Okay, now…before anyone becomes offended by Kai's reviews…you have to know that I try to keep them as realistic as possible. The reviews aren't QUITE part of the stories, even if they're inside it, but I write them as through Kai honestly and truly wrote them himself. So…yeah. He appreciates every one of them, though—I believe he said that in Rising Phoenix's review—even if he doesn't say so directly. Heh, you know Kai…:P

In fact…I'll review to all…reviews…that require an extra reply right now! (That means…you added an extra section to you review addressed to me, Kai said something ridiculously offensive, ect…)

Rising Phoenix Awesome poem! Sorry about Kai…(bonks Kai on the head with a Ice Cream scooper)…he liked it too. But NO…just LOOK what he says! He's so evil… Keep the note above in mind, 'kay?

Thank you! I probably won't update as much as I did One-way Mirror (In the beginning, I mean), but I'll try to do so regularly. Speaking of which…One-way's on pause, for a bit. I think I'm going to re-do it. Sorry about that! I'll try to get it up and running soon!

And…OHMIGEE! I'm in your favourite author list? And BOTH One-way and My Life are in the stories! THANK YOU SO MUCH!  (Gives you a truckload of Kai and Max plushies)

Lady Shiora: Oph…good idea! Actually, no, he doesn't…but I can't seem to get that idea out of my mind. So, from here on, he probably will! Not word-association, though, because I'd have to look that up and do actual WORK. I'm allergic to work, you know! So…while I'm here…you must ignore his rudeness as well. The idea sort of shocked him, you see. And he's never been tested, so he wouldn't know.

It's now one in the morning.

It took me three days to upload the last chapter, by the way. I had to keep sneaking in and saving stuff I wrote on Wyatt's account. Hopefully, he doesn't check his Recycle Bin much. Or clear it out.

In any case, I'm writing the new chapter now. And since I'm planning to respond to all reviews, I'll do that now.

Rising Phoenix: Nice poem…but you know what? I'm tired of hearing that. Yeah, I know what you mean, and I know it's probably true. But it doesn't help too much…Besides, I know plenty of people who've been through exactly the same thing as me. And one of them sticks his hair up like wings, owns a sock monkey, and chases pigeons through the park. That just makes me worried about my own sanity.

Yeah, I ask myself that sometimes. And no…I don't think it's fair. Still, having people do things like this—taking the time to read and review someone's desperate journals…it helps. Same goes for everyone who reviewed. Thanks.

Althea Astera Reneta: Really? Wow…thanks. The next instalment might be a while—technically, I'm not allowed to use the library computers…haven't paid for the service—but I'll try to get it written and up quick.

Renluva: Thank you! Like I said above, I'll get it done as fast as possible. By the way, may I ask how you're going to give cookies out over the internet? Well…thanks for the thought, I guess…

Lady Shiora: Of course I don't! So no, I'm not going to 'confide' in anyone.

(Erm…Hi! (waves sheepishly) As you've probably guessed already, author notes are in italics…I'll try to keep out of the story as much as possible, but just in case anyone skips the notes above—I don't necessarily share Kai's opinions. But these reviews are as close to what Kai would say as possible. When he says something mean like that, don't be offended or anything. You all know Kai…and he sort of does stuff like that. Any notes about Kai's reviews can be found in the author notes above and below the story. Sorry about that! )

In any case, I think I'll be doing this from now on. I mean, you did review, so the least I can do is respond.

So, what's happened since I last wrote this? Well…I guess I'd better get started…I take a long time to write.

After dragon-lady's class, we have gym. I guess you'd think I'd be good at this one thing, but I'm not. That's the thing about Biovault—it's about Beyblading, and nothing else. I can run fast, and for a long time, but not much else.

We're learning basketball, now. At least, I'm trying, since everyone else already knows. Mostly, the gym teacher just yells at us to go to half-court or the foul line or defence or something. I never understand her instructions. If she's in a good mood, she tells me where to go in this fake-patient voice—like, 'look at me, I'm being nice to the retard', and if she's in a bad mood she gets mad at me and yells the place at me again. So I have to walk to different lines on the gym until I find the right one, which sometimes takes most of the gym time. And it makes my classmates really mad at me.

