Disclaimer: CyborgRockStar doesn't own Beyblade; proper ownership resides with Aoki Takao-san.

Every Time

Fire crackling in the hearth, golden garland strung everywhere, general holiday cheer lingering, snowflakes dancing lazily outside: The perfect holiday atmosphere. Gathered together in a particularly lavishly decorated room were three famous Majestics, beyblading experts. Joyous feelings for the holidays usually resided in the heart of at least one member: lime hair, red hat, shimmering eyes, it's Oliver. Unfortunately for Oliver that eve, though, Johnny was also in the room, slumped on a plush stool, playing chess with Robert, scowling and putting a dent in Oliver's holiday spirit.

"What's the point of Christmas anyway?" complained the fire-haired teenager, staring intently at the black-white chessboard as Robert began making his next move.

"Jesus's birth," repeated Oliver for the umpteenth time, clutching the edge of the chair he sat in rather tightly with suppressed annoyance. "I've already told you that, Johnny!"

"Well, I don't know why you're trying to push this on me, I don't believe in any Jesus savior person." Leaning back, Johnny squinted in concentration, attempting to work out his move in the game.

"Okay, okay, I can understand, I suppose, but you don't have to go spreading your negativity about the holidays you don't believe in to other people!"

No reply was received as Johnny made his move, smirking. To his displeasure, though, Robert was completely prepared—he predicted Johnny's move and found a major hole.

"Dag!" muttered Johnny heatedly, watching Robert smile with satisfaction. Distorting his face in irritation, Johnny stood and cracked his knuckles. A tiny silver bell jingled and all turned toward the door, only to see the only not present member of their team enter: Enrique. Their purple-haired captain smirked unpleasantly: He knew the bell atop the door annoyed Johnny every time it tinkled, and his friend was already in a bad mood…. Ha, ha, eh?

Scowling ferociously, Johnny rolled his shoulders, just as a thought sprung upon Oliver.

"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings," recited the French boy, smiling with mellow contentment at the age-old epigram.

"What?" murmured Johnny, red eyebrows arching skeptically. "What kind of doltish thing is that to say? Angels aren't real."

"Then who asked Mary to have Jesus? Who went to Joseph in his dream to tell him to stay with Mary? Who appeared to the shepherds to show them the star to follow?" demanded Oliver, blinking innocently in such a manner that it challenged Johnny's belief.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a million times, Oliver, I don't believe in Jesus or any of that religious boloney you fall for!"

"Boloney?" Oliver stood, offended, usually mellow face contorted with anger.

"Yeah, you heard me! Angels, pfft, that's fiction! No one came to Earth as a Savior, either, that's just a lie to give people something to hold onto in rough times! I'm outta here, just going for a walk, okay? Okay."

With that, Johnny headed out, followed by the annoying jangle of a small silver bell.

-- -- --

Breath falling from his mouth as steam, Johnny huffed down the street, irritation swelling as he dwelled on his anger's push factors for the evening: losing to Robert, plus annoying old sayings, plus damn jingling bells, plus the whole holiday plus Johnny's usual crankiness—too much frustrating articles.

Shaking his head, Johnny marched down the sidewalk, glaring into every store window, passing people shopping, wishing it wasn't snowing in an annoyingly sluggish way.

Of course, something else just had to happen to elevate the level of Johnny's irritation: He heard a bell tinkling.

Looking ahead, Johnny saw a man clad in red standing at the mouth of an alleyway jangling a brass bell and pleading passerby to donate to the Salvation Army. Charity, feh, thought Johnny, scowling at the accursed bell sound. After he passed the do-gooder, he stared into the windows of shops, bored and cranky.

Unfortunately for the folks walking behind him, Johnny suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, eyes fixated at a certain something in the window. Usually, the shove he received from an annoyed passerby at his sudden halt would have sent him into a tantrum, but what he saw sent waves of shock through his system so great he hardly noticed the push: There, in the window, was a doll with a golden halo…and a store employee was attaching golden wings to its back.

Shaking his head, now out of annoyance and into confusion, Johnny insisted mentally this was merely a freak coincidence. Seizing his usual calm, he lifted his head and carried on walking. Until—

A tiny jingling sound reverberated as it passed him. Startled, Johnny whipped around, displeasing pedestrians behind him. There, upon the red hat complete with a white puffball at the end—was a little silver bell, smack-dab on a tourist's hat.

Johnny kept on marching along then, glancing about, daring the world to show him a symbolic angel getting its wings. When no such thing happened, he laughed out loud, congratulating himself on being the victor in the argument he and Oliver had, and completely shoving from his brain the display of idiocy minutes before.

Smirking, pleased, he gazed cheerfully about—and again found himself stopping, frozen. Oh no—across the street, on the opposite sidewalk— A little girl clad in a silly white gown was prancing about her hassled mother, demanding something or other in cheery tones. Finally her mother gave in and strapped the glittery cardboard angel wings onto her back, heaving a sigh.

"Move it, weirdo," commanded some passerby in a flamboyant bright orange shirt and striped purple pants, poking Johnny gruffly as he and his companions jostled past. Johnny hardly noticed, merely glared, too lost in thought to do anything about that stupid action.

Blinking swiftly, Johnny endeavored to regain his composure as he carried on with a sluggish pace that matched that of the lazily falling snowflakes. Reconsidering what Oliver had said, that annoying little epigram, he pondered the truth, mulled over faith—

This time when he heard the bell, Johnny stopped in his tracks and glared at nothing in particular. Gazing about heatedly, his eyes rested a yard or so in front of him: A small boy, clad in rags with grime smeared on his face, sat leaning against a building, slouching forward due to the odd hump formation on the poor dear's back, tinkling a tarnished bell and holding out a metal can in hopes of receiving a few coins. A pathetic sight which Johnny frowned upon, feeling a tug of guilt—but he didn't have much time to ponder it as something glistening caught his eye.

The next occurrence shocked Johnny more than any previous of the night: Right in front of the little boy landed something that looked as though it fell from Heaven. Not only was it absolutely pristine, meaning it could not have come from a mangy bird of the city, it was practically glittering like a star from the sky, from the heavens—a fluffy, smooth feather danced from the sky like its snowflake companions, hopping to a whirly halt right before the orphan child.

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings….

Unsure now of his beliefs, Johnny looked up toward the sky. Perhaps there really was some hierarchy with a menagerie of angels, pure creatures led by their God. Proof was manifesting itself right there, three times, was it not, like some Christmas stories he'd heard many a time but thought of them as foolery? Could this be a mere coincidence, fate, or an act of some God?

Something else whispered to his subconscious, and though he wasn't sure what it all was or what it all meant, Johnny made a decision. He pulled a few loose bills of paper money from his pocket, stuffed them into the boy's can, nearly tripping over himself as he saw the alleged-angel feather gone; without any more hesitation, Johnny turned around and dashed forth, determined to go back to Robert's mansion and at least make up with his friends, perhaps keeping his Christmas discoveries to himself. New revelations and the Christmas season certainly didn't stop him from smacking the gaudily-dressed guy in orange and purple as he passed him again, though.

Behind the redhead sat the child, staring happily down at his new money. He got up and shouted, "Merry Christmas!" down the way Johnny ran; and as he stepped into the dark alleyway lurking next to him, smiling toward Jesus in Heaven, a pristine white feather fell from under the lump in his coat.

End!

Remember the reason for the season!

Have a nice day!

CyborgRockStar