Author Note: I know it's been over a year since my last update and I owe every single one of you an explanation. Your understanding means the world to me. Thank you for everything. I want this chapter to show everyone I will never give up on something I start.

Since the last update, I've lost two very important people in my life and it's left a gaping hole in my heart. In September 2009, I lost my cousin Kenneth, whose wedding I used as research for this very story, in a fatal car accident. This impacted my willingness to write for the story. Most recently I lost my Mother to brain cancer in June 2010; we only knew she was sick for a month (diagnosed on Mother's Day). It's the overwhelming grief I have been feeling that has inspired me to write again as a coping method. My Mom was the world to me, she played the role of both parents since I was young and was truly my best friend.

I would like to thank the following people for continuing to review even through my on and off absence: Kamakaze Kheri, Sony89, Hunny Spectrum, Dragon Reverb, cartoon-watcher-4-eva, ToraHimeSama, ayushi, sanaa, darkheart1992, MePo, DarkDremora4, Tinkerbell-04, Shiningheart of ThunderClan, Kenrai, caroline, xjoinxthexclubx, DayDreaming0f y0u, Kashel, Rachel, Anime gurl 29, Aiyanne, Kariya-Yoshida, InuNarufan01, and Maou.1412. You have no idea how much it means to me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade.

Chapter Nine: Impression Roulette

The sound of people clinking glasses grabbed Tyson's attention; he raised an eyebrow in question as he quirked his head toward Hilary. Making a face, she shrugged as she too looked around in confusion.

"What's going on?" the brunette asked her Father. The man had just reached for his glass and began to strike it with a spoon in rhythm with everyone else.

"It's tradition," Aunt Bertha interjected as she clanged her glass loudly. "When people stop and do this, the groom and bride have to kiss."

Said bride and groom, who were now seated at the head table, kissed for the crowd as cheers overlapped the sound of glass. Veronica clearly loved the attention; unlike her new husband that seemed to be stuck in a state of confusion since the service.

"Why?" Tyson asked, finding that the whole thing didn't really make any sense.

"Because it's tradition," Aunt Bertha repeated in annoyance, the drawl of her voice expressed that this boy wasn't worth her time. "That means it is common practice to do something."

"I know what tradition means," Tyson sighed, biting back his impatience. "I just don't think it makes sense that by doing this...," Tyson began to hit his empty glass with a spoon, provoking others to do the same, "That they have to kiss."

Hilary watched as the bride and groom once again kissed at the head table. "Because it's tradition," Aunt Bertha repeated yet again, anger straining her voice. This only made her Grandpa, Thomas, laugh at the sight of his sister's face turning red.

"Yeah, but it doesn't make any sense," Tyson frowned. When he moved to hit the glass again, Hilary swiftly grabbed a hold of the spoon, successfully stopping her date from initiating another kiss.

"Drop the spoon," she hissed, "And don't make me confiscate the rest of your cutlery."

Tyson immediately let go of the utensil, allowing Hilary to put it down on the table. "So what... you're planning on feeding me?" he whispered back, a smirk on his face, "Airplane or train noises?"

"Neither. I'd rather not lose my hands," Hilary gave him a pointed look, "Just no more banging glasses or provoking Aunt Bertha. Do you really want to be hit with that purse again?"

She watched as he openly cringed at the thought. "I guess not. I probably don't want to annoy your Aunt Veronica either, she looks like she might have a mean left hook."

Hilary smiled, "What do you think happened to all those Kyles?"

It was at that moment Mrs. Tatibana bound for their table, taking up the final seat situated next to her husband. She looked around dreamily, "Aren't things just going so well?"

Mr. Tatibana made a face in disbelief. "Yeah... of course. Smoothest wedding I've ever been to." Surprisingly, neither Thomas nor Aunt Bertha interjected, obliging to stare at the woman with the same blank expression.

"What do you think, Tyson?" Mrs. Tatibana smiled as she turned her body toward the unsuspecting boy. "Things are going so well, don't you think?"

The blue haired boy nodded swiftly, playing along with the rest of his seat mates. He figured that as long as he didn't get in trouble for his previous actions, he would agree with pretty much anything. "It's going great. All your hard work is really paying off... Definitely going to be a wedding to remember."

Hilary rolled her eyes as her Mother giggled girlishly to Tyson's response; not that he minded at all, with a smile, he subtly winked to her in smugness. The brunette resisted the urge to wipe the smile off his face, clasping her hands together on her lap.

