Chapter 25
19! 19! I've officially had two birthdays with this fic… that's really cool, and also a little weird to think about o.O'
Disclaimer: Beyblade and all related characters are property of Takao Aoki.
KEY: II …(italics)… II —denotes a change in language (Russian)
— II …(bold)… II —denotes a second change in language
— ¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ —denotes a change in point of view: from Kai's view to third person
Enjoy!
';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'
Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun
Sholay
';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'
';.;'
"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away the things of a child."
—Bible; 1 Corinthians 13:11
';.;'
Chapter 25: Phantom Pain
There was once a time, when I was around nine or ten, that I had a great starvation for human contact. An overwhelming need for attention—affection—would consume my mind: motivating every action I took, lurking behind every decision I made.
And yet, constantly under the vigilant, overbearing eye of my Grandfather, the times I actually found myself in the company of other people—away from the influence of his long shadow—were few and far between.
There were times when I did not leave the house for many days; and this was when the demons in my mind howled and beat their cages loudest.
My Grandmother, when she was alive, was a kindly woman. Always having her hands busy at one project or another, it was rare to ever find her bored or without something to do. Nonetheless, she never failed to put aside time for me. My most vivid memory of her is a sharp, eidetic image: she would be bending over a thick cooking book in the kitchen, silver hair tied back in a messy bun, hands covered in powder as she ponders her next culinary masterpiece. I would walk to her and she would look up, smile, and push a stray piece of hair behind one ear, leaving a long smudge of white flower across one cheek.
But as painfully fond of her as I was—and as much as I valued her attention—she, in her own way, scared me more than Grandfather.
Grandfather's affection was logical and easily understood. I fulfilled a purpose to him. I did well in my studies, performed well in competitions and upheld the family honour—thus he was happy. As long as I did what he wanted—kept him pleased, was useful in some manner—he liked me. It was an easy concept to understand.
But Grandmother was not anything like Grandfather. I never had to do anything to make her smile—just walk into the same room as her and her face would break out into a beautiful smile that warmed me and frightened me all at the same time. Whether I came home with successes or failures, her attitude to me never seemed to sway. She was constantly supportive, constantly happy with me and I could not understand it—this unconditional affection she gifted me with.
I always feared the day she would turn her back on me. I worried and fretted over every word I said to her, every gesture—lest it make her mad. Because in a way I had come to depend on her constant, unwavering concern, even as I shunned it. I was always polite with her, always formal. In a way, I think my distance from her hurt her, but I could not help myself. I was scared, so scared that one day I would say something, do something, that would break this fragile bond between us—shatter her regard for me—and make her realize what I really was. I was not this timid, sensitive creature that I played in front of her. I was aggressive, I was cold; I was nothing like what she thought I was.
I used to have these thoughts: thoughts that maybe I did not need Grandmother's affection. Such an incredible strain it was to hide myself, and walk on eggshells whenever I was around her. Was this the way all human interaction was? This painful, this tedious?
Then maybe I didn't want any of it.
But behind the fire of indignant rage, there was always that simmering presence of guilt. How could I shun Grandmother's affection, when she had been kind enough to give it to me in the first place?
I loved her… and hated her… And often I would wonder if it was this beastly hate that prevented me from hearing her collapse, and kept me from finding her in time to save her.
When Grandmother died, I felt nothing but pain for a very long time. And—having nothing to stare at but the cold, black stones of Grandfather's prison for many days on end—I had plenty of time to think upon, and mutilate my notion of this pain.
It was a poor weakness: my concern for other people. I realized that it was my desire to make Grandmother like me that gave me such internal conflict. I realized that making bonds with people required me to give something of my self up to them—and it doing so I made myself vulnerable. I realized… that human interaction was tedious, cumbersome… and pointless… Because if I could not make even my own living relative love me than what chance did I have with any stranger?
And it was then that I learned one of the most important lessons of my short life:
The joy of being alone.
I lived by this principle for many years. It made me haughty and impersonal; aloof. I could complete Grandfather's missions without regret to the victims involved. I was above them; I had my own goals, my own life, and human interaction was not a necessity in that model. For all I cared, the rest of the world could have gone to rot.
And then I met the Bladebreakers.
It is quite amazing, what being stuck in the same room as a bunch of cocky, arrogant, obnoxious brats can do to one after a few months. Certainly, my opinion of them changed throughout the time we spent together—through no lack of effort on their part—but really, after having overcome so many obstacles and having traveled so long together, it comes as no real surprise to me that their well-being had somehow wormed itself into my regard. It was a forced affection.
I do not have a natural tendency to care for people—certainly not strangers—and certainly not this red-head standing before me now.
Who is this boy, to whom I feel obligated to show concern? Who is this Tala, that invokes such buried feelings in me, when I have long since closed myself off from people?
I do not know him, so why do I feel that I should?
"II What's wrong? What happened? II" Tala, speaking in Russian, voices his concern and breaks through my thoughts.
I suppress a noise growing at the back of my throat—whether a sigh or a snort, I am not sure. Typical Tala; he knows I will not answer to the emotion-driven "Are you okay?" so he is instead he is trying to skirt around the question by asking me to give a fact-based response.
It occurs to me, suddenly, that I should not have this personal insight on Tala's character; and my mood plummets. I remember where I am: in the washroom of the Beyblade Pavilion, Moskva, Russia… in a room adjacent to my Grandfather.
I straighten
"Nothing." I say curtly, in clipped English. My first instinct had been to respond in like to Tala's Russian. But the language repulses me as a potential connection between Tala and myself. By speaking English I am ever increasing the distance between us.
I look at Tala, willing him with an intense stare to move out of my way. But he stands firm, blocking the exit from the room.
