Title: Restless Nights
Author: Rhea R. Rin
Rating: T
Summary: Takao was naturally a good person; too good he ends up being chased, too good he ends up increasing the number of people living in his house, too good he ends up as a... MATCHMAKER!?
Warnings: Prepare to chuckle. Or groan. Siri has been trying to come up with a joke. Now let's laugh in peace.
Disclaimer: Beyblade belongs to Aoki Takao. None of the characters used in this story, save for Urara, belong to me. I write for the sole purpose of entertainment and definitely do not make money with this.
Chapter 1: [Homeful]
Takao had always considered books as a wonderful thing. The short, miniscule letters, words that weren't used in about a millennium, the texts that appeared like raw Greek— in short, a garbage dump for worthless dots. Not that he actually hated its existence; there were books he liked: mangas, light novels and sometimes his literature textbook when he was given something as a reward for reading it.
He just, disliked books without pictures.
With his attention span of less than twenty minutes and that certain gene that made him want to pick up his Dragoon and go on a wild dash, the joys of reading were few and far. His eyes were too used to the mad rush of beyblades, the constant movement it upheld, the fly of sparks as it rammed into another. Something that never moved and stayed in one place was too dull and lifeless. Something that couldn't hold up an ounce of energy was too boring.
He didn't bother to think much of it though. From the moment he had stepped inside the ultimate landfill, he was prepared to face such thoughts of uncharacteristic demeanour; demeaning thoughts targeted at nothing else but books. Why? Because he liked kinetic energy more than potential energy!
Simply because kinetic energy was much cooler than potential energy.
It was natural behavior that he found himself ranting over things that used up his kinetic energy in favour of potential energy because of the enormous increase in kinetic energy in his body just because he was someone who preferred kinetic energy to potential energy since potential energy basically never moves because it's potential and it got to be stored and kinetic energy always moved obviously because it was kinetic energy and kinetic energy thought that moving around was a very good joke because it was kinetic energy and on the other hand potential energy was just potential energy because…
Takao flinched as he rebooted his system; his mind had momentarily blanched from its own confusion. He blamed it all on books. Who else could be the culprit for such a fiasco?
Soon after he had recovered he decided he would just not waste any more time in wiping out his entire thought process (anything Hiromi told him to do required a minimum amount of sanity; his life was at stake!), he got to the task as brought out a small piece of paper into clear view. Takao immediately searched through its contents; it was a list, a long list at that, of all the books Hiromi wished to binge-read for the holidays. On further consideration, he, once again, began pondering on how anyone could read those undersized things.
The last time he checked, microbes didn't read novels…
Nor did they decide to write them either…
He wouldn't be able to read the tiny letters anyways.
Given his above discoveries, the cogs in his mind rattled as he formulated his new thesis. The answer was one most obvious, so obvious that Takao shook his head at the uncertainty of man; it was simply for the same reason that Kyoujou's glasses were so round and thick, that his eyes were more enigmatic than Kai himself!
All it took was a pair of specs!
The dubiosity of mankind was ridiculous!
Inherently, he pestered on with the comforting thoughts. If everything carried on as it went now, everything carried on as fate wished it to, there was also going to be a time when Hiromi too would be getting those.
He already knew it was worth the torture he was going through…
All too sudden, Takao's mood lit up and he quickly skipped from counter to counter, his heart melodiously beating to a happy tune.
He was planning a one-man war against Hiromi's cruelty…
…by thinking of ways to make fun of her future glasses.
But war was a war, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.
~•••~
Despite the long list and the sheer enormity of the books he'd put in, the bag wasn't very heavy. It hung from his hand like a loose branch, like a creepy creeper dangling off the roof of a haunted house. Wasn't it due time he started playing MC for a horror movie? The bag would be a good sidekick. He already knew it was going to be a big hit... With billions of fans... And a lot of merch...
The day looked so beautiful! His future shone so bright, his soul must be wearing sunglasses. That must look very cool...
A walk to his residence? Piece of cake.
Showing off his newfound strength and goals, he brought the pile to the counter and pulled out his library card. The elegance he'd shown must have been brave: the librarian kept eyeing him strangely. He was pinned down with a gaze that rivalled a taxidermist's insatiable hunger to stuff and mount him up on a wall. Yes, he believed he was just that great.
