Chapter 03

 Disclaimer:  Kali & Muses do not own Beyblade or its characters, and make no profit.  We borrowed them for the sake of this fanfic out of love for the series and the characters. 

Warnings: Rating ranges from K (G) – NC17 (the NC17 stuff won’t be on ffnet), as stated for at each chapter; shonen-ai – yaoi content; adult language and situations.

Pairing: Always and ever, TyKa!

Written for the KaiTaka / TyKa 100 Themes Art Challenge on deviantArt.


Theme 11 – Memory
“The More Things Change…”
Rated: K (G)
Genre: General, Angst
Post-Manga Drabble
Kai’s POV – 1st Person

                It’s funny, the things that stick with you.

                I remember battles – lots and lots of battles – but sometimes I don’t remember the names of those I battled.  And sometimes I remember names but not faces.  There is even the odd one where I only remember the stadium, but not the blader.

                I remember places that I’ve battled, all around the world.  I can say “Hey! I’ve been to this or that place!” but for the life of me I can’t remember enough to be able to describe what it was like there.  Not the scenery or the people, not even the weather.

                I do remember certain events quite clearly.  Now that I think about it, a lot of those are because of – or at least involves somehow – a certain bluenette World Champion.  Tyson was forever getting into trouble, getting into something over his head, or rushing in where angels fear to tread without consideration for his own safety.  The others and I – mostly me – would always pull him back out again, though.

                And there are all the times that he made a difference for me, for my life.  Because of him I went from punk and gang leader to world-class blading Champion.  I went from bully to idol.  All due to his influence…to Tyson’s belief in me and his unflagging friendship, something I’ve never known what to do with.

                It’s been so long since I last saw him or had any communication with him.  It was the night after his last official battle as a World Champion and professional blader, the night he confessed that he loved me.  It is one of very few moments in time that I remember with crystal clarity – the fine breeze ruffling our hair and clothes, the moonlit backdrop of the dojo’s back garden, the sounds of a typical summer evening and the heavy silence that followed his quiet voice, the scent of the flowers growing all around in their carefully plotted rows…all that and the sight of Tyson standing in front of me, fidgeting nervously, eyes bright with truth and love, fear and hope.

                That I walked away from the truly miraculous gift Tyson was to me is proof positive that I am the biggest, most wretched idiot ever to be born.

                That I never responded in kind, never expressed what he meant to me, is proof that I am as cold-hearted a bastard as many, many people have labelled me over the years.

                So now, years later, with a son of my own.  I am faced with old ghosts and haunted mercilessly by them as I watch Gou battle another little boy who is eerily, heart-stoppingly familiar in both appearance and blading style.  I look down at them and I wonder if that’s how Tyson and I looked back then (albeit a few years older).

                As if he can read my mind – or perhaps, as always, his mind was on the same track mine was – my greatest rival, my best friend, and only person other than Gou that I’ve ever loved says quietly from next to me, “Sure brings back memories…  There was a time when we were just like them.”  I can hear the strange mix of amusement, nostalgia, sadness and wistfulness in his voice, and my chest constricts painfully.  As I watch our sons repeat history in the dish below, I realize that this…this is my last chance.  If I was to walk away this time, there would be no further chances, no more forgiveness.  But how do I open a topic that is still a raw and bloody wound to both of us?  I reach for my tie, finding it extremely constricting around my throat, and the weight in my blazer pocket reminds me of how Tyson and I have always communicated best.

                One last battle…

                One last spin of the Beyblade…

                One last opportunity…

                One last chance for forgiveness, for happiness, for love.

                I pull out Dranzer, and the surprise on Tyson’s face is quickly washed away by an eager, excited…and understanding grin as he pulls out Dragoon.

                And as our blades clash in familiar, tried-and-true attacks, our eyes meet and hold from across our battleground, where I see everything I’m feeling, and wanting, and happy for reflected back at me.  I try to tell him, in a language all our own, that I’m sorry, that I never wanted to hut him, and that I love him.  “I love you, Tyson!”  I nearly cry, a plea from my very soul.