"II Kai, I am not a fool. What is going on? II" Tala's eyes stray to my left and I follow them to look down at sink—where the remnants of my illness have long since disappeared—then at the marble counter, around which my hand is still tightly clenched. The tension in my white knuckles is obvious and I scowl at the apparent weakness.
With a definitive shove, I push away from the counter. But I underestimated the support the counter had been giving me. A sharp pain lances up my side, I gasp, a spark in my knees makes my legs buckle and I fall—
"Naar!" A loud cry pierces my ears.
And I remember Tala's presence in the room. Fighting to stay on my feet, I force my feet to move… Barely, just barely, they manage to carry me to the side and my arm slams up against the wall. I cringe as the movement jars my broken rib but I remain clinging to the wall, unable to even move away, for fear that my legs will give out again.
I clench my jaw, teeth gnashing against each other. I feel angry. Angry at myself for being so weak, angry at Voltaire for always putting me in these situations, angry at Boris for enjoying it… and angry at Tala for just being here.
There is a hissing intake of breath, I hear Tala drawing closer. My head still hanging low, I flick my eyes up and see him reaching out to me. Something in my expression makes him hesitate and he draws back.
"II … Kai… this, this is serious. You can't even stand! What's going on? You… you need a doctor! II"
Tala's exclamation makes my eyes widen. A doctor… No… I cannot afford to be incapacitated. Not now. I will be doing Voltaire's work for him.
There is no choice. My eyes close; I lean the side of my head against the cool, tiled wall.
Dranzer.
A burst of Phoenix song fills my head and I am sure that Dranzer sounds almost relieved that I called her. Her warmth rises in my chest, easing the tension in my ribs and I take a deep intake of blessed air. The warmth spreads outward, engulfing me like fuzzy bubble. All sense of pain and tiredness fall away not unlike worthless scales shedding off my body, I feel heady at the sudden relief.
But using Dranzer's power like this has a great cost.
The strain it takes to numb my pain takes strength from both her and myself. From her it is a spiritual strength that only time and rest can recover. For me there is a more dangerous consequence. The strength taken is physical, but using Dranzer's energy also has much the same effect on the body as the ingestion of a strong opioid. A quick, initial spike of euphoria, followed by a serene numbness descending like a blanket around the mind—there is a thrill of incredible power that thrums though the veins, tempting with wicked promises to fulfill the darkest of desires. It lasts, and preys on the mind: weakening neurons, inhibiting thought and reason. And when it finally passes, it leaves in its wake a vast wreckage of restlessness, insomnia, illness and paranoia.
Dranzer, who is usually spent after these sessions and confined both body and mind to her blade, has remained innocent of these side effects.
In a Beybattle, it is common for the blader to lend their strength to their linked beast… but the connection is not meant to be used both ways. The human body, frail and fragile, has not the capacity to contain the power of a Bey spirit. In small doses the damage is minimal, such is the nature of the mental link between human and beast, but in large doses what was once a power can become fatal.
More than that, Dranzer has not the ability to heal. So, even though the pain is gone, my rib is undoubtedly still broken—and, guaranteed, once this power of hers fades, I will be left with one nasty headache and a very agitated wound.
I will have to deal with that when the time comes.
Taking another breath—and marveling silently at how much more deeply I can breathe without the stinging pain in my side—I let all thought fade from my mind and compose myself. Slowly, with a fluid, deliberate motion, I detach my hand from the wall and raise my head.
My eyes lock onto Tala's suspicious blue ones. I let my arm fall to my side, then take a step away from the wall. Tala frowns, opens his mouth, but stops when he sees that I am standing unaided. I take another step, but this time I move forward, putting myself right before Tala.
He looks… shocked. It is not so much a change in facial expression that denotes this emotion, more that I can sense the innate feeling from his eyes. Again, I have this unshakable sense that Tala is more than just another stranger.
'Who are you to me, Tala?'
"I need no doctor. I am fine." I say clearly to him.
"II What are you talking about? II" Tala cries indignantly, still speaking in Russian. He obstinately refuses to changes languages—much like I. "II Two seconds ago you were close to collapsing. Now just because you're putting on your transparent 'tough-guy' act you think I'll forget all about it? C'mon Kai, you know me better than that! II"
One of my eyebrows rises at Tala's last words, but I let the comment slide off me.
"I told you: nothing is wrong." And I step swiftly around Tala, heading toward the door.
"Dammit Kai!" Tala bites out. "Kai!"
I ignore him.
"Naar!"
I freeze. Such is the effect of the word on me.
"II Don't you dare try to deceive me, Naar. II" I can feel the dark scowl he's giving me prickle on the back of my neck. "II I know something is wrong. Tell me. II"
I suck at my teeth as my mouth pulls down into a distasteful frown. Tala's tone… it holds just the vaguest implications of authority. He is commanding, not asking, me to forfeit my knowledge. My eyes narrow. I abhor orders.
"Tala." I turn, pinning his eyes with my own to make sure he is listening closely to my words. "Let me make this very clear for you. You are not my brother. You are not my friend. Do not command me."
Tala recoils, looking like he has just been slapped. Hurt reflects in his wide eyes and in that moment he looks terribly vulnerable.
I cannot explain the tightness in my chest as I watch the betrayed expression visibly contort the lines on his face.
"You…" Finally, he has relented, Tala's words have switched to English—though it is a hollow victory. "How can you say that so coldly? Don't you remember… ?" His voice trails off at the end and I cannot help but wonder what he was about to say.
"Remember what?" I ask with a carefully neutral expression.
"Your past! Our past! Those years we spent at the Abbey together; you were my best friend Kai! Don't you dare joke about forgetting something that important!" Tala's voice is desperate but rises with an aggressive edge at the end.
I frown. And he looks at me, as though trying to divine some answer from my expression.
"C'mon Kai… Naar!... I can understand you wanting to hide yourself in front of everyone else, but we know each other better than anyone! You can let down that mask in front of me!"
