. . .How am I supposed to know what to do? How can I help him? I can't believe I even want to help him. Have I become that dependant on all of my team? Am I becoming soft? Well, turning soft doesn't seem to be that much of a big deal. It isn't as bad as my grandfather made it out to be. I hope the others back there learn this.

Back to the topic, I have to have a talk with the others. But how do I go about doing that? Do I tell them all at once, ask them what they think? Or do I tell just one of them? Maybe I should just talk to gramps. He will know what to do from there. And then, if we do talk with the others, he can tell them he had noticed and had called them together to try and figure out why. But what if he doesn't lie? What if he tells them cold Kai cares about warm Tyson's mental state? I don't think I can deal with that straight out. I need to ease into caring, if I chose to care at all. But what if you can't choose to care? What if you are born with it and I was just repressed?

When did I turn like this? I . . . can't handle it. That's it! I'm going to train and I am not writing in this thing anymore!

- Kai

The sounds of footfall echoed throughout the living section of the dojo. Shadows pushed in around the owner of the feet, the only light coming from the bathroom, a very faint glow coming from Kai's room, and the strong overhead light in the kitchen.

The boy was unaware of any of this. He knew the bathroom light was left on for the use of people who were still asleep yet needed to use one of the most basic facilities in the world. He vaguely remembered leaving the table top light on in his room and the light from the kitchen didn't reach his muddled brain.

Kai had been walking throughout the hallways since ten. It was now two. The only time he had stopped was to try to sleep at twelve. A half hour later he had gotten back up, the haunting of flat, dismal looking brown orbs warded of sleep.

Muttering was also bouncing throughout the hallways but no one could make anything of it out. It was gibberish to all but Kai. Snippets could be understood. Why . . . how could he be . . . what can I do . . . Tyson . . . shit . . . he needs help . . . can't happen again . . . I won't let it.

So into his thoughts, he didn't even realize where he was going, he let his feet decide that while his mind focussed on what was really important. A dark haired man who hadn't left his thought for three days.

Up a staircase, down a hall, take a right. Dead end. Back track. Take a left, another left, a right, down the staircase, through a door leading to the living room, out the door on the opposite side, into the dojo part, go outside, around back, go inside, up the stairs, down the hall, take a right. Dead end again. A string there this time. Pull it. Creaky stairs. Up them.

The attic? Kai's numbly registered. down the stairs, straight ahead, take a left, down those stairs, right, left, straight, passed the light flooded area-

"Kai?" a voice asked. He was snapped out of his muttering with a jerk of his head and a start of his body. His fogged brain worked out that it came from the kitchen. He turned back to the doorway to figure out what the person wanted, who the person was.

"Kai?" the voice asked again. Kai figured out it was gramps. Sitting in the kitchen at half past two in the morning. Drinking something that was undoubtably alcoholic, though not much. Gramps wasn't a person to drink heavily.

"Hn? Yeah?" was all he got out. His brain was clearing, somewhat, from the knot it was in, but sleep was taking it's place. If gramps wanted to have a conversation, Kai wasn't sure he could comply.

"What's buggin' yuh, K-man?" gramps drawled. He could tell something was bugging Kai. Besides the fact that he was pacing the floor so early, or late, his mask was slipping. Grampa could see the turmoil going on within his eyes.

Kai could have lied, he could have walked away, went back to his room where he could finally sleep. Instead, he walked into the kitchen, started boiling water in a pot, sat down on the opposite side form the white haired man and replied "Tyson, depression."

"Why, little dude?" the old man didn't understand. He knew Tyson could give way to periods of melancholy but he thought Kai would be the last of the team to notice.

"Tyson is depressed. I don't know what to do." It was said so simply that it might not have even mattered had the preceding events hadn't happened.

"I know, K-man. Nothin' you can do. Tyson will pull himself out of it. He always does," Gramps replied smoothly, hoping Kai wouldn't question the last statement. He should have known better.

"'He always does?'" the dual haired man asked quizicaly. He was getting confused again.

"Yes," he drew the word out, debating if he should tell Kai something that had happened long ago. He decided on partial truth. "Tyson is prone to periodic bouts of depression. When he was four he suffered sonethin' similar. Then he met this little boy at the park one day who wouldn't leave him alone. The boy drew him out. Now, the little dude never once cried, even when his parents died. But he did the day his friend moved away. He cried for a week, Kai dude, and then stopped. He said that the boy wouldn't want him to cry. So he went back to being happy. And he never cried again.

Then, before he met you, just before, he had another battle with depression. He almost lost it," gramps regretted saying those words as soon as they came out of his mouth and rephrased. "He almost won against it and then his dog died," A lie, gramps sighed. "He sunk deeper into it but didn't cry a tear. Then he met a boy who made him blade again. It made him laugh, joke, eat. He will get out of this."

"Thanks for telling me, gramps," Kai whispered and left the room, his water long since boiled but sat forgotten.

Grampa sighed as Kai left the room. He drained his cup and set it in the sink. He dumped out the forgotten water and turned off the light.