"So scrawny," Thomas started, leaning back in his chair with a glint in his eyes. "This wedding must really have you thinking..."

Hilary froze at the tone of her Grandpa's voice, knowing the direction he was heading and the wicked tongue he had for irking people. She tried her best to eye her boyfriend casually; from the look on his face, eyebrows crunched in concentration, she gathered he had no idea what the old man was talking about. Unfortunately, the other set of eyes at the table did as they watched with interest.

"Uh... what do you mean?" Tyson finally asked.

"Not exactly on the honour roll either, are you scrawny?" Thomas laughed in amusement. It was easy to see for Hilary that the jarring comments between her Grandpa and Aunt Bertha were getting under his skin. "Any ideas about marriage?"

"Marriage?" Tyson repeated. His annoyed expression soon evaporated into one of disarray. "No... not really. I don't even plan on getting married." When the words left his mouth, Tyson watched as all of Hilary's relatives at the table froze; except for Mr. Tatibana, his mouth opened and closed in silence. Coughing awkwardly, he continued, "I mean, not yet..."

Everyone at the table slowly came back to life, even Mr. Tatibana, who was still at a loss for words. Hilary cleared her throat uncomfortably, hoping the conversation would end there.

Thomas, on the other hand, didn't seem to want that. "It's never too early to think about your future," he lectured, pointing a finger at him, "Besides, Jacks might be all the rage in the future. Maybe you can be the champion of that too."

"Oh, you're interested in Jacks, Tyson?" Mrs. Tatibana inquired, surprised and somewhat confused at the change in conversation. Thomas couldn't help but laugh at Tyson's crestfallen face.

"Uh...," the boy tried to answer, placing his arms on the table.

But in a matter of moments, a purple sleeved arm reached over and a hand connected roughly with his forearms. "No elbows on the table!" Aunt Bertha shouted in her sing song drawl, "Were you raised in a barn?" Tyson quickly took his arms off the table, staring at the brazen woman in bewilderment. Not wanting to be hit again, he bit his lower lip in an attempt not to mention that if he was raised in a barn it would have no effect on how he acted at tables because of the lack of tables in barns; at least, ones that he knew of.

"When you meet a girl," Thomas continued in delight, "You should always think about marriage down the line."

"I'm not even in a serious relationship."

Once again, the words that left his mouth managed to freeze all of Hilary's relatives. He could see Mrs. Tatibana look at him with sad eyes, Aunt Bertha turning up her pinched nose, Mr. Tatibana's fish impersonation develop into a frustrated scowl, and Thomas had a new found grip on his cane. He figured Hilary also saw this and she came to his rescue by clanging a spoon against a glass once again as the room erupted into another kissing initiation. Confused by the girl's actions, the other four at the table joined in on the tradition.

Tyson let out a sigh of relief before clearing his throat roughly yet again. "Well... uh... I need to go to the washroom..."

Aunt Bertha sneered, "Just ask if you can be excused. We do not need to know the details."

"I'll show you where it is," Hilary offered, playing referee as per usual. Both teenagers stood from the table, Tyson beckoning his arm toward the girl that managed to save him from whatever her relatives' problems were. Hilary accepted his arm gratefully, predicting her heels were going to continue to be a problem. "We'll be back."

Mr. Tatibana was the only one to respond in the slightest, grumbling as he sent Tyson a dark glare. Everyone else seated gave tight smiles and avoided long standing eye contact; especially Mrs. Tatibana, who feared she may cry at the sight of them.

Tyson lead Hilary away from the table in an awkward silence, heading for her house. They picked up speed slightly after Hilary walked onto the pavement, knowing the grass could no longer grab a hold of her heels and send her hurtling.

"So... why didn't you tell me?" the blue haired boy finally asked, making their way for the back door. The house was basked in darkness as the evening set in the sky; soon the only light in the backyard would be the lanterns Mrs. Tatibana dutifully set up for ambiance.

"Tell you what...?" Hilary countered, hoping he hadn't been let on about her lying to him this whole time. She knew her family was acting suspicious, but in reality he would still have to assume a whole lot to pin point the ordeal.

He gave the brunette a funny look, letting his hand fall on the doorknob. "That your family was so pro marriage," Tyson rolled his eyes, "And abusive, your Grandpa was totally going to hit me with that cane."