Mask? I tilt my head. What is Tala talking about?
"You've been acting weird… even when you returned to the Abbey last year. I was so mad, so mad at you… that I avoided you completely. But you… you never even acknowledged my presence! You acted like you didn't even know who I was! Why? What is wrong with you? Did you forget about me, about the Abbey? Or are you really that cruel?" Tala's voice lowers with his last words, twisting with accusation.
Something in me balks at the thought of Tala considering me to be cruel. I feel an urge to blurt out the truth… to just tell Tala that I had no memory of the time before I was nine. That I didn't remember the Abbey, that I didn't remember him.
But to admit my faults is to expose my vulnerability. I might as well cut myself off at my knees.
"I do not know what you are talking about." I say lowly, not meeting his eyes.
Tala drops his head to the side, bending and trying to catch my gaze. "You're lying." He says confidently. I stiffen. "You know something… but you don't want to tell me… Kai… I've heard these rumours around the Abbey. They say that you lost your memories in the explosion after Black Dranzer… is that… is it true?"
I draw in a slow breath of air. And hold it.
Tala sighs and shakes his head. "But that can't be true… It can't, because I saw you after that, you were fine. You were fine until they took us down to the labs and…—" Tala breaks off and gasps. My eyes shoot up to look at him suspiciously. What is he talking about? "My god…" Tala breathes. "It's true. They took your memories! That lying, thieving bastard Boris! I'm gonna—!" Tala cuts himself off again and turns his head violently to the side, clenching one fist tightly.
"What are you babbling about?" I ask, growing impatient with his half-sentences.
"Nothing, nothing, it's not important" Tala looks back at me. "But… you must have some memories at least, right? You couldn't have lost them all… Like… Like… Remember the first time we met? We were in one of those lower level training areas and you saved me from being rejected by the Abbey. Don't you remember Kai? You lost the match for me and Boris got so angry with you… that was the first time I called you 'Red'…" He looks at me, eyes flickering back and forth across my face, searching for some recognition.
But my mind is frozen in shock. Tala's words… they resemble so closely the hallucination I had just recently. How would Tala know about that…?
"Or… or how about the time when Wolborg got experimented on… back when he was still Lupin. They gave him an element and you said I should give him a different name… Remember Kai? Wolborg got his name thanks to you!"
"No… stop this." I turn away, my mind is reeling, I can't accept this… I won't accept this. These hallucinations… all this time… have they been real? I raise a hand to rest over my mouth, and am loathed to find myself trembling. Through sheer force of will I stop the tremors in my hand, then place the side of my index finger under my nose.
"No, I won't stop! You have to believe me, you have to trust me, I'm not lying to you… Look, look…" Out of the corner of my eye I see Tala fiddling with his gloves. He pulls up the culls of his sleeves, undoing the silver buttons on one glove, then slips it off his hand. "See, here, look at this tattoo, and tell me you don't have one just like it on your left wrist!" And there, on his inner wrist is the symbol of a five point star, formed out of dark, Prussian blue teardrops. Involuntarily, my right hand goes to cover up my tattoo, the twin image of his, on my left wrist.
"They put these on our dominant hand. Don't you remember? Our initiation ceremony, what we had to do to get these! That stupid mafia tradition!" Tala recklessly keeps talking, some wild passion alight in his eyes. "I know it's on your left wrist because before the accident you were left handed. Then, after the Abbey collapsed you got hurt and couldn't use your left hand anymore—"
"Enough…Enough." It's as close to a shout as I would ever get without completely loosing my composure, and thankfully it seems enough to stop Tala and his imprudent accusations.
But it's all true, isn't it?
There is no way Tala could have known about the visions I have been having… I told no one, described them to no one… He could not have known… Which meant… If he knew of these events, then they must have happened… and if these visions were real… then the others…
Boris, bearing down on me, a vile grin on his sunken features.
I shake my head, refusing to believe. Putting all reason away, I gather all my thoughts up and throw them into a dark corner of my mind. There they will remain, seething quietly, until I am alone and in better condition to face them properly.
My shoulders relax and I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.
"That is enough, Tala." I say evenly. But even as I focus my eyes on Tala's face, my right hand is still tracing the patterns of the teardrops on my left wrist. Something he mentioned—about the meaning of the tattoo, and the mafia—perked my interest. Later, I will have to research the topic in greater detail.
"No, Kai… It will never be enough." Tala shakes his head. "It will never be enough; not until I get my friend back. What happened to the old you, Naar?"
I hesitate, wondering if there is really an answer I can give to such a rhetorical question, when Tala suddenly curses loudly.
"What?" I ask, then follow his gaze to the ground behind me. A strip of yellow light is emanating from under the washroom door, contrasting sharply against the sterile white florescent light bulbs in the washroom.
"Damn! They turned on the lights!" Tala hisses. I frown, not understanding what he is talking about. "Boris will find me out if I stay here too long." He mutters then quickly looks up at me. "Kai, get out of here, I'll follow right after."
I pause, but looking at Tala I understand this is not the time for questions. So I nod silently and head to the door.
"Kai…?" Tala's voice stops me just as I press a palm to the door.
"Hn." I force the low noise from my nose.
"Boris and Voltaire are planning something…" I can almost see him fiddling with the edge of his glove, as he always does when he is worried.
"I know."
"… Stay safe." Tala says at length. "And… if you ever resolve things with the Director, know that you'll always have a place at the Abbey with the Demolition Boys."
I resist the urge to snap back a cutting reply. Tala does not deserve to have his naïve world shattered in such a callous way. But his ironic comment is wrong, so wrong, on so many levels, that I don't even know what to say to him. That Tala could still trust in the merits of Biovolt, after everything they've done? One minute he is cursing Boris, the next he is lauding him; the hypocrisy is... I have no words for him, only a lingering regret.
"I… understand." I answer after a break.
