Thanks to Moonblossoms and James Birdsong for reviewing the previous chapter!
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Chapter Seven: Resurrection and Rebirth
Mariah sat down at the foot of her bed, head resting against the plank of wood. She brought her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. Days had passed since she had returned home, but the words of her grandfather were still very recent, as if she had only just heard them an hour ago.
Marry Rei. When she was just a young girl, she would've jumped at the chance to be wedded to such a fine honourable man. But now? She wanted to run for the hills, but refusal would mean being cast out of the tribe. It would mean being disowned from her family to pursue her own happiness and living in a world without the support of her family seemed so bleak.
Lee was overjoyed with the news. She wondered if he had some sort of a say in it being the elder brother and all, but he insisted he knew nothing. Maybe the elders of the village had come together to decide. Lee informed the rest of the White Tiger team about the news earlier this morning much to her disdain. Gary had congratulated her and Kevin had said a few nice things about it too.
They all thought it was great news, but had anyone bothered to see it from her perspective? That's why she was in her room now with the door locked. No one could get in and bother her. Why couldn't they understand she didn't want to spend the rest of her life yoked to Rei? A banging on her door brought her out of her thoughts. It was probably one of the boys trying to make her feel better again.
"I'm perfectly fine," she said. Maybe she ought to give one of her girlfriends a call. They'd at least be a little more understanding than the boys would about this sort of stuff. She searched for her phone… only to find it wasn't in its usual pocket. Darn. It was probably in the charging port in the lounge. Naturally. So much for that idea.
"It's Kevin. I think we should talk."
Kevin, wanting to talk? How odd. At least it wasn't Lee. Anyone but her brother. With a sigh, she climbed to her feet, and unlocked the door. She pulled it open allowing him to come inside. "What do you want?" she demanded, looking down at him.
Kevin sat down on her bed. "Let's talk. About Rei."
"There's nothing to be said."
"Come on, Mariah, I know you're not happy with the decision."
She narrowed her eyes. "And I don't see why you would even care. When Lee told you, you seemed pretty thrilled it. If I recall correctly, your exact words were, 'congratulations Mariah. He's the perfect fit for you.'"
"Be fair. Lee was there! I couldn't exactly say, 'that's silly' now, could I?" He took in a deep breath and continued, running a hand through his green locks of hair. "I know you don't want to marry Rei. I can see the look in your eyes."
How the tables had turned. Usually, it was Mariah or Lee giving Kevin advice. "Is it really that obvious?"
"You spend a great deal of time with that blond guy from Bega League. What's his name, Mysty?"
"Mystel," she corrected.
"Yeah, that guy. You liked him the moment you found out he had saved your bandana from being lost forever. Were you seduced by his good looks?"
Great. So even Kevin had noticed. Did the rest of the White Tiger tribe know as well that she liked someone outside the village? "He actually went out of his way to get it for me. I can't imagine Lee would do that."
"And you invited him for lunch too."
"He deserved it. I don't see the purpose behind all these questions, Kevin. What exactly are you trying to get at?"
Kevin lay down on her bed. It was like he had forgotten that he was in her room. "Do what makes you happy, Mariah. That's all I'm saying."
"Easier said than done. I don't want to be cast out of the tribe."
Brows furrowed, he sat up right. "You're talking about the old sacred tradition, right? I say rewrite the laws. Remember when we weren't even allowed to compete in the tournaments because our ancestors would've been disappointed? Do you remember when we weren't even allowed to set one foot out of the village? Heck, do you remember when we weren't even allowed to blade?"
The early days of the White Tigers. She remembered reading about it in the history books how closed off the tribe was to modern day society. How the founders of the White Tiger tribe disliked beyblading, fearing it would corrupt the people. Eventually, they accepted it when they discovered how potent of a weapon it could be after locating the White Tiger, Driger.
"I remember reading about it."
"The laws of our tribe keep changing throughout the years," Kevin stated, looking directly at her, his expression serious. "So, rewrite them again. We keep changing. You don't need to marry Rei if you don't want to. Does Rei even know about this?"
