. A sharp edge on the red container digs into his chest, making a deep scratch. Pain… Blood begins to spread on the white clothes, staining the pure white color with wet, crimson darkness…

He cries a little harder, but isn't trying to move anymore. Bad idea. Destiny has leaded him to a bad idea. He doesn't like destiny. Though he hopes to find Dad with it, he doesn't like destiny. Not right this moment, at least.

He doesn't know if he lost consciousness or if he kept away all the way through, but the next thing happening is opening his eyes again and taking a look around. He is hungry. No, not the right word. His stomach is a black hole. It hurts. He feels uncomfortable. Pain is uncomfortable. The blood on his clothes has dried to a dark-crimson layer of extra skin, sticking to his real, sore skin like a leech.

His aqua eyes shifted, looking for the source to getting him to react. Nothing. He finds nothing but a roar of a machine starting, then a screeching that seems familiar. He knows now that he has been sleeping. Rats have been biting his white clothes. Their teeth have made marks on his former white sleeves and former white pants. He had slept. For a long time. And the machines are still running.

The boy doesn't like it. He doesn't have control. He always has control. But here, things happen that he can't control, and it's scary. He needs control. Else, the world becomes a monster. The kind that scares him. The kind that Dad can't hide him from or protect him from. Normal monsters aren't scary. They are funny and stupid. But when the whole world becomes a monster… when the whole world becomes your enemy… Then, scary isn't even the word to describe it.

He screams. He screams in fear and hate and despair. He screams at the world that has opened itself to him after he left his confined home in the cold north. And just as he screams, the red container moves. It slides away from him and disappears into the air. He falls down on the floor, gasping as he is able to take deep breaths again.

Bread. His hand hit bread. There's bread everywhere around him, small, dry, crumbling pieces. Where did it come from? Fruit too. Bread and fruit. To fill the black hole of hunger. He takes it in his hand and takes a bite. Then another one. Still wondering what it is that have caused this rain of food. Cause food doesn't just come out of nowhere. He knows this. He's not stupid.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement, and turns his head. Two rats stand there, watching him as he eats the bread. It is them who have come with the food. It's obvious. He nods his head towards two, and they answer him with a small sound before running to safety as more containers is moved by the cranes. Feeling danger, the boy stands. He must away. The ship is dangerous. It was stupid to go on to the ship. Destiny is stupid right now.

He bows down again and picks up as much food he can, before he run through the ship, seeking land and security. It doesn't take long before he set his legs on the ground. He is panting heavily. He is not built for running. Or any other physical challenges. He is not supposed to run. Yet he is not done with it yet.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing here?" someone addresses him in English, and he looks up to see and bulky man come towards him. He looks around, and sees a giant harbor with many ships and workers. Giant. Bigger than anything he has ever seen before. So big it's scary. Frightening. It's noisy and wild, but not wild in the way the animals is said to be. It's different.

The man gets closer, but as soon as the boy sees him, he turns and flees, running as fast as he can manage in his already panting, exhausted, hungry state. He ran and ran until he lost his footing and fell flat on the hard pavement, the food flying everywhere. A shadow suddenly stands over him, but he is no longer afraid. He has a good feeling, and he doesn't know why.

"Are you okay?" a hoarse, male voice says in English, and the white boy looks up, still panting. An old man, staring down at him. Gray hair, ragged clothes, wrinkled face. Shiny, dark eyes. A feeling of security. "You fell pretty hard. What were you running from? How old are you? Is it your food?" The boy decides to call him Stan. Stan is worrying. For that reason, Stan deserves a name. Though their paths wouldn't cross for long, he got a name.

The boy sit up as his aqua eyes goes down the poor clothes and shoes of his Stan. "I'm okay. It's my food. You want some? I can share? You need some too. You don't have a home, right?" He speaks English with a singing accent, but it is so little he might as well be from Britain. The man just watch the boy, then take his wrinkled hands out of the pockets of his coat and helps him to his feet. Then, they both take the food in his arms again.

"How old did you say you are?" Stan asks again, and the boy simply grins at him. "And where do you live?"

