A/N: Obviously this is an error because it's 6 months early. XP Either that or you're psychic and know exactly what I was going to write. Pretty short again, but really, going on and on about something doesn't really help the story. That's my theory. Hope you enjoy the story; this chapter is a bit on the strange side. The next one out should be around May, 'cause the only thing that's coming up is I have to get my toenail out… again. Blah.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed: Dragon Reverb, ToraHimeSama, sanaa, Sony89, Black Wolf Jaganshi Lover, BlitzFanatic, nightpixie, MePo, cartoon-watcher-4-eva, Tinkerbell-04, DarkDremora4, and Anime gurl 29. You guys didn't ditch the story.
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.
Chapter Eight: Hopscotch Hoopla
"What are we exactly doing?" Tyson asked, stretching his limbs as he followed some of Hilary's relatives out into the aisle. He noticed ahead that everyone was approaching the wedding party one at a time in a long line he appeared to be part of.
"Congratulating the happy couple," Mr. Tatibana answered dryly, ignoring the fact that the question had been for Hilary. "I'm going to be blamed for this divorce too…."
"Oh, Dad. It's not your fault," the brunette tried to ease his thoughts, patting his back encouragingly as she wobbled passed him to be beside Tyson.
"Of course not. It's yours."
Hilary gaped, "How is it my fault?"
Raising his hands in the air, he stressed, "At fifteen - !"
"Sixteen."
"At sixteen and talking while other people are talking, a priest no less, how do you think that makes me look?" her Father sighed, waving off his error.
Tyson interjected thoughtfully, "A little better than someone who interrupts their sister's wedding?" The man glared at the blue haired boy immediately, making Tyson smile sheepishly. "Or not."
"Wasn't the wedding just beautiful?" Mrs. Tatibana gushed, wrapping her arms around her husband's. "Just think, our little Hilary will be walking down the aisle some day soon."
"Soon?" Tyson grinned, swinging his arm around Hilary playfully; falling off balance, she levelled herself against him unwillingly. She glowered upward at his amusement. "You got somebody picked out already, Hil?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," she pushed him back somewhat, his arm hanging loosely in nonchalance. Over a crease of his tux, Hilary could see the bitter expression on her Father's face and the dancing swoon in her Mother's eyes.
"What am I supposed to say? I don't know anyone," Tyson frowned, "Hey, hope you last more than a year? You're way better than those Kyles? She must be some catch if there are so many guys fumbling after her?"
Hilary rolled her eyes, "Yeah, definitely use those."
"What are you going to say?"
"Congratulations?"
"Wow… I can tell you've been to a lot of these," Tyson said sarcastically, unimpressed with her degree of experience. "I thought you'd have a whole speech prepared or something."
"Seeing as how they're two second meetings I don't think so. You just remind them who you are and say good luck."
Tyson cocked an eyebrow, his face falling, "Hi, my name's Tyson. Good luck with this train wreck?"
"Young man!" Both teenagers jumped to see an older woman, dressed up in bright purple with a feather falling over her face turn to face them. Her face was pinched together, her nose sticking up in the air so that her icy gaze slid down her face, passed her glasses balancing on the end of said nose to meet Tyson. "That is my niece you are talking about, and dare you put your arm around my darling great niece?"
"Uh…," Tyson stuttered, frazzled by the sing song tune lacing her sentences. "I dare?"
"Take your hand off her at once!" She swatted at him with a leopard skinned purse she refused to let go of. It managed to bop him on his head as he lifted his arm off of Hilary. Yelping, the scene caught the attention of Mr. Tatibana and a few others who didn't know the woman.
"Aunt Bertha, is there a problem?" the older man asked cautiously, stepping between the two teenagers.
"Of course you'd approve of this hooligan, both of you are conspiring to destroy Veronica's chance at happiness!" the older woman cawed crankily, she swatted at Hilary's Father as well, smacking him in the shoulder. "Conspiring!"
"Tyson and I are not conspiring against anything," Mr. Tatibana reasoned, "He's here because he's Hilary's… date."
"Date?" Aunt Bertha repeated, spitting the words out like a bad taste. She didn't allow Hilary to be relieved about her Father's words, instead deciding to go on a tirade. "These are the type of boys you surround yourself with? Boys who think women are evil and are to blame for everything!"
"I didn't say that!" Tyson attempted to defend himself, rubbing his forehead. He poked out from around Mr. Tatibana. "I think women are great!"
"Aha! I knew it," Aunt Bertha shouted, attempting to hit him again, but just skimming Mr. Tatibana's elbow. "You think women are your personal treasures, that Hilary is your arm candy."
"If Hilary was my arm candy, I'd bring her somewhere that didn't have half of her family as the public!"