She shook her head. "I don't think anyone has told him yet. Lee tried contacting him the other day, but there was no response." Which was understandable considering the news of Stanley's passing and such. He was closer to the man than anyone else was in the White Tiger team. "If anyone is going to tell him it should be me." What an awkward conversation that would be.
"And Mystel. You're going to have to tell him too."
That was a conversation she did not look forward to having. How would he react? Would he respect the wishes of her family and walk away? "I'll tell him when I get the chance." For the first time ever, she didn't look forward to meeting with him. She needed time to think it through so she could find the best words to say.
"I'll be there to support you, Mariah. No matter what choice you make because we are the White Tiger Tribe and we stick together." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Glancing down at her, he added, "You need to stop being so selfless and do what's best for you." He turned his back and exited the room without adding further comment.
Mariah could only watch him leave, his parting words replaying in her mind. Do what's best for you. With a sigh, she buried her head into her knees.
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"Stage one of an incurable malignant brain tumour," Hiro read aloud, glancing down at the results of his prognosis. An icy chill spread throughout his body, like a slowly approaching train, turning his body numb. A heavy feeling formed in the pit of his gut, and his feet were frozen as if stuck in concrete. He glanced down at the paper again to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him, but the results were still there unchanged. "Unbelievable."
He dropped the paper on the ground, and squeezed his eyes shut. His arms dropped to his sides. A slow growing tumour and the outcome of death was highly likely if left untreated. He likened it to a ticking bomb. Each tick brought him closer to death. Perhaps it was karma for abandoning his brother during his time of need.
But this was too soon. His work had not yet been done. It couldn't end like this, but the price of treatment was costly, and he didn't have the funds. When the Bega Corporation had collapsed, all cheques promised had disappeared too and since he wasn't part of the BBA anymore, he couldn't get support from them either. He moved his legs, pulling them free of the invisible concrete.
"Dammit," he cursed, kicking the paper outside. It didn't travel far.
There was Tyson, but he couldn't face his younger brother. Not like this. The younger Granger sibling already had too much to deal with, and him showing up asking for money wasn't going to help. This was something he had to deal with on his own, but who would be willing to hire someone who was probably going to die by the end of the year?
He hit the wall then turned around and leaned against it, gazing up at the ceiling. "Everything I did, I did it for love," he murmured, as if there was a God looking down on him, hearing his pleas. "Abandoning Tyson was the only way to make him stronger. I don't deserve this." No answer. Not even a sign. No surprises. He looked down and sat on the chair on the desk.
Work always made him feel better. At least it would provide brief respite from the news. He switched on the laptop. Perhaps there was a coaching job going around. Bringing up the Chrome browser, Hiro typed in blading coaching jobs. Hundreds of links came up. He clicked on the first one. Coaching for young kids. No. That wouldn't cover the costs. Coach needed for amateur team. No. He scrolled down through the list. Most jobs were for amateurs.
He decided to try a different site. Perhaps he'd find better luck on a private job listing site instead. "Beyblade coach needed," Hiro said, as he typed in the words into the search box. This time, only three pages of links came up. The first few didn't catch his eye, but then he came across the following text:
Private blading coach needed. Professional experience at the highest level only. Excellent salary. Please contact Douglas at 04 3307 4960 to arrange an interview.
Douglas. The name was familiar. Wasn't he the former owner of the PBB Research Facility? Why would he be looking for a blading coach? Wasn't that Judy's responsibility? Still, it was worth a try. Picking up his phone, Hiro dialled in the numbers. It rang a few times before someone finally picked up. "Hello, this is Douglas speaking. How can I help you?"
"Hi, this is Hiro Granger. I saw your job offer for a private blading coach listed on the internet. I'm calling to say I'm interested in applying for the job."
There was a pause, then, "Hiro Granger? Tyson Granger's older brother?"
At least his name was recognized. "Yes, that's right."
"Why are you interested in applying?"
Because I'm dying and have nowhere else to go, he thought. Out aloud he said, "Because I wish to help bladers reach their potential to keep the competitive spirit of the sport alive."
Another pause. "Your name is known to me as is your coaching experience. You brought the BBA Revolution to victory and helped Tyson secure this third world cup. You then turned your back on the BBA to coach Boris's team. Why was that?"
