HOOOOEEEEEE O.O THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS!!!! i cannot believe dat XD neway... i must admit that there are OCs in this fic n sum of the guys get paired w/em.. *hidez* gah, i hope dat doesnt discourage u to read it b/c... well i'm tryin to write like the show ^~ *sigh* Beyblade ends on Wednesday.. and i like writing this b/c its sorta like a new beginnin ^^
neway.. hopefully ur still interested in readin, and if not, thats ok ^^ demo if u r, i hope u enjoy it!
Star Horizons
Chapter 2: Getting Started
Tyson grumbled to himself as he reluctantly dragged his lead body to the wooden-floored room. At the moment, his mood's recipe had the ingredients of a cup of fatigue and a pinch of irritation: fatigue from having to get up so early and irritation from getting woken up by a hose.
Stepping onto the boards lazily, still partially asleep, he looked around, eyelids waning.
"Uhhh…" he groaned out loud. "Why couldn't grandpa just let me have another hour? I swear I'll keel over in the middle of a match," he declared groggily.
Sighing, he reached for his Dragoon and shooter and slowly commenced practice. As the metal object hit the flat timber, it began gliding across the floor. The jaded blade skated across the room, almost as tired as its owner. Watching half-consciously, the navy-haired teen let out a yawn.
The first few minutes of training seemed to lag by, but as time passed, his consciousness gradually began to waken. He began to beam ever so slightly as he watched his Dragoon zigzagging its way across the floor, picking up more speed.
'This sure brings back memories…' he thought to himself, remembering how much he enjoyed Beyblading.
Like the rest of the group, excluding Kai, Tyson had been mostly occupied with something else beside blading after the Russian tournament. In his case, it was kendo. He trained everyday, learned and enhanced skills, and even won a few competitions.
Although, despite the new interest in that art, his passion for blading had never faded. Perhaps he didn't practice as much as he did before, but he still was, and always will, a blader at heart.
His dark hair softly whisked back as a light gale erupted from his Dragoon. The redlined blade swept gracefully across the floor with pride, reliving its purpose again.
Tyson could feel a familiar sensation evince itself inside him. Grinning, his mind began to travel back, recollecting old memories.
The sound of rubber tires hurried along the asphalt. Traffic lights flashed and changed systematically as cars bustled through the busy streets, most of which were heading to the same destination.
A certain pale yellow bus progressed down the cement road in a swift, but cautious manner, along with the other vehicles. Through one of its windows, a boy with blonde hair could be seen with his rosy face pressed against the clear pane. His sapphire eyes glistened, reflecting the light from the sun and a broad smile was visibly plastered on his speckled face.
"Dude, I can't wait to see Tyson's reaction when he sees all of you," beamed Max, turning to his friends. "He'll be totally psyched! And then we tell him the news, he'll probably be jumping all over the place!"
"Now that's an under statement," commented a voice from the Chief's laptop.
Kenny laughed, agreeing with his Bit Beast. "You're right Dizzi. He'll probably make a whole scene running across the stadium yelling and hooting like a maniac."
"Probably," nodded Ray, smiling, "but I'd definitely be worried if his reaction was anything else."
The teen's comment instantaneously resulted in a wave of murmured laughter through the front seats. The boys couldn't really help it, Tyson was just one of those people who could always put a smile on your face.
He was funny, loud-mouthed, rash, stubborn and not to mention an all-natural, class-A, food disposal unit. Those are the things you just gotta love about him, apart from of how they sometimes make you wonder if there was actually a brain inside that thick skull of his.
The uncommonly sound of a cell phone suddenly cut into the bus's atmosphere. The boys's heads jerked up as they glanced at one another, a bit puzzled. Their eyes instinctively began searching the vicinity, trying to find the source of the ringing.
"Um…someone pick up their cell?" Ray suggested, cocking an eyebrow.