It is a lie.
With a purposeful shove, I open the door and walk out.
¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤
Someone had found the light switch.
With light restored to the room, it didn't take long for everyone to realize the main cause of the disturbance. A small red-headed boy with ripped jeans and a sloppy t-shirt was bounding and jumping around the room. Not unlike a wild monkey, he raced from one person to the other, all the while screaming his head off about beating Tyson in a Beybattle.
Sparing a few moments for open-mouthed shock, the adults in the room quickly gathered themselves and attempted to catch the child. But when the boy danced easy out of Judy's clumsy tackle—causing her to topple sideways onto Mrs. Foster, who grabbed onto Mr. Tate, who overbalanced and led to all three of them falling into an undignified heap—it soon became an all out war between both adults and teens alike and the little boy. They leaped over couches and upturned chairs in their pursuit of the child but at every turn he wriggled out of their grasp: either jumping right over them or brandishing table lamps and cutlery to ward them off.
The only ones not participating in this embarrassing display were the Russian part of the group. Spencer, Bryan and Ian stayed near their favoured couch, watching the chaos unfold with vaguely disturbed looks, though Spencer noticed that Bryan seemed to gain a certain gleam in his eyes when the red-headed boy grabbed onto Rei's long hair and yanked it mercilessly.
In another, quieter corner of the room, Voltaire gestured for Boris' attention.
"I grow tired of this childishness." Voltaire intoned. "Send your dogs after the little rat."
Boris lowered his head obediently and caught the eye of one guard. Nodding, Boris made a jerking motion with two of his fingers toward the wayward child and the guard immediately responded.
Specifically trained in the art of capture and retrieval of children of all ages, it was the work of mere minutes for the guard to overtake and pin the red-head's hands behind his back. Yelling and kicking, the boy struggled wildly, tossing his head and repeatedly stabbing the heel of his foot into the guard's shins. Unmoved, the guard merely grunted before bodily lifting the child off the ground and stuffing him non-too-gently on a wrought iron hook-like fixture on the wall. Though the boy thrashed, swinging both arms and legs violently back and forth, he remained stuck, hanging by the back of his shirt, on the wall.
"Whew!" Enrique whistled, sitting on a sofa nearby. "They are-a thugs, but they sure come in handy, eh, Bobby?"
Robert scoffed.
"Good." Voltaire, standing out of hearing range, spoke to Boris. "It seems that at least some of your subordinates remain under your control."
"I—" Boris fumbled. "Excuse me, my Lord?" Following Voltaire's gaze, Boris' eyes landed on his team and that was when he noticed the very pointed absence of his Team Captain.
"Over there." Voltaire said calmly, in answer to Boris' unasked question.
Boris looked over to the washrooms just in time to see Tala trying to sneak out unnoticed.
"You will want to speak with him." Voltaire turned away. "Make sure he did not upset my Grandson."
Only once Voltaire was a safe distance away did Boris let a dark scowl stretch across his face. "Insufferable old man." He grumbled under his breath. Nonetheless, Boris forced his anger away from Voltaire Hiwatari and instead focused it on another, more accessible target. Narrowing his eyes, Boris' features twisted into a dangerous look as he bore down on the unsuspecting Tala.
';.;'
"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" Tyson was poking the red-headed boy in the head. The boy was resolutely ignoring him. Having calmed from his previous tantrum, the child had moved on to a stubborn sulk, crossing his arms and turning his head away, trying to maintain as much dignity as he could while hanging on the wall like an ornament. "Hey," Tyson was relentless; his finger raised to poke the boy in the forehead again. "Hey, hey—"
"WOULD YOU STOP THAT!?" Finally unable to handle it anymore, the boy screamed his words at Tyson, turning to display the red, irritated spot on his forehead where Tyson had been repeatedly prodding him.
"Hey, don't get mad!" Tyson shrugged with an easy grin. "I just wanted to ask what your name is."
The boy gaped.
"Wow, Tyson, you sure know how to torture a guy into talking…" Michael leaned back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head and watching the events with a lazy eye.
"He's had lots of practice during all those times the Chief tried to pull the silent treatment on him." Max answered, standing behind the American. Michael smirked up at Max and Kenny flushed in embarrassment, rubbing his forehead as though trying to rid himself of the phantom pain.
"Well… at least I didn't get all upset over it…" Kenny muttered, shifting Dizzy in his lap.
"Hmm?" Michael lowered his head to regard the small boy and his long auburn hair fell to cover one eye. "What do you mean?"
"Oh he's talking about Kai! Aren't you Chief?" Dizzy piped up.
Kenny nodded. Then, remembering Dizzy couldn't see him, added a verbal 'yeah'.
"It was back when we just met each other," Max took up the story, watching Michael as he spoke. "See, Kai…uh…hehe… Kai likes his privacy." Max grinned sheepishly and scratched at the hair near his temple.
"Now zat is an understatement." Oliver, hearing the conversation, had moved closer to join them. "Zee first time I spoke to zee guy 'e nearly bit my 'ead off… and I was complimenting 'im!" Oliver chuckled.
Max laughed. "Yes, well, to be fair you were kinda acting like a jerk." Max's causal tone softened his words and Oliver just shrugged. "Anyway, so we were having our first Team meeting and Tyson got into his head that we should all introduce ourselves and say something embarrassing about ourselves." Here Max blushed, but refused to elaborate on the topic. "Kai was standing away from all of us, leaning against a tree. He had his eyes closed so Tyson thought he was asleep…"
There rose a low groan from Max's audience as they realized Tyson was about to do something stupid.
"So Tyson, being Tyson, walked right up to him and started poking him. Kai's pretty tall, and Tyson didn't really dare to reach up and poke him in the head so he just kept poking him in the arm…"
"What happened?" Michael was now watching Max intently, the heavy feeling of something like dread in his stomach.
