Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun ❯ The Invitation ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Shadow in the Dark 
Meet the group. A year has passed since the World Cup in Russia, now...
Anime/Manga: Beyblade Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Mystery / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.15.2007 | Pages: 6 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 449 | Status: Work In Progress
Meet the group. A year has passed since the World Cup in Russia, now...
Anime/Manga: Beyblade Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Mystery / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.15.2007 | Pages: 6 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 449 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter 1! And it's a long one! Get your popcorn and coke ready! Reviewer notes are at the end!
===
Italics = song lyrics
===
The song is “Pushing Me Away” by Linkin Park. All the words are not here.
Disclaimer: No. Just no.
Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun
By: Sholay
‘’
“Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.”
-Abraham Lincoln
‘’
;
Chapter 1: The Invitation
;
"Max!"
"Maaaaax!"
< br> “Huh? Whaazaa?” The tired boy reached up and attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. When he failed to do this, he decided to go back to sleep instead.
"MAX!"
Uh, there was that annoying voice again; couldn't it just go AWAY for a few hours? He just got home from visiting his Mom for a week. It took more then half a day to fly back and he hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane. So, Max was making another attempt to catch up. Unfortunately, he was being interrupted from his beauty rest by that annoying voice. Who WAS it anyway? It sounded vaguely familiar...
"Aww, c'mon Maxie! I know you just got back an' everythin' but you gotta see this! You've got mail from the BBA!"
"Whoa!" Max cried out and sat up abruptly, suddenly wide awake and excited. "Really!?"
"Yeah! Like I said: you gotta see this! Oh, and hurry up n' come down, or I'm gonna eat all the pancakes!"
Max laughed with good-humor, now having a pretty good idea who the guy yelling from the bottom of the stairs was. "Alright, ALRighht! I'm coming! Just gimme a sec to change!"
Max quickly yanked off the nightclothes he had put on just half an hour earlier. Then he pulled on a pair of loose beige shorts with pockets on the sides and a crude rope that acted as a belt and held them up. Tying the rope hurriedly, he tugged on a lime green sleeveless shirt at the same time. Over that he put on a loose blue t-shirt that had "I LOVE BLADIN' " written on it in bright sunny yellow letters. Checking himself in the mirror he quickly swept both hands haphazardly through his long honey blond hair, attempting to smooth them. Two seconds later they sprung back into their original spikes.
Disregarding his hair, Max quickly bent and hurriedly threw on some white socks that had previously been lying on the ground. He swept through his room and rushed out the door. Almost immediately, though, his hand reappeared and whipped around the door frame to grab a pair of crimson colored, fingerless gloves from his desktop.
Max barreled down the stairs stuffing on his gloves as he went. Jumping the last couple of stairs he landed with a muffled thump on the carpeted ground. He walked through a door on his right and was immediately enveloped in a friendly embrace.
"Maxie! It's great to see you again! Man, I haven't seen you for, like, a year!"
Max laughed and pulled away from his friend.
"Aww, c'mon Tyson," he replied, smiling widely all the while. "I live practically next door! And it's only been one week in America. It's Rei and the others that we haven't seen in a year."
As Max pulled back from his best friend, he finally had a chance to look at him. It was obvious that Tyson hadn't changed a bit over the past year. He was still impulsive, over-bearing and rash. He was also the best guy Max could ever want as a best friend: he stood by you no matter what.
His clothes hadn't changed either: with the navy shorts, neon yellow t-shirt and bright cherry red jacket, sleeves rolled up and all, no one would have guessed that it was December; but the weather had been unnaturally warm this year and Max couldn't even feel the cold.
On top of Tyson's head, the red baseball cap was still ever present, facing backwards as always. In fact, the only visible difference about him was that the long blue-black hair which was once pulled back into a loose ponytail that fell down past his shoulders was no longer present. Instead, Tyson's hair was now cropped short and fell messily at the nape of his neck. His large bangs hadn't changed though and still hung low enough to obscure his eyes.
A few weeks ago, Tyson had annoyed one of the girls in his class; something about calling her fat after she had snatched the last cupcake (which he had had his eyes on) at lunch. The girl, who's name was Hilary, had eagerly returned the favor by sticking a huge wad of gum in his hair with gusto.
In the end, the only way to get rid of the gum was to chop off the entire ponytail. Tyson, of course, threw a fit and fumed for days after the deed was done. Eventually, he did calm down, but all chances of civilized interaction between the two teens were out the window. Tyson and Hilary now refused to speak to one another voluntarily, but even Tyson had to admit that the hair would grow back eventually. Besides, he still had his bangs. Max had to give Hilary credit though, she was good when she wanted to be.
