Chapter Four: Jetsam and Flotsam
When she'd mentioned drinks he had, perhaps foolishly, assumed hard liquor. It was only when Kai stood partially inside the kitchen (lingering near the wide doorway with open suspicion twisting his features), watching Garland's older sister as she gazed blankly at the contents of a frighteningly organized fridge – about as organized as Tyson's comparatively wasn't – and made no move towards a locked cupboard, that he remembered they were a family of professional athletes. He'd never known many fitness enthusiasts to keep a full alcohol cabinet. He'd never actually known many fitness enthusiasts, unless one was willing to count the former BioVolt soldiers and they… well, didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Closing his eyes briefly in an attempt at shoving all thoughts of Balcov Abbey and its denizens to the darkest recesses of his mind where they belonged, the young Hiwitari found himself instead concentrating on the subtle sounds around him. Before long he was listening quite hard – perhaps for heavy breathing or shrieks of fright or any such delicious proof that his presence in the house was still taking its toll.
Yet the large, neat building was wholly mute, the figurative deep inhalation before the scream; Kai had, upon entering, been at peace with the reticent atmosphere – the cool, airy, nonviolent brightness and the sense of constant circulation. Nevertheless, now it felt as though the house was a capricious individual in and of itself, intent on carelessly sucking intense emotion out through the many open windows, leaving behind a merely superficial harmony. Kai had only begun to loathe its asylum-like capability of buffering conflict when a soft breeze, heavy with the scents of lavender and sandalwood, drifted with hateful ease through one of the floor-length kitchen screens and, while passing into the hallway, ruffled his hair. The young man shuddered and looked up, attention directed onto his smoothly dissipating rage. He hadn't been ready to let it go yet – he'd been looking foreword to brooding longer still, steadily feeding the inferno with truths and justification as tinder. He hadn't been ready to let it go… not to face what he knew would be left behind: no more righteousness, no more clarity, but only exhaustion.
If Kai was not angry, he was generally concerned about something. At present his only concern was that when he needed to be (once Garland came back or he caught sight or sound of Brooklyn, for example), he wouldn't be angry enough. Something in the boy, maybe the old, tiredly alert bit of brain-matter, chimed in that nothing had been resolved, nothing had changed – when he needed the rage, it was always smoldering somewhere he could reach it. The numbing layer of ash blown in through the windows was thin; it would prove transparent when the time was right. With Kylie turning, facing him down, a dark glass pitcher of something in hand, grim thoughtfulness in her brown eyes, he knew the time wasn't right. Not just yet.
Kai was generally able to prevent an unacceptable amount of collateral damage while on the warpath – it began with keeping the innocent out of issues that didn't concern them. He had failed once or twice in the past, and had no desire the repeat the mistake this time around – Kylie would be made to mind her own business, all the better to keep her safe, whatever the light of curiosity and unsettling knowledge in her stare. The young woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but then, taking into account the phoenix blader's responsively furrowed brow and one-eyed leer, thought better of her ill-planned opening statement. She moved to the marble countertop, back turned to him, using the mindless functions of preparing two glasses as an excuse for a prolonged silence in which to kick her roiling emotions into submission.
"Do you want my opinion?" Kylie began, voice unnaturally light and diplomatic, slowly walking towards Kai in a roundabout route across the expansive kitchen. She didn't especially care if he wanted it because he was getting it either way. No one came into her house and made a wreck of the hard-earned balance (they'd finally gotten Brooklyn out into the public again! He had appeared relatively undamaged for weeks now!) and escaped without being confronted for it. The only reason she was not yelling was that the boy had come into their home without any prior knowledge of Brooklyn's residency. Part of her was afraid of Kai, truth be told – but if she had ever let fear stop her from acting, she would not have been a C-Bolt. Kylie unflinchingly deposited a full glass into the younger teen's calloused, scarred hand.