Of course that question was bound to come up. He had been labelled a traitor, but a coach wasn't loyal to any team. A coach was loyal to the evolution of the sport and that meant working with different bladers to achieve the best possible results. "I'm a coach, Douglas. A coach is not loyal to one team or blader. A coach helps those who need it most."
"Hm… You've caught my interest, Hiro. I would be interested in discussing this in further detail as early as tomorrow. How does twelve thirty pm sound? We can meet at the café LavAzza on Main Street in the city centre. Is that possible?"
That was only an hour's drive from his current hideout. "Yes, that sounds perfect."
"Bring your blade with you."
An odd request, but perhaps he wanted to see with his own eyes his teaching methods. "Okay."
"I look forward to seeing you, Hiro."
"And I look forward to meeting you as well, Douglas."
"Goodbye."
Douglas ended the call before Hiro even had a chance to get another word in. Hiro put his phone down and picked up the paper once more with a steady hand. A lump formed in his throat, but he managed to choke the words out. "I'm sorry, Tyson. I don't want to hurt you again, but I don't have any other choice." The prognosis had stated incurable, but it was worth fighting for as long as he could. "One day you'll understand, but it's for the best. This is how you grow stronger, and that's all I want for you. That's all mother ever wanted."
He folded the paper up and tucked it in his pocket. If he was going to die, then he'd try and make as much money as he could to pass onto Tyson. It was the least he could do now. Maybe Tyson would someday forgive him for his treachery. Maybe he already had. The thought gave him hope.
Either way, it would be interesting to see what team Douglas had in place. The man was basically a mystery to him – he was the brains behind the PBB, but Judy coached the PBB All Starz and designed the blades. Why would he have his own need for a private blader? A coach that wouldn't be publicly listed? It sounded shifty.
"I suppose I'll find out tomorrow," he said, switching off his laptop.
He rose to his feet then walked over to his window, poking his head outside. Surprisingly, it was calm. He expected more activity after the death of Stanley, but he supposed the attackers wanted to keep themselves hidden. Unless they were waiting for the right moment to attack. An attack during the tournament? That would be the best way to make a statement as it would be captured on all the cameras and broadcast around the world.
It made his head hurt just thinking about it, or was it the tumour eating away? "One thing at a time, Hiro. Just worry about the coaching job tomorrow then worry about the rest later."
He turned away from his window and headed towards the hallway. Coffee would help. A strong cup of coffee. The day would be long.
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The sounds of blades clashing greeted Tala as he stepped outside into the yard. The yard space was small – big enough for one bedroom – but it was ideal for practice runs. Ever since selecting their name, the Demolition Boys had been motivated to practice. Sometimes he'd hear Bryan, Spencer, and Ian blading in the late hours of the night, perfecting their basic moves.
The embarrassment of last year bore heavily on them, like an invisible weight on their shoulders that refused to budge. The boys wanted to restore pride to the team and Tala couldn't blame them. His performance of the last tournament had been far below his usual standard. The survivors of the Abbey were probably amused. How far had the Demolition Boys fallen.
But this year, things were going to be different. He was going to prove to the rest of the world they were a team to be reckoned with, and they could go to the end without Kai on their team. Kai, the traitor. The man who had no understanding of the word loyalty, choosing only to team up with whichever team suited his desires at the time.
Whilst his boys were practicing, Tala helped himself to the computer. He needed to register the team into the system, and it was much easier to do that online rather than in person. Fortunately, navigating the website was easy. All he had to do was input his name, the names of his teammates and the official team name to register. One month before the tournament, the organizers would email them a laminated card. This would allow them to compete in the qualifying rounds and gain access to the rooms out the back.
So far, only a few teams had registered. He only recognized one, the White Tigers with Lee as captain. The rest of the registered teams were names he didn't recognize. The Spin Shepherds. The Renegades. The Charming Princes. The Savage Slammers. A bunch of amateurs. They would deal no threat to him and his team. Still, they had their uses such as being good practice for his teammates who hadn't bladed in the dish in a long time.
