Chapter 5

Greetings, friends and fans! I would like to welcome Lethal-Circle to this fanfic community! This chapter is artfully dedicated to you...though it's a bit short compared to the others. I'm sorry. It's March Break for me soon, so...hopefully I'm more productive then. I'M SORRY! I know I said the updates should be faster, but... : (
I know I haven't updated in a long time, and I feel bad...so thank you for sticking with me! And thank you so very much, Lethal-Circle, for the Favourite. I really appreciate it!
Today was PJ day at my school, so I'm just kind of sitting here on the couch in my jammies ; p

Some users I would like to thank:

Bristleclaw

Chidsengan

GoldenAngel999

Lethal-Circle

And on with the much-awaited story! : )

Boredom was not something well-suited for Ginga.

Without Masamune around for company, he'd been left to wander the streets of New York, kicked out of the house by Madouka for his agitated fidgeting. "How do you get through a day?" She'd asked irritably.

Well, he didn't, really. These days weren't anything unusual. Even back in Japan, without a job, there hadn't been much to do. Ryo handled all of Ginga's apartment expenses, so he felt no reason or motivation to work. Tsubasa had tried, he really had, to get Ginga a job at the WBBA, but the mere idea of an office didn't click with his wild spirit. Tsubasa was different; more toned-down, mellow, and mature. He'd have no problem settling down.

And so, after the welcome parties and friendly visits had begun to die down, Ginga's life began to spiral into an unpleasant limbo of repetition.

Every day seemed to become the same, no matter what he did. It was pretty much spending his time eating, pacing, watching TV, or sleeping because there was honestly nothing better to do. If he went out with friends for an hour, it simply felt like a small, but fun patch of time cut into his day, that amounted to almost nothing at all in the end, because he'd simply gone back to doing the same thing afterwards, at home.

There was the occasional instance of grace where he'd been invited to some overnight party or an all-day event, like Yu's birthday party or that time he went with his friends in the city to the roller coaster park. But those days, once gone, only made the next one feel even worse without anything to do, because of how much fun he'd had in comparison on the previous day. Back to lying around on the couch. Throwing ping pong balls on the wall. Stuffing Cheetos in his mouth all day. Feeling too lazy to grab the phone and call someone while he was lying on the couch, and simply hope and wait for someone to call him. A few times, in moments of desperation, he'd gone out and tried to shoot Galaxy Pegasus around a little.

Admittedly, he'd even visited the bey park a couple of times.

Oh no, not the stadium. He didn't want to know, want to see what kind of terrible, monstrous transformations had taken over and ruined his career. There were still outdoor parks that had normal stadium dishes, the ones Ginga was used to. He would approach silently, watching as kids battled it out.

He would reach into his pocket, feeling Pegasus practically shivering in the anticipation of exercising its skills. He'd steady his hand around the launcher on his belt, readying himself to "let it rip" against the next opponent. Sometimes the battling kids or spectators would glance up at him curiously from time to time, wondering who he was, and whether he would challenge anyone. But somehow, Ginga never had the courage to step up to the plate, as an adult, to battle again.

So many worries and doubts always crossed his mind. What if he was so terribly out of shape, his skills were diminished to almost nothing by now? Pegasus had not been used at full power for such a long time, he even doubted whether its Starbooster attack worked anymore. Once upon a time, embarrassment wouldn't have crossed Ginga's mind. Instead, it would be overwhelmed by his undying love for beyblade, and he would fight all day if it meant getting stronger, no matter how many times he lost. But, he soon realized, however sad it was, that was still all the way back in the days which he'd been a child. He was an adult now, with insecurities and spiked emotions and real-world problems. Beyblade was a kid's game, and could no longer provide the entertainment for him that it once did. There some terrible magic that had gripped Ginga by growing up. He almost wished he could be a kid again, to the days when the problems and answers were all so simple.

Kenta had always expressed his enthusiasm to grow up around Ginga. That he couldn't wait for school to he over; to be an adult, to work and fool around with total freedom. Maybe that was Ginga's problem. Too much freedom, giving him the grant to sulk and mope and sleep and laze around the house all day. He should get a job, or do matter how many times those thoughts flew in his head, he simply never got around to doing it, no matter how much time he had on his hands for it.

Something caught his eye, just at the edge of his vision. He backtracked slightly, trailing his steps all the way back to a dress store. On one of the mannequins in the window, there was a shiny white dress with a gold neckline and a ruffled hem. The image didn't take long to click in Ginga's mind.

This was Madouka's dress! It was the exact same one that Masamune had spilled Coke on in the plane, in America.

Hurriedly, he rushed into the store and quickly ordered the dress, almost immediately paranoid that fate had set some kind of trap for him, and the dress would be out of stock or something.