"Max, it's a good thing you came! I don't think I could've held your friend back from my pancakes much longer!" Came an older voice from the kitchen door to Max's left, ending his train of thought.
"Aww, c'mon Dad, I'm sure he’s not THAT bad."
Not three minutes later Max ate his words—actually, technically it was probably Tyson who ate them—as he stared at his best friend who was literally inhaling his fifth pancake, still with no signs of slowing.
"Whoa," He said, blinking a few times. "You really weren't kidding..." Max himself was on his second pancake.
"It's a good thing you don't bring Tyson over every day, Max, he'd eat us out of house and home!" Max's father joked; snatching away the maple syrup before the dark haired boy could empty it, the latter faltered only briefly before grabbing the icing sugar instead, much to Mr. Tate’s chagrin.
When Tyson heard this, and registered it a few moments later, he paused around his bites:
"HEY! I Opp-JECThh ThO' dAT!"
Max grinned. "You would, but you have to admit it's true."
"Gimmmuh a bh-reakh, 'm uh grohwn' bh-oy!" Tyson spluttered, causing a few crumbs to spray from his mouth onto the table.
Max and his father wisely decided to stay quiet after this; not wanting to risk being the next target for Tyson's crumbs. It was in this manner that half an hour passed comfortably, while Max and his father ate and chatted, while Tyson simply ate.
Eventually, all three of them were sitting comfortably on the couches spread out through Mr. Tate’s family room. Max and his father were engaged in a light conversation.
“Hey, Dad, look! Tyson’s finished eating!”
“I don’t think it was a choice of finishing eating, as much as it was a forced decision, due to the shortage of pancakes. That… and the sausages are still frozen.”
They both laughed while Tyson fumed and did his best to shoot both of them death glares. Max noticed, but instead of getting intimidated by this, he only laughed harder.
“Watcha’ tryin’ to do Ty? Tryin’ to act the Kai or some’m’? Sorry dude, but you’re real-ly not that effective.”
Tyson blinked when Max said this, then his face lit up so brightly it was as though a light bulb went off above his head.
“Oh! That reminds me, you’ve got mail!” Tyson groped around inside his pocket until he seemed to find something. Eyes lighting up, he withdrew his hand; clutched between his fingers was a folded letter, slightly worse for wear after doing hard time at the bottom of his pocket with the lint and old gum wrappers.
“This came in the mail for you yesterday!” He held out the letter, grinning.
Max took the envelope with a raised eyebrow. “Tyson?” He questioned. “Exactly what were you doing poking around my mail?”
The boy in question shrugged sheepishly, “well, you were gone away, so I had to… y’know… keep it safe… Technically, I saved it from getting bored in the mailbox!” Max’s eyebrow remained raised.
“Right, and you didn’t ‘rescue’ the rest of the mail?”
Tyson puffed out his cheeks with indignation. “Look, Maxie-e, just open it already!”
Max fingered the envelope and smoothed it out on the edge of the wooden table in front of him. After he had the paper straight enough to read, he pulled it back towards himself. He read the front of the envelope out loud:
“To the Bladebreakers,” he said slowly. “Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve read that. Ty, did you get one of these?”
“Yup! Now hurry up and open it!” Tyson exclaimed impatiently, practically bouncing up and down on his seat opposite Max in his excitement. Max shook his head in amusement, while his father finished cleaning up the last of the breakfast and joined the two on the sofas.
“Ty, you already know what’s in this, so why are you getting so excited?” Max wanted to know.
“I think he just wants to see your reaction. I admit; I’m curious too. It’s from the Bey Blading Association isn’t it? They haven’t sent you a letter for a year at least.” Max’s father said softly, leaning to the side of his armchair, so that he could glance slightly over his son’s shoulder. Not being able to make out any words, he shifted back. “What does it say?”
Max glanced at his father for a second. He had noticed that his dad was being a lot quieter recently; he almost seemed distracted, or thoughtful about something. However, Max didn’t want to get into an argument over any issues his dad was having; he also didn’t want to ruin the mood while Tyson was still there. Instead Max turned back to his half opened letter and shredded the remaining half of the seal, as it refused to open neatly; reaching inside, he slide out a neat thrice-folded letter. Reading it, his eyes widened considerably.
“Oh…Wow!”
“What does it say, Max?” Mr. Tate repeated; his full attention on Max now.
“It’s-” Max started, but was immediately cut off by Tyson:
“-An invitation to a reunion! YES!” Tyson cried out, jumping out of his seat, pumping an arm in the air. “We’re going to Russia!”
