Justification of Evil

TheImmortalDoll

Chapter Three: Problem Children

At first I didn't know what to do. This was Voltaire's grandson. Surely the boy was not expected to be treated the same as any odd child here. What did Voltaire expect of me? Was I to respect the boy as I did his grandfather? Was he to be honoured and kept in finery?

Kai had come to me dressed in a formal buttoned shirt and stiff trousers that looked almost comical on such a small body. But was this how Voltaire wanted his grandchild to dress in order to appear presentable and show the family's wealth? I was horribly confused and nervous.

I showed the boy round, slightly unnerved as during the whole tour the child spoke not a word. By the end of it, as we returned to my office, I decided direct questioning would be the only way to get him to speak.

And there was one question I needed to know. "Have you been taught to Beyblade, Kai?"

Crimson eyes turned their fiery depths to me and I hate to admit I almost shuddered. "I believe that is your job," came the harsh reply in a voice far too old for the child's body.

I frowned but refused to lose my self-control so easily. "Indeed. But do you have a beyblade?"

The child's eyes narrowed at me as if he considered me some sort of imbecile. "I was told you would provide one. Why did Grandfather hire you? You're incompetent."

I gritted my teeth in anger. The boy certainly had an attitude. But hardening my resolve, I grabbed the child by the arm and hauled him along to the training rooms. I informed the staff of exactly who the child was and they were stunned and slightly intimidated and seemed to look upon the boy as some sort of spawn of Satan. It took me a while to realise it, but they feared the child.

What exactly were the roots of the power the Hiwatari family held? I was becoming increasingly desperate to find out.

Kai was given a version of our latest upgraded Beyblade and launcher set. He instantly turned to me as if awaiting orders. It was as if the boy was some sort of machine.

"Grandfather told me you would train me. Shall we begin?"

I was stunned by his determination. But what confused me more was that he was eager to learn and yet not enthusiastic to do it. The concept made no logical sense. The child seemed to be impatient to do something he had no desire to do. He held no passion for the sport, no pride in it. He merely knew he had to do it, as if to fulfil some sort of duty. And every action seemed driven by the influence of his grandfather. It was as if the boy lived to fulfil Voltaire's ambitions and desires.

Kai was no child, but merely Voltaire's project.

I told the boy training would be begin the following morning and the frown on his face gave the impression that he thought my tactics insufficient. He had Voltaire's attitude towards life drilled into; things should be done here and now.

But I trained him the next morning, teaching him the basics before going into more detail about how to get sufficient power and stamina based on technique. All this Kai absorbed as if he was some kind of machine. He worked until he had exceeded expectation. He studied until he achieved full marks in every one of his academic subjects. It was as if the boy was hell bent on nothing short of perfection.

He had a bit-beast. I was sure of it. But I had not sighted it as of yet and when I requested Kai to summon the spirit, he merely shook his head and I presumed he would require more training before gaining this power.

At times, I attempted to casually question the boy on his life. I wanted to know of his upbringing. Just what had Voltaire taught the child to make him so chillingly efficient? And what of the boy's parents? Voltaire was known all over the country and yet no one had ever heard of any word of a son or daughter of the man. Where was that child now? One of Kai's parents.

Kai merely refused acknowledgement on any personal subject. Anything off topic of Beyblade technique or academics received the response of the boy reminding me that we should be training.

After a month of my search for answer, Voltaire paid the abbey a further visit. And it was then I discovered the damaging truth: Kai was reporting on my performances as a trainer and giving this information to his grandfather.

Voltaire cornered me in my office and told me of this information. "And why are you so interested in my family, Boris?"

"Voltaire, I-I apologise," I stuttered out. "I was merely curious. I was not aware you had a son or a daughter and I was interested in your wonderful family's heritage to produce a talented child such as Kai." I had always been good at sucking up to people.

Voltaire's lip curled in a disarming smirk and I fought not to shiver. "Well Boris, I would like to inform you know that it is none of your business and any further questions will result in severe punishment. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Yes."

Will a curt nod, Voltaire picked up his cane and left the office. As blunt and harsh as ever in his way of speaking.

I collapsed into my office chair, utterly exhausted and fearful and relieved I was not being punished further. I would tread more carefully from now on.

The output of the abbey was forever improving. Kai was learning quickly and Spencer, Bryan and Ian were all proving themselves as immense talents.

I trained the four of them together. My main figures of power. I trained them separately and gave them the attention I felt they needed. We worked for hours and I exhausted them, left them bruised and strained from all the work, but it was worth it for the power they gained.

Things continued this was for a year. But you can see there is an obvious person missing and that is why I skip forward a year to the arrival that was even more important in my life than when Kai was handed to me.

We received new students all the time. It wasn't out of the ordinary for one of the guards to knock on the door of my office and announce there were visitors to see me as potential students. I immediately asked for them to be brought through.