                Our blades collide one final time, and is the aftermath, when the dust clears, Tyson holds out his hand to me.  Some things never change, and I’m grateful for it.

                “I love you, too, Kai.”


Theme 12 – Insanity
“Through the Looking Glass”
Rated: K (G)
Genre: General
Season One Drabble
Kai’s POV – 1st Person

                I’d always known, from the moment we started this wacked out journey, that we’d eventually be going to Russia for the World Championships.  That was, of course, assuming we actually made it through all our subsequent battles along the way.  When we started, I was eager for it – minus the brat pack – because it was always in my plans to go to the Worlds and defend my title.  And of course, there was the added bonus of all those bit-beasts that would be mine for the taking.  Or at least that’s what Grandfather kept telling me.

                Now we’re on the bus, heading for the tournament, all the craziness of the past week behind us and nothing but determination and anger fuelling our path ahead of us.  I’ve been shown the error of my ways, and even learned the gift of forgiveness, courtesy of one stubborn, loyal, annoying, and overly optimistic youth named Kinomiya Tyson.  Lucky for me those qualities of his were turned on me, otherwise I’d probably be on the other side of the looking glass even now – plotting their destruction and taking their Spirits for my own.  I’d be lost to Black Dranzer and the power it guaranteed…at the expense of my soul.

                Black Dranzer…even now just thinking the name of that dark blade gives me a thrill.  Shivers.  Even that small rush of power that was so intoxicating.  Then I feel a jolt of pure heat, shooting up from my fingertips to my head and down my spine to the tips of my toes.  And just like that, the temptation dissipates.  Pulling my hand from my pocket, I look down at the small, innocuous blue blade in my hand and smile.  Dranzer.  My beautiful phoenix.  She didn’t give up on me any more than Tyson did.  She even let him wield her, in order to bring me to my senses.  I have never been closer to her than now, and all of it is thanks to him.

                Because of Dranzer, I can think about that evil blade with clarity.  My god, the decent into madness was slow, and went completely over my head.  I have to wonder if I ever would have noticed what was becoming of me if it hadn’t been for Tyson’s insistence that I wasn’t the power-hungry punk I was trying to be.  I also have to wonder if Grandfather will come to realize what he’s really doing to not just me, or those other kids at the Abbey, but to himself.  I have to wonder if he’ll suddenly realize how he’s been played like a puppet by Boris, and if it’ll be too late.

                The bus lumbers along the icy, frozen road, but I don’t notice the pretty winter scenery, the kind I never see back in Japan.  I’m too lost in my thoughts.  I don’t even notice when someone carefully makes his way to the back of the bus to sit down next to me.

                “Kai?  You okay, man?”

                “Huh?  Oh.  I’m fine, Kinomiya.”

                “You sure?  You looked really…zoned out there for a moment.”

                I roll my eyes and finally look at him.  “I said I’m fine.  What did you want?  You didn’t come back here just to ask me how I was.”

                He gave me a stormy-eyed scowl.  “And why not?  Friends are allowed to be concerned about each other, aren’t they?  Especially when they’ve gone through things like what you have.”

                Sighing, I shrug.  “Kinomiya, I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s no need to worry about me.  Not anymore.”

                He grinned and nudged me in the side.  “I think I’ll be the judge of that, Kai.”

                I don’t say anything, but I do allow a small smile to grace my expression.  It’s enough.  He gets up, going back to the others, calling out something about snacks.

                Huh.  Maybe I’ve traded one kind of insanity for another.


Theme 13 – Misfortune
“Luck Be A Lady”
Rated: K+ (PG)
Genre: General
Post-Series Drabble
Tyson’s POV – 1st Person

                Over the years, I’ve had a lot of people ask me how I won so many matches, so many championships, so many accolades.  Was it purely skill?  Was it some kind of special training regime?  Was I born with a blade in one hand and a launcher in the other?

                I’d usually answer all three with a “Yes!” – the last with humour as a joke.