"Well, on the fourth or fifth poke, Kai's eyes just suddenly opened and WHAM!" Max threw his hand out in a sharp gesture, startling Oliver and Michael. "He grabbed Tyson by the front of his jacket and lifted him right up to his eyes."
"Tyson was practically hanging off the ground." Dizzy added helpfully.
"And then he glared at Tyson and said, in a very low voice," Here Max lowered his head and tried to mimic Kai's deep baritone " 'Tyson, if you poke me one more time I swear I'll vivi—vovi—vici— ' Oh… what was it he said?" Completely breaking the intensity of the moment, Max laughed and scratched his head, trying to remember the word Kai had used.
"Vivisect! He said he'd vivisect Tyson!" Dizzy crowed.
Max blushed. "Yeah, that's it… vivisect, whatever that means…" He was completely oblivious to Oliver and Michael's pale faces.
"Don't feel bad, Max," Kenny consoled. "I don't think Tyson knew what it meant either. I think only me and Rei got it… Rei was skirting around Kai for days after that remember?"
"Oh yeah!" Max laughed. "Back them Rei didn't really trust Kai; it took him a while to warm up to him."
"I wonder why!" Michael said sarcastically, unnerved by the story. "The guy's a maniac. If that's how he treats his team mates remind me never to get on his bad side!"
"Oh, well, Kai's not that bad, really," Max defended. "He's a bit scary, but he's pretty patient also. And it takes a lot to really make him mad."
"Yeah, and when that happens be ready to run, otherwise all we'll have left to remember you by is a smoking three foot crater." Though the words were sarcastic, Dizzy's tone was serious enough to bring the worried looks back to Oliver and Michael's faces.
"Yeah! And in it we'll have to put Tyson's gravestone: 'Here lies Tyson: he slept in one too many times, may he now rest in peace eternally free of evil death glares.' " Max laughed, Kenny and Dizzy joining him.
Oliver and Michael looked at one another.
"Zey are all insane, aren't zey?" Oliver asked.
"I hear ya." Michael muttered back.
Tyson and the red-headed boy continued to speak, oblivious to the interaction going on around them.
"The name's Daichi!" The red-head raised his head and puffed out his chest proudly, though from his position in the air the motion seemed more like overcompensation. "Daichi Sumeragi! And I'm here to find a guy named Tyson Granger and beat him with my Stratadragoon!"
"Me?" Tyson pointed to himself innocently. "Why me?"
"YOU'RE Tyson?!" Daichi cried incredulously staring at Tyson as though he had five heads. "You're the current World Champion?"
"Yup!" Tyson drew himself up proudly. "That's me: Tyson Granger, World Champ!"
Daichi stilled, sending Tyson a long look before seeming to come to a conclusion; his eyelids fell half way. "You've gotta be kidding. No way is an idiot like you the best Beyblader in the world."
From behind Tyson there came a few chuckles. "Kid's gotta sense o' humour in 'im." Johnny said wryly from where he was seated. "I'z been askin' meself that same question ev'ry day too."
Mariah, also sitting nearby, rolled her head over the back of the chair to look at Johnny. "You're not still upset that you lost to his team a year ago, are you Johnny? You should learn to let these things go."
"Ah, shaddup." Johnny scowled at the pink-haired girl.
Mariah's eyes flashed and for a moment she looked like she was going to make an angry retort, but then Rei came up behind her and put a calming hand on her shoulder.
"Don't take him too seriously, Mariah," He said soothingly. "He's like that to everyone."
Mariah visibly relaxed under Rei's hand and nodded her head. "Fine." She said.
Seeing Mariah so easily subdued, a smirk grew on Johnny's face and he opened his mouth to make a comment but was interrupted by Enrique raising his hand. Johnny cocked an eyebrow at the blond Italian.
"Do not-a mock the poor kids, Johnny!" Enrique said magnanimously. "Can you not-a see they are in love?"
Sniggers broke out all around at this comment and Rei and Mariah turned equal shades of vibrant red.
"W-we're not…" Rei stuttered.
"It's not like that!" Mariah raised both her hands.
"I had wonder when you admit this." Lee said stiltingly in his choppy English.
Enrique's eyes widened. "Do not-a tell me! Rei! This is your first love is it not?" Rei, if possible, blushed harder. "Then you must let-a Enrique take you under his wing!" Enrique made a wide beckoning motion with one arm, though Rei stayed rooted where he was. Enrique threw back his blond hair with a toss of his head. "Come, come! Do not-a be afraid! Enrique will-a tell you aaaall about the wonderful adventures of love! He will-a tell you how to woo the ladies with your charm! Mesmerize them with your talent! In no time you will-a have women of all sorts swooning at your feet—!" And Enrique was promptly smacked over the back of his head by Emily.
"Don't you dare start spouting your nonsense around here!" Emily scolded. "One Casanova is more than enough. You don't need to go around breeding any more, thank you very much!"
"Oh so you admit, that I am a Master of love?" Enrique winked.
Emily smacked him again, harder.
"Wow, sheesh, woman, do you hafta be so violent?" Johnny cringed in sympathy, but when Emily raised her threatening gaze to him he wisely closed his mouth.
"Ooww… Ah what pain those in love must suffer!" Enrique wailed, rubbing his head. "But the hunnies are-a worth it, ci, Rei?" And he smirked up at Rei, who denied it profusely under Mariah's narrowed eyes. Emily looked like she was going to smack Enrique again. The Italian, seeing the dangerous gleam in her eyes, edged away from her warily.
Hilary wondered how on Earth these people had managed to survive this long without killing each other.
Meanwhile, Tyson and Daichi were having their own heated discussion.
"Hey, I am SO worthy of being Champ! I could beat a puny shrimp like you any day!" Tyson said aggressively, putting his face close to Daichi's.
