Switchblade Beta: Zero-Three.
X X X
"Kenny?" The voice reverberated across aluminium and tiled surfaces alike. Several glass instruments reflecting a flicker of motion as a young man slipped past them, each movement watched carefully by bright blue eyes. He was carefully navigating his way through a part of the laboratory he didn't often venture to; trying desperately to avoid breaking anything. A few test-tubes wobbled threateningly when he passed, as if to say, One more hair, buddy.
The white lab coat that he wore was typical of employees within his profession, though his youth wasn't so much so. Still, with the family credentials he had, and his bottomless reliability, the Chairman had been hard-pressed to find anyone better suited for the job.
Or for that matter, anyone who wouldn't drive Kenny mad by interfering with his work.
At the end of the narrow path, a fellow scientist when bolting past, a box of tools in one hand and half a dozen gadgets in the other.
He stopped, unable to hide the rueful grin at the sight of his friend.
"Kenny - there you are! We're going to be late."
"Hang on!" was Kenny's answer. He deposited his cargo on a small workbench, adding to six different piles of… well, most people called it 'clutter.'" He picked up a Beyblade and one of the tools, fixing a flaw that only his eyes could see. "Just a little bit… more… there!" Apparently satisfied, the Beyblade was subject to a quick examination before being slipped into a lab coat pocket.
"You're done?" the first scientist asked, a grin highlighting his good natured approach to the situation.
"Yeah. I hope that Hiro likes the modifications. The calibrations weren't easy -" Even as he spoke there wasn't a break in movement, the six piles of clutter being swooped together to convert to one large mass. Like the test-tubes, it now also threatened to give in to gravity.
Max eyed it warily. He could half-hear Kenny's words, catching the occasional phrase such as 'launch thrust' and 'revolutionary balancing system,' but didn't pay it much attention. Over the years, his friend had developed a certain habit of constantly being on the move; a characteristic which seemed to drive many people nuts. Max didn't mind it, not so much - he knew where it came from; knew the psychological root.
And frankly, he hadn't seen any of them cope any better.
"I know, Chief. You can tell me on the way," he said finally, turning to retreat from this ever-busy world which so clearly didn't belong to him. Kenny took the hint, checking he had his reports on the Beyblade in his pocket before following dutifully.
Together, one blonde and one brunette made for the door.
X X X
At the same moment one BBA scientist located another, a young woman stood in the doorway of the BBA Chairman's office, one hand on the doorknob and the other fiddling absently with a pen.
"Sir?" She was a pretty young thing with a pretty voice to match, glasses that accentuated doe-like eyes and stocking-covered legs which disappeared into high-heels to hide dainty feet.
It was nothing he hadn't seen before, though, which was part of the reason that the Chairman didn't turn to look at her. He was far too busy staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows which dominated his office, observing the thousands of people down on the ground. They moved like a great snake towards the BBA Stadium, spectators and competitors alike: just as they had for eight years now, and would for many more to come.
The woman - his secretary - wasn't sure if he'd heard her, at first. She was still new to the job, though she'd been warned by her predecessor of the Chairman's moody days.
He was awfully young, they said, to have such a high up position. Out of sympathy, they said, because there was no other reason that Mr. Dickinson would have given it to him. He was moody, they said, because he hated being there.
"How many days left?" he said finally, turning away from the window. Smooth steps carried him across the office towards the desk, where he sunk into the oversized chair like a hand to an ill-fitting glove.
When they said he was too young, they weren't wrong.
How many days left? It wasn't a question she'd been asked before; her hesitation in answering told him that much.
"Sir?"
"In the contract," he replied, collecting the nearest pile of papers and flicking through it idly. Apparently, her confusion didn't bother him a great deal; she was still new, he had to remember that.
The secretary was wracking her brain for the answer, calling to mind any contracts she'd heard mentioned recently. A certain three-year agreement came to mind, accompanied by relief that she knew the answer.
"… Fifty-three, sir."
Fifty-three? He tried not to appear too pleased with the news.
"Thank you. Now, what did you want?"
"The Ceremony starts in ten minutes, sir."