Albeit, a bit broke when it came to luck, but still great.
But as seconds passed, and Takao's radiating smile still kept steady, it was obvious the librarian pitied the self-absorbed human. It could be seen it in the way her eyes pored over him, the way she bobbed her glasses up and down and the way she brought the bag up to his eye level. She looked at him with a motherly gaze that told him to move on; face reality, the harsh truth. Try to be successful.
Slowly, with his heart ready for the ever becoming trauma, he lowered his gaze.
His so-called books in the bag were non-existent! Its existence was a lie found in hell!
The huge wave called reality had thrown him off on an island of vexation... wherein little bunnies fed on lion skulls for breakfast and tombstones filled the void like flowers. The day was gloomier than a necromancer's facebook page! (He started taking notes. His horror story was evolving. Might as well add a necromancer to the front page)
His books had fallen down a portal! Will he never get to see Hiromi's future glasses? The one-man war against Hiromi now seemed like a sweet faraway dream.
Eyes stuck on the ground, he found a book a few steps away from him. And another. And another. And another one over there. His trail was entirely traced by the fallen books. Hope wasn't lost yet!
(He had then found his knight in silver armour. Good story so far. He could type it down and it would be brandishing the bestselling corner.)
Now if someone could patch that huge hole up...
The librarian didn't look like much help. The only other to even have bothered with him was a random kid sucking on a lollipop, staring at him as if he was the world's biggest fool. He resigned. Today just wasn't his day (On second thoughts, it summed up just any other day in his life).
Laughing at his own melancholy, he tried to look over to the happy side. Why? Because he was an optimistic and a kinetic person.
Apparently because his birth certificate was a gift from the puppet factory!
He was a doll controlled by the power of optimism!
Just like any other day, he didn't think he had the patience to complain when a truck sped past; its tires splashing the otherwise stagnant puddles and drenching Takao head to toe.
Look at the bright side, they said. It would be fun, they said.
There were several types of trucks, even trucks with a naughty streak running through their… fuel. Sadly, ever since the rise of sugar daddies and mommies (exclusively for trucks), there wasn't much he could do about the increase in number of rebellious trucks; if there was good, there was evil, if good vehicles existed (like gramps' old car of some unknown brand), naughty trucks that tramped on the pedestrians also existed. Sarcasm apparent in his tone, his voice too loud the librarian's glasses cracked, he beamed in perfect harmony after the truck, "Thank you so much for your gift!"
The truck stopped, its window slid down, and briskly, a hand rose out from the driver's seat, waving awkwardly at him. Takao halted in his step. That waving… was unexpected. Did the bastard just say welcome?
Once again, for the umpteenth time that day, as far as professional standards went, he brushed it off. (Instead, he tried to be glad on the fact that he didn't get teleported to another world, he was completely lucky this time! The plethora of incidents where young adolescents like him switched worlds were immense!)
He prepared to leave; before another problem presented itself.
"The books! The books!" he cried; the freshly printed books he had borrowed from the library now lied in a messy heap on the pavement, its pages creased and muddy, a few of its pages torn. He hugged the books close to his chest. He, once more, found himself on island vexation. And this time, the bunnies were closing in for his skull!
Hiromi was going to sever all of his morsels! The librarian was going to haunt him every day for the fine! Was he the only one in everyone's anger-spotlight!?
Ah, well, yes, since he made a career out of living in the spotlight.
He fished out his contract with the author and gave it a vilifying glance, "Damn you, cursed piece of bamboo! May a panda eat you one day!"
~•••~
In the cold, winter streets, a small electronics shop suffered from the dwindling customers. It wasn't rush hour and every soul in the country might as well be taking a good nap in their cozy blankets in lieu of buying a good, reliable heater from their store… No, as destiny shall have it, the shop was cursed with the worst luck with customers.
They had been setting up a small counter in front of their shop; an experiment to demonstrate how 'good' their products were, when the old shopkeeper sensed an approaching customer. The only other employee beamed in new-found enthusiasm. This was a chance! Their prayers were being answered!
Two pairs of eyes glistened at the welcome intrusion.
A customer was coming here!
Their pizza money was coming closer!
And faster.
And even more closer.