Today, she's in a bad mood. She just told me to play centre. Apparently, it's an important place because everyone scowled at her until she said that everyone had to play every position because it's curriculum. Then they scowled at me. Kevin—not the one on the White Tigers, the one in my class—threw a spit ball at me and called me a name I wish I could actually remember, so I could use it back at him. I can't, though.

In the corner—playing defence—Dennis sends me a smile which is probably supposed to be reassuring. It isn't much. He's in the Special Students class with me, and it's sort of a 'good luck, and please, please don't embarrass yourself even more than you have already' kind of smile.

I walk around on different lines. The other team laughs, probably anticipating an easy victory. Good for them. They're probably going to get it. My team glares at me. Kevin throws another spitball. "You stand in the centre, retard!" He jeers. My face turns red, and I try the middle. The other team bursts out into laughter. "Of the gym, genius!"

I turn even redder. I must look like a tomato, by now. Yeah, yeah—I know. I've been trained since birth to mask my emotions. But does it work now, when I need it most? No. Of course not. Jeering crowds can do that to you.

So the gym teacher finally nods to me, still looking furious. I watch her coming closer, trying to remember what exactly people usually do in this position. I notice there is someone across from me, for the opposite team. Is he important?

He raises his hand, for some reason. Can you actually ask questions in gym? Probably not. It's probably not important anyway, I decide, and focus on the teacher. She looks at us, tries to raise an eyebrow at me—she can't, and just lifts both—and drops the ball. The other person bats it away to his team with his upraised hand. Oh.

Then he's chasing the ball—it looks like everyone is. My team runs after it too, but the teacher barks at them to keep their position. I freeze, and stay still. Maybe Centre wouldn't be so hard after all, I decide. No one ever stays near the middle anyway.

I turn to look behind me. The defence is moving around, trying to get the basketball from the other team. A bunch of people are yelling at me, but I can't really tell what they're saying. All of them are screaming at once, and their words are mangled. Dennis waves his hands wildly. I think he's trying to be helpful, but I can't tell what he means.

Now the other team is cheering. They've got the ball through the circle. My team looks depressed. They're glaring at me, mostly.

The teacher comes into the middle, and drops the ball again. I figure that we really are supposed to his it towards our team, so I whack at it. I'm way faster than the other person, so I do get it. But it flies over to the opponent's team. Oops.

Well, at least I'm done, right? I stand there in the centre, hoping no one comes towards me. My team is screaming again. Kevin, looking angry at loosing, breaks from the defence at comes towards me. He screams at me. Slowly, as if talking to a small child, but his words sound almost hysterical. "Go! Get! The! BALL!" He swings his fist at my face. I react before I can think, grabbing for his missile. Lucky for me, wild, angry shots have no basis in training, so I actually grab the right spot—his wrist—and lean my weight into a twist, sending him crashing to the ground. He screams, then breaks off into small, anguished moans. Oh, yeah—I forgot about that. People here are pretty pathetic when it comes to injuries.

The teacher comes towards us, red-faced and angry. Oops. I forgot about that too. Violence is usually discouraged in school, right? "To the office, Hiwatari! NOW!"

She turns away from me, attempting to quiet and calm Kevin. I leave, sending one, quick look at my team as I exit through the door. It's long enough, though, to catch a victory smile on Dennis's face, a wide smile as he nods enthusiastically to me.

Okay. It's been too long since I last updated, and this chapter's really long anyway. So I'll stop now, and just post the rest of it later. I'm trying to break it down into smaller sections, by the way. Which is really hard to do. I mean, it's hard enough to get the stuff onto the paper, but taking it off again?

Okay. Sorry for taking so LONG. But much of the next chapter's already written, so the next update SHOULD be fast. I was PLANNING on giving you one, long chapter, but it's at six pages and counting. And that's just…too…long.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review:) It's quick, easy, and it makes me VERY happy:D :D It'll also make KAI very pleased.