"I thought I was supposed to ask if I needed anything from you," the blader airily replied, side-stepping the apparent wind tunnel the hallway created and putting a bit more space between him and the irate-looking female. There was a possibility that if he said something scathing she would leave him alone – which would be for her own damn good. There was also the very real possibility that she'd slap him for being as unresponsive as he wished to be… but Kai was not afraid of her. And even if he had been, it would not have stopped him from doing as he pleased; if fear had that kind of power over him, he'd not have been a Hiwitari. His grandfather hadn't humored cowards or weaklings; Kai had secretly and long since come to the conclusion that his crazed relative's liquor cabinet was perpetually full so that when Voltaire was a weakling and a coward, he wouldn't have to deal with it.
"Yeah, well, I give handouts sometimes," Kylie growled, grip white on her own cup, the liquid within sloshing about. "I think you're being a baby." She watched for Kai's inevitable self-defense, but, as his current strategy was to put her off her track, the young man swallowed his pride with a small, graceful sip of what was apparently lemonade. Lemonade. That seemed like such a Maxie kind of home-remedy for tension (that or a bar-be-que) that he was momentarily distracted and forced to redouble all efforts of controlling the stir of dislike for this outspoken sibling before he risked slipping up, likely to blurt something a bit too truthful that would end up embarrassing them both. The girl might think that she'd like to understand how he felt – about her brother, about that thing, Brooklyn – but she did not. She would wish he hadn't told her, if allowed to know. Kylie wasn't his enemy in this house, the blader wearily, firmly decided, and she wouldn't be let close enough to become one.
Her muddy glance narrowed, intent on his forcibly nonchalant countenance, and Kylie was gripped by the resolve to give this little boy a piece of her mind; he could just listen for all she cared (the knowledge that Garland could later provide some insight into the Hiwitari's cracked head upon request was comforting). Now, to make sure he was listening – she'd just have to keep insulting him. The baby thing had almost worked, hadn't it? "Listen, I know he almost killed you that one time, or something… but, Kai, it's in the past now," the blonde heaved a dramatic sigh, "are you really the type of guy to cling onto senseless grudges? Are you that petty? It was pathetic watching you back there. You restrained Garland – he was no threat to you. Neither of them were."
Hating somebody that had done you great physical harm, made your best and closest friend explode in its own flames, and insulted you on a plethora of psychological and moral levels was petty? A senseless grudge? That was certainly news to Kai Hiwitari. In the past he hadn't had nearly as many reasons to hate a person, and still no one had argued with his sensibilities. Eyeing Kylie, feeling somewhat disgruntled towards her lack of tactfulness and uncertain what argument she was attempting to make, the slate-haired individual only answered with a far-off, wondering statement, "Almost killed me that time…" Averting his carmine eyes so that she wouldn't have any reasonable grasp of the thoughts running sluggishly through his mind, catching as they were on the old maze of brambles and thorns that tended to act as a shield between him, emotional overload, and loss of focus from day to day, Kai fought to stifle a disbelieving laugh. He was so used to absolute, untouchable authority whenever he chose to exercise it – and here was some girl from another world altogether who thought she knew better…
"Kai, Brooklyn is a good kid, whatever conclusions you might have drawn – I've lived with him, he's my little brother's best friend. I should know. He – just stands there and bunnies and crap walk right up to him…" Kylie felt a bit like she was reasoning with a brick wall and momentarily trailed off in the fruitless conquest. This boy she had allowed into the house despite retrospective warnings was frustrating; he was downright incomprehensible. So far neither being cross, blunt, politic, nor emphatic resulted in much more than a gradually developing sneer.
The Hiwitari, hell-bent on changing the subject before talk of Brooklyn's charms with fuzzy animals made him any more nauseous than he already was (or conjured up any more unsettling images of the cats Kai adored gravitating in the red-head's preferred direction), roused himself with an imperceptible shiver, met Kylie's dissecting eyes, and asked in a dull monotone, "You recognized me right away at the door, didn't you?" Kai was well aware that she hadn't thought he could be a fan – she'd known exactly who he was and hesitated in his presence for different reasons than he'd originally supposed. Obliviously the C-Bolt family had a running trend of manipulative liars as well as honor-obsessed athletes. Young Kai had conveniently forgotten all about the past in which he too had fought for family honor. Despite Kylie's notions, the young man could put some things behind him.
