Summer

by Aestivate

Author's Note: There are instances in which I will change from "Max" to "Makkusu" or "Emily" to "Emili", as to show what language the person speaking is. They are merely Romanized versions of their name (from the Katakana), but I want to keep the Japanese and the English separate. All reviews going against my view of this pairing will be deleted, no questions asked.

Most of this fic was written last year and I finally got around to do some hardcore editing. Forgive the lack of talent that comes with premature writing.

Max picked up the phone and dialed the Kinomiya residence...

"Hello, this is Kinomiya Takao... No, Daichi, it's not the owner of the restaurant in town calling to take up your offer on buying his head chef... No, Hiromi, you haven't won a romantic dinner date for two... And besides, why would they call here if you've won something? It's not like it's your house or anything... NO, KYOUJU, IT'S NOT THE COMPUTER GEEKS FOR A BETTER TOMORROW PEOPLE!" Loud yelling ensued... Mostly on Takao's, Hiromi's and Daichi's part. "Sorry, this is Kinomiya Takao again. My friends are a little bit odd..."

Max grinned. "And you're not?"

"Hey it's MAKKUSU!" Takao exclaimed from the other line. "It's the Mizuhara kid. Where have you been, Makkusu? SHUT UP, Daichi!"

Max laughed. From the other line, there was:"Oh, it's Mizuhara Makkusu? Iwanttotalktohimiwantotalktohim! I didn't get to see him off, and I haven't talked to him in a while!"

"Honestly, Daichi..."

"Sorry, Makkusu," Takao said. "So how have you been?"

"Fine... I just... needed to talk to you guys. Who else is there?" Max checked his watch. Good. He still had twelve minutes.

"Just about everyone," Takao said. "Except for ojii-san, but who needs that old crackpot anyway?"

"Anyway," began Max, his tone growing more serious. "I have to talk to you. About Emily."

"What's wrong with her? Has her ego deflated? Has she suddenly given up Beyblading or tennis?" joked Takao.
"No," Max hissed. "Stay quiet about this. I need help, Takao." And Max spent a good portion of five minutes, explaining his story and the tag team battle, and the whole confessing part...

When Max finished, his felt lightened. It felt good to talk to someone who wouldn't crack up with laughter. He took a breath, and it was much easier to draw air into his lungs. "Takao? Takao? Are you there?"

Everything stopped for a fraction of a second...

"YOU LIKE EMILI?!"

Max winced, holding the phone away from his ear. "I told you to keep quiet!" Max caught bits and pieces of the conversations that ensued afterwards.

"Oh, Emili and Makkusu. How cute... Makkusu is such a sweetie."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! But there's still Ming Ming-chan, I guess..."

Max tried hard to suppress a snicker, and he fared a lot better than the other side of the conversation did.

"Makkusu likes girls? Gross..."

"Uh, guys, it's not such a big deal..."

"Of course it is, Rei! Haven't you ever been in love? And ahem, DAICHI, I AM A GIRL."

"Obaa-san is... a girl?"

"SUMERAGI DAICHI!"

"Obaa-san... Why are you looking at me like that?"

"O-oi! Hiromi! Stop it before you break something!" A loud crashing sound symbolized that Takao had dropped the phone and joined into the fray.

Massaging his temple, Max waited patiently for another person to speak.

Surprisingly, it was Kai. The commotion could be heard among his voice.

"The only way you'll be able to tell her is if you think of your own strategies and your own style. The only way you can ever get through to what you want in life is to rely on yourself and stick to your gut. Think of it as a Beybattle..."

A new light dawned in Max. His face gradually broke into an incredible smile, and he said breathlessly and gratefully into the phone, "Thanks, Kai!"

"Don't lose, Makkusu. It'll be bad for your image," retorted Kai.

"Makkusu?" Apparently, Takao was now in possession of the phone.

"I'm sorry, Takao, but my mom set a limit of fifteen minutes and they're just about up," Max said. "Talk another time? Except you call me, instead?"

"Will do. Too bad we hardly got the chance to talk... I blame the others for that." Takao's voice trailed off, but the others had ganged up on him.

"Our fault? What are you talking about?"