"Oops!" exclaimed Kenny, smacking his forehead. "Sorry, Mr. Dickenson just gave it to me this morning," he explained apologetically, before quickly flipping the phone open. "Hello? Oh hi Sir… Yes we're on the way… I know, we just stopped by the-pardon me? …Oh okay! That's a good idea, but is there enough time? …Aw that's great! I'm sure Tyson'll appreciate it…. Okay, we'll meet you there later… Bye," he concluded, hanging up.
"What did he say?" asked Ray.
"Well, Mr. Dickenson suggested that we stop by the Hobby Shop to pick up some parts to upgrade Tyson's blade," stated Chief. "He said that although Tyson's Dragoon is not as advanced as the other Beyblades, he still possesses superior skill, which should pull him through the first round. The later matches, on the other hand, will be pitting him against rivals with not only advanced equipment, but greater abilities as well. Thus putting him at a disadvantage and lowering his chances of victory."
"That's true," Max nodded thoughtfully. "Tyson might not be able to handle all of his opponents with all the new Beyblade developments."
"So, is it okay with you if we go by the shop then?"
The blonde winked, giving Kenny a thumbs-up. "Of course Chief, I told Tyson I'd help him out and I'm not planning on going back on my word anytime soon."
The brunette stood up, pleased. "Great! In that case…um…Mr. Bus Driver? You think you can head for the Hobby Shop?" The olive-haired man nodded, taking a left.
A man around his mid twenties sat in an antique-styled table, leaning patiently against the gray-framed window beside him. His dark eyes glanced down at the gold watch on his wrist. Letting out a soft sigh, he reached over to pick up his mug of coffee.
"Oh great," he grumbled to himself, realizing its contents had evacuated. "Excuse me, Miss?" he asked a waitress passing by. "Can you pour me another cup please?"
The lady nodded politely as she took the mug from his hand. "I'll be back in a flash." Smiling, she winked at him before walking off to the counter, her long blonde hair flowing down her back.
On the opposite end of the coffee shop was a group of females. Occasionally, they'd sneak glances at the silver-haired man. He was fully aware of their brief stares, but it didn't faze him. Women gawking wasn't something foreign to him, he was quite used to it actually.
The blonde returned, holding the newly filled mug in her hand. "Here you go," she ginned at him. "So, you got a name?"
His night-coloured eyes looked up at her as he took a sip from the hot beverage. "Jet," he stated simply.
"Jet…" she repeated, examining him closely. "Suits you."
He scoffed blithely. "Thanks I guess."
"Waiting for someone?" she pressed on.
"You could say that."
"Hm," she smirked. "Well I hope whoever you're meeting takes their time. It's not everyday a man like you walks in here," she added coquettishly.
'Why am I not surprised to hear that?' he asked himself, trying to keep his ego from taking over. "Well, that's-" he began, but abruptly stopped as he felt a sudden vibration on his belt line. "Hold that thought."
"Jet here," he affirmed, answering his phone. "Good morning to you too… Don't worry about it, it's only been fifteen minutes… Back at the hotel? Sure… Okay, talk to you soon, bye."
"I'm guessing that was the person who you were supposed to meet with?" the girl's voice questioned as he put the phone away.
He glanced at her before standing up. "Inquisitive, aren't you?" She nodded. "Well, if you must know, you're right. And it seems that I have to be on my leave."
She frowned momentarily, but soon replaced it with a small grin. "In that case," she began, taking out a note pad and a pen. "Call me."
The woman quickly scribbled her number on the paper and held it out to him, a flawless smile painted on her face. Jet cocked an eyebrow as he accepted the miniature sheet, putting it into his pocket. He gave her a slight smile before brushing past her and retreating out the door, the ladies' eyes staring after him.
The seats were filling quickly as people flew into the arena in flocks. Excited chatter surged throughout the whole stadium like electricity through wires. Nerves flew through the dome, everyone eager for the competition to begin, especially the participants.
"Wow…" Tyson whispered to himself, his eyes sweeping over the dish and hoards of spectators. "It's even better than I remember…" he awed.