"That's why I jumped in," Hilary stated as Tyson opened the door. She made her way into the house first, blindly searching the wall for the light switch. "He once threw his prosthetic leg at my Dad, I knew what was coming."

"Uh...," Tyson didn't know exactly what to say to that. Closing the door behind him, Hilary had finally found the switches to light up the room and hallway toward the staircase. "Think we could switch tables?"

"Probably wouldn't go so well," she decided, gesturing for Tyson to follow her.

"You know," Tyson said sheepishly, sticking his hands in his pockets, he trailed after the girl, "I really do have to go to the washroom."

"I figured, otherwise you would've said something else. It's upstairs," she told him, "I'll show you where it is."

"Oh great," he laughed, "This won't take long at all."

Hilary paused at the staircase, hitting some more light switches for the rooms upstairs to be washed in light. "We won't stop for a pep talk this time," she shot him a look in warning, "And no tricks this time either."

Tyson removed his hands from his pockets, holding them up in defence. "Hey, you were just as much at fault for everything as I was."

"You started it."

"Oh real mature, Hil." Offering her his arm once again, the brunette felt reassured there would be no issues. On one side of her there might have been questionable Tyson, but on the other side was the good, old, reliable banister. She could always cling to it for safety if Tyson decided to pull anything.

She quickly deduced that he had no plans up his sleeve as they bound slowly up the stairs. He must've really had to go to the washroom if he wasn't going to even pretend to lose his balance.

"When we go back out there, your whole family is going to think I'm slime," Tyson let out a deep sigh. He gave the brunette a quick glance to see that she seemed surprised. "I'm at a wedding saying I don't believe in weddings."

Hilary stopped advancing on the staircase, jerking Tyson back a step. "You don't believe in weddings?" She was genuinely surprised, figuring the boy would be married one day. To someone else, of course... and not in a wedding dress.

"Not ones where you marry five Kyles and then a Greg," Tyson revealed, shooting another glance down the staircase in case of a peeved, purple woman wielding a lethal purse.

"I think there was a Peter in there too."

"That's my point," Tyson quipped, looking at the girl with conviction. "Thinking about getting married to every girl you meet? That's crazy!"

"So... you don't believe in getting re-married?" Hilary guessed, tilting her head to the side.

"I don't believe in your family," Tyson countered, "Getting married at least seven times is a little insane. That's not love, that's... that's... I don't even know what to call that."

"I thought we agreed on no pep talks?" Hilary raised an eyebrow in hopes it would also beckon the teenage boy's memory. Carefully readjusting her feet on the single stair, she turned her body to face Tyson more.

"Wait... you agree with your family?" Tyson ignored her comment all together, taken back by the prospect he came across. "You're telling me that every guy you've ever met... you think about marrying them?"

"What? That's not what I meant."

"So you've thought about marrying me?" Tyson continued, his face contorting with the possible new information about his friend.

Hilary's face flushed red, "No... I've never... Shut-up, I wasn't even saying I agreed with them."

"Good," the blue haired boy nodded in a single, fluid movement. He smiled softly, shuffling his feet on the stair. "I wouldn't want to think of you getting married to all of these guys. I'd rather you find the right guy and be happy."

Squeezing his arm in gratitude, Hilary returned his smile shyly. "You're forgetting, these are the relatives I don't see often," she explained, "My Mom's side is sane. They get married less often and don't hurt people when given the opportunity."

"What a relief," Tyson jeered, "I wonder what side you take after more?"

Hilary desperately wanted to hit him in the side with her elbow, letting him tumble down the stairs. She suspected that if that happened, he would be sure to bring her with him. "Ha," she humoured him.

"Wait...," Tyson paused, "If your Aunt Veronica's been married so many times, why haven't you been to a wedding in so long?"

"Honestly, my Dad said something about going to one wedding per name for her new husbands," Hilary let out a sigh, not exactly opposing her Father's views on the ongoing events of her Aunt. "There were a lot of Uncle Kyles for a while..."

"Not even when your Dad likes them?"

"He never really gets the chance to like them. Since our holidays are so spaced out, it's practically a new guy at every one." Seeing Tyson's confusion, she decided to delve deeper into the goings-on of Aunt Veronica. "You think she gets married a lot? You should see how many guys she's dated. She may not marry them all, but she gets engaged to most of them."

Tyson whistled. "Must wear off the magic."