Just as he was about to switch off the computer, an email notification popped up in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. Tala frowned. He didn't often get emails. He clicked on the notification and brought it up on the screen to read.
Dear Tala,
It's been a long time. You were hard to track down, but it's a good thing I was able to find your contact details on the official beyblading tournament website. Perhaps next time you should try giving a fake email address. Just an idea. You never know who could be trying to get in touch with you. I'll keep in contact.
There was no signature nor no name of the sender. The email address didn't give much indication either as to who it was, but Tala didn't need any of that. Voltaire. It had to be him. Who else would bother to contact him after years of silence? The man had access to emails from his prison cell. Was he behind the death of Stanley? He looked at the screen again. He wasn't going to respond. Maybe if he refused, Voltaire would stop trying to contact him.
"Hey Tala, what's taking so long?" Bryan called out from behind him.
Tala glanced over his shoulder. He quickly closed the window. He hadn't even heard Bryan returning. "Just registering, that's all."
Bryan raised a brow. "You weren't trolling people on chat rooms again, were you?"
He forced a smile. "You got me. That's exactly what I was doing." Telling the Demolition Boys about Voltaire's strange message would have to wait. Better if they didn't know about it so they could wholly focus their efforts on blading rather than live in fear of Voltaire. Besides, wasn't the man locked up behind bars? He turned the computer off then stood up. "My turn did you say?"
Bryan nodded. "You're up against Spencer then you'll face Ian. I'll be joining you shortly – just going to grab myself a drink. You want anything from the fridge?"
No drinking alcohol in lead up to a beyblading tournament. No drinking between matches nor after as well. "Grab me a can of coke," Tala said. Bryan nodded, and walked over to the fridge. To succeed, sometimes you had to make sacrifices, even if they were difficult to part with. As Bryan raided the fridge, Tala headed outside, pulling out his Wolborg blade and launcher. Spencer was standing on the opposite side of the dish, his blade raised and ready to be launched.
"I thought you weren't going to show for a moment, Tala," Spencer said.
"I was just wrapping up a few things, that's all. We're now officially registered as the Demolition Boys and should receive our cards in a few weeks via mail." Tala walked up to the dish then loaded his blade onto the launcher. "I'll try not to go easy on you, Spencer."
"I'll give you a hundred percent."
"That's not enough. I want you to give me everything you have. Show me your true power."
Spencer's jaw tightened. "But Tala, you're my captain."
"That didn't stop Kai from taking advantage of us. You lower your defences and people will walk all over us." At the mention of Kai, Spencer's eyes narrowed. He could visibly see Spencer's hands tighten around his blade, as his arms began to tremble with anger. "Pretend I'm Kai. You've defeated him before. Made a fool of him. I want you to find that power again and use it against me. We want to show the world what we're truly capable of. I'm not going to tolerate weakness from you. Do we have a deal?"
Spencer nodded. "I will defeat you, Tala."
Tala smirked. "That's what I want to hear."
"Three… two… one… Let it rip!" Ian exclaimed, bringing his hand down. He took a few steps back as the two blades smashed into each other, sending sparks flying in different directions.
Spencer was physically the strongest blader on his team. If not for the powers of the bitbeasts, Spencer would easily crush any blade. The qualifying rounds would be easy enough to pass, but the real tournament began with all the professionals. That's when a blader's true power would be revealed, and he had to hope Spencer, Bryan and Ian could unlock that.
And if not? Then they might as well not even bother competing. Seaborg pulled away from Wolborg then circled him, searching for a weak point. Tala kept his blade in the centre of the dish, awaiting Spencer's next attack. "Go Seaborg! Attack!" Spencer ordered, thrusting a finger forward. Seaborg slammed into Wolborg.
But it wasn't enough. There was still some restraint there. Hesitance. A part of Spencer didn't want to take the fight to his captain. Not acceptable. "Wolborg, Storm Meteor!" A powerful wind burst from the chip of his blade. His bitbeast emerged from the howling winds, encased in a whirlwind of snow. It wasn't long before the ground was encased in ice. But that was only phase one of the attack. "Now!" Snowballs crashed to the ground, smashing the ice into pieces as they made contact. Seaborg was struck and thrown out of the dish. The blade hit the fence and dropped, landing upside down with the chip facing the ground. Another loss for Spencer.