Smiling, Tyson turned around and walked back through the hallway, heading back to the contestant area. There were a lot of competitors, more than he expected. He got to talk to a few of them, most of them being around his age when he first started. Occasionally, he'd run into bladers around his age, which helped him not to feel too old.
"No my blade!" a voice from across the room suddenly shrieked out. "You said this was only a friendly match! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"
"I felt like it," a cold voice replied indifferently.
Tyson instinctively started towards the crowd that had gathered on the other side of the room. Carefully squirming his way through the Beybladers, he could soon see a young boy kneeling beside his disassembled blade, looking up angrily at another boy around Tyson's age.
"How am I supposed to compete now?!" the younger one exclaimed.
"Your problem, not mine," was the reply. Shrugging, the teen turned around. The crowd immediately parted into a narrow path, not wanting to get in his way.
"HEY YOU!" Tyson yelped. "Where do you think you're going? You think you can just destroy people's blades like that?"
He scoffed, keeping his back facing Tyson. "He wanted to battle, not me."
"Well I think you owe him an apology." The boy sneered, slightly amused. Without saying another word, he began towards the exit. "Hey come back!" Tyson yelled in vain.
"Don't bother, he's won't listen to you." Tyson turned, the younger boy now standing. "He's not even a competitor at this tournament. I heard he's just here as guest blader invited by Mr. Dickenson himself."
"Well he sure needs an attitude adjustment…" Tyson grumbled to himself. "I'm sorry about your blade kid. I'm Tyson, by the way."
"Chris," he answered. "Don't worry about it. I'm in the third string so hopefully that gives me enough time to put it back together."
Before the conversation could go any further, the sound of the Jazzman declared the beginning of the first round. "That would be me," Tyson grinned.
"Good luck Tyson," Chris smiled back.
"Thanks," and with that, the navy-haired boy dashed into the hallway.
hooeee.. dun worry, next chappie will have more battling XD i still tryin to build foundation, if yknow wut i mean ~^ n if the scenes confused u... scene 1 wuz tyson practicing, scene 2 wuz the guyz in the bus, scene 3 wuz about Jet, and scene 4 wuz Tyson at the tournament (the other guys r still at the Hobby Shop here) ~^
neway.. hopefully ur still interested in readin, and if not, thats ok ^^ demo if u r, i hope u enjoy it!
Star Horizons
Chapter 2: Getting Started
Tyson grumbled to himself as he reluctantly dragged his lead body to the wooden-floored room. At the moment, his mood's recipe had the ingredients of a cup of fatigue and a pinch of irritation: fatigue from having to get up so early and irritation from getting woken up by a hose.
Stepping onto the boards lazily, still partially asleep, he looked around, eyelids waning.
"Uhhh…" he groaned out loud. "Why couldn't grandpa just let me have another hour? I swear I'll keel over in the middle of a match," he declared groggily.
Sighing, he reached for his Dragoon and shooter and slowly commenced practice. As the metal object hit the flat timber, it began gliding across the floor. The jaded blade skated across the room, almost as tired as its owner. Watching half-consciously, the navy-haired teen let out a yawn.
The first few minutes of training seemed to lag by, but as time passed, his consciousness gradually began to waken. He began to beam ever so slightly as he watched his Dragoon zigzagging its way across the floor, picking up more speed.
'This sure brings back memories…' he thought to himself, remembering how much he enjoyed Beyblading.
Like the rest of the group, excluding Kai, Tyson had been mostly occupied with something else beside blading after the Russian tournament. In his case, it was kendo. He trained everyday, learned and enhanced skills, and even won a few competitions.
Although, despite the new interest in that art, his passion for blading had never faded. Perhaps he didn't practice as much as he did before, but he still was, and always will, a blader at heart.
His dark hair softly whisked back as a light gale erupted from his Dragoon. The redlined blade swept gracefully across the floor with pride, reliving its purpose again.
Tyson could feel a familiar sensation evince itself inside him. Grinning, his mind began to travel back, recollecting old memories.