"So it does. Alright, thank you." He straightened his tie and grimaced at the reflection on his computer's screen. Fifty-three days, he told himself. You'll be out of here in less than two months. This is the last Tournament you have to open. Be strong, Hiro. "I'll be back in half an hour."
X X X
I'm standing at the top of the main boulevard to the Champion's Stadium. There's a steady crowd of people in all directions; competitors and spectators alike are mingling on the streets and in restaurants. I half wonder if the stadium will fit them all.
Still, it doesn't really matter to me. I'm here for the Ceremony regardless of crowds - and unlike many, I'm guaranteed a seat.
Being VIP does, admittedly, have perks.
I re-shoulder the small backpack I've been carrying, and start to walk. Within the crowd I blend easily; I've been travelling too much for the media to get hold of me. They won't expect me to be here; it works immediately to my advantage. With a half hour until I need to be indoors, there's plenty of time to stroll casually along the street, to peer every now and again at different stores and their merchandise.
But as I walk, something about this particular BBA venue starts to bother me. Every year since Mr. Dickinson retired, the tournament has been started in the same place.
And it seems that, no matter how many weeks or months or seasons or even years pass (how many has it been, really?) it always looks the same. Even the trees look like they did last time, the boulevard has the same paving and there are still as many different types of people as the eye can be laid on.
I guess it's true to say that in the world of BBA tournaments; of rules and regulations and championships, the greatest upsets happened inside the Beydish. Everything else is remarkably pedestrian and unchanging.
I'm carried to the main entrance by the same leisurely pace that's carried me down the street and across the city. Unsurprisingly, there's no line to get in. The lack of people is a benefit: I give the marshals a nod and flip of ID (a further perk of being associated with Very Important Names) and slip on through without an ounce of difficulty in doing so.
It doesn't come as a surprise to find that the layout hasn't varied much and the halls are as immaculately clean as ever.
Nothing here has truly changed - I could have been a competitor again, leading my team down to their private room. A team of the best fighters I can find, ready to conquer the tournament and take the number one spot in the Beyblading world…
It's the sort of fantasized thought which leads me to lose track of time - before I realise it, I'm standing outside the door to the VIP box.
I can't help the sigh that escapes me, nor the slight shake of my head as I reach for the doorknob. Foolish thoughts, made of memories that are no good to me these days. My hand is just short of grasping it when something sudden and blue catches my attention. It's in the distorted reflection of the chrome under my fingers; a reflected streak of colour against the stark white of the halls.
There's no denying my eyes that it's there… but what is it?
I look over my shoulder, slowly. Most likely, it's an attendant who's gotten lost… or maybe it's some kind of room service. Hell, it could be Hiro for all I know - the man has blue hair, doesn't he?
The figure in question comes into my line of sight and all three thoughts are proven horribly wrong. It's not Hiro, it's not catering, and it's definitely not a lost official.
It's Kai.
Holy shit.
Immediately, my eyes squeeze shut. There's no way that' s him; Kai is in Russia… not that any of us really know for sure, but that's where he said he was going, when he turned retiree on us. It's been years, so why would Kai be here? At this event, most of all?
I'm clearly dreaming.
Opening first one eye, then the other, it doesn't work. He's still there, arms folded loosely and gaze locked with mine. A quirk to the corner of his mouth hints at bemusement.
"Hello, Rei," he says simply.
It takes every working iota of my mind to concoct the proper answer. Swallowing back any questions of disbelief, any outright exclamations, the best I can manage is a slow, half-mumbled "…Hi," in return.
"Can we talk?"
I don't know what's more surprising - that Kai, the no-nonsense, infamously cold-hearted, second-best-Blader has asked permission for something, or that Kai, the no-nonsense, infamously cold-hearted, second-best-Blader is actually standing across from me.
I never, ever thought he'd come… not to the Ceremony. He hasn't come once, not in five years.
Now he's showed up, out of the blue, and something about that simple question makes me think that he's not here for the occasion. A little bubble of anger wells up at the thought, even though I'm supposed to be flattered that he's here to see me.
"What about?" I ask. It's hard to not blurt the words out.