"That was unexpected," Spencer said, walking over to retrieve his blade. "I didn't realize Wolborg had learned a new move."
Tala recalled his blade. "I wanted to test it out. We're still working on a few new moves. Everyone knows how to counter Novae Rog now, so I figured why not try something new?" He tilted his head towards Spencer's blade. "Let's try that again. This time, you'll know what to expect. I admit, that was a little unfair of me, but if you lose, you won't get another chance. You have to always be ready for the unexpected."
Bryan rejoined the group moments later, carrying four cans of coke in his arms. He glanced down at the ice then glanced up, looking towards Tala. "I guessed I missed out. Tala showing off some new moves?" he said, handing a can of coke to his teammates.
"That's right," Tala remarked, taking a can.
"I've been working on something new myself. Razor Wind."
"Glad to know you've been working hard, Bryan."
Bryan smirked. "I learned a lot from the last tournament despite not having bladed myself. I'm not going to be taken advantage of again like Kai did to us. He won't find it so easy next time should we meet in the dish again." The smirk from his face faded.
"Shall we call for a break?" Ian said. "I'm getting hungry."
Spencer nodded. "I could do with a decent meal."
"Yeah, me too," Bryan commented.
"Looks like I'll be outvoted… All right. We'll get some lunch but then we carry on from where we left off. I'll battle Spencer again and then I want Bryan to battle Ian," Tala said. "I'm come up with a training schedule later, and then we'll find someplace else to practice. This little dish can only handle so much." He glanced down at it. Cracks were already starting to appear. Another attack like that and it would apart.
"We could rent a dish down at the park," Bryan pointed out. "I hear you can actually book one out for a few days a month."
"That could work," Tala answered. "How much?"
"It's usually three hundred – a hundred a day, but since we made it to the finals last year, we're entitled to a discount. I don't actually know what the discount is, but I know we get one."
"All right. I'll head on down to the BBA later today and get this sorted out. I'll also check to see if our registration has gone through fine." Better to know for sure and not receive a nasty surprise on the day of the tournament. "You boys want to come down too?"
"Yeah, why not? We hardly ever visit town," Bryan said. He looked to Spencer. The blond nodded.
"Me too, I'll come," Ian said.
Tala nodded. "Then let us have lunch first and we'll head on down."
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Whilst the boys were congratulating Mariam on her victory against Johnny from the Majestics, Ozuma had booked a flight to visit the elders. The Council of the Saint Shields as they liked to refer to themselves as. It was made up of three men and one woman. They each wore a black robe with a hood to hide their faces, preferring to keep their identities a mystery.
He only approached them in times of great need. If anyone could make sense of his visions, it would be the elders. "Elder Pierre. May I come in now?" Ozuma said, lowering his hand from the door. The Council took place in the indoors courtyard.
The door opened. "Come in."
Ozuma stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The courtyard was no bigger than the standard room in their house and designed to be more of a prayer room. There was a statue of their founder in the centre of the fountain. A variety of bushes lined both sides of the room with pot plants hanging above them, holding different coloured flowers. Being around nature was supposed to ease the troubles on someone's mind, but Ozuma didn't feel any different.
"What is the problem you face, Ozuma?" the woman said.
Ozuma sat down in the middle of the circle whilst the others took their place around him. It felt strange to be the centre of attention, but this was how it was. He cleared his throat and began to speak. "I've been having these dreams of the late. There's this… beast. Reptilian in design. It talked to me from the shadows."
"Just a dream, and nothing more," said one of the elders, a male with a deep hoarse voice.
The woman raised a hand calling for silence. "Let him speak, Elder Roark."
"It talked to me about the four bitbeasts. Dragoon. Draciel. Driger and Dranzer."
Two of the elders started exchanging whispers. "The sacred ones."
"Yes, those ones," Ozuma said. "A long time ago you said I should seek them out and seal them away to protect the world from harm. But we were proven wrong – the bitbeasts are in good hands, and I've taken it upon myself to protect them from ever being locked away again. You are all wise beyond my years. Please, help me understand these dreams that invade my mind."