A blur of red passed through their vision as it stopped before them, a cloud of dust sparking up from the sudden movement. Putting on their best welcome-customer smiles, they shone in perfect brilliance at their prey. Who cared about someone with a face that spelt asthma when their beloved was just a transaction away?
"I," the customer panted ungraciously, "want –huff- to –huff- test… your hair dryer."
Eyes landing on the customer's long shriveled hair, feet shuffling as the shopkeeper happily skipped, she pulled out a sleek chrome coloured dryer, the one they usually kept for demonstration purposes. Who'd have thought it would one day be tested by a one-in-a-million customer?
The boy's breath still heaved in brash aggressive huffs; it was just a step away from chugging like a runaway train. His eyes bulged out with a desperation as if his life was on the line. Fine results of perspiration trickled down his face. Dust and mud adorned him like a beautiful veil. How beautiful was their golden customer! It was obvious someone was giving them the good (evil) eye.
"Fast," the poor boy looked like he was crying, "My life is being held hostage!"
Excuse me, WHAT!?
They did come up with such a comparison, but that was merely a joke! Surely, the customer was also joking...
"The devil has taken my life hostage! And I just pissed her off!"
The two women glanced at each other. They knew the boy was crazy from his deranged entrance. But that talk about devils and hostage… Did this guy work for the mafia? Was it safe to even make a transaction? Will they get jailed?
What about their pizza, then? Will it never see the light of the day?
They considered their options… and went with their beloved. Spread love, not war.
The hand dryer found its way into the customer's hands. His arm went down and plopped a mammoth sized bag (the base of which was taped) into the confused shopkeeper's view. He set the dryer down and took out the bag's contents. Her breath felt heavy from the apprehension. Was it a bomb of some kind? She knew nothing about bombs.
Two.
No, four.
Seven.
Ten.
Fourteen. Fourteen books of immense thicknesses now lied on the counter, sodden, muddy and dripping. If they weren't bombs... then it surely must be books regarding arms trade. Or some national documentation of top secret files. Or some manual on weaponry. Might even be smuggled goods.
She stole a peek on one of its titles.
One Hundred Years of Solitude.
That didn't look like something destructive. Must be a stolen treasure. Did it cost millions? Her mood brightened. She was ecstatic! Her customer was rich! Or going to be rich!
She watched in gleeful happiness as the boy dry cleaned his books, books that probably cost billions. Such pleasant luck! This guy was one in a gazillion! He put the dryer back down and examined his work. There was a bit of a creasing here and there. It seemed that there wasn't much he could do with torn places. It didn't look very bad. It didn't look good either. The most anyone could say was it looked like a book. His fingers rubbed under his nose.
In her customer-appreciatory standards and her blatant desire for pizza, it perfectly looked presentable. If it looked presentable, his mafia boss wasn't going to be angry with him anymore, right? That should mean he was in a good mood and fall in love with the dryer that saved his life. He would soon be purchasing it and give them their long awaited money! And then, peacefully, she and her senior can finally buy pizza!
She was too preoccupied with her lavish thoughts, too immersed on her aspirations that she ogled her customer like a stray dog at delicious food.
~•••~
Takao felt a shiver run down his spine. The slick, piercing feeling of being watched and breathed down his very neck. He gulped instinctively, and loosened his shirt collar. He was being preyed on by the eyes of a perverted beast!
Setting the device back, he shrugged the feeling off (and pretended he didn't see the employee drooling). As a professional beyblader with millions of followers, this had been everyday routine… until winter came in and beyblading activity spiraled down, tail hidden between its legs.
He packed his books back in the bag, which he had securely strapped by a tape someone forgot in the park. After a brief battle with his conscience, he decided he valued his life a lot more. He tried weighing the books; glad that it got a lot lighter, flashed those lovely shopkeepers a very hearty thank you and left.
Left.
Just. Like. That.
"BASTARD! WHERE IS MY PIZZA!?" was heard a few minutes later.
Takao blinked innocently. He didn't munch on their pizza instead of the dryer, did he?
Then, mid-step, he halted.
He had been too excited that he would be saved from Hiromi's wrath and left the shop with ten on ten customer satisfaction. But there was one problem— he forgot the bag!
With all the books in it!
Things like this were the reason the future of the country was at risk!