"You're in a losing fight, Tyson," Mr. Tatibana interrupted. "It's best to shut-up and admit defeat."
"Ha!" the woman spat, "What a role model for men, how did my brother raise you? And this is the kind of boy you want for your daughter? Look at how long his hair is!"
Hilary poked Tyson in the ribs to stop him from speaking; glowering for a moment, he grudgingly obeyed. Mr. Tatibana sighed, "Aunt Bertha, let's not cause a scene… it will ruin Veronica's wedding."
"Too late for that…," the old woman huffed, spinning around on her heels elegantly to sway away from them as much as she could. Hilary's Dad bowed his head, his mind racing on an aching track.
"Thank God that's over," Tyson whispered carefully, eyeing the woman like a rapid dog ready to strike.
"Don't think so," Hilary smiled sympathetically, "She'll be sitting at our table."
"Table?"
"For the reception."
"Reception…?"
"Where we'll be eating…."
"Oh," Tyson grinned, "Of course, we'll be eating… I forgot. What's on the menu?"
Hilary rolled her eyes, "Hopefully proper table manners." Mockingly, the blue haired boy laughed, pulling her closer to him again.
"Verrrrrrrronica!" Aunt Bertha sang, the sound sombre and exhilarating to everyone in the room. She opened her arms widely, crushing the woman in the white dress swiftly with slobbery kisses. To Tyson surprise, the bride didn't seem repulsed in the least, rather she returned the gesture generously.
"Auuunt Bertha!" Veronica exclaimed, teary eyed at the sight of the dear woman. "I'm so glad you could make it…. Not that it was perfect."
"I wouldn't miss this for the world, you are my favourite niece after all," Aunt Bertha wiped the woman's tears, sending a snide look over her shoulder. "Believe me, I know brothers can be a nuisance."
Mr. Tatibana scowled at the unwanted attention, looking downward to get away from their glares. "Man, I sympathize with you," Tyson frowned, patting the man encouragingly on his back like Hilary had earlier. "Surrounded by all these woman… how do you survive?"
Her Father's eyebrows scrunched together in thought. "What do you mean?"
"Hilary's the only woman, I guess, that I have in my life. I gotta tell you, now that I've met some of the woman you have to deal with…," Tyson whispered cautiously, eyeing the angry harpies in purple and white, "I'm going to appreciate Hilary a lot more."
Mr. Tatibana's eyes lightened, smiling grimly at the teenager's words. "Oh. At least my relatives will help give Hilary a better life."
"Yeah," Tyson nodded oddly, "Sucks to be you though."
"A little bit."
"Kyyyyyyyle!" Aunt Bertha exclaimed again, swarming the groom with a sudden dash. Seeming utterly confused, the man, wrongly named, became crushed in a wave of purple; her puffy flower getting stuffed in his nose.
"Greg, actually…."
Mr. Tatibana pointed to the older woman accusingly, approaching his older sister as he brushed pass his daughter and her date. "She just called him Kyle! I knew his name," he stressed, "It's Greg."
"Of course it's Greg, he just said it."
"I'm trying to be a parent," the man sighed, "That's why I stood up… I don't care who you marry or how many times."
"There you go again!" Veronica flicked him in the nose, "Thinking you're better than me because you've only had one wife, and you have a daughter who gets straight A's… and you have a house…."
"I don't think I'm better than you…."
"It's fine! My new husband can beat you up any day." Greg looked over at the commotion with uncertainty, smiling warily at his new brother-in-law while Aunt Bertha pounded on his back.
Mr. Tatibana rolled his eyes, "Guess we'll go arrange that date then… come on Aunt Bertha, move it or lose it."
"Hi, Aunt Veronica!" Hilary smiled cheerfully, getting enveloped in a hug while Tyson stood off awkwardly. "Congratulations."
"Thank you, sweetie. I bet you helped out with this whole thing, you've always been so organized," the woman cooed. "Look at you! All grown up, must be driving the boys wild!"
Hilary laughed nervously, awaiting Tyson's cocky snort of disproval. Amazingly, it never arrived as he listened intently to their conversation. "I wouldn't say that…."
"I would…," Veronica suddenly smiled thinly, "I saw you earlier… preventing my wedding from starting… making my brother talk to you two constantly. Tell me, is there something wrong with Greg?"
The brunette blanched, "This is my first time meeting him. And I'm sorry I was talking during the wedding…."
"Fine," Veronica sighed.
"Uh… congrats?" Hilary repeated, giving her Aunt another brief hug before moving on in the line. Tyson stepped up, leaving the older woman confused.