The sound of rubber tires hurried along the asphalt. Traffic lights flashed and changed systematically as cars bustled through the busy streets, most of which were heading to the same destination.
A certain pale yellow bus progressed down the cement road in a swift, but cautious manner, along with the other vehicles. Through one of its windows, a boy with blonde hair could be seen with his rosy face pressed against the clear pane. His sapphire eyes glistened, reflecting the light from the sun and a broad smile was visibly plastered on his speckled face.
"Dude, I can't wait to see Tyson's reaction when he sees all of you," beamed Max, turning to his friends. "He'll be totally psyched! And then we tell him the news, he'll probably be jumping all over the place!"
"Now that's an under statement," commented a voice from the Chief's laptop.
Kenny laughed, agreeing with his Bit Beast. "You're right Dizzi. He'll probably make a whole scene running across the stadium yelling and hooting like a maniac."
"Probably," nodded Ray, smiling, "but I'd definitely be worried if his reaction was anything else."
The teen's comment instantaneously resulted in a wave of murmured laughter through the front seats. The boys couldn't really help it, Tyson was just one of those people who could always put a smile on your face.
He was funny, loud-mouthed, rash, stubborn and not to mention an all-natural, class-A, food disposal unit. Those are the things you just gotta love about him, apart from of how they sometimes make you wonder if there was actually a brain inside that thick skull of his.
The uncommonly sound of a cell phone suddenly cut into the bus's atmosphere. The boys's heads jerked up as they glanced at one another, a bit puzzled. Their eyes instinctively began searching the vicinity, trying to find the source of the ringing.
"Um…someone pick up their cell?" Ray suggested, cocking an eyebrow.
"Oops!" exclaimed Kenny, smacking his forehead. "Sorry, Mr. Dickenson just gave it to me this morning," he explained apologetically, before quickly flipping the phone open. "Hello? Oh hi Sir… Yes we're on the way… I know, we just stopped by the-pardon me? …Oh okay! That's a good idea, but is there enough time? …Aw that's great! I'm sure Tyson'll appreciate it…. Okay, we'll meet you there later… Bye," he concluded, hanging up.
"What did he say?" asked Ray.
"Well, Mr. Dickenson suggested that we stop by the Hobby Shop to pick up some parts to upgrade Tyson's blade," stated Chief. "He said that although Tyson's Dragoon is not as advanced as the other Beyblades, he still possesses superior skill, which should pull him through the first round. The later matches, on the other hand, will be pitting him against rivals with not only advanced equipment, but greater abilities as well. Thus putting him at a disadvantage and lowering his chances of victory."
"That's true," Max nodded thoughtfully. "Tyson might not be able to handle all of his opponents with all the new Beyblade developments."
"So, is it okay with you if we go by the shop then?"
The blonde winked, giving Kenny a thumbs-up. "Of course Chief, I told Tyson I'd help him out and I'm not planning on going back on my word anytime soon."
The brunette stood up, pleased. "Great! In that case…um…Mr. Bus Driver? You think you can head for the Hobby Shop?" The olive-haired man nodded, taking a left.
A man around his mid twenties sat in an antique-styled table, leaning patiently against the gray-framed window beside him. His dark eyes glanced down at the gold watch on his wrist. Letting out a soft sigh, he reached over to pick up his mug of coffee.
"Oh great," he grumbled to himself, realizing its contents had evacuated. "Excuse me, Miss?" he asked a waitress passing by. "Can you pour me another cup please?"
The lady nodded politely as she took the mug from his hand. "I'll be back in a flash." Smiling, she winked at him before walking off to the counter, her long blonde hair flowing down her back.
On the opposite end of the coffee shop was a group of females. Occasionally, they'd sneak glances at the silver-haired man. He was fully aware of their brief stares, but it didn't faze him. Women gawking wasn't something foreign to him, he was quite used to it actually.
The blonde returned, holding the newly filled mug in her hand. "Here you go," she ginned at him. "So, you got a name?"