A woman came in first, walking in four inch heels. A tall woman with red hair, crimson red hair, tied back in a tight pony tail. A garish amount of make-up smeared across her pale face. She wore tight, revealing clothes. A black leather mini-skirt with fishnet tights, a bright red top under a leather jacket. "Mishka Ivanov," she announced in a hoarse voice, I gathered caused mostly by the habit made clear by the cigarette in her hand. She couldn't have been older than twenty.

The woman sat herself without invitation in the chair opposite my desk and either side of her came a child. A boy and a girl. Both had their mother's crimson hair, but bright blue eyes, unlike their mother's green orbs.

"Miss Ivanov," I said. "How can I help you?"

"You take in kids here and teach 'em stuff, yeah?" She said, breathing out smoke in a puff from her cigarette and tapping the ash onto the floor.

I nodded, handing her an ashtray. "Yes, ma'am. We train boys of all ages in the sport of Beyblading. But we also give them an education. Records have shown our results are of a high standard. We work every child to their best."

I had the speech prepared in my head. It was what I told to every parent, whether high class and trying to find a decent education system for their little darling, or young mothers such as this looking for a place to offload their kids.

She blinked at me with heavily outlined eyes. "Boys?" She repeated. "You don't take girls in?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, ma'am. We believe boys better suited to our cause."

"So you can't take the girl in? Come on, mate. I've got no cash to bring up one kid, let alone two. I need somewhere for them. I didn't even want 'em."

She didn't seem to care on whether or not the children heard and understood this. Two children of maybe six or seven that were being dumped in an unfamiliar place.

I looked at the two children. The boy was short red hair that spiked up like horns on either side, two strands hanging in front of his face. He wore obviously worn clothes. A pair of thread-bare jeans and a plain black jumper for the cold weather. And the girl. A child with the same red hair, in loose curls and waves, with the same two strands of hair in front of her face. She wore a crumpled cotton dress that was a faded blue and plastic, black, button-up shoes.

"I will enrol your son today, if you wish," I said. "But I'm afraid I cannot take the girl."

The women sighed and nodded. "Alright, alright. Guess I'll have to go back to social services and give her to them. Bloody lot of paper work."

I nodded and considered this none of my business. "All I require of you is to sign here," I said as I presented her with the standard form. "And to fill in your son's details at the top."

She did as I asked, talking to her son as she did, not even looking at him. "Tala, you go with this man here, right? He'll give you a bed and teach you stuff and all that."

The boy nodded anxiously, then spoke up in a weak and worried voice. "What about Kala? Will Kala be here, too?"

"They don't take girls. I'll take your sister somewhere else. Say bye and all that."

"No!" The sudden protest startled me and I turned to the one who had spoken. The girl who had voiced her clear opinion in a voice much stronger than her brother's. "If Tala stays here, I stay too!"

Her voice held such power, even more so than Kai. And now I saw her, truly saw her. A strong child, such a powerful child. What incredible power. But a girl, that was the only flaw. She was girl.

Their mother handed me back the form and stood up, snatching her daughter by the arm in a rough grip. "You ain't staying, now come on!" She began to march out of the room while pulling the girl by the arm.

The child yelled and tried to pull away. She kicked at her mother and screamed. "He's my twin. I won't leave!" In a sudden show of strength, she pulled out of her mother's grip and jumped away, spinning on one heel with all the precision of a trained martial artist and turning on her own mother. Beyblade and launcher clutched in both hands and aimed to fire.

Her mother stared in shock, but was soon back to yelling. "You put that stupid toy down, Kala Ivanov! I hate that thing. You're bloody dangerous with that thing!"

"Dangerous enough to hurt you!" The girl yelled back.

Before I knew what was happening, she had pulled on the ripcord and a black beyblade was flying towards the woman who could do nothing but scream.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a gray beyblade flew up to meet the girl's and stopped it an inch before it collided with the woman's head. Both blades rebounded and flew off of each other.

I looked to the side to see the young boy holding a launcher and looking intently at his sister. "Don't, Kala! Don't!"

The girl glared but called her blade back and in turn the boy's flew back into his hand.

"Thank you," the boy mumbled.

He knew what I had realised in those moments. She could have defeated him. Her power was by far superior to his. But she had relented in respect of her brother's wish for her to not harm the woman.

This child, the girl, held such power. How could I resist such power?

"Miss Ivanov," I said, surprised at the way my own voice shook as I spoke. "I have reconsidered what I said earlier and I will make you an offer. I will accept both your children."

"Good!" The woman shot back. "It's the girl I want rid of. You saw her! She's out of control. She's mad but if you want her than you can gladly have her!"

She signed the forms as soon as I presented them to her. And without only a quick final glance back at her own children, Mishka Ivanov left, leaving her children in my care.

Tala and Kala Ivanov.

I looked down at them both where they now stood side-by-side. "Welcome to Balkov abbey."