He walked towards the stairs, thinking about both times his little dude had been depressed. The first time was probably over his parent's deaths. The second time was from his bottled up emotions. The negative ones. He always showed his positive ones. There had been no dog. Tyson had almost lost the battle. But meeting that dark boy had brought him out. He had been happy again and had even been letting more of his anger show. Grampa sighed again as he passed his grandson's room. The boy had gone to bed at seven and would get up at ten. Unless he decided to go to school. Tyson had barely been eating.

He walked right towards his room after looking further down the hall towards Kai's room. That boy had all the potential. He had all that was needed. Did he know it? No. Kai had to figure it out. Tyson had to figure something out about Kai and himself. Kai was the only one who could do this.

Gramps shivered. Where was the draft coming from? The attic stairs. They were open. Who had gone up there? he asked himself. Heading up the stairs and into the room, turning on the light, he was relieved to see everything in it's place. Nothing had been moved. No one had been there. The dust wasn't stirred up. Kai must have seen the string dangling while he was walking around mindlessly and pulled it before realizing what he was doing.

A chest at the back of the room called out to him. He obeyed the silent command and walked closer. Opening the oak lid, he turned over two pictures. One of two little boys in a park on a sunny day. The tallest and oldest of the two had his chin resting on the other's head. The younger, who was kneeling on the ground, had an ice cream in each hand. His dark hair was wild and unconfined. The oldest's light bangs contrasted against the dark of the younger's hair. They both looked extremely happy. No signs of depression. Ice cream all over the place, along with sand.

The second one had older boys but who were unmistakably the same. The one with the wild hair was eating candy bars as he sat at the table, he was once again smiling (What young person wouldn't with all those candies in front of him?) The older boy was leaning against the counter behind him, a smug look on his face. He was no longer a happy boy yet he had a happy look in his eyes that said he was silently laughing at the other boy's behaviour

Gramps smiled at both pictures before returning them and going to his room, pushing the stairs up as he went. Kai held all the answers, the little dudes needed to see that. They had to see that. Tyson depended on it.

The morning dawned bright with a slightly overcast look. The clouds were white, no rain would come. It would be a good day.

He was breathing heavy, sweat visible on his pale skin. It was more pale then usual. A dream, he told himself, all a dream. It wasn't real. Well, the dream had been real enough. No dream had ever gotten to the cold captain as that one had, not even ones about his parents, grandfather or Boris.

The dream had been about a little boy with dark hair, smile turning to a desperate plea that was never heard. Then it turned to an older version of the younger one, a hat firmly shutting out the hair. He had a determined look in his eye that belied the emotion, distress, that he felt on the inside. Kai saw the distress, but it disappeared as he held out a blade and launcher, pointing it towards the dish, pointing it towards Kai himself. The distress turned to joy and caring.

The dream shifted again, coming to rest upon a pale boy; pale skin, pale blond hair, pale green eyes. The boy looked helpless. He looked sick. He was depressed. The image changed to that of a hospital where Kai was pleading with the boy not to give in, to not leave him alone. Then it was a grave, the name of the boy imprinted upon it.

Again the dream shifted. This time it was the dark boy again. The lifeless eyes staring at Kai but not seeing him. Then it was Tyson in the hospital. Tyson's grave. The dream ended as he saw both boys, both dead, two tomb stones, two graves. The world was spinning out of control.

Kai gripped his head and let out a soft cry. He felt warm liquid trace down his face. It had started at his eyes. He let it proceed. He knew the tears had to come out, as long as they came out when he was alone. Kai muttered Tyson's name and one that sounded like 'Canon.' That wasn't what it was, no one would have the name Canon. Kai fell back on his bed, memories of the blond boy ran through his mind only to be joined by memories of Tyson. He didn't know how he knew what Tyson looked like as a child, he had never seen any baby pictures, but he knew that dream was telling him to do for Tyson what he couldn't for the blond. All he had to do was figure out how.

TBC

A/N: Another installment. Only my second. I don't think I did Tyson's grandfather justice though. I'm not quite sure how to make him have his personality while talking about something so serious. Thank you to my reviewers. Anyone who reads, please leave me a message. I would appreciate to have your feedback on how to improve, what you think of it and what you think is going on or what could happen. I will even except criticism as long as it is polite. I promise, on my Empress' honor, not to order you to the dungeons.

Feelin Glayish: Tyson is depressed because he keeps his sad emotions locked up, secret. And maybe for some other reason I have not yet thought of. Thanks for the review!

Marbel eyes: Thanks for what you wrote. Oh, and are you ordering an Empress? Not a smart move.

FireieGurl: Tyson will be okay. Well, he should be. But it might get worse before it gets better. Thanks for the review!

Metajoker: Thanks for the vote of confidence. Spelling, huh? Maybe I should read these things over.

The Disclaimer! Thought I forgot for a second time, didn't you? Well, an Empress never forgets something as important. If I owned Beyblade do you seriously think I would be sitting here typing this just for you? I would probably hire some of you to come up with good plot ideas. So, I don't own it. Even an Empress can't have everything she wants, she can't even buy the show.

Missy: Not that she really wants to own it. She'd drive it into the ground in a week. And she doesn't even write this for you. She writes it for herself, to improve her writing.

That is my sarcastic and cynical muses, Missy. She likes butting in where she doesn't belong! And probably won't show up ever again! Thanks for reading. Bah-Bye!

-Empress Mara.