"Aunt Veronica!" Tyson echoed with a grin, holding his arms out wide for his greeting. Not moving, the woman in the white dress placed her hands on her hips and glowered. "Didn't you miss me?"
Hilary sent him a strange look, shaking Greg's hand in an introduction. "I don't know you," Veronica informed him, face pinched together much like Aunt Bertha, "Other than the boy who can't keep his mouth shut."
"Listen, about that, it really was all my fault. I've never been to a wedding before," Tyson scratched the back of his neck, "Hilary was just explaining what was happening."
"Uh huh," the woman replied dryly, "I've dated a lot of guys, I know what you're doing. Pretending you were doing something else so you won't get in trouble."
"Get in trouble?" Tyson repeated, "Are you going to send me to the corner?"
"I'm going to send you somewhere."
Tyson smiled cheekily, waving to the bride before moving onto the groom. "Sending me down the line? Congrats." Veronica huffed lowly.
"Er… you're not a relative I haven't memorized, right?" Greg questioned wearily, "I don't remember you being on the cue cards…."
"Cue cards?" the blue haired boy gawked, "Does she know everyone in your family?"
"Not a lot of my family came," Greg revealed nervously, leaning forward to whisper to him, "A lot of them think she's too controlling…."
"Greg! Don't hug him."
He nodded, "Alright."
Tyson shook his head, "How did they jump to that conclusion?"
"Did you know about the Kyles?"
"Uh… no." Greg nodded again, crestfallen by the apparent news of his wife having had several exes. "I'm sure you'll be married for a long time… maybe not by your standards though."
"Thanks…."
Hilary was glaring at him not far off from his journey around the semi-circle, her hands poised critically on her waist. "Hey, you look just like your Aunt Veronica," Tyson grinned, wrapping his arm around her shoulder for guidance.
"Well my Aunt pretty much hates you and you just disturbed the groom," the brunette sighed, bringing him to a decent gathering of tables. "Things are going well."
"I'd say," Tyson laughed, "When do I get to meet Sammy?"
"Uh…," Hilary paused to look around the yard, not catching sight of the sweet, wrongly named, little boy. "After dinner."
"Heeeeeee is not sitting with us," Aunt Bertha exclaimed, jabbing a finger at Hilary's apparent beau dramatically. Feinting surprise, neither teenager slowed their stride. "Youuuuuu will eat with the dogs."
"Noooooo," Tyson sang, "I won't." Mr. Tatibana snickered, already seated at the round table, much to his daughter's surprise. Aunt Bertha didn't become angered, but perplexed, by the presence of his mock.
"Why are you talking like that?"
"Talking like what?"
Aunt Bertha grunted before continuing, "Heeeee can't sit here…!"
"He's going to," Mr. Tatibana smiled wanly, taking the territory with caution. "Tyson doesn't have to sit beside you."
"Aww," Tyson murmured.
"Bertha! Are you making a fuss again?" a hearty, older fellow bounded for their small crowd. He leaned leisurely on his cane, stumbling out of line like Hilary had earlier. He bounced and wobbled with a joyful smile gracing his lips and casted a peculiar spell over Mr. Tatibana.
"Thomas, did you see what your son did during the wedding?" Aunt Bertha glowered, sitting back in her chair.
"Are you kidding me?" Thomas cackled, wobbling up to Hilary's Father and smacking him on the back a few times. "It was the only thing that was keeping me awake! You should do that the next time too."
"That's where his attitude is coming from!" Aunt Bertha growled, she then pointed to Tyson again, "And it's spreading."
Thomas wheeled around to stare at the blue haired boy curiously. "Who's this…? Did someone adopt another grand kid who'll want in on my will? Someone should really ask me about my opinion on things."
"Grandpa," Hilary interjected and Tyson immediately sensed a difference in that word; she had used it in a much warmer fashion toward his own grandfather on numerous occasions. "This is Tyson… my date."
"Date," Thomas repeated, suddenly examining the boy beside his granddaughter. The study made Tyson weary, having known Hilary's Great Aunt for a bit longer; he could imagine that cane smoking him right in the head. "A little on the scrappy side, isn't he?"
Tyson's expression crumbled. "Scrappy? I work out every day."
Thomas chuckled, taking a seat between his sister and son. "For how long? Two minutes? You don't look like you play checkers let alone a sport." Hilary flinched at the comment, she knew the comment would damage Tyson's pride and that was never a good thing.
"I'll have you know," Tyson growled, putting his hands on the table with a smack as he leaned forward, "I am the third time reigning world beyblading champion. I'm the only person who has ever done that."
"Oh," Thomas awed apologetically, "I have no clue what that is."
Aunt Bertha nodded solidly, "Probably something illegal."
"Sounds familiar…," Mr. Tatibana agreed.