"Explain, Takao..." said Hiromi in a low, menacing tone.

"I'm hungry - and it's all Takao's fault!"

"Hey... wait... guys, settle down! Good luck, Makkusu!"

The voices grew louder, and then a click told Max that Takao was in trouble. Sniggering to himself, he glanced at the clock, which read a little before midnight, give or take a few minutes. He'd called this late, because he wanted Takao to actually be awake when he called, for the sake of precious money used for long distance calls.

Feeling overly exhausted, both emotionally and physically, Max collapsed with a thud on his bed, but didn't fall asleep immediately. He stared at the ceiling with a faint smile, thinking of the day's events, both pleased and disappointed with himself for acting like a fool around her. How many times did he have to clam up before being able to talk to Emily comfortably, and with a straight face? How many times would he turn beet red, feeling like an idiot while making the weirdest statements? How much taunting would he have to put up with from his teammates? How many fish-eyes would he receive from both his mother and Emily? How many phone calls would it take, and reassurances from his friends until Max finally admitted his feelings?

And, worst of all, what would Emily's reaction be?

His head hurt again. It bothered him to no end, so Max crept out of bed and went in search of some Tylenol to help him go to sleep. Finding it almost instantly, he smiled with relief and washed down two tablets with gusto. With his senses dulled and with sleep gently nudging his eyes... Max eddied away from the world into the succumbs of a sleep with dreams of Emily.

Something about Max just wasn't right. Emily'd noticed when Max got off the plane and today, or yesterday, because she was up and it was dawn... Which was besides the point. He was different, in no ways bad, and in no ways good. He was odd, to put it quite frankly.

Something about him made Emily wonder.

What hid beneath the angelic smile?

Emily had asked herself this from the beginning. Even when things looked like they were going to fall apart, and that everything was going to go wrong - Max always had that smile. Optimism,

it would be known as by some, but Emily and her teammates knew a lot better. Max was hopeful, he always wished for a bright future.

She felt a secret joy in surprising him with her newly developed attack She was strong, she was competitive, and fierce. She wouldn't ever change. It was in her nature to be intense, to want to challenge, to analyze. But there was that something about Max that she could never find out... He was mysterious. She realized she hardly knew anything about him, even if he did wear his heart on his sleeve. The innocent ones always get you. Unlike the aloof Kai Hiwatari of Russia, Max was predictable in his movements and the way he acted - and yet not. What made Max truly happy? Beyblading, sure. But she didn't know and it would be hard to find out because he smiled at anything, whether it be a bad thing or a good thing. Was it a facade, or was he truly, insufferably happy?

What made him tick? Again, that infamous grin that hid everything from everyone. He made actions that everyone could figure out. But the reasons behind them were always a mystery, never known and yet overlooked because the surface things were more conspicuous.

That's how Emily would always be and grow up to become. Critical and analytical, with a fountain of ideas spouting from her brain. She only seemed loud and bossy because her mind worked at a faster pace than others, making calculations faster than the normal brain, thinking up the simplest, but most functional solutions to problems.. But when her solutions failed, that's when she did get angry. It stank to lose. Emily always wanted to be the best at everything, she was always burning that flame. She couldn't help but laugh at that. She wasn't perfect, no one was, no one could be. A girl could try, couldn't she? Especially a girl with tournament status in Beyblading, American, for one thing, and a set future and career. She was almost seventeen, going into the twelfth grade. She took her SATs already - coming out with a perfect score, of course, and was planning on applying to every college that she had in her sight and come out with an easy early decision. Then after she was finished, she'd return to the labs and then begin her internship, soon her job, then end with the rest of her life.

That was her life, planned ahead of her. That was her. Plans, statistics, numbers enough to make your hair as ginger as Emily's, trying to be the best at everything she did, playing tennis when she had time, working at her new attack and altering her weight disk until it worked to perfection, getting used to her new shooter rack, which was longer and accentuated skill her skill far more than her custom shooter. Her life was her Beyblading, her future would be the same way, and she knew Max's would be too, although her future was much more straight forward. Maybe she was more obvious than she had given herself credit with.

Emily flopped back onto her pillow and rethought her future sullenly. It hadn't crossed her mind that a happiness that wasn't in the form of Beyblading had entered her plans at all.