"Oh yeah? Then why dontcha PROVE it, big shot? And I am NOT a shrimp!" Daichi yelled back and Tyson had to back away to avoid being sprayed with spittle.
"I don't hafta prove ANYTHING to a little shrimp like you! I could beat you in my sleep!" Tyson grinned cockily.
"Could not! You're too stupid!" Daichi shot back.
"Well, you're puny! What are you, ten? Twelve? Where're you're parents, kid, shouldn't you be running back to your Mommy?" Tyson grinned, thinking he'd won the argument.
But the reaction he got was unexpected. Daichi's eyes seemed to alight with renewed vigour and his struggles against the wall hook gained strength.
"Give it up, kid, you'll never get down from there." Tyson crossed his arms and watched Daichi, unconcerned.
"Wanna bet?" Suddenly Daichi planted both his feet against the wall and, with a mighty shove, pushed himself away from the wall. With a loud ripping sound, Daichi broke free of the hook and shot forward; right at Tyson.
Tyson only had time to uncross his arms and widen his eyes before a blurred ball of scrappy clothes and bright red hair collided with him and threw him right off his feet.
"Oof!"
"Hey! Gerroff me, kid!"
Alex Tate, having picked himself up off the ground after his embarrassing fall, moved away from Judy and Mrs. Foster. He brushed off his pants and then caught the twinkling eyes of Mr. Granger.
"What…?" Alex grew nervous at that look and followed Ryu Granger's eyes to the tangle of flailing limbs that was Tyson and Daichi rolling around on the ground. "Oh no!" Alex backed away in horror, raising his hands. "No way am I going near that kid again, he's a monster I tell you! No one that short should be able to jump so high! He leaped clean over me: kicked me in the head! Didn't you see?!"
A soft but firm hand was placed on Alex's shoulder and he was unceremoniously pushed backward. Alex stopped his rambling and looked in surprise at who had shoved him back.
"Stay out of this, Alex." Judy Tate passed him, rolling up her sleeves. "Let a master handle it." And she threw him a grin—one he was only too familiar with—and in spite of the fact that he was no longer her husband, he still felt a shiver run between his shoulder blades at that look.
"This will only take a second." And she moved in.
';.;'
Tala knew he was in major trouble.
The second he saw the lights had come back on outside the washroom he knew it would only be a matter of time before Boris noticed he was missing.
He let Kai leave the room first—partially because there was no way he was going to try and squeeze past his old friend while he was in that mood; and partially because that long forgotten overprotectiveness he'd once harboured toward the younger boy seemed to still have some last dregs of its feelers stuck into him.
By having him leave the room first, Tala could be sure that Kai would be less likely to get caught up in whatever Boris was going to do to deal with his disobedience.
Silently, Tala watched Kai's back as the sterile blue door swung shut behind him, and he wondered; how easily 'Kai' had replaced the young, wide-eyed optimistic child he'd once protected so fiercely in his mind.
Tala had imagined… had hoped… that once he broke past those barriers around 'Kai' that he'd once again become that slightly quirky, passionate boy he'd known in his childhood. In his mind he'd referred to his old friend not as 'Kai' but as 'Naar', because to him they had been two separate people.
Naar was the naïve little kid who'd once stuck out his neck and saved a stranger just 'because'. Naar was shy, smart and a complete goodie-goodie. Tala had been drawn to the quiet, lonely kid almost immediately and had great fun in getting him to open up and trust him. Because he'd always known Naar had the potential in him to care, it was just buried beneath layers and layers of distrust and hurt… In a way Naar had reminded Tala of himself.
But Kai… Kai was cold. Kai was arrogant and malicious. Kai was a wall, created out of ice and diamond, completely impenetrable. Tala could not reach out to such an icy figure, could not ever hope to move past those walls because there simply was no weakness in them; there was no weakness because they weren't walls… not really. They were a manifestation of everything Tala had ever feared: his old friend's betrayal, nonchalance and stoic rejection of Tala's fragile friendship. It was everything Tala had feared had happened to his friend and more: Kai didn't need him, didn't want him and… even worse, had forgotten him, even after Tala had hung desperately onto his hope for so long.
But now… Now he didn't know what to think.
He realized that Naar was gone. And he wasn't coming back. The friendship he'd once held so dear was gone, ripped away, leaving an empty gaping hole in his heart. But maybe that was how all things in life were. Everything ended, everything changed… and besides, could Tala honestly say he was the same boy he'd been all those years ago?
No, the time for childish things had passed. 'Naar' and 'Thalj' were gone, washed away to be remembered only as mere echoes in the most desolate hallways of the Abbey.
Tala had grown, and so had Kai. Perhaps it was finally time to put the past behind him and begin anew.
Kai and Naar had for so long existed as separate entities in Tala's mind. But this was not the right way to think. Kai was Naar… and Tala could see that now. There were shadows of déjà vu, in the way Kai moved, or how his eyes would sometimes fill with that profound emotion Tala had once known well. He was different, so very different, but he was also the same. And now, Tala knew the most important thing: it had not been out of scorn of their friendship that Naar had left the Abbey all those years ago.
He'd been stolen away. Stolen; by Voltaire.
Tala felt a rush of hatred for the old man who had destroyed one of the few people Tala cared about, but he pushed it aside. No, Kai was not destroyed… And his porcelain mask was not perfect, Tala had seen it cracking with his own eyes.
Belief was the strongest of all human virtues. Promises could be shattered, lives could be indelibly changed in a split second's notice… But Tala would not let his belief waver. Kai was his friend. His best friend.
He just didn't know it yet.
And with that resolution clear in his mind, Tala took a deep breath and put his fate in the hands of the Almighty.
';.;'
It was almost pitifully predictable—Tala exited the room and had taken a mere two steps across the polished wooden floor of the lounge room when Boris came barreling out of nowhere like an enraged bull and seized his arm roughly.