                Then there were others who weren’t as nice about it, either out of jealousy, envy, or a lack of understanding.  They would imply (or even openly state) that I was only as good as my teammates, that they must have carried me through the majority of our successes.  I couldn’t possibly be good enough to have won so often on my own.  Even later, when I was no longer battling with Max, Rei, and Kai but against them on opposing teams, there were even some snide (not to mention ludicrous) comments along the lines of how they must have let me win.  The first time I heard that I was so furious I actually punched a hole in the wall, nearly breaking my fingers.  I sprained two and ripped up and bruised the others anyway.

                Surprisingly, Hilary didn’t immediately jump all over me for being stupid, injuring myself, and jeopardizing my blading career.  Instead, she just quietly cleaned and bandaged my fingers, calmly ordered me to repair the wall before Gramps saw it, and got me some ibuprofen.  After I’d taken the pain medication, she pointed out the obvious to me – that the people saying such things were ignorant.  Ignorant of me, of my friends, and of the game itself.  Because if they knew anything about any of it, they would know better and never say such stupid things.

                The next time I heard it, I very nearly busted a gut laughing.

                But the one that truly bothered me was the belief that I only got so far due to chance, due to pure luck.  And this idea was one I heard quite commonly from other bladers.  I’ve heard this theory over and over again through the years and it never ceases to give me pause, to make me second-guess myself even though I know better.

                It’s always Kai who sets me straight on that topic.  “Of course there’s an element of luck to what we do, Kinomiya.”  He doesn’t hold back hard truths, either.  “Like it or not, luck is always a part of life, even blading.  The point is that you don’t let luck determine the outcome.  You treat it as a momentary roadblock, figure out how to get around it and back on your path, and then win anyway.”  Then he smirks at me, that infuriating, superior, smug one that drives me nuts.  “Though some of our matches have been the result of luck.”

                My big mouth opens and out comes the snappy comeback before it registers – and insert both feet I do.  “Yeah, whenever you win, Hiwatari!”

                …which results in a snarl, sharp, flashing eyes of pure flame, and a beybattle of the ‘until-we-both-drop-dead-of-exhaustion’ kind.  Or the hottest, hardest – and oft-times kinkiest – sex of our relationship.  Either way, let’s just say I really feel it for the next couple of days, and the alpha in Kai purrs like a big, contented cat in a sunbeam for weeks.

                These days I don’t compete anymore.  Not professionally.  Neither do any of our old team, including Kai.  Thus the disparaging comments about my lack of skill or whatever have also died off, since  no one cares enough about pick up where we left off, and learn the rules and spirit of the game for themselves.  And in doing so, I’ve finally gotten over the sting of those nasty words about luck.

                I think about my victories, and of my friends and their families.  I look at my son.  And finally, I look at Kai.  And I decide that if Lady Luck loves me enough to give me all these wonderful, beautiful gifts, then I’m alright with stupid people believing whatever they want of me.

                Because I’m the luckiest man in the world.

                And damn grateful for it.


Theme 14 – Smile
“Candid Camera”
Rated: K+ (PG)
Genre: Humour, Romance
Dialogue Fic
3rd Person POV 

                “Agh!  This is impossible, Chief!”

                “Tyson, I warned you about this.  There are simply too many pictures to go through.”

                “I can’t believe how shutter-happy you’ve all been over the years!  Between you and Max and Hilary, there’s got to be what?  A thousand here?  More?”

                “I haven’t counted.  And why are you suddenly so desperate to go through all these?  And why right now?”

                “Because I’m putting together a scrapbook and I want all the best pictures we have to go into it.  But I’m…missing a few.”

                “A scrapbook?  Since when were you that domesticated?”

                “I am not!  It’s just that I’m usually not very organized and this is important and I never want to forget anything so…”

                “You could have just said so.  I’d have made you a digital album, Tyson.”

                “No.  Thanks anyway, Kenny, but this is something special.  I’m not…computers are…they’re too impersonal to me.”

