Running From Pain
Hi! This is my first fanfic, so I hope you like it! Please review once you're done. This is a one-shot fic, meant to be a prequel to the TV series. If I get a lot of feedback on this fic, I'll be writing another one soon.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to the creator of Beyblade.
"You're a useless boy, Kai!"
He ran, holding back tears. The dark gates of his grandfather's mansion were far behind now.
"You should be old enough to win, Kai! Don't tell me you lost again!"
"I'm only eight . . ." the young, blue-haired boy mumbled as he ran. A tear leaked from his eye. His legs were heavy and tired. He had been running for too long. But he wasn't far enough yet. He could never be far enough from Voltaire.
"How dare you skip lessons? Train, Kai! You have to learn this now! There will be no dinner for you, not for the rest of the week! You've done nothing right!"
His grandfather's accusations rang in his head as he ran. The tears clouded his eyes now, making it hard to see. There was little light left in the sky. In another hour, there would be nothing but the streetlights and the headlights of cars.
"Ah!" Kai tripped, falling hard onto his stomach. He lay there, wondering what to do with himself. At least he knew where he was. The park. How could he forget the place where he had lost, again, earlier. The reason why he had no dinner again.
"Grandfather's right . . . I've never won! I don't do anything right!" he sobbed.
"Hey . . . are you okay?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
"Who's there?" Kai demanded, alert, quickly blinking back tears. He sat up. In front of him was a strange-looking boy, probably a year younger than him. He had long blue hair, and brown eyes, and was wearing red overalls and a red cap. He also had a white T-Shirt and sneakers.
"I'm Tyson," said the boy, his tone of voice almost boastful. "You'd better get home, it's pretty late." Tyson looked at Kai. His hair was messy, and his black T-Shirt and jeans were torn. His shoes looked new, though. Then he noticed the cut on Kai's leg. "Hey, did you fall?" he asked, bending down to look.
"It's okay," Kai said, quickly standing up. He winced slightly, but knew it would be okay later. As he stood, a blue Beyblade fell from his pocket. He quickly bending down to get it, but Tyson picked it up first.
"You play Beyblades?" he asked, surprised. "Wow, this one looks pretty rare, too!" Kai looked at the ground.
"Yeah, I play. I'm not very good," he mumbled sadly. Tyson handed the Beyblade back.
"It's okay! You'll get better!" he exclaimed. "Don't worry about it. My grandpa lets me practice all the time, so I guess I'm pretty good. Maybe we can play sometime?"
"Oh . . . I guess," Kai said. He looked up. Something about this 'Tyson', it made it seem okay that he wasn't so good yet . . . "Your grandpa seems nice. Maybe I will come sometime." He immediantly regretted the words, imagining what his grandfather would say.
"Great!" Tyson yelled. He looked around, as if just noticing how dark it was becoming. "I'd better get back now, or my grampa will be worried. You should go home, too!" He then paused. "Hey, you never told me your name!"
"I'm sorry," Kai said. "I'm Kai Hiwatari." Tyson gaped.
"You live in that big mansion, then! I only live in a dojo!" Tyson looked surprised. For someone who lived in a big mansion, Kai was pretty nice. "Wait until I tell my friends I met you!"
"Friends . . . Well, I guess I'll see you around," Kai said. He knew he would have to go home, whether he wanted to or not. Maybe he could stay at Tyson's house if Voltaire got too angry.
"Yeah, I'll be seeing you! Bye!" Tyson ran off, under a bridge, then a up a hill. He crossed a road, then was out of sight.
Kai arrived home half an hour later. His grandfather wasn't there to greet him. Instead, a tall, purple haired man with a crooked nose stood at the gate.
"You will come with me, under your grandfather's order," the man informed Kai coldly. He grabbed Kai by the collar, dragging him towards a waiting limousine. "Don't worry; our abbey in Russia will help your Beyblade skills greatly."
"No! I don't want to go to the abbey in Russia! I don't want to go to Russia at all!" Kai screamed, kicking and pulling. The man threw him in the limousine.
"I don't care what you want, brat, but you will be coming. The paper are signed. You have no choice." The man slammed the door, and the limousine drove away.
"Tyson! Grandfather! Help me!"
Seven years later . . .
Tyson walked through the park, his cap tipped low over his eyes. Another win! He couldn't believe his luck today. And the day had just started, too, as it was barely even lunch time!
"Yes!" he chuckled at loud. "At this rate, I'll be the best Beyblader in all of Japan!" He jumped up, pumping the air. Suddenly, loud shouts caught his attention. "Oh, a Beybattle!" He ran over to the dish.
"Go, Dranzer!" A tall, blue haired boy yelled. Red flashed through the sky, and the other boy's Beyblade was thrown from the dish, where it promptly split in two.
"Is that . . . Kai?" For a moment, the boy's eyes met Tyson's. Something flashed in his eyes, but quickly turned to scorn. Pulling at his white scarf, the boy turned and left, taking no notice of the crying young Beyblader at the other end of the dish.
As Tyson went to help the crying boy, he watched the blue haired boy walk. There was no mistaking it; that boy was Kai. Tyson wondered what had happened to the boy he had met so long ago, but brushed it off quickly. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he would be meeting Kai again in the near future . . .