The woman taking his order turned to him with a smile, pushing dyed red hair aside with a heavily jewelled finger. "What size do you need?" She chirped.

Uh...Crap.

He cringed. Ginga hadn't been expecting that kind of obstacle.

He gave the most reassured smile he could muster, with a polite "excuse me for just a minute," before turning around and whipping out his phone. He phrased his text in the most casual way possible to Madouka:

G: What size ru?

He turned back, to where the store helper was waiting patiently. "Um..." He rocked back and forth nervously. "Do you mind if I just look around a bit first?"

Thankfully, she smiled brightly, looking completely unbothered. "Of course not! Suit yourself, please, sir. Your satisfaction is priority." She said the last sentence very seriously, as if stating admission or a penalizing law. "Uh... Thanks, he said, and quickly darted out of the way.

He paced the store for ten minutes, awaiting an answer, but Madouka will wasn't responding. Jeez, did she want this dress or not? Well, it was a surprise, in a way, but still, she couldn't possibly have better things to do.

Even so, she didn't look like a likely replier anytime soon, so he gave up and turned desperately to who he knew to he a reliable colleague: Tsubasa. Of course, the likelihood was that if Madouka wasn't answering her phone, as inactive as she was, there was no way Tsubasa would pick up his. The eagle blader hardly used one, and he even had two of them, one for business and one for personal contacts. Not just that, but he was supposedly working at the speed of light at the WBBA office, and would likely have no time to answer. However, he was on his last legs here, and a step away from either calling Madouka, or calling MeiMei or someone else at Konzern mansion to raid Madouka's closet and tell him. Taking a deep breath, he quickly typed into his keypad:

G: Shopping 4 dress 4 MD. What size?

Tsubasa, shockingly enough, replied within seconds.

T: Same one?

G: Same one.

Tsubasa sent him all the information he needed, and Ginga ran up to the counter, phone in hand. "Um...hi? I'd just like the same model, please." The girl nodded and brought him the requested item.

Rushing somewhat, out of pure excitement, he swiped his credit card, took the dress packaged in a silver shopping bag, and raced for the subway to head back to the mansion.

Twenty minutes later, he passed through the garden gates and reached into his pocket - realizing too late he'd forgotten to being a key with him.

Sighing, he rang the doorbell. He really hoped Masamune wasn't home, because the guy would laugh his ass off and blurt it out to everyone he knew, and then Ginga would be forced to kill him. But, no. To his luck, it happened to he Madouka who answered the door - and immediately sacked him.

Ginga doubled over with a strangled yelp, hugging himself where it hurt. "Ah-hah-owwww..."

Madouka was boiling. "You complete doofus! Shitbucket! Asshole! Why would you EVER, ever, ever ask a girl about her bra size!?"

Ginga sat still in blank puzzlement. "Ooh, check it out!" MeiMei giggled. "He bought something, too..." Her voice trailed off into curiosity as she looked and reached inside. "What's this...?"

Madouka snatched the bag away and lifted out the dress inside with a gasp. "Oh - Ginga - I told you not to!" A smile broke onto her face, joy cutting off her words. Just as Ginga struggled to his feet, she flew at him, wrapping him in a humungous hug. "Oh thank you, Ginga," she sighed. He could feel a red blush growing on his face as her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.

"N-no problem," he stuttered. MeiMei was practically dying of laughter behind them, and Ginga mouthed 'Shut up!' at her, which just made her laugh even harder. Even then, however, Ginga couldn't keep the grin off his face. The fuzzy feeling in his chest wasn't just because Madouka's head was pressed against it.

She released him (sadly enough), gazing up at him through her bright, azure-blue eyes.

"Thank you so, much, Ginga, I mean, you didn't have to, but..."

Maybe what those parents and people said really was true. There really was no better reward than helping others, he thought with a sigh, as he stared into the pair of jewelled eyes before him.

MeiMei pointed at the doors with a small smirk, interrupting their moment as she spoke up. "We baked sugar cookies inside. Want some?" She cast a smug look in Ginga's direction, as if he ought to be bothered that they had done so without him. Ginga simply replied with a shrug. "Sure." He followed MeiMei and Madouka, the mechanic dragging him alongside her as she obsessed over details.

"Ohhh, I forgot to put on icing - you'll help us, though, won't you - but DON'T you dare eat it!"

"You have to let me in!" Masamune shouted, pounding his fists on the table.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist replied sternly. "You are not included on the list of guests for this young man."

"But I should be!" Masamune argued back pointlessly. "I'm his best friend."