Should I go back? He peered from over his shoulder and saw two she-demons plotting murder. A large gulp fell down his throat. It was now or never…
Die or die…
It wasn't as if there was much of an option anyway.
~•••~
"Did you rush in through the sewer on your way here?" Hiromi asked as she held the book at arm's length, inspecting it from all angles, scrunching up her nose in exaggeration. "When was the last time you took a bath?"
Takao smelt plain horrible. The books she requested were messy. The bag she had lent him now had a massive hole, repaired hideously with blue tape. And what's more? She could've mistaken Takao for a battle-worn zombie if she didn't know better.
From the way Takao's arms stretched out, his face fixed with a resolute look and fingers demanding, she knew the fool hadn't heard her previous question. Of course, he wouldn't bother with anything she said when she had Dragoon.
Hiromi sighed. She was hoping this would continue for a little longer. She was finally finding some long-forgotten use in Takao. She fished out Dragoon and threw it at her dear classmate. Takao jumped on to collect it, a dog reaching out to the frisbee, and proceeded to cradle the object with utmost care. Hiromi sniffed. If only he cared for his textbooks like that...
Immediately after he rubbed his cheeks against the object, and a five second imagination that swapped the beyblade with a textbook, she thought better. The current one was much more tolerable.
"Did you ask him?" Hiromi changed subjects, her tone melting passively. It was already the tenth time she was asking this. She didn't know a lot about Kai, if at all anything, the rest of G-Rev was more acquainted with him. "Do you even want to—?"
"I can't find him anywhere," he protested, "That guy slips off the radar too easily."
"Aren't you friends with him? Who doesn't have their friends' numbers?" Sounds of traffic could be heard outside, she closed in to shut the door, bemused when she found something, or rather, someone she didn't think she would find. "And here, you said you couldn't find him…"
Takao was immediately by her side, head poking out of the door, searching up for the said person.
There, between a telephone post and an obnoxiously luxurious car, he saw Kai leaning, busy talking with someone on the phone. Another man, much older, who wore a black suit kept checking the car's engine, trying to revive it and hopelessly failing. Hiromi lit up that instant. She nudged the other precariously. They were struck with a once in a lifetime opportunity!
"There you go, call him."
"He's talking," Hiromi shook her head as Takao stated the obvious. "No, no, he's actually talking, as in a conversation."
"And so?" Hiromi watched him shook his head at her. Unexpectedly feeling a change of roles, she fixed him with a look that demanded explanation.
"It's called strategy," At the disbelieving look he was given, he snorted, "In the end, in every battle it's all down to your strategy.
Right now, we have been struck with a luck situation, but how is our luck going to last? For all I know, he could pack up and leave the next moment," continued the person who won most of his fights through luck, "That's why we need to plan out a good strategy. We need to take control over the situation. Rather than him vanishing and appearing out of thin air, we need to restrict his movements. Cut out his supplies! Bring up a siege!"
Hiromi blinked. This wasn't Takao, maybe some reincarnated sage from some distant universe, but not Takao. And this 'sage' was driving the conversation off-topic.
"But by the time you come up with a reliable strategy, he might've left..."
A cold shiver passed down her spine when she saw a smirk plastered on his face.
"That is why, Tachibana..." She didn't like it when he drawled out her name. "...I got the perfect strategy to win this."
Takao and strategy? The one thing she knew, it did not sound like a good idea. She made sure he knew of her disapproval while he scoffed back. Takao's confidence was scary, frighteningly scary. And she was very, very wary on what he was going to pull.
Takao stood up, gave Hiromi a mock salute and strode off, eyeing her with a look saying: I'll show you
She sneered in reply.
"Kaaaaiiii~" Legs bouncing up in the air, his voice humming in a sing song, he called out. Hiromi waited by the doorpost; back-up for when he messed up. Just so you know, she was very certain it will be a failure. Hundred percent! She was ready to emasculate him once that happens.
"Aren't you homeless?"
Hiromi nearly face-palmed herself. Was this his godly strategy to bring in Kai's attention? That guy probably had villas as huge as manors! She didn't even want to get started on with the mansions!
"I have a free space in the dojo, y'know?"
She watched, shaking her head sadly, as Takao increased his pace with no idea what he was getting into. A part of her wanted to prepare a coffin for him.
"If you're penniless, the rent is free."