                “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

                “I said ‘to me!’  I’m sure if you made one it would be very nice and really cool with the effects and all, but…”

                “Okay, okay.  I get it.  Here, this is a good one of Rei and the White Tigers.  Add it to your ‘keep’ pile.”


                “So…what other pictures are you looking for.  Giving me an idea would help me look through these faster.”

                “…I don’t…I need some decent ones of…Kai.”

                “What?  But…  Oh, right.  I suppose I should have thought of that.  Mr. Anti-Social doesn’t exactly stand there and let people photograph him.”

                “He’s not anti-social, Chief, he’s just…a solitary soul.  Can you blame him?”

                “No.”  Sigh.  “He is a royal grump, though.”

                “Haha!  Yeah.  Gee, Chief…did he grouch at you again?  You’re all scowl-faced.”

                “He said I need to stop relying on my computer so much if I want to be able to blade on par with the rest of the team, should I ever need to substitute for one of you again.”

                “Well, you do.  Sometimes your gut is more reliable than a computer chip, Chief.  But still, you did really well against Tala – of all people – when you subbed for me.”

                “Whatever.  I keep up in my own way!  And hey, getting back on topic, what’s with the blushing when you’re talking about Kai?”

                “Urk!  I’m not!  It’s just…warm in here.”

                “It’s a cool spring day and your door is wide open to the outdoors.  It is not warm.  Try again.”

                “It’s nothing!  Get off my case, Chief.”

                “Look, if you’re worried about me or the others finding out about you and Kai…stop worrying.  We’ve known forever.”


                “Yeah.  You two couldn’t be more obvious if you’d gotten down and dirty on the floor in front of us.”

                “Gah!  Kenny!  You hentai!”

                “Whatever.  It’s true.  And by the way, if you wanted a picture of Kai…why don’t you just take one?  I’m sure if you asked he’d let you.”

                “Are you kidding?  No way!”

                “Then don’t ask.  Catch him off guard!”

                “…I’ll have to try, I guess.  I really…want one of him with a smile.  It’s so rare.  I was hoping to find a decent one in these…”

                “Don’t worry, Tyson.  He’d do anything for you if you asked sincerely.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

                “You’re truly scary sometimes, Chief.”


Theme 15 – Silence
“Eternal Silence”
Rated: T (PG-13)
Genre: Romance
Post-series drabble fic
Kai’s POV – 1st person

                I hate to admit it, but Tyson was right.  For once I can honestly agree with him.

                He said to me, when we were suspended between the cosmos and reality somewhere, that he loves blading so much because he forgets about everything but the battle.  He becomes entirely focused on the game, on the spin of the blade and the movements of his blade and his opponent’s blade.  It’s like the rest of the world around him fades away.

                I think I’ve found this for myself.  It’s the stillness that fills me in battle.  The calm and power.  Even during a tough, dangerous battle like the ones I fought against Brooklyn – both times – somehow I found an inner balance and peace deep down inside myself that I’d never felt before.

                Except when I’d battled Tyson in the World Final.

                It should have scared me, I guess, when I realized it, but it didn’t.  It just felt right.  It feels right.  I want nothing more than to keep that feeling, horde it like treasure.  Everyone needs a happy place, and for Tyson and I…I guess that’s it.  We focus on nothing else, nobody else, and we are synchronized and polarized all at once.

                Now I have a problem, because I find that I’m seeking out that same silence in everything I do, living my life.  Nothing ever satisfies, though, and I’m beginning to wonder if maybe, having reached that pinnacle of serenity, I can no longer reach it.

                Then Tyson is with me, at my side, in my bed (or me in his), and I glimpse that place from so long ago.  I glimpse it, and then fall into it gratefully, eagerly.  And he’s right there with me through the tumble.  I am blessed…we both are.  To have this with another person is a miracle and a blessing.

                Twice blessed, then, as we have two ways to achieve a perfect silence where we need no words to communicate.  The bey-dish…and our bodies in a battle of another kind that’s older than time, cut only by the frantic beating of our hearts in counterpart with each other.

                It’s the best sound I ever hear.


 On to Themes 16-20:

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