She sighed, tucked her covers around her, glancing at the clock, the red numbers eerie in the dim light. It was early, far too early for anyone to be up. For some reason, her heart gave an odd twinge when she thought about Max. She was still eager to show her skills, prove that she could beat him no problem. She would not take failure for an answer. She wanted a clean, simple, fair, yet as honorable a battle as she could get. She wanted it to be clean because no one needed to be cheating. Not like they would, anyway, so that was a no-brainer. Simple because she wanted it just to be for the sport and to show off some talent, like the way current Beyblading was. She savored her Beyblade parts and strived for perfection, both mentally and physically. Emily knew it would be honorable. That was how the sport was. Defense of pride, defense of yourself, defense of your Beyblade. Offense of your pride, offense of yourself, offense of your Beyblade.

The only element of her "perfect Beybattle" Emily worried about was the fairness.

She knew that she and Max would work as hard as they could and be at their peak, physically, that was a given. Injuries were just casualties that could be accepted. But mentally, she wasn't so sure. Her stomach clenched. There was something wrong... Something about Max. And...

BRIIIIING!

She was so lost in thought she jumped when she heard the phone ring. Slipping on her glasses, she reached over and picked it up, the color of the phone in complete color synch with her eyes.

"Hello?" Her voice was raspy and weak, it was too early and she hadn't used it yet.

"Emily?" Who in the world would call her this early, anyhow? She had half a mind to tell the caller to mind his courtesy. She contradicted herself immediately when she realized she recognized the voice.

Her irritation softened. "Max?"

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry that I'm calling this early. But Mom says it's important, so... Anyway... My mother says she's got a day for all of us planned."

Emily cut him off. "I was up already, it's alright. You mean just for us? This 'day' you're talking about." If it were, it'd be a distraction, nothing but sun and sea, nothing productive being done. A vacation day would just ruin her training, too...

"N-no! It's for the entire group. To Atlantic City, she says. An entire day at the beach. She was thinking we have our mini-tournament there. She goes gambling for a day, we go Beyblading. A fair trade, I think. So can you go?" Was it her or did she feel tension in their conversation? She didn't like the way this was going. Still, an entire day at the beach sounded very tempting.

"Sounds great. What day?" Emily found herself asking.

"Wednesday. Ironically, it's the same day we set up for the tourney."

On the surface, Emily noticed (would her powers of observation ever be bested?), that Max's voice was shaky, not normal, and overall... Like he was hiding something. But what? She couldn't pry that far.

"Emily? Emily?" Max called.

"Oh... what? Oh, yes, I can go. Are you going to the Research Lab today?" Did she just ask...

"Uh, yeah, I am. To practice, you know," Max spluttered.

Emily felt a soft warmth radiate from her stomach. "I'm glad I'll see you later, ever since you've been hiding from us," Emily said, and the words came automatic, like she didn't even need to think of them. Her breath caught in her throat. What did she just say!? Why was she saying those things? She wasn't the sentimental type.

Max even knew it. His voice sounded vaguely winded and surprised as he replied, "Yeah. See you later."

He hung up and she listened to the empty line for a second more, reeling from their conversation.

Max was such a mystery, having the uncanny ability to draw these words she'd never dared to say before out of her. She put a scared hand over her mouth, as if closing it, making sure nothing unnecessary leaked from it again. She was lucky to have been able to hide feeling a sense of

elation when the only person to become a partner with was Max, back at the Lab. He was a great choice, their most capable Blader, a smart choice and a plausible one. She'd gotten the best

choice. She was a competitor, she'd do anything to her power that were in the books that she was allowed to do. Funny thing was, she hadn't thought a thing about his skill until now. Maybe it had come as just a given, as if saying, "Oh, Max is our best player, with him on my team we won't lose."

But something nagged at her and told her that it wasn't it. She was glad he was her partner. But why was she? Of course, her thoughts flooded back to being the best, but she hadn't thought about it, and no, she hadn't. She felt pity for him yesterday, unnecessary pity, pity shouldn't have had, but did. There was something about his eyes, the same color as the sea that made her doubts fly back to her. Yesterday was one of those rare moments where she saw Max's face downcast.