"I can't believe you," Tyson gaped, he held out an arm at Hilary for their attention to switch. She smiled sheepishly at her date's alarm. "Hilary is my coach! She makes all my training schedules."
"Well there's your problem," Thomas shook his head. The boy became confused, pulling two chairs out at the table blindly; one was for himself, the other for the brunette. "You're letting a girl train you for a sport nobody watches."
"Do you live under a rock?" Tyson retorted, completely ignoring his jibe against women, making Hilary roll her eyes. "Beyblading is a world renowned sport. Millions of people dream to be like me and my team mates! The ratings are off the roof! People have bobble heads of me!"
"It's true," Hilary stated, "Seats are impossible to get."
"What do you do in this sport?" Mr. Tatibana asked.
"I can't believe I sill have to explain to this to people…," Tyson frowned, "The object of the game is to knock the other person's beyblade out of the stadium or make it stop spinning."
"And a beyblade is…?" Thomas inquired.
Reaching into his tux's pant pockets, he pulled out his signature 'blade Dragoon. "You brought your beyblade to a wedding?" Hilary questioned skeptically, "Why in the world would you do that?"
"I figured Sammy might want to see it," Tyson replied, smiling lopsidedly at the girl. "Besides, I never leave it behind; what if it got into the wrong hands?" At that very moment, Thomas grabbed the item right out of the boy's grasp to examine it. "Hey!"
"This is it?" Thomas laughed, "You work out every day to play with this little top? No wonder a girl is your coach!"
"Hey, I was a champion for an entire year before Hilary even got the name of the game right," Tyson reached for Dragoon to no avail, bending over the circular table. "And it's not just a top, if you have to call it that, it takes a lot of knowledge and strength…."
"To spin a top?"
"I can spin my 'blade through the roof!"
Thomas was skeptical. "How is that…? You don't even have all the pieces of this thing… you can't spin it without all the pieces."
"What?" Tyson yelped, finally taking hold of Dragoon in the captivity of his own hands. After examining it, he turned to Hilary with alarm, "Do you see anything missing?" Hilary shook her head.
"What are you talking about? You can't spin a top without holding and twisting thing at the… top. I know I'm speaking very technical terms, but for God's sake, you're the champion," Thomas lectured.
The navy haired boy's face fell before pocketing the unharmed beyblade. "It's not a top; it doesn't use that to spin. You use a rip cord that releases the beyblade into the stadium with critical speed. It's no game for amateurs." Hilary rolled her eyes at his last detail.
Thomas snorted at his seriousness. "In my day, we had to spin our own tops. Even then it wasn't a high contact sport."
Tyson went slack jawed, his expression blank as he spared a glance to Hilary. "Grandpa," she came to his defence lightly, "It can be pretty dangerous."
Thomas started to laugh again and Mr. Tatibana also became perplexed and skeptical at her agreement. "Whatever you say darling," her grandfather sighed, "Maybe you should give him a few more push ups though, we wouldn't want him to lose due to lack of muscle."
Tyson glared, crossing his arms, he slouched in the chair beside his date, seemingly defeated. Sympathetically, Hilary rested her hand on his arm reassuringly and squeezed it. "Don't be mad," she murmured.
"Maybe you could introduce us to the world champion of extreme hopscotch and professional hide and go seekers? If you could get them through their intense work out schedules, that is! Hilary probably coaches them too!"
"How could I be mad?" Tyson whispered back, his eyebrows furrowed in plain annoyance. "Now I know why you hated me so much, you were born into a family of beyblade haters."
"I didn't hate you."
"Fine," he rolled his eyes, "That's why you spited me."
"You're a great beyblader," Hilary smiled, causing the boy to sigh. "They'll never be able to understand that or how hard you work. As a representative of my family, I will scream even louder next time you're in a championship."
"You can scream louder?" Tyson grinned, "You're already breaking glass… what's next? Ear drums?"
"I'm not kidding, Tyson. Sometimes I hate when you are so big headed about all the attention you get, but the truth of the matter is…," Hilary paused, glancing to her relatives as the buzzed about how utterly silly her boyfriend was for taking such a stupid game seriously. "You deserve it. You're the one of the most dedicated people I have ever met… surprisingly."
"Thanks… but honestly tell me this…," Tyson flexed his arm discreetly, "You can tell I work out regularly, right? I mean, check out this bicep."
"Er…," Hilary looked away from him in embarrassment, "I'm not even going to answer that."
The navy haired boy laughed, breaking up the conversation of the others surrounding the table. He snaked his arm around the brunette playfully, pulling her close. "I was just kidding. I really appreciate the support, coach."
"That's not getting you out of laps…."
"Can't blame a boy for trying."