"Actually, you're kind of unmistakable," the girl brusquely acknowledged, glancing at the white-tiled ceiling as though for inspiration. "Most of the family watched the entire BEGA Five Tournament – Sure we, I… I saw what happened to you when you faced Brooke," it was her turn to look away, but because of discomfort for the subject matter and apprehension as to what his reaction would be, "and Garland told me about the qualifying matches – how you saw him as some kind of challenge. Gar thought you were being really stupid, but he was obviously worried. I get why you could still hate Brooklyn. But he's afraid of you." His expression, upon risking a look, was much as she'd feared. Kai appeared to be concentrating on something, and, piecing together the general look of a short, threatening young man with his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his shoulders shook, with his jaw tightened and his eyes serenely shut, Kylie worried that she'd made a serious misstep somewhere in the soliloquy.
Kai felt it was somewhere around her change from emphatic to understanding. He did not need understanding just then. It was like the lavender and sandalwood: entirely unwelcome. He did not need discussion, he did not need to be told about mistakes or the people that he'd caused to worry – he did not need any more guilt to come from the ruinous choices he'd made and would always tend to make. It was hate that gave him strength, anger that allowed him to live his life. Remorse had no place here, now, or ever. With an immense effort, the phoenix beyblader was able to sift every feeling her words had brought about: what remained was a tiny seed of sadistic hilarity; it served that crazy monster right to be afraid of him – it was sensible of him to be afraid. Hopefully Garland had sedatives and tissues on hand… hopefully he needed them. "And when you didn't want to let me in..?" Kai quietly asked, pondering the idea that long-past lemonade could taste a little like blood.
"Brooke goes on walks. Sometimes he falls asleep and disappears the entire day… We have a lot of land around here. It suits him. I was trying to decide if he'd be back any time soon, and I – didn't really expect you to stay long. Garland said you wouldn't come if you knew he was here, and since, well, there you were, I figured my brother would just tell you right away and be done with it… that you'd – storm out or something." Kylie's gaze deepened, sincerely warm, heartfelt – the boy apathetically concluded that she was pulling out all the stops now, trying to get him to, what, not hate anymore? Not want to avenge Suzaku's death (regardless of the sacred beast's return thereafter)? Not want revenge for his other selfish reasons? They were selfish, but they were good reasons. The second youngest C-Bolt simply did not have the power to make them vanish. "Guess we're all just unlucky… especially Brooklyn."
Brooklyn? Brooklyn being unlucky. Brooklyn unlucky. No, no, as far as Kai was concerned, their dear Brookie had dodged the bullet a few too many times for him to ever be considered unlucky. He'd destroyed half the city and gone more or less unpunished, but for having to live in this place with these people. He'd put a blader in the hospital (however briefly) and no one had even blinked, but for Kai's friends. He'd attacked, traumatized, and confounded a stadium full of people. He'd practically proven himself clinically insane. He'd fought for Boris and (debatably) managed to avoid being experimented on or brainwashed! Unlucky indeed. Besides, the cold-eyed beyblader tried not to put too much faith in luck – choice, fate, their odd relationship… that was what mattered to Kai. A tiny smile crept across his inexpressive mouth and he directed it at Kylie, who, interestingly, reacted just as she had to his most deadly glare.
He nodded slightly, urging her to continue, finally positive that nothing the strange girl had to say had a snowflake's chance in hell of changing his feelings towards Brooklyn. Nothing Garland did could prevent him from trying, with all his might, to destroy that creature – there was only the choice between whether it would be in the beystadium or outside of it. Positive, he could be morbidly amused; positive, he could let her say whatever she wanted and not be bothered (it was how he'd survived inane conversation in the early years of the Blade Breakers, wasn't it?). But Kylie had run out of things to say. She'd run out of ways to speak, tones and tactics to use, and she'd run out of the will to stand there, lemonade in hand, when this was her brother's supposed friend and her brother's problem – when she'd much rather have been on the deck sunbathing… but the young woman knew where her responsibilities and her loyalties were. She wouldn't just leave Kai standing there; leave him to walk out of this house after all that had happened. He didn't deserve it.