"I didn't tell you. I'm seven, and I don't live here. I'm looking for Dad." The man looks confused, but the boy is beginning to walk. Though, before they leave each other fully, the boy forces nearly all his bread and fruit down in the man's pocket.

"Don't you think you should keep some?" the man says, but the boy just shakes his head.

"I know I won't die. With you, I'm not sure."

It is a thrilling joy that continues to twist and turn inside the boy's stomach as he walks and twist and turns his head and stares up in the sky so far above him. It seems so far away… But that is only because of the enormous buildings that reach up to touch the small crack of blue sky. He has reached it. Somehow, he has gotten all the way over to the city with the giant buildings where he is supposed to meet his dad.

Destiny knew what would happen when he got onboard the ship. So he likes destiny. If destiny's results gives him this joy, he will never doubt it again. The problem is just, he doesn't know what to do next. Where to go. How to survive. How they would meet, and when. His Dad.

He walked aimlessly for a long time, waiting for the pull to come and guide him. It took a while. A very long while. Then, the big buildings began thinning out and the area changed. The pull of destiny comes again, leading him to a less trafficked area. He hears the sound of other children, playing, and feels dragged towards it. That is a new thing. Never before has he wanted the company of someone else.

It leads him to a playground, and a big bunch of children, some older, some younger than him. They all stand in a small circle around something, cheering and yelling. He nears them, curious, as he always has been. What are they doing? Would they want him in? No-one ever wanted him in. No-one ever let him be a part of something. So why shall it be different here?

He stops a little away from the circle, listening to them. His clothes dirty, his hair wild. He doesn't fit in. He knows he doesn't. He doesn't know it he wants to fit in. He doesn't think so. It's good to be alone.

He walks to the swings beside him and sits down, but he never stops watching them. He wants to, so badly. Wants to know what they are doing. Wants to be apart. But he will not let himself do so. He likes to be alone, remember? When he is alone, he knows how the world is going to evolve, how the changes is going to be.

But he is not supposed to be alone. Not this small time, this small hour and these two days, at least.

A boy, in the middle of all the excitement, turns his head a look at the swings. By coincidence, his attention turns to the swings, maybe in a boring moment, maybe remembering something from those swings. No matter what, he looks up, and sees the poor boy sit on the swing. And so, his path begins.

"Hey!" he yells, making the rest of them turn their attention, first to him, then to where his gaze leads. They see the boy. They get curious. And they approach him.

They are many, and the boy is not used to many people. He prefers one person. Maybe two. Three is alright. Four is a little too much, and five is chaotic. Six only happens when he doesn't decide it. And now, fifteen children, boys and girls, are nearing him. He clenches the chains on the swing, begging them not to come too close to him, but they don't stop before the nearest can touch him if they reach out.

"Who are you?" one of them asks, and the boy opens his mouth to answer. But then, he feels something inside him decide not to answer. His name is his. But what should he say then?

They stare at him as he close his eyes and seek into the other part of his mind. What to say? What to do? He can't find the answer, no matter where he seeks for it, it continues to slip away from him. The pressure of too many people seems to make him loose all his confidence, and he opens his eyes again and speaks with a shaky voice. "I… I'm… New here. Don't… don't really… have a name…"

"What is that supposed to mean?" an older girl snapped, making him flinch away from her. He likes adults more than children, even if adults often underestimate him. "Can't you just say your name instead?" The boy shakes his head and looks down, his lip trembling, the insecurity getting more obvious. But he has just found his way to get out of the situation, finally seeing his escape. Though not knowing what they did before, he knows it means a lot to them.

"What were you doing?" he asks, looking from face to face, but avoiding the girl who had been interrogating him before. It seems light is lighten in all the faces, and they immediately stops being hostile towards the orange-haired boy on the swing. Only a few of the older are still looking suspiciously at him, but it isn't many.