Light was filtering through the window, and a quick glance at the clock told her it was time to get up. She rinsed the sleeplessness out of her eyes, then took a quick look at her appearance in the

mirror. The first thing she noticed was her height. She'd always been short. She'll always be short. It was a way of life, but she was granted with infinite knowledge of science. But still. Compared to the giants that made up her team, she felt the most comfort with Max, who still, was a good bit taller than she was, would always be the next shortest. She liked her company. Wait, why was she thinking of him again?

Emily shook her head, nearly making her glasses fall off. Angrily, she shoved them up her nose and attempted to tame her hair. The ginger locks always looked as if they were on fire, and they were just as hard to control. At sixteen, she was a woman, and she wouldn't let herself be distracted like other 'women' her age, with boys, vanity, school work... Blinded by it all. She was, after all, guaranteed for college and the less trivial aspects of adulthood, just like Michael and the others had been when they graduated school. She thought of her senior year, and how it would be lonely walking the halls of Horace Mann without her teammates - her only friends - beside her. But she was a Beyblader, and like everyone else she knew that loved the sport as she did, she was a champion, someone with connections, guaranteed a future on easy-street. Something she had to work for, but she could cope.

With so much in store, it was definitely not the right time to keep thinking about the Director's son.

"What is it about him?" Emily mused. "He's always smiling, always so optimistic. A little too idealistic. He needs to wake up because this is reality," she concluded, trying to find a flaw. But even aloud, she sounded doubtful.

She sighed. Let's not keep thinking about Max, alright? Crushes are stupid and you don't have one anyway. That's right. You don't even know the meaning.

That was true. She didn't.

At that moment, Emily wasn't the only one sighing from exasperation. So was Max, in a different apartment, many streets over, divided by an Empire State Building in between, and not knowing that in that exact moment, Emily's emotions emulated his own.

Call that coincidence, but Max would have to live through another day with Emily and tensing up and acting like a fool and not feeling cheerful. He wouldn't ever be completely happy, not the

way things were going. He wanted to tell Emily how he felt, he wanted her reaction (despite how worried about it he was), her response...

...Before the summer was up. He knew that was selfish, especially since he'd declared to himself that telling her was enough.

Max had about three weeks left, and the Atlantic City trip to look forward to next week, before the older ones had to head off to their various colleges. Not a lot of time, and Max made a silent vow to himself that he would, no matter what, admit to Emily, even if it took every ounce of his willpower and forcing the side of him that told him to "Run Away!" to shut up, so maybe, just maybe, the real Max could take control and utter, whisper, yell, "I love you!" to that certain petite.

It was much harder than he thought it would be. A summer here seemed like a lifetime, at least it was time he could spend with his mother. Max hated how he would be on one side of the world, and his mother and other things that mattered on the other. But he couldn't stay here. No. He still had to beat Takao somehow, and he wouldn't be able to stand it at the labs for too long with the

school year kicking off. If only everything he needed and wanted was at one set place, not one place and another forbidden one separated by land and sea.

As a child, he'd always wanted his parents to be united once more. He remembered when his parents were in love, together and happy and functioning. For fleeting moments, he saw the family.

But that was as a child.

Now, a man, functioning and whole and well, Max only saw one face peeking through the forbidding "other place", and the distance between him and her face was most tangible. Distance was a horrible thing. It had plagued him since childhood, and once the summer was up... Well, it would become a factor again. It wasn't a small world, on the contrary it was large and vast and even with all sorts of modern technology, could not be chartered.

Distance was a horrible thing. This thought burned through his mind as he got ready for another long day. He was unusually quiet at breakfast, Dr. Judy noticed, but this summer he was always unusually quiet, unusually solemn, unusually unenergetic. She expected she would have to get used to this new Max. She didn't dare say anything, what was worse than an overprotective mother?

She watched him through the view mirrors in the car whenever she got the chance. Those eyes just like the many forms of water. Flowing, flying, icy. Currently, they weren't either. They were the iron color of an untamed storm.

To be continued...

Beyblade and co. are © Aoki Takao. Under no circumstances will I sell, reproduce, or claim this piece of original fiction as mine.