But neither could she remain, exercising the same empathy and sympathy that was more frequently turned towards Brooklyn with much better results. It was just too damn tiring with Kai. Kylie could only hope that she'd leave him with something to think about – even if it happened to be a thought that wouldn't form for a while yet. "I don't know very much about you, Kai. I don't know if you're a petty, grudge-holding person that hasn't got the heart to forgive. All I know is that you could be good for my brother – he needs a self-sufficient person in his life. He needs somebody that can take a little bit of the burden, that could understand what it is to be a team captain, to have people depending on him… I think Garland could use a friend like you, Kai, if only you'd suck it up and deal with your problems like a human being instead of some – animal. You're still here, so I don't think you've given up on him yet either."
Kylie brushed past the stolid teenager, exiting the kitchen with her head high but voice sullen. "Just give my brother a chance to explain himself, even though I don't think he should have to. I'm going to get Gar now and make sure Brooklyn isn't, you know, huddled in a dark corner… If I learn that you waited around, heard Garland out, maybe even said a word or two, I'll be pretty impressed. I might just let you off for ruining my good day."
Kai turned to watch her disappear, stage-whispering distractedly, "Be careful," again locking onto the more unimportant piece of information – that she would be alone with Brooklyn. Brooklyn was dangerous. He was unbothered by the low opinion of a total stranger such as she, but still found it within himself to be concerned for her safety in the presence of an inhuman bird-thing. The blader choked down another small sip of lemonade, looking around the empty kitchen, settling to wait… He was positive that no one could change how he felt about the prodigy of BEGA, but how he regarded Garland was still up in the air – he was angry with him, certainly, but when not angry, he was concerned. And he'd become concerned that Garland did not have a good reason for doing this to him, that Garland did not know what he'd felt like when facing that monster, when letting Suzaku go, that Garland had no idea how much it hurt to have your reality crumble around you, to drown. If Apollon's bearer did not have a good reason, Kai wouldn't be able to be his friend, whether or not they would have had a use for one another – the Hiwitari realized, with no small amount of surprise, that he wanted there to be a good reason. He couldn't explain himself in words, but Kai still wanted Garland to know what it felt like.
In a dim room across the house Garland sat cross-legged on a carpeted floor, hands slack in his lap, auburn eyes intently upon the youth tucked into an easy chair just in front of him. They'd been that way for some time, the red head's tone vague; thick hair clutched in his tense fingers, tall body slumped slightly… He'd been speaking of a great many things. It was all the usual Brooklyn-trauma-reaction (Garland had seen it before and hardly been able to forget), so he was not surprised or cross when the conspiracy theories were let loose alongside the miserable accusations that he'd done all of it on purpose, that he was trying to ruin Brooklyn's life, that he was trying to kill him, that he'd only brought him into their family to trap him there, that he was bait, that none of it was actually happening, it was a nightmare, it was a lie, it just could not be. What had happened to safety, warmth, comfort? What had happened to brotherhood and joy and the lies he'd believed in, the lies of getting to know people and being happy and having some certain individuals that would never tire of him, never harm him, never leave him? Why would Garland let the only one that had ever managed to scare him, that had taken away his visions, back into their lives?
The C-Bolt blader let it wind down, dismally certain of the pointlessness in argument while Brooklyn was too preoccupied to hear. But when the god bearer murmured something barely audible about what-had-he-done-to-make-Garland-hate-him-so-much-for-this-to-happen he felt it was time to put an end to the near-fugue of his teammate. He shuffled up to the chair on his knees, catching the downcast, suddenly wary cerulean eyes of his young friend and giving him the best, most sincere smile he could manage. There was a certain quality of pain in it that one who has never had to face somebody they cared about suffering would not have been able to duplicate. "Brooklyn, I told you everything is going to be okay, and I haven't lied to you yet," he firmly spoke. "I wouldn't do anything to knowingly hurt you; my family, our family, Mystel, Ming Ming, Moses, they wouldn't either. I would stop anybody that tried, you got it? And I mean anybody."
