Disclaimer: I don't own it.

A/N: Kai has long not seen any of the others. At the beginning Kai is alone... reflecting.He is the most interesting character, besides of Rei of course, who will come into the story soon...
Next chapter will be on soon... I think. The more reviews the faster of course, motivation is everything.

Two voices in a darkened room, one male (--), the other female(-), both soft and heavy, laden with regret, sadness and finality.

- Do you love me?

-- I don't know.

- Why?

-- How could I speak of something I've never encountered?

…

-You still don't trust me.

-- …

-After all these years.

-- …

Chapter 1: Power

I can't remember exactly how it happened. I guess you could call it serendipity, or fate, or doom. It does not matter anymore. I am alone again.

A heavy autumn storm rages outside. Through the window I see the wind playing its cruel game with the fallen leaves. Pirouettes, Spirals, they dance, they dance, little marionettes, as the wind commands them. A whirling dance, a chasing dance, a stealthy dance. Alone, in pairs, in multiples. A walkaround, a Waltz, a Gallop, they chase over the streets and pavements. Fast or slow, playful or, the leaves dance as the wind commands them. And if the wind tires of its leaves, it throws them aside or it lets them fall uncaringly, wherever they are. It makes little piles of them until it desires the leaves again and it claims them anew. With a tickling breeze it makes them shiver, shatters them with a storm, takes them in its cruel game,its marionettes, and they have to dance, they have to dance as the wind commands them.

I could go out in the wind, as I so often do. Enjoy the power of raging elements, enjoy my own power in facing the storm. It cleanses the filth of what I am from my bones.

The wind can't play with me as it does with the leaves. The wind can't. In the wind, I can, for a time, simply be. The raging air carries away my thoughts, leaving my mind pure and unadulterated.

But I do not go out in the storm. Today is not the day for the illusion of power. I have none and I know it. Although, unconsciously, I do everything I do to be the best as that I can, all in order to have power. Power, over myself or over others. Power is a good substitute for happiness.

Power…

I don't want to end like my grandfather. He was a twisted mad richman, or a rich madman, whatever you want to call him. Even more suitable would be mad rich madman… Seeing as his money was almost uncountable, it was astounding that he managed to be even madder than he was rich.

But he was. And it was I who had to suffer because of him. He is the reason why I still suffer. He had hurt many others besides me, but I was his family. He was supposed to love me. But he didn't; he wasn't able to feel another emotion other than power hunger.

I was not happy when he died, but neither was I sad. Only relieved that there was less evil to haunt this world. Not the way anyone wants to think about his grandfather, but it's true.

My grandfather left this world, but he did not leave me. I still feel the curse of him, the taint of his heirloom, and the imprint of his sick power hunger still flowing in my veins.

I did not understand him when I was young. Power, that was what counted for him. Ultimate power. Money did not really matter that much. It was only a minor source of power and he needed it, but his obsession did not lie in wealth. His favourite tool to satisfy his sick power hunger was fear. He did all he could to make people shiver at the mere thought of him. I have to admit: he was a formidable psychologist; he could have been the perfect villain in each TV series.

I still do not understand what he found in that vision of a world, where every single person cowered in fear of him. He wanted more power than anyone else had ever had, and he wanted people to cringe in fear when he approached. I don't get what he found in that. I never understood it. It's actually a petty reason for wanting the world domination. Why reign the world only to be feared?

But my grandfather was so sick, so mad, and so power-hungry that, except for his obsession, nothing counted. No trust, no friendship, not love. Family? He had a family, but to him, we were not of any value. We were only some more marionettes, with which he could play his cruel game. We were actually more useful than the rest. We were gratis.

Before my father was disowned, my grandfather was cruel, abusive, reckless and uncaring. But when my father quit the family business to follow his dream, constructing beyblades, my grandfather finally cracked. It was my father's fault that I ended up in the claws of my grandfather. Voltaire had failed to have power over his son, but in the end he still had me. With me he made up for all that power he did not have over my father, because he mabaged to have even more power over me.

What I had to go through, as a child and as a teen, before he was finally imprisoned… I don't want to think of it anymore, but still, after so many years, I can't let go of it.

I once thought that my grandfather loved me. When my father left me, I couldn't understand him, I thought he had betrayed me. As a result I looked up to my grandfather, who taught me to feel hatred instead of pain and loss, turning the so-called weak feelings into power.

Power, power, power. I never understood him when I was young. Now I do. I have felt the need for power that distinguished my grandfather. Maybe I had it inherited it, maybe it was education, but I can't deny it. It is there, in me. And it is strong.

My grandfather once alleged that he and I were equally power-hungry. I was from his blood, after all.

I denied it sharply, when he accused me of being like him. I was fourteen, and every fibre in my body hated him and his means of manipulating everyone to serve his aims. Even his own family, even me. Even me.

I cannot believe that I had admired this man, who unfortunately is my ancestor. I thought he wanted only my best. From that illusion I am free now. Effectively so. When I was fourteen and denied his every claim over my body and my soul, I vowed never to become anything like him. That's another illusion I am free of.

Forcibly so.

-- Why didn't you tell me before?

- I didn't want to hurt you.

-- You didn't know how much it would hurt me later.

-No.

A/N: Guess what the dialogues mean? I hope it's not boring. More action will come later.

Be nice to me ... it's Christmas approaching... and tell me what you think.