The little bubble is growing.
He glances down the hall first one way, then the other. It's empty, except for us, but he's still not satisfied. Turning, Kai gives me a look that I can't name.
"Come on," he tells me, "it's easier if I show you."
He starts walking; I don't follow. My hand is still on the doorknob, I'm not keen on doing anything that interrupts my carefully constructed plan.
"Show me what?" I ask.
It's only after I ask the question that Kai seems to notice I haven't followed. He pauses only long enough to look over his shoulder at me, that bemused smile back in its place. Somehow, it suits him better than the stern look he wears more often.
"It won't take long," he assures me, holding up a tape. I frown lightly.
"You'll make me late."
"For what, sitting in a chair you don't even like?"
I don't have an answer to that. What he says is true, but the point of it isn't supposed to be what I do or don't enjoy. It's the principle of the thing; I owe the next few hours to Tyson. Every year, they're set apart just for him. I can't let Kai walk all over that.
The bubble grows bigger; it's not little anymore.
"No, Kai," I begin, a little irritably.
He waves the tape idly. I sort of want to smack at it.
"Would I waste your time?"
The point is subtle, but a good one. Kai doesn't bother with things that aren't important; much less get other people involved. Logically speaking, that means that this has to be important. It's something he wants me to know and for some reason, has chosen right now to divulge it.
I let go of the door, relenting.
"Alright, Kai… Let's go."
X X X
He's taking the lead of the two of them, navigating flawlessly through corridors that seem to be turning into a labyrinth. By the time he stops, they're a long way from the Box - for that matter, they're a long way from the entire competition. It's exactly what he wants.
He stops halfway down a hallway lined by doors, opens opens one, and reveals a tiny little room furnished only with a TV and a table.
Without a pause, Kai steps forward and slides the tape into the VCR. It's obvious that Rei is unimpressed, but he doesn't let it phase him. This is far too important for second thoughts. Absently, he gestures to the chairs at the table, meaning for Rei to take a seat.
The Neko-jin doesn't move.
"You know I didn't come here to watch a video, right?"
It occurs to Kai that he's a lot more stubborn than when they were kids.
"Would I waste your time?" is Kai's answer, the TV clicked on by aid of remote. A deft hand pulls one of the chairs out for Rei to sit in, the aim behind the move anything but discreet.
Taking the hint, Rei sits. Kai allows a private nod of satisfaction. Stubborn, but negotiable.
"What is it even of?"
Kai takes a seat of his own, hitting the 'play'. The screen flickers to life, footage from a newscast begins.
"Why don't you just watch and see?" he asks, glancing to Rei confidently.
Rei frowns, but falls silent.
X X X
For twenty minutes, I'm treated to a strange montage of preliminary Tournament battles. They're the kind that are designed to identify the best in given regions; a progressive scheme that weeds out most amateurs before the Tournament really starts.
For some reason, one Blader in particular keeps coming up. He looks familiar, even if I can't place him immediately; it's in the way he stands there, at the edge of that televised Beydish.
When I see who his Beyblade is, though, the Blader himself flies out of my mind and I'm knocked for six. We're all familiar with the device and the Bitbeast, we all know that 'Boris' is synonymous with 'Black Dranzer'… and half a dozen other things besides. We all thought that it was under lock and key at Max's lab, not… in use. The sheer amount of danger that's associated is enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand.
It goes without saying that this is what Kai wanted to show me. When the montage ends, I turn to him, but I can't speak. The words simply aren't coming, not until I've looked back at the (now blank) screen, then back to him.
"That was -" I can't finish the sentence, but he understands anyway.
"Yep."
"But what if -" Again, I can't get the words out. Kai shakes his head.
"It's Black Dranzer, Rei. You can't replicate a Bitbeast."
"Then what -?"
"I don't know."
Kai's gone to this much effort to show me something, then doesn't know the answers? It's unsettling to hear. I swallow, then manage my first coherent sentence of half an hour. "Then how can you be sure?"
"How many other black Beyblades are there?" he shoots back. Kai's never been able to handle doubts too well; though he's doing okay so far, I can see his patience diminishing.