His night-coloured eyes looked up at her as he took a sip from the hot beverage. "Jet," he stated simply.
"Jet…" she repeated, examining him closely. "Suits you."
He scoffed blithely. "Thanks I guess."
"Waiting for someone?" she pressed on.
"You could say that."
"Hm," she smirked. "Well I hope whoever you're meeting takes their time. It's not everyday a man like you walks in here," she added coquettishly.
'Why am I not surprised to hear that?' he asked himself, trying to keep his ego from taking over. "Well, that's-" he began, but abruptly stopped as he felt a sudden vibration on his belt line. "Hold that thought."
"Jet here," he affirmed, answering his phone. "Good morning to you too… Don't worry about it, it's only been fifteen minutes… Back at the hotel? Sure… Okay, talk to you soon, bye."
"I'm guessing that was the person who you were supposed to meet with?" the girl's voice questioned as he put the phone away.
He glanced at her before standing up. "Inquisitive, aren't you?" She nodded. "Well, if you must know, you're right. And it seems that I have to be on my leave."
She frowned momentarily, but soon replaced it with a small grin. "In that case," she began, taking out a note pad and a pen. "Call me."
The woman quickly scribbled her number on the paper and held it out to him, a flawless smile painted on her face. Jet cocked an eyebrow as he accepted the miniature sheet, putting it into his pocket. He gave her a slight smile before brushing past her and retreating out the door, the ladies' eyes staring after him.
The seats were filling quickly as people flew into the arena in flocks. Excited chatter surged throughout the whole stadium like electricity through wires. Nerves flew through the dome, everyone eager for the competition to begin, especially the participants.
"Wow…" Tyson whispered to himself, his eyes sweeping over the dish and hoards of spectators. "It's even better than I remember…" he awed.
Smiling, Tyson turned around and walked back through the hallway, heading back to the contestant area. There were a lot of competitors, more than he expected. He got to talk to a few of them, most of them being around his age when he first started. Occasionally, he'd run into bladers around his age, which helped him not to feel too old.
"No my blade!" a voice from across the room suddenly shrieked out. "You said this was only a friendly match! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"
"I felt like it," a cold voice replied indifferently.
Tyson instinctively started towards the crowd that had gathered on the other side of the room. Carefully squirming his way through the Beybladers, he could soon see a young boy kneeling beside his disassembled blade, looking up angrily at another boy around Tyson's age.
"How am I supposed to compete now?!" the younger one exclaimed.
"Your problem, not mine," was the reply. Shrugging, the teen turned around. The crowd immediately parted into a narrow path, not wanting to get in his way.
"HEY YOU!" Tyson yelped. "Where do you think you're going? You think you can just destroy people's blades like that?"
He scoffed, keeping his back facing Tyson. "He wanted to battle, not me."
"Well I think you owe him an apology." The boy sneered, slightly amused. Without saying another word, he began towards the exit. "Hey come back!" Tyson yelled in vain.
"Don't bother, he's won't listen to you." Tyson turned, the younger boy now standing. "He's not even a competitor at this tournament. I heard he's just here as guest blader invited by Mr. Dickenson himself."
"Well he sure needs an attitude adjustment…" Tyson grumbled to himself. "I'm sorry about your blade kid. I'm Tyson, by the way."
"Chris," he answered. "Don't worry about it. I'm in the third string so hopefully that gives me enough time to put it back together."
Before the conversation could go any further, the sound of the Jazzman declared the beginning of the first round. "That would be me," Tyson grinned.
"Good luck Tyson," Chris smiled back.
"Thanks," and with that, the navy-haired boy dashed into the hallway.
hooeee.. dun worry, next chappie will have more battling XD i still tryin to build foundation, if yknow wut i mean ~^ n if the scenes confused u... scene 1 wuz tyson practicing, scene 2 wuz the guyz in the bus, scene 3 wuz about Jet, and scene 4 wuz Tyson at the tournament (the other guys r still at the Hobby Shop here) ~^