A fraction of the suspicion left Brooklyn's stare to be replaced by the tiniest, most tentative glimmer of childish hope; encouraged, Garland continued, "This has really happened, Kai is with my sister right now – he came to speak to me. He didn't know you were here. But he is not going to come anywhere near you again, he is not even going to look at you. I swear that nobody will do you harm while I'm standing. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake and I'm sorry for it." Brooklyn had, at some point, grabbed his leader's hand – his nails dug into it, visage warping into one of fierce determination, eyes once again the eyes of a person shocked, but ready to fight… Garland had seen him look that way once before: when battling Kai for the second time in the BEGA tournament – when his visions had been proven wrong. He did not want Brooklyn to do what he clearly wanted to do. Leveling several buildings probably wasn't a good idea.
"You need to leave this to me," Brooklyn's blue-haired counterpart said, voice firmer still, commanding, even. The point had to be driven home. "I'm the guy that makes sure nobody gets hurt, remember? I'm the guy that protects you. Just trust me – that's all I'm asking." There were a breathless few moments of contemplation – Garland could almost see through the glassy eyes of his charge the power struggle that raged between his light and dark, good and bad, the side that was determined to believe in the bracing, steady older boy kneeled in front of him and the side that believed in nothing but pain, loneliness and reformation. He'd watched the struggle often enough. He always rooted for the former party, knowing that it was probably the main reason the planet Earth was not yet reduced to ash because of one of Brooklyn's "bad days". The red-head finally nodded, blinking quickly as though he'd woken from a trance, loosening his grip and offering a feeble, halting smile. Garland hated to see him in this state, reduced so violently from his usual confidence, carelessness, charm. He could have hated Kai simply for that, if he'd thought hating the phoenix bearer would solve anything.
But it would not, and the smile was reassuring. "Thanks, Brooke." Garland gave a lopsided grin, patting the hand now resting calmly on his and reaching up to lightly cup the back of the genius' neck, pulling their foreheads together in a show of some brotherly affection or loyalty. Dimly, tiredly the two young men laughed together, despising the situation but unable to resist the humor of it. Brooklyn gave a slight yawn, leaning back into the cushy seat just as Kylie slipped into the rarely-used sitting room (put to its purpose then only because it was the farthest from the sounds and inhabitants of the training space and kitchen) unannounced and approached them with relief that nobody was having a mental breakdown clear as day on her face. Her younger sibling tossed a questioning glance, immediately answered with a flash of her eyes and tiny jerk of her head towards the door as she sprawled with a heavy breath across a free loveseat, again displaying a talent for silent communications. Brooklyn watched the proceedings with interested, sleepy eyes (he'd been quite drained by a week's worth of stress and terror, it would seem – not to mention the amount of sun he'd been absorbing lately), but said nothing more.
Garland lurched to his feet and, after smirking knowingly at his teammate and rolling his eyes as though the confrontation with Kai equated to banishing monsters from under the bed more than it did to diving into shark-infested waters, headed out towards the kitchen. It was only away from Brooklyn's sight that the gryphon bearer's expression hardened and feet began to reluctantly scuff the flooring. Suddenly what was happening and what was to come didn't seem so amusing.
Author's Notes: Rising action… rising action…
Sorry this took as long as it did. Chapters pretty lengthy, innit? I just love how these people can look at exactly the same thing and see something entirely different. Ah, young wonder.
A special thanks to my reviewers, without whom I'd not be wracking my brain for extended answers to simple questions like "why oh why does Kai hate Brooklyn?" You three rock!
Now someone tell me if Kylie is the tennis player or the golfer because I still haven't found out and it's driving me nuts.
I guess it's safe to say Kai won't be attending any pillow parties at Garland's house from now on.