One of them takes the boy's hand and drags him over to a big, bowl-looking thing. "We're blading, of course! Want to be a part of it? I'm going to beat you!" The boy sounds confident, not knowing the truth. Not knowing the future. Not knowing how no-one will beat this boy. Not understanding that he is standing in front of a prodigy. A prodigy, who will be a threat to the world someday. But also a prodigy that means no harm on anyone.

"You're what?" the boy asks, oblivious to the sport that would end up meaning so much to him. He has seen the tops a hundred times. He knows they lie in his future. But he doesn't know the name of the tops.

The children stare at him like he is insane. "You don't know beyblading?" the boy who has challenged him asks, and the boy shakes his head. "So you don't have your own blade?" he asks again, even though it is obvious. And the boy shakes his head again. "Ehm… It's a game where you should just knock the other blade out of the stadium. You can see a match, then play with me, okay? You can play with my old blade."

The boy just nods, not seeing the malicious look on the other kid's face as he finds another opponent. Since the majority of the children are boys, his opponent is a boy too, and they goes to each side of the dish. The boy watches as a nearly even match is played out before his eyes. Then finally, after five minutes of slamming into each other, one of the blades falls, and the winner is the boy who has challenged Espen.

A white blade is stuck into the boy's hands. "Here," the other boy says, then walks over and gets ready. He is the only one knowing how unbalanced, too light and bad his old blade is, and he is going to make the new kid look bad. He doesn't want the new kid to be good. Children can be evil, and strangers and silent kids are easy targets. So he has given the boy a blade that can't even spin right.

The others count down and with slightly shaking hands, the boy sends the beyblade down on the stadium. Though it should be shaking because of both the boy being a beginner and the blade being out of balance. It is supposed to fall the first time the green blade come towards it, but when it is hit, it stands where it had stood from the beginning. It doesn't fall back the least.

The white blade stands still. The boy is getting a headache. It's hard to keep it standing. Why is it hard to keep it standing? Nothing is hard to him. Everything is easy. It is supposed to be easy. Else, it's not fun. "If I win, I want your green blade," he suddenly says, with a voice far more serious and far scarier than the unsecure one from before. He doesn't know why he wants the other blade, but it seems like a good idea. Very good idea. Since the other gives him a headache. He doesn't like headaches. They make him unable to think right.

The other one snorts. "It won't matter, you won't win."

"So you're scared that you lose your blade and make a bet?" Once again, it is something very unlike the boy. He is polite. Always polite. Can never think of evil things to say. Will never want to harm anyone. Yet now, he is talking. He is harming another one. And taking a chance. Cause he is not sure if he will win. He doesn't want to attack the other. To harm him or use violence. So he can't win. He doesn't know what to do. He has no chance of winning.

The green blade tries to attack again, but instead of taking the blow, the boy leans a little to the side. His blade moves in the last second, a little to the left, and the green blade passes him, hit him, and… gives the blade more rotation? It spins faster than before. And that is something the other boy doesn't like. So he tries again.

The same thing happens. And it does again. And again. Without attacking even once, he slowly drains his enemy of energy. It takes long. Ten minutes. Then, the green blade can't take it anymore. It drops, with the other blade still spinning. And it is with mixed feelings that the kids around him looks at the battle. "May I take your blade?" the boy asks innocently, the other side of him away again and only a confused, little boy in a whole new world.

The other boy glare at him fiercely, making him look down and away, but then kicks the green blade over towards him so it lands by his feet. "Take it," he says, turning away. "I don't need it anyway." And with angry steps, the bully disappears, even leaving the white blade behind. After him, many of the other children want to beat the boy. And the outcome is obvious and unchangeable, and so is his tactic of not hitting his opponents.

The first day, everyone just had to fight him. The second day, they just had to get a rematch. The third day… The third day…

"Hey, wanna play again?" a girl by the name of Winnie asks, smiling brightly. She has been playing him six times in the few days they had known him, and now, she is going to win. She knows it, she feels it, she wants to do it. She believes she can do it this time. Or he is cheating in some way. He acts like he doesn't know what beyblade is or hasn't tried it before, yet he wins towards everyone. The beginner-luck has to stop somewhere, sometime. Else, he must be cheating.

