A/N: Greetings viewers! We are back!
Shoutout to all our fellow talented writers for reviewing our work so far. It means a lot to Moon and I, and we really appreciate the support.
Without further ado, we present to you Forsythia by Sun with tremendous editorial help from Moon. :)
Read and review please!
Snow fell pleasantly from the ever-grey skies of Moscow. It was a slow fall, comforting unlike the usual bone-numbing hail storms that were the trademark of the city.
Cerulean orbs stared unblinkingly at the little pile of snow that had begun to form on the sidewalk, then rose to the familiar structure before him. It looked grey too. Foreboding. In fact, all of Moscow looked dull to him. As if somebody had painted the town with hues as cold as its weather.
A figure wordlessly stepped beside him. Tala sighed, icy smoke escaping from his lips as the warm air condensed.
"Tell Dickenson that I don't need a babysitter," the wolf-wielder muttered to the newcomer, eyes never leaving the building. The side of Kai's mouth twitched in irritation and he side-glanced the redhead, alongside whom - until a few weeks ago - Kai had fought.
"Wandering off every evening, knowing that Boris is still on the loose? You're digging your own grave Ivanov."
"Scared, Hiwatari?"
"Cautious. As you should be." The tone was light, but the underlying warning didn't go unnoticed by the other beyblader. Tala continued to stare at the deserted Abbey's gates - which almost threatened to lock him up as they once had. His thoughts flew back to the World tournament and the events that ensued.
No sooner had the match between him and Tyson ended, than the BBA raided Balkov Abbey. They marched in with troops and troops of law enforcements, in hopes of tearing down Boris' best kept secret - bringing to light all his evil schemes and inhumane methods.
Tala snorted. They had grossly underestimated said man.
They found nothing. The equipment, the laboratories, the torture and experimentation rooms; everything had been cleared out leaving no concrete evidence of wrongdoing. Not a single blood-stain lined the stone walls, in the confines of which Tala had been raised. And alongside the missing evidence was the missing assailant.
Boris had fled without a trace. 'As though the ground had split open and swallowed him whole,' Ian had quoted. The rest of his team had laughed, knowing that even the ground would spit him back up - something so vile and vicious.
The police wouldn't have had a reason to send out search parties, if it wasn't for the inconspicuous prison cells in the lowest level of the Abbey. It wasn't much evidence, but it was better than nothing.
Meanwhile, Mr. Dickenson had generously taken in the Demolitions Boys. He was a kind man. Tala felt much more relaxed around the gentleman than he had with any other adult. The rest of his team seemed to have taken a liking to him too. After all, he had given up one of his prized bowler hats to Bryan's demands.
Kai's voice broke him out of his thoughts.
"He's upset you missed another one," He remarked. The redhead huffed.
Mr. Dickenson had gone as far as to getting them into therapy sessions. That, Tala decided was unnecessary. The BBA chairman had tried to convince the teen that the sessions would benefit him. "It's never too late to heal," the elderly man had said.
Tala couldn't understand that. There would be no healing because there was nothing wrong with him. Hence, he'd take a stroll every evening, to try and stall the class as much as he could. Involuntarily, his feet would lead him back to the Abbey.
"I don't need to attend those," came the adamant reply.
The Phoenix-wielder resisted the urge to smack his forehead. He settled for crossing his arms. "Well, you don't need to be here either," he said curtly. "You spend a lifetime trying to get out, and when you finally do you're back here again?"
"Old habits die hard."
At this, Kai could only shake his head. They stood in silence, both traveling down the memory lane. Tala shifted on his feet, trying to delay facing Mr. Dickenson's disappointment.
His ears perked up as he heard whispers of his name. A little girl - about six years old, he guessed - stood nearby, veiled excitement in her gestures as she looked back and forth between Tala and the woman he assumed was her mother.
He watched as the curious kid was dragged away by the elder, who shushed all her whiny protests with gentle coaxing and a little squeeze of the hand. She cast a nervous glance towards the Wolborg-wielder, averting her gaze as soon as he met her eye.
People shied away from him. He could see it in their eyes. They feared the Demolition Boys. They feared him; and in that fear he saw an all too familiar emotion.
Hatred.
People feared what they didn't know, and hated what they feared.
His shoulders were burdened with Boris's downright evil commands, his teammates expectations, and his own hopes. And as a captain, it was his responsibility never to cave in, never to crumble under any circumstances. Be it the whip lashes and or the target of others' loathing.
"Mr. Dickenson is waiting for you," Kai spoke slowly, sensing the tension in the air. Tala nodded, and throwing a final disgusted glare at the Abbey towers, turned to follow the slate-head.
"Hey wait!" a voice called, and was accompanied by a tug at his trouser.
Tala looked at the source of the squeak, and found a pair of innocent round eyes staring up at him. It was the girl from a little while ago. "You are Tala Ivanov," it came as a mix of a statement and a question. The teen in question gave her a measured nod.
She grinned widely, and raised her gloved hand - closed into a fist - towards him. From that fist jutted out a thin twig, adorning a yellow flower.
Cerulean orbs travelled from the golden bloom to the girl's expectant face, and back to the flower. "It's for you!" she said happily.
Tala took the offering from the girl, who could barely contain her excitement. "You're the coolest Beyblader ever!" she exclaimed, then ran back to her mother who held a bouquet of the same flowers. The elder was still apprehensive, but this time she gave Tala a small smile. The young Russian nodded back respectfully.
The mother-daughter duo then walked down the footpath, the younger skipping along triumphantly.
Tala blinked at the plant in his hand. Kai held back a smirk at his friend's confusion.
The Bladebreakers' captain cleared his throat, jerking his head in the direction of the BBA. It was time to leave. The two walked a small distance before Kai spoke again, "Forsythia."
"What?"
"The flower. It stands for anticipation, hope and new beginnings. They bloom in spring, marking the end of cold winters."
'Since when did you become an anthophile*?' Tala thought, but kept silent.
"You know," he began instead, "The Abbey was cold. Each day it seemed to get colder, if that's even possible. And now that it's actually over..." Tala's voice trailed off. Cerulean eyes having mellowed down, he looked at Kai expectantly.
"Could this mark the end of my winter?"
The slate-head felt a strong tug at his heartstrings. He was already guilty of leaving the Abbey early - guilty of being saved sooner from endless torture than the others - and the guilt seemed to intensify at Tala's innocent question. He took a deep breath.
"The end of your winter," he replied, giving the other a genuine smile, "And the beginning of your spring."
Tala's lips curled upwards slightly. A warm reassurance washed over him and he gazed at the city around him - which no longer seemed gray-scaled.
"Forsythia, you said?"
Kai nodded, crimson eyes observing the redhead.
Tala twirled the flower in his hand. "It's nice," he said, his voice soft.
The healing had already begun.
fin.
A/N: Good? Bad? Could be better? Too angsty? The review box is open to suggestions and constructive criticism.
* - Anthophile - A person that loves flowers.
Since when did Kai take an interest in flower meanings of all things, I'll never know.
Anyways, adios for now!
-Sun.