Well, we're finally here, the last chapter. It's been a genuine pleasure everybody, good luck with your stories! Now, here's hoping I can give this one a properly sappy ending.*
. . .
The Libra and Bull continue their trek towards the Entrance to Heaven. Neither think they can last another day without their loved ones.
Yu looks down at his feet, becoming entranced in swinging them back and forth. Most of their friends had moved on, either finally being joined by long lost best buddies or deciding eternity was not something to be wasted.
The irony of the latter was not wasted on the small blader.
But musings aside, Tendo could see what his friends meant: "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we can do it all over again without so much as a hangover."
Well, you technically couldn't get drunk up here, but that was beside the point. His friends had moved Heaven and Earth, then gone through Hell, all in hopes of saving said Earth. They knew their friends would join them soon enough. Hey, no sense not enjoying a well-earned retirement.
But Yu couldn't really enjoy anything without Tsubasa around. And Benkei felt the same way about Kyoya.
Eh, they were attached at the hip for the better part of forty years, it made sense.
Nile didn't have quite as hard a heart as he'd like people to think, either. He dropped by the gate more often than not nowadays. It was becoming clear that nothing would seem quite right without the entire gang.
If possible, Gingka would have gone insane from lack of insults by now.
Yeah, you read Yu right.
Kyoya Tategami was the only one with enough guts, or at least gall, to insult Hagane after the whole "saving the world" thing. Everyone looked up to the Pegasus. Gingka wanted to be seen as a regular guy. And by a fellow blader. (Old souls that looked at you funny when you mentioned beyblade didn't count.) Gingka was on the verge of crabby (if you can believe it) and it made people nervous.
And Tendo? He was . . . off. His mask was cracking. He was lonely. The Eagle had always been something between a brother and a best friend. Even when they were both adults.
"Tsubasa, you can't be having too much fun down there. That old body must be in pain . . . all of us are up here. Please come home . . ." Heaven . . . it was home, right? Even though that's not what Otori could call it?
Yeah, yeah . . . it would be home for all of them soon enough. This place of clouds, golden spires, and old souls was just an empty apartment. For all the bladers "living" in it. People made a home, not furniture. A lavishly decorated space can't be called home without someone to cook on the stove (complaining about always being forced to do so), read the paper aloud (annoying the entire household), or at least a dog (to jump on strangers and embarrass his owner to no end.)
No house is a home without a little mischief, after all Yu giggles.
. . .
Some hopeless hours later, the boys wander off.
"He's not going to come for a long time, is he? Tsubasa always had something important to do. That must be why he's hanging on," Yu mumbles under his breath, jumping dejectedly from atop the Pearly Gates. An angel puts a hand on the blader's shoulder.
"Be patient. You had your time. He will have his. It may not feel like it, but there's a reason for everything. He's down there for more than filing paperwork. That's what interns are for" The creature smirks at his partner, who looks away angrily. "Your friend is a comforter, a survivor, and a friend. He's liking bolstering the others' spirits. Death is scary. It is unknown. When he is finished with his final task, he will come." The guard of Heaven's gate returns to duty, and Yu returns to the city.
He feels better, but not by much.
. . .
A lone purple soul appears at a lavishly decorated gate. The creature on post asks for its name, looking bored. He skims through an appointment book, sighing.
"Listen, forget it. Nobody from Japan is supposed to be here for . . ." the angel squints "Another few hours. You must have committed suicide, which means-"
"My name is Tsubasa Otori and I. Did. Not. Commit. Suicide. I'm sure your boss can tell you that's not my style." The two have a short glaring contest, hoping to determine the stronger man.
Er, spirit.
The angel sighs and rolls his eyes in disgust, deciding to forfeit with attitude.
Never get into staring match with something devoid of eyes.
"These records come from the highest of heaven's ranks. The Big Boss. You know, the Omniscient One? He's never-"
A low, booming voice cuts through the clouds.
"Check the soul's story."
Suddenly terrified, feathers standing on edge, the lackey does as he is told, muttering something about how archangel's think they know everything.
A small rift opens in the floor, but blank nothingness is soon replaced by an image of a mortuary. Tsubasa's body lies there, stone dead. The soul shivers at seeing himself in such a condition, with hardly a speck of color in his face.
The (assumed) archangel, still preferring to remain invisible, says to "zoom in" on the toe tag.
It read "died October 15th, heart attack."
"Could have poisoned himself . . ." the minor angel mumbled.
"Three blocks from home? Don't be ridiculous. He hadn't even picked out a present for his granddaughter yet. Let him in, we'll sort out the paperwork later."
The rift snaps closed and Tsubasa is lead through Heaven's usual spiel. He ends up taking the form of when he was first made president of the WBBA, and is quickly ushered inside.
"Wait, this is heaven. What paperwork?" The winged creature looks skyward in confusion, then shrugs his shoulders.
If it does turn out to be a murder Heaven's Host couldn't predict, this one is definitely above his pay grade.
. . .
Tsubasa wandered through the cloudy streets, decorated with every kind of beautiful jewel and beautiful metal, hoping to find a familiar face.
"Those nuts have to be around here somewhere. Ryuga may not have made the cut, but come on, Yu, Gingka, Kenta . . . someone." Otori scratched his head and sighed.
Then something tackles the silver-haired blader.
Face planted into the clouds, he scrambled to his feet with a speed time had once taken from him, then looks down.
His attacker, the approximate size of a squirrel, and blond. It could only add up to one person. "YU!" Otori could have cried, it had been so long. Fifteen years without his best friend. And now . . .
"Why the heck are you so small . . ." Don't get him wrong, it reminded Tsubasa of the old days, so no complaints. But Tendo could be as tall as a sequoia right now, like when he was in his 20s. Kid ended up dwarfing Ryo, a surprise of epic proportions.
Especially to Ryo. godfather.
The Libra dusted himself off and looked up at Tsubasa the same old way, with that same old smile, and answers in that same old way "My time with you was my best memory." The kid's smile is the spittin' image of the joyful smile Tsubasa's grandson has semi-permanently glued to his face. Even though he's well into his 30s. The boy no doubt learned it from his god-grandfather.
Yu had his friend the second he turned on that infamous grin. Nostalgia overwhelms the Eagle. Everything from being overwhelmed with dark power to coercing Yu into going to bed at a decent hour. For better or for worse, Tendo was always at his side. Bangs suddenly hiding his face, Otori smiles, desperately trying to hold back tears.
It all happened so many years ago. So many lifetimes. Things have happened. I'm not even sure if Yu and I were even on good terms when he died. Work, family, the world just ended up taking over. But at his funeral . . . at that God-awful, hellish day, I felt like I'd lost the kid forever. The one in me and him.
But here he is. Short as ever.
At that point, Tsubasa summarily said to hell with manliness, sinks to his knees, tears in his eyes, and wraps his arms around his best friend before the boy knows what happened.
"Missed ya." Otori's voice cracks.
"Same here." Yu returns the hug, grin nearly splitting his face in half.
"So this is home?"
"Now that you're here."
. . .
PS I'd advise listening to Dolly Parton's Swing Low Sweet Chariot cover for. It describes this chapter as perfectly as perfectly as can get, if not the entire story. If Country doesn't float your boat, there's always Matt Maher's "Hold Us Together".
PPS Yeah . . . This is probably a cliffhanger for another story. Dunno. I might just edit out the loose ends. But for now, HA! Complete button, come to mama!