The boy looks up from the ground. He has been living on the swings, finding food with the animals he sees, like he follows the wild dogs begging in front of a restaurant or the cats sniffing out the edible garbage. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind," he answers her, smiling. He likes her. He likes all the children. He never knew it felt so good being with others. He only wants to be there more. But since he has no family, he can't do so.

They get ready, and once again, the match is long. Once again, he doesn't attack. Once again, the match brings a lot of bystanders. Once again, he wins without even trying. And once again, the match is not ended with cheers and happiness like the other matches often is. An empty, unexcited silence surrounds the two dead blades.

Only to be broken into pieces by Winnie saying the stupidest thing to the boy you can imagine. "You are cheating." The memory of the man appears. He said the boy was cheating, too. "You say you have never bladed before, but you are invincible. You have lied, and you must be cheating. And I don't like liars or cheater." There is something else in her eyes. Hate. She hates him. He doesn't want to be hated.

Winnie lost her name.

"Yeah," someone on the side says. "How can you do it! You probably have some weird technique to make your blade spin longer! That the only way you can spin a blade like that!" It is the boy he had fought the first day. His name is Adam. "Anything else is sick!" The same kind of hate is in Adam's eyes. Though more intense. He lost his blade to this kid. So he has more reason to hate the boy. But the boy really doesn't want to be hated.

Adam lost his name.

Someone laughed on the side, and the boy took a step back, seeing where it will end. He doesn't even need his other mind. It is obvious. "Maybe he is sick! He is a weirdo! He doesn't even have a home!"

Ryan lost his name.

"Yeah! Freak! You don't belong here!"

Alicia lost her name.

"Freak! Find someone else to pester!"

Benjamin lost his name.

"Go home where you belong!"

Dan lost his name.

"We don't want you here!"

Simon lost his name.

"Go away!"

Fred lost his name.

Someone reaches out and push the boy backwards so he falls to the ground.

The boy lost his patience.

Another part took over, and the boy rise from the dirt and push the boy right back, the innocent eyes dark, angry and longing for revenge. But he doesn't have as much power as the other one, but still manages to nearly get the other one to fall over. In his rage, he is blind, though he still knows everything that happens around him.

"You think you are better than me?" he asks, nearly yelling with that hoarse, monstrous, intimidating voice that in the end isn't really his own, images of the future flying past his vision in a confusing stream. "You think you can do what you want with me, because you are more and I am one? Try, and you will know!"

"So you think you are better than us instead? You don't even have a family or a home!" the boy that previously was Adam yells back, trying to cover up his fear from the rest of the children. Espen smells his fear, but the rest doesn't and is encouraged by the words. So encouraged they don't notice how the features of the white boy seems to change just slightly, or the black shadow of angelic wings flows in the air behind him that seems to be for the eye of a imaginative person.

But the boy doesn't move at his words. He is his other mind, and wants to harm everyone who as much as touches him. "I said you try." The white, ragged clothes look as if they heal themselves, the dirt seeming to disappear. And though none of the children have tendency of violence, and none of the children normally would hit without a reason, they can't ignore a challenge. And they can definitely not be the one who backs out of the group.

But who should begin? Neither wanting to be the first to back down or the first to do anything, they stood with their fear of getting outside of the group. Alone. Like the boy in front of them was. Then, one of the many nameless takes a step forward and try to hit him. He moves out of reach and then hit back, managing to get a fist planted rather hard into the opponent's breast. Then, the other nameless moves too, and since the boy neither runs nor is normally violent, he has no chance at all.

And yet, it is the last time any of them are going to bug or contact the small, white boy.

Eight years

He lives on those swings. And he is left alone on those swings.

He still has the rumor of being the best blader in this neighborhood. The kids living in the houses, which is a part of the playground 'society' of that certain playground, never would claim they can beat him. Neither do they talk to him or challenge him. They know he is better, and they believe him a monster for it.

Every once in a while, the 'champion' of other parts of the city comes to challenge the best blader on the playground to find new opponents. Fortunately for them, the boy always agrees to play if he is challenged. Unfortunately for them, he doesn't lose. Still without touching his opponents blade with his own, he stands tall and avoid their attacks until they lose all their energy.

