And... again. I'm sorry about the wait and how short and rushed this chapter is, but hey. I tried.
I don't own Metal Fight Beyblade... no really.
Boring. Monotonous. Tedious. Dull. Colorless, lifeless, insipid, bland.
Those eight words describe my life perfectly at the moment. Since being released from the hospital a week ago, the most interesting thing that's happened was my eviction, for not paying rent on my apartment. Even though I was supposed to be exempt for, you know, being unconscious when it was due.
We're all pretty much living in the lobby of the WBBA building right now. Every day is exactly the same; Ryo breaks out in "Lucky Star" at the top of every hour, Hikaru screams at him to attend to something or other that is not singing, Gingka takes half an hour to swallow his "big, nasty" pills, Madoka bakes cookies for everyone, and Yu beats us all at board games. That kid is freaking amazing with a die. But nothing changes the fact that we are trapped in this monotonous cycle, without any chances of escape.
It's twelve o'clock; cue the Immortal Phoenix.
"You must be my lucky star!" he sings in a terribly off-key voice, prompting the entire lobby the cover their ears with anything available. Their hands, their hair, other people's shoes, you name it. I pull my hoodie over my head to block out the noise, and stay like that for another fifteen minutes until he's done with his fifth self-sought encore.
"But I'm the luckiest by faaaaaaaaaaaaaarrr!" he belts, holding out the last note a bit longer than needed. He eventually ends the note when his voice cracks, and makes his very flamboyant exodus in a ball of flames. It is now 12:21. Only thirty-nine minutes until the next performance. I know nobody would want to miss it.
"But Gingka, you know you have to take it!" Madoka exclaims. Behind me, Madoka is already attempting to coax Gingka into taking his medicine. Unfortunately, Gingka has a slight fear of doctors or medication of any kind. I turn around to face them, and see tears in his big hazel eyes. Literally – he's gone low enough to use one of Yu's favorite tactics – the puppy dog eyes. He whimpers and sniffles like a two year old, and somehow I know it's genuine.
All of the sudden, I hear a loud thud, followed by the sound of a squeegee being dragged down a dry window. Everyone turns around. At first it's hard to tell what – excuse me – who we're facing, but once the doors open, Kyoya falls through them, flat onto his face. Everyone rushes over, coming to his aid.
"Kyoya!" Gingka helps him stand up and regain his balance, before the proud lion pushes away the assistance. He's breathing heavily, with quick but deep inhales and exhales. Drops of sweat run down his face and drip onto the floor. I sigh, knowing that Ryo will probably make me clean that up later, anyway. He grunts and struggles to form words between breaths. People are getting impatient, waiting for him to say something.
"Just spit it out!" someone from the back of the circle yells.
Kyoya puts his hands on his knees, breathing not slowing at all. He's turned paler, and his pupils are abnormally dilated. Before he collapses, two words slip out of his mouth-
"He's back."
As he hits the tile with a thud, Gingka looks up, making obvious eye contact, and frowns. I nod in unanimous agreement; we both know exactly whom he was talking about.
Ryuga.