"Not for Aunt Bertha."

"Well, no. That's because they're too alike." A smirk suddenly played onto Tyson's lips, making Hilary suspicious. "One day your Aunt Veronica is going to wake up wearing all purple with a giant feather on her head and she's going to wish she held onto one of her husbands."

"Tyson!" Hilary scolded, removing her grasp from his arm carefully to hit him.

"It's going to happen and you know it," Tyson shrugged aimlessly, paying no attention to the minor damage. It was important to note Hilary also had a mean left hook and if anyone knew, it was Tyson. "Only benefit is you can hear that annoying sing-song thing they do from miles away. It's like a battle cry."

"I think you're enjoying this too much."

"Hey, I'm just kidding," he reassured her, holding out his arm for her to take again. Tyson gave her an apologetic look, "When you have a Grandpa like mine, you have to have a sense of humour. I don't get why people don't make fun of him, as embarrassing as he is."

"I think he's endearing," Hilary smiled as she accepted his arm. "Besides, he is pretty hip. He never makes fun of guests."

"Hip? Sheesh Hilary, maybe you shouldn't hang around my Grandpa anymore," Tyson chuckled as he helped Hilary begin climbing up the stairs again. She merely sighed in an attempt to ignore him. "We don't need anyone else to start wearing Hawaiian shirts and ruining them for me again."

"Oh gee, thanks," Hilary lightly pushed him in the side; enough for him to feel it, but not enough for them to lose balance. "Continuously complimenting girls like that... How do you keep them at bay?"

"That's easy," Tyson muttered, "Bring Kai along."

Hilary didn't say anything as a retort, not wanting to bruise the boy's ego by accident. Instead she let out a sigh of relief when they conquered the last step and she no longer had to rely on Tyson to protect her from gravity; at least, not as much.

"The washroom's down the hall," she gestured loosely with a nod of her head. "And it's a bit of a pain to use since my Dad remodelled it."

"Why didn't you say that a while ago?" Tyson gave her a funny look as they descended the hallway. "I could have just gone outside."

Hilary halted in her tracks, pulling on Tyson's arm enough so that he faced her. Curling her nose in disgust, she attempted to give him the most horrified look possible. "Ew! You don't do that, especially not at weddings."

"I'm a guy."

"Not at weddings!"

"I'm pretty sure I'm still a guy," Tyson rolled his eyes, making Hilary grunt in annoyance. "Besides your Aunt Veronica's had so many weddings, she's bound to have some bad ones. And it's not like I would do it in a lightly lit area."

"We're not having this conversation," Hilary said bluntly, gripping his arm and dragging him down the hallway. "This is the first wedding my Mom's planned, do you really want to give her a heart attack?"

"Is it still usable?" Tyson sighed. Approaching the door, he tried to see into the dimly lit room. The room did look completely functional and well put together, much to Tyson's confusion. He reached into the room catching sight of the light switches before flicking them upwards. When the room remained in darkness, Tyson let out a breath of air. "The lights don't work?"

"You have to use a drawstring," Hilary explained, letting go of Tyson's arm. She waddled carefully into the center of the room, head tilted upward as she searched for the impromptu device.

Tyson followed her in, kicking aside the door stopper on his way to help Hilary in the middle of the room. "Your Dad's quite the handyman."

"Yeah. He didn't screw too many things up. Just make sure the door doesn't...," Hilary's words trailed off when the room was enclosed in pure darkness as the sound of a bang reverberated in their ears, "... shut."

"What's the big deal?" Tyson asked relieved when the room suddenly lit up, even if his eyes weren't when they readjusted. He took the few steps toward the door and twisted the doorknob to no avail.

"It wouldn't be a big deal...," Hilary bit her lip, "If my Dad hadn't installed the doorknob backwards."

"You're saying we're locked in here?" Tyson faced her, eyebrows raised in question.

"Until someone else has to go to the washroom," Hilary nodded. She turned toward the sole small window in the room, hearing the muffled voices of people talking on microphones and grouped laughter. "Sounds like they've started to do some toasts..."

"You know, this is all your fault," Tyson stated, hitting the wall to voice his frustration. Hilary looked over her shoulder, sending him a menacing glare. Avoiding eye contact, he slumped against the wall. "You couldn't just let me go outside..."

"That's still disgusting, Tyson."

"Yeah, well, remind me not to hire your Dad for handy work."