"And just where do you think you're going?" Boris hissed dangerously in Tala's ear. His voice was lowered, but as an extra precaution he spoke in Russian. Tala just gazed up at the Director with a mild expression.
"I was returning to my team." He said evenly, answering likewise in Russian, and spared a glance to Spencer, Bryan and Ian. They were watching the exchange helplessly, worry shinning clear in their eyes. They were too far away to hear what Boris was saying and tied also by the rules of obedience which prevented them from helping. Tala, realizing they were probably going to try and help anyway, made a quick but firm 'No' gesture with two fingers—holding the hand low enough so that Boris couldn't see, and sharply jerking his raised fingers side to side twice. Spencer leaned back, Bryan scowled and Ian just stared—they would listen to him for now, and Tala was glad.
"Oh no you don't, not before you do a little explaining." Boris said between clenched teeth. Looking up and around quickly, Boris saw that everyone else in the room was occupied with the wayward rat—Daichi. Using the cover to his advantage, Boris roughly yanked Tala around by the arm then practically threw him at the washroom door.
Stumbling, Tala took the hint and entered the room without a fuss. Boris followed quickly on his heels.
The door swung shut behind them and in a moment Boris had whirled on Tala, eyes flashing with rage. "You better have a damn good reason for disobeying my orders, boy." He didn't need to add a threat, the tone of his voice was threatening enough.
Being in a room full of people, and having to stay strong in front of his team had given Tala confidence. But being trapped in this room, alone and cornered by Boris, seemed to sap Tala of all his bravado.
"I—I—I…" Tala fumbled, in his moment of panic all his thoughts had scattered and all he could do was stare wide eyed into Boris' menacing features. "I—had… to use the washroom…" Tala only barely manage to keep his voice from lifting questioningly at the end, but he couldn't quite keep the waver out as he trailed off at the end. The last time he'd seen Boris this furious had been when his team had lost the World Championships last year… and that was not something Tala wanted to remember.
"Lies, boy!" Boris spat and Tala stiffened. "I will ask you again and don't you dare lie to me this time; or have you forgotten the teachings?"
Tala paled. And like a cruel reminder, the writings came back to him as a cold, impersonal echo in his mind. Pounded into his head after years and years of study the words flowed through his memory as easily as his own name.
'…And so God deemed the treachery and deceit of man greatest of all sins; for treachery mothered thievery and thievery has given generously unto the betrayer. To the wicked betrayer, punishment will not wait until the afterlife, but is paid in full by excommunication from the Eyes of God.'
Excommunication from the 'Eyes of God'… in the teachings this title symbolized the Abbey and 'excommunication' meant permanent exile. Tala sucked in a breath of air, it was the worst of all threats: to be forced to leave the Abbey… It would ruin his life, everything he'd worked so hard for… gone in a split second bad decision.
And Boris would do it. Of that Tala had no doubt. Boris didn't care about him—didn't care for any of the students of the Abbey, be they elite or scum.
It wasn't his talent that kept Tala in the Abbey.
It was trust. The trust Boris had in him. Once that trust was gone, so was Tala. He'd be a fool to think Boris would kept him around for sentimental reasons beyond basic usefulness, or his so called 'ability'. No, Tala was entirely replaceable. There were hundreds upon hundreds of eager, young boys willing to do anything to fill his position at the Abbey. And Tala didn't doubt that at least one of them had the potential to replace him.
Tala had already lost favour, having failed Boris once already.
Tala licked his lips and stared at Boris as he struggled with himself.
'What harm will it do… really… to tell the truth?'
And Tala relented. "I wanted to see Kai… I wanted to speak with him…" He looked down, feeling ashamed and not knowing why.
Boris sneered, Tala could feel it searing into his neck. "And what did you discover about dear 57?"
Tala cringed inwardly at the mention of that number… how desperately his friend had strove to overcome that humiliating degradation. But that was in the past, it would do no good to get indignant about things that no longer had significance. "He… Director, I don't think he remembers anything from his past. He doesn't remember anything from before he left the Abbey, not his training, not the explosion, not even the exper—"
"Enough Tala, I understand." Boris interrupted. "What did you tell him?"
Tala wet his lips again; here was where it got tricky. "I…was upset, I tried to get him to remember… and for a moment it looked like he was, but then… well, I'm not sure…" Tala shrugged, caught himself, and let his arms hang.
Boris waited, as though he knew Tala had more to say.
"I decided to let it go and instead, I—"
"What did you try to get him to remember?"
"What?" Tala, thrown off by the unexpected question, almost looked up at Boris but stopped himself at the last moment.
"You heard me." There was something strange, intense, in Boris' voice, something Tala couldn't quite describe, but it made the muscles in his back tremble with disquiet.
"Uh…" Tala had a bad feeling that what he was going to say next would get him into a lot of trouble. "I tried… to get him to remember the initiation…" Tala's left hand drifted to his right wrist, stroking the tattoo hidden under his white glove with his thumb. "He got this glazed look and told me to stop. He looked… upset." Tala sighed.
"Tell me what happened after." Boris changed the topic swiftly and Tala shot him a look. He was surprised. Boris seemed almost… happy?
"Well… I basically told him he'd always be welcome at the Abbey, and… that was all, I saw the lights come on and he left the room soon after that." Tala said quickly, wanting to get the explanation over with.
"I see… and did you have any authority to tell him such a thing?" Boris suddenly asked, slyly.
Tala froze, wondering what Boris was talking about 'Oh… that comment about the Abbey'. "I… no. I did not. I… apologize for my indiscretion."
"Hm…" Boris seemed to be pondering over whether to accept Tala's apology, the silence made Tala sweat. "Very well, I will overlook it this one time. But in return you will do something for me, Tala."
"…Yes…?" Tala asked warily, not having the luxury to refuse.