"This is a private facility," the receptionist told him curtly, her temper obviously starting to get the best of her - then again, she'd been dealing with Masamune for the last twenty minutes, when most could only handle him for five. "Young man, you will have to contact the patient yourself and have him add you to the list of people who are allowed to see him."

"Can't you ask him?" Masamune complained with a pout. "I mean, technically, I'm a customer, and I'm the one being serviced here..." A sharp glare was enough warning to make him shut up.

Masamune jammed his hands in his pockets and paced around the waiting room. Here he was, stuck at the hospital, forbidden from seeing Toby. So close, and yet so far, huh? Apparently, Zeo must have won the lottery or something without Masamune ever noticing, because this hospital, apparently, was for rich patients and healthcare benefactors. Even by just walking through the parking lot Masamune could tell this hospital must have been loaded; not only because of the sleek builiding and modern design (which made it look more like a condo than a hospital), but also because of the cars in the lot. Mercedes, Jaguar, and even a Rolls Royce.

Oh! Oh! Not just that, but there was some fancy guest list each patient had, of people that were allowed to visit them, to ensure their complete comfort and utter privacy. And to top the treat? Masamune wasn't on Toby's, meaning he wasn't allowed inside. He'd already been here for almost an hour, pacing and waiting and arguing with this secretary to let him come inside. However, at the rate things were going, it didn't seem like that was bound to happen anytime soon.

Something buzzed in his pocket; it was his cellphone. He opened it to a text: Ginga's.

G: Where ru?

With a sigh, he checked the time and stuffed it in his pocket. Already past noon. Time flew so fast when you needed it most, and slowly when you wanted things to speed up.

'I wonder if Toby's mad at me too, for leaving him and Zeo by themselves.' The slight shadow of doubt crossed his mind, and began to wonder if he should have come at all to America in the first place. More began to race through his mind, but he pushed them to the corners of his brain. Not now. It hurt too much to think. He was starving, and now that his rage had begun to wear down to desperation, he felt exhausted. He really wanted to crash back at the mansion. Quickly, he typed a response for Ginga's text:

M: B there in 30

Casting one last wistful glance at the front desk, he jammed his hands in his pockets and glumly plodded down the street. In the back of his mind, though, he swore to himself that he would find a way inside to apologize to his friend, even if it killed him.

They were holding hands, walking down the street. Bright smiles. Glowing gazes, with a touch of affection. Dark brown hair and green eyes. Dark green hair and blue eyes. A sweet couple, most people would think. And indeed they were.

It was winter. Their breath fogged the air, and their eyelashes were coated in white by the falling flakes of snow, like the bundles of coats they were dressed in to keep warm. The young man brushed some snow off her lids and cheeks, making his girlfriend laugh. She, in turn, brushed one off his lip, and he smiled.

Before they could lean in for a kiss, the moan of brakes sounded next to them, as the bus pulled to a stop beside them. They boarded, wishing a hearty Holiday's greeting to the bus driver as they paid their fares. He, too, smiled at seeing such a heartwarming bond.

They sat at the very back, where the bus was most isolated. She sat next to the aisle, and he in the window seat. His tanned fingers were wrapped around hers, pale as the pure snow that sat outside.

"My brother should be home by now," she noted to herself. "I guess we can all have dinner tonight." She glanced towards him questioningly. "You want to make the dinner, or shall I?" Her boyfriend cleared his throat and sat up, with the posture of one making an important announcement. "Actually, Kyoya won't be joining us. I...set him up for a date tonight." A smile flickered over his face, mischief mixed with innocence, creating an unusual combination of expression.

His girlfriend gasped. "Did you..." He pressed his lips to hers, placing something delicately in her palm. "Merry Christmas," he murmured as he released her.

With a light, joyful giggle, the young woman admired the card he had placed in her hand. "You'll get the present at the restaurant," her boyfriend promised her.

"I have your gift at the apartment," she countered slyly. "So I guess when we're done...you'll have to come back and get it."

The driver gave a sudden, panicked yell and stomped on the brakes, causing the couple to freeze and look up in alarm. The few passengers on the bus all gazed about bewildered, only to be thrown back in ther seats as the bus skidded on the ice. One woman was screaming. An elderly man's cane was knocked over, and, in his desperate floundering to steady himself, the young man accidentally knocked his date in the chin.

"Sorry," he gasped, but they were interrupted at a honk. A car horn, to be precise. They both looked out the window. All they saw were bright lights, growing rapidly closer, as they raced towards them with another beep of a horn. The boyfriend was lucky. His date, not so much. The girl screamed before they were thrown back by the impact.

All I ask is for criticism. I will not hunt you down and throw you off a plane in your sleep, I promise...unless I feel like it. Which I never do. I'm not a damn sadist.