"Yeah, it's strange. But…Kai…how close have you gotten to the Blade? What if there are other black ones out there?"
Kai can't hide his annoyance.
"You really want to take the risk that it is Black Dranzer?"
I sigh, sitting back in my chair. My next words are spoken carefully, slowly.
"I don't know that it's any of our business anymore, Kai."
I'm not looking at him, but I can feel his eyes narrow on me.
"You don't care?" he asks.
"Of course I care," I retort, sitting up a little. "But what can we do about it? If the Blader's handling an illegal Beyblade, that's for Hiro to deal with, not us."
When Kai doesn't say anything, I look to my old teammate cautiously. He's looking at me differently now - somehow, it feels as though he's disappointed.
"I thought you would have noticed," he says finally.
"Noticed what?"
"The Blader."
I'm speechless all over again. By the time I can talk again, Kai's got the tape back in hand and he's leaving. The bubble of anger pops - he's been gone for so long, I don't want him to go again, not this soon.
"I… yeah, he was kind of familiar," I concede in an effort to get him to stay.
It's too little, too late. Kai pauses at the door, just long enough to give me a long, hard look. Then he makes one of those little 'hnh' noises, and exits without another word. That feeling of disappointment remains.
I'm left sitting at that table, wondering where on earth all of this came from.
X X X
An hour after the unusual convention between Kai and Rei, Hiro Kinomiya found himself returning to the room that posed as his office, the room that lately, had felt like a prison. He supposed it was to do with the contract; the blissful end to a nightmarish job he oughtn't have taken in the first place.
Not that getting away was going to be terribly easy, of course. He'd done too well; the officials didn't want to let him go.
A damn shame, then, that he was leaving whether they wanted him to or not.
Shutting the door behind him the first thing the young adult did was loosen his tie, take off the suit jacket, and untuck his shirt. Tossing the jacket across an unfortunate pot-plant, Hiro looked down at his shoes. Deciding to keep them on - he had a meeting in an hour with Max and Kenny, anyway - he decided instead that a nap would be better.
Turning towards the lounge that lived along one wall of his office, the plan didn't go far. There was someone sitting there, in the way.
Hiro didn't even blink when he realised who it was.
"Kai?"
Rei, unusually, hadn't turned up to the Box at the ceremony - no-one had seen him at all. When added to the fact that Kai was sitting in front of him, it made a little more sense.
"Hello, Hiro," Kai's greeting sounded like more of a formality than anything else.
Hiro, still standing in the middle of his office, was watching him carefully. This was all very, very odd. "What brings you here?"
"Black Dranzer's being used." Clearly, Kai had decided to cut to the chase - Hiro barely registered what had been said.
-- Black Dranzer?
"But it's at Max's lab, I saw it yesterday -"
"It's a fake. Boris has the real one."
Hiro lapsed into anxious thoughts, considering the situation.
"… Boris?"
"One of his Bladers, actually." A Blader that Kai had found himself thinking over a great deal, someoneone that Rei refused to recognise.
A Blader that Kai was confident people would resent, even if they didn't know why.
He did - he knew, or at least, was sure his assumptions weren't wrong. The solution was one that fit perfectly, however unusual it was… the problem would be convincing others it was the answer.
"Which one?" Hiro winced inwardly when he asked this. Truth be told, he should have known already - he should have been keeping a closer eye on the Tournament.
"He's called Tai."
"And he's competing?"
"Right."
The two men lapsed into silence, with one considering the new information and the other waiting to see what the judgement would be.
Finally, Hiro sighed lightly and turned towards his desk.
"… What aren't you telling me?"
"What do you mean?" The defensive tone was one that came naturally.
Hiro was sorely tempted to take the bait, but he deferred and leant against the side of his oversized chair.
"Kai… you know something else about this, don't you?"
"Yeah. So?"
Sometimes, talking to Kai was like talking to a wall. Taking the hint that Kai wasn't keen on giving up what else he knew, Hiro sighed lightly.
"Alright, Kai. I'll keep an eye on him."
"Good. You need to."
Hiro hoped that Kai's instincts were right, with this one.
X X X
To be continued.