But the week before, a greater than the rest came along. He was stronger than the rest, bigger than the rest. Light hair, dark skin. And he was faster. The boy had had a lot of trouble with him, and was forced to attack him. And though he only had to attack the other blade once to stop it, and though he hadn't felt anything special while doing so, it was enough for the cat to catch the scent.

And the mouse to be caught is a little, Norwegian boy.

It is late in the evening, and the playground is deserted except for the boy, who is lying in the grass beside the swings and looking into the sky, which is so dark and starless when he thinks himself back to the Norway. He hears someone walk towards him, but doesn't bother looking to the side. He doesn't need to look. He has known they will meet for long, and this is the only vision he has had that is totally certain.

So he doesn't move even a finger, when a purple-haired head bows over him and blocks his view to the stars. He doesn't move even a finger, when dark eyes suddenly look down upon him with half-hidden intentions. No, he doesn't move when he meets the man who will take an enormous part in his life shows up.

"You are the boy who disappeared from Norway," Boris says, trying to get the boy comfortable with him. "Your name is Espen, isn't it?"

"I don't have a name anymore, Boris," the boy says, even though the man hasn't told him his name. "But that was my name when I lived there."

"America is pretty far away from Norway. You must be skilled when you can get so far without even leading a trail for anyone to follow." Something glistened in Boris' eyes as he looks the boy over. "You beyblade, don't you? Would you mind blading with one of my kids? He needs some training and experience."

The boy knows it is a lie. He knows he is being tested. He doesn't know what it is about him that is being tested, but he knows it is unimportant. And yet, he tells the man yes. And he blades with the boy Boris has with him who can't even speak English. And he beat him with only a little more trouble than the normal boys he meets in the stadium.

Boris looks up from his computer as the battle is done and smiles at the boy. "So, where is your bitbeast?"

"What is a bitbeast?" the boy asks, looking confused.

"I know you have one. I recorded activities of a bitbeast in battle, so you most have one." The boy shakes his head no, since he doesn't know what a bit beast is and is certain he doesn't have one. "If you lie to me…" the man begins to threat, but is stopped by the boy, who shakes his head once more.

"I don't lie. Not to you, and not to anyone, Boris. I don't have a bitbeast or knows what it is."

After a little while of hesitation, Boris just nods and looks the boy over again. "Don't you want a bath? Some food? And new clothes?" he tries to convince. And he is right. The boy is dirty, the clothes nearly totally destroyed from all the things that has happened to them, and he has gotten skinny from getting too little food. He never has been big, but not being able to eat the hunger away any night doesn't help, either. "You must freeze out here in the cold. Don't you want a home?"

The boy just stood where he had just bladed, watching him with his aqua eyes, a small, lazy smile covering the face. "I want all that, yes. But I don't want to live in your abbey. If you want me one day and don't want to catch me and cage me like a tortured bird, you may always find me. But the caged bird doesn't sing, and the flower trapped from light wilts away. That is a lesson you must learn with your many children. But I still don't know if I can trust you." The boy sat down beside Boris, straightening his destroyed clothes.

This makes the Russian man think. Though never seen him before, the boy seems to know a lot about him and his activities. But at the same time, he doesn't seem to judge him or hate him for it. And if he really doesn't have a bitbeast, and he still is able to trigger the powercharger on his computer, that boy is a blader more skilled than any of his own kids. "You can live with me, get new clothes and share my food until I go back to Russia again." This boy is a keeper. So you have to be cautious not to make him hate you and follow him a little in his game.

"That's okay. I would like that, if you really would want to use your money on me. I really don't want to bother you, but as long as I still can come to these swings every day, I would happily do it. I'm going to meet Dad here someday."

Boris just smiles reassuringly. "I would use all the money in the world on you, little boy."

Okay, finally done, here is the next chapter, and I don't have any more time ^^ So, just don't hate me if the style is totally off. Also, review me if I did something bad, please.

Enjoy in joy ^^