"What you told me right now—all of it—you will not repeat to anyone else, do you understand?"
It was a strange request and it made Tala blink. "Huh?"
"You will not repeat the conversation we just had to anyone. Not your friends, not those idiotic Bladebreakers, not even Lord Voltaire." Boris' tone was dark, almost as dark as the look in his eyes.
Tala looked up, startled. "—What?"
"Not even Voltaire!" Boris snatched up Tala's arm in a crushing grip and gave him a harsh shake. "Do you understand me?"
"I—yes!" Tala clenched his teeth together, squeezing his eyes closed. "I understand!"
"Good." Boris abruptly let go of Tala, throwing him back a couple of steps. "And believe me boy, if you disobey me this time you will wish you'd been thrown out of the Abbey."
The grin that curled Boris' mouth did nothing to alleviate Tala's alarm.
';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'
End Chapter Twenty-Five
…To Be Continued
';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'.;';.';.;'
Waaa… Ok (cracks fingers) that should make up for the shortness of the last chapter! (Grins) Unfortunately, school has started, so I now find myself facing an ominous, growing mountain of work. With longer chapters come longer spaces between updates. I'll try to get them out once a month, but I can't promise any more than that. Ta!
WolfRain: Hey! Hee hee, I didn't mean to make the last chapter's cliffhanger so evil, really! I just kinda… lost my motivation for a little while so I took a small break in writing; I figured I should at least post as much as I'd written, even if it wasn't much XD This chapter was longer though and didn't—really—end on a cliffhanger (I think XP). So I hope you liked. Oh and this is rather belated, but I hope you had an awesome trip! Where'd you go?
smile: Hiya! Yay! A new reviewer! Thanks for the nice review and I hope you read and enjoyed all the chapters up to now, tell me what you think once you finish!
Sciura: Yeah, Boris is a little brutal… I pondered for awhile about making him less… violent, but I guess I've always seen Boris as a raging psychopath so I couldn't help it XD Plus, I wanted to try the challenge of writing a creepy, somewhat insane character (guilty! XP). About the Huo's… yeah I realize it's been awhile since I've mentioned them (sheepish grin). Actually, they have their own personal part to play in the story, so I wanted to 'remind' the readers about them, so that when they do come up again everyone won't be thinking 'Huh? Who? Who are these random people inserted into the fic?' XD I'm not sure if that attempt worked too well o.O' So! Yes, it's been twenty-five chapters and we're STILL in the reunion! Insane huh? I knew this story would be long, but I didn't quite anticipate this! XD I will say though that the plot is definitely moving… just very slowly and unobviously XD I hope it continues to be interesting though!
NorthWind: Hi , and thanks so much for reviewing! :D Your English was just fine, I understood it perfectly; actually I think it's pretty impressive that you managed to read this entire story so far… when English isn't even your first language! I tried to do that with a French story and I had a really hard time with it XDD. So really? One of the best fics you've read? Aww, thanks! (Blushes) I really hope you liked this chapter too!
Evanescente: Heya! Yay! Thank you so much for your awesome review! You're way too nice ;p At any rate, I'm so happy you're enjoying my story so far and I hope you liked this chapter too! Oh and to answer your comment about the 'Adio!' I put at the end of my chapters… actually, it's 'good-bye' in Romanian, not Spanish ;P I've got that question a few times… actually, it's more for sentimental effect (I've been doing it for so long) than anything else, 'cause I believe 'Adio' is a more permanent way of saying 'Good-bye' instead of 'See you later' … But I continued doing it just for fun and as an inside joke with myself (if that makes any sense) XD. Anyway, please tell me what you thought of the chapter, I'd love to read your comments!
banan: Le gasp! An in-chapter response? What has the world come to? Well, I hope you notice I responded to you here and didn't think I abandoned your review! XD I'm afraid though, that this will have to be a bit of a short response; I got a little swamped with work and I wanted to reply to you before I posted the chapter… but that didn't happen, so here it is! First of all, I hope you did well on your physics and math tests! I know how awfully evil those courses are so I'm hoping for the best for you! Now! Yay, you like the Huo's! (Does a dance) I didn't want them to come off as annoying Mary-Sue wannabe's so I worked on their characters a lot… made me kinda attached (aww… hugs little Mikhail and Sonya XD). I can't answer any of your speculations on 'Eli H—' 'Cause that would totally ruin the story, so you'll have to wait… and suffer in suspense! (Evil laughter) On another note, you were very quick to notice the tension between Boris and Voltaire (no one else's mentioned it yet!) so I'm wondering now what you think about them after this chapter… Hmmm… definitely something suspicious going on! Tala got found out by Boris… sad but inevitable, but it did give us some good insights, so it's a good trade off, right? (ducks frying pan thrown at head) Ok, maybe not XDD… Oh and Daichi's here to stay, sorry! (runs away before you can pursue the chase) XP
Thankies to everyone who reviewed, believe me, this chapter would have taken a LOT longer to come out if not for each and every one of you guys! Thanks: terracannon876, Yuliya, lady KCassandra, Flaming Ice94, Canyx (I think I responded to your review… but I'm having a mental relapse, if I didn't then I'm sorry and I hope you enjoyed the Tala-Kainess in this chapter!), fawks136, wolf's lament, StarShinobi, grimnessreaper, Nameless Little Girl, Miako6, Raykou-Kun, WolfRain, Irish Potatoes, d1bontemp, The Demon Puppeteer, BloodRedViolet, smile, Dreading (Takes iron pole and whacks you back… just 'cause I can XD), bladz-liska, Secret Thought, Sciura, Kai's Suzaku, NorthWind, Evanescente, blitzkrieg soldier87banan and TheFallenangel927! Oh, and also, thanks to AngeLhearteD (your words of encouragement really helped me sit down and write this chapter :D)!
Adio!