"How many times have you had this dream, Ozuma?" Elder Pierre said.
"Just once. It happened a few days ago."
"Then it's just a dream," Elder Roark stated, exasperated. "He's had this dream once. These are not visions from the one true god. Just a dream like any other. Perhaps he has been too busy watching all those fantasy shows on television."
Ozuma held back his anger. The elders are wise, he told himself. If they believe them to be just dreams, then they probably are just dreams. Figments of his imagination playing tricks on him. But it sounded so real. It felt real, and typical dream didn't do that. "I know what I saw. It told me that I could receive these messages because I had that gift. It said that I need to spread the message, 'the beast has returned - the end is nigh' whatever that means. Haven't you heard of anything like this before?"
The last of the elders, Elder Myrah, spoke. "I've heard of something similar in my days as a young child."
Ozuma turned to face him. Elder Myrah was the eldest of the group. If anyone knew anything, he would. "And what did you hear?"
"As children, we were forced to read the scripture. The scripture spoke to us of Heaven and Hell. The four sacred bitbeasts guarded the door to Heaven and Hell had its bitbeasts of darkness. My grandfather, the leader of the council at its time, believed there was another place called Purgatory. A place so isolated even the foulest of bitbeasts were not sent there. Purgatory was home to the beast. They called it the Leviathan, a serpent with multiple heads. It was sealed away by the four sacred bitbeasts."
"It was belief in this Leviathan that caused your grandfather to be kicked out of the council," Elder Roark pointed out. "This business with the Leviathan is nothing more but a story to scare the children at night." He rose to his feet. Elder Pierre also stood up.
"Sit down, both of you. If Ozuma is receiving these messages then we should take heed. The world has already lost Stanley Dickinson and more lives will follow," Elder Myrah explained in a controlled tone.
Ozuma frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It's just one vision!"
"One of many more that will come. They say the Leviathan was imprisoned centuries ago, and when the King of Darkness has broken free of its chains, the Leviathan will once again rise."
"There is no written proof that this… Leviathan even existed! It's just a mythical creature made up in some book of pagan nonsense!" Elder Roark argued. "Point me to a book of proof of this creature's existence and then I will believe. But if we have only your grandfather's words to look towards then I refuse."
"How can we find proof then?" Ozuma said, recalling the serpent's words. Death would be his punishment if he failed. "I will find it."
"Only one book is known to have information about the Leviathan. It was sold to a nobleman in Germany during the early modern period. His surname was Jurgen, and his family bore the symbol of the beast, Griffolyon."
Robert Jurgen, the captain of the Majestics. Johnny had connections to him. If only he had known about this beforehand then he could've obtained contact details of Robert from Johnny. It wasn't like Robert's information could be pulled of the blading database either since they had never officially competed in the world tournament, hosting their own mini one instead.
"The Majestics. They're a blading team." Mariam had defeated Johnny in battle and Johnny would most likely seek out a rematch for the sake of restoring dignity. Perhaps… Perhaps Mariam could get information out of Johnny? She wouldn't like the idea of being used this way, but he'd find a way to make it well her worth. "We can find this book and I can bring it to you."
"If it is in the hands of the Jurgen family, I doubt they will part with it lightly knowing how special this book is."
Talking was getting nowhere. They had a name to work with – the Leviathan – and they knew where to find more information about the creature – the Jurgens. All that remained now was getting that book so the Elders could interpret the text. "I've got an idea, and I'm sure it will work. Give me a month and I will get that book."
"You failed to seal the sacred bitbeasts. Why should this task fall upon you?" Elder Pierre said.
Elder Rowena, the only female, had said nothing throughout the meeting but now she spoke. "Ozuma had the power to seal the bitbeasts, but he chose not to. He saw they were in good hands. Do I need to remind you, Pierre, that it was you who believed the bitbeasts should be sealed away?" Elder Pierre grumbled. "Then it's settled. Ozuma and his team will retrieve the book. This meeting is now dismissed."
Knowing he wasn't going to get another word out of them, Ozuma climbed to his feet and exited the courtyard.