His shoes scraped the ground as he forced himself to stop. Kai hadn't snubbed him right away, but it wasn't a good thing either. It was because he didn't hear him! Kai was still on his phone! He looked back to see Hiromi mouthing if she had to prepare first aid for him. He shook his head negatively.
"Kaaaaiiii~" he tried out once more, this time, his voice a bit louder.
Kai made a strange sound when he finally noticed Takao. Nonchalantly, he resumed his sequence of strange sounds over the phone, drones and voices that felt like nyet and privyet. It took a whole minute for Takao to realize he was speaking in a foreign language. Russian, perhaps? He couldn't have joined the Russian team without knowing the language.
He saw Hiromi urging him to carry on and that she'll make... a box? She stretched her arms and replayed it once more. An extra wide box? He didn't understand.
"What do you want?" Takao finally heard Kai speak (in understandable words). He turned, eyes latching on to a pin fastened to the other's jacket. "I do have enough houses, Kinomiya," There was a hint of annoyance in his tone. Perhaps he did hear him, afterall. But at this point, it seemed like Takao was just playing with fire.
But that wasn't what he had on his mind. Instead, a rather strange thought occurred to him. It was something that sprang up into his mind like a strange Tom-and-Jerry chase in town. Something that sprang up when he saw Kai fiddling with the pin. The more he thought about it, it actually made a lot of sense! The reason Kai kept on challenging him every single time. The reason he went to train even in the harshest of weathers. The reason he did not quit when Brooklyn lashed him up. It was all so obvious! Like a crazy scientist with his first successful invention, he lit up brightly, too bright that the sun wasn't even necessary. Even before he knew it, words were sprouting out of his mouth.
"Are you a masochist?"
The driver stared at Takao as if he was a criminal ready to be hanged. Hiromi had practically turned to a statue. Takao didn't have the guts to search for Kai's expression. If there was a time switch that erased a particular event, he'd gladly use it. His mouth puckered up; his plan was walking on the path to eternal doom! His strategy now reeked like a born failure!
He set a pointed stare at Hiromi for support. He gulped when he felt a murderous aura loom behind him.
"Kinomiya."
A single word. His name. But it made him shiver all over. Kai was frighteningly scary. It wasn't like he had to actually say that.
It was a universal truth.
~•••~
Hitoshi scrolled down through his phone.
Good things usually happened when he decided a day was too boring.
For instance, when Sahara's heat had sucked out his patience last summer during an excavation, he was served some nice good miso that reminded him of home. Or the time he was in middle school, and he was sent back home when the power failed. Not necessarily a good thing but at least he got a major part of the day to himself.
With the same expectations, he'd unlocked his phone, searching for something or the other that could lighten his mood up. He was too used to the noise in the house to deal with it when the two troublemakers were not home.
That was how he had chanced upon the article. It wasn't anything that bordered on good. It wasn't anything bad, either. It was an article on a hair dryer that sold for 140 million yen. Or more precisely, it was a hair dryer that saved the champion's life sold for 140 million. Further reading said about an electronic shop that suddenly went famous, but who reads that far?
His eyes were glued to a certain picture of his brother at the shop, his skin paler than a vampire, eyes bulged out like soccer balls, cheeks hollowed as if the wind was knocked out of his lungs. It couldn't be Takao, it was probably one of the meat pieces they hang at haunted houses. He refused to believe his brother was dead.
Kids these days... What did they go around doing? He felt the need to have a good, nice, brother to brother talk with him.
「Is that Takao? He looks like that discarded doll I saw on the street」
「All the beyblade legends doing good things left and right and then there's Takao. smh」
「Is that true? There's a rumour going about that Takao tried to steal from the shop」
「I thought I was back to watching Annabelle when I saw Tyson's face. Who else thinks Tyson should be an actor? 」
「Tyson and stealing? Impossible! I believe in you, Tyson」
「Takao's face. lmao」
「Isn't 140 million too much for a hair dryer? I could buy the same thing from the local mart lol.」
「Omg Tyson's face is simply priceless」
「I look like that when I wake up every morning」
And the comments were just plain ridiculous.
A/N: I had my own fun writing 'Tyson' in the comments. Had to stop thinking about that random neighbour's dog... such a hassle.
Chapter 2: [Vivid]