“Hey, whoa, wait a second there.” Mr. Tate interjected seriously raising a hand in objection. “What do you mean Russia? Who’s authorizing this? Are there going to be adults looking after you while you’re going?” Mr. Tate had been reluctant in allowing Max to on his Beyblading tour around Europe and America, especially with only Mr. Dickenson in charge. He had been extremely disappointed and worried when he found out the man was only a part-time guardian and in his place stood a fourteen year old street thug of all people! Max insisted that Kai was well-meaning and responsible, but Mr. Tate couldn’t forget his son’s was a rather biased opinion. Max was too trusting for his own good. Mr. Tate had since sworn he’d be damned before letting his son go off gallivanting across the world again without proper accompaniment; especially in a place as volatile as Russia. Max was only thirteen! Barely old enough to be traveling on his own! Tyson couldn’t even be counted because he was the same age!
“Aw, c’mon Dad, relax,” Max said while smiling reassuringly, although not succeeding much in alleviating his father’s fears. He handed his father the letter, “Here, look: There’s going to be a one year reunion for the top 5 teams from last year’s tournament. It’s taking place in a few days and it’s gonna to last the entire Christmas. I suppose Mr. D had something to do with the organization of it all, since he knows how well we all got along. Every team’s manager will be going with their own team… so I’m guessing they’re gonna use this chance to talk about what happened…um… last year?” Max phrased the last part like a question, looking at Tyson like he had the answers, earning only an idle shrug in return as said boy fiddled distractedly with a nearby pad of paper.
“You mean like all the dangerous things that happened and how that boy—Kai—betrayed you.” Mr. Tate stated bluntly, looking from the letter to his son, who was standing next to the arm of his chair.
“Uhhh… weh-… no bu-… ” Max stuttered on various unfinished words before finally falling silent a slight frown of disagreement on his face.
“It’s possible,” shrugged Tyson dispassionately, while carefully shredding the paper in his hands into a spiral. He didn’t bother to look up. “Maybe they want to, like, ban Tala and his team or something; Kai, too.” He finished the spiral and quickly tiring of it, tossed the worthless piece of paper into the trash can next to him. He then leaned back on the semi-hard sofa-bed, his arms cushioning his head. “It’s not like he ever did anything ‘cept lean on walls, scowl, be mean and steal bitbeasts last year anyways.”
“Tyson!” Max was shocked, “How can you say that?” He cried, half angry, half shocked. “Kai is our capt-”
“Was.” Tyson corrected, tilting his head to the side and looking at Max pointedly.
“Fine.” Max amended, uncharacteristically snappish. “He WAS our captain. But you know that he might had been a little cold sometimes-”
“Sometimes?” Snorted Tyson, Max ignored him.
“But he STILL trained us,” the blond boy persisted. “He pushed us harder than we thought we could go. He helped us when we didn’t know what to do AND he was always there for us.” Tyson snorted again but Max was undeterred, he readily launched himself into an impassioned speech. “Without Kai we would have never gotten past the Asian tournament. And you know it! He was very smart and he was always calm, cool and collected, no matter what! We all looked up to him, he was our best blader.”
Tyson’s head shot up at the last part.
“WHAT!?” He practically shouted. “I was our best! Me and Dragoon, not him and his over-cooked turkey, or are you forgetting who became WORLD CHAMPION?! Well, let me remind you. It was ME! Me, not HIM! He LOST his match against Spencer! And also, I WON the match again him in the regionals!”
“Oh, get over it already, Tyson,” sighed Max, frustrated. “You of all people should know you won by luck alone. Plus we’ve all gotten a lot better since then.”
“I still won!” Tyson persisted childishly.
“Yeah? Well, one match doesn’t mean anything!” Max threw back, but regretted the words almost immediately. It was too late though, both boys were shouting by now.
Tyson’s eyes widened, he had long since abandoned his comfortable position on the couch and now jumped to his feet. He stared down at his friend with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.
“Are you saying my match against Tala meant nothing?”
“Well… no, but I-”
“BOYS!” Mr. Tate had had enough. A single shout and lowered eyebrows was enough to get both teens quiet and back in their appropriate seats. The older man now knew that the subject of Kai was obviously a touchy one.
“Stop this at once! You should not argue and just say whatever you want without meaning it. Honestly, you two should know better than that.” His tone faded from angry to exasperated when he realized that the boys, both looking appropriately abashed now, were just having a childish squabble, nothing more. True enough, it wasn’t long before Max apologized, Tyson following almost simultaneously. Soon enough the boys were all smiles again, both simply lacking the censure to stay angry with one another.
Max’s father was silent throughout this exchange. He didn’t want to take a side since he himself barely knew Kai. At the very most his image of the teen was limited to a nasty, harsh antisocial character with no sense of honor. One who only just happened to get lucky and become a part of his son’s team-of course, only to turn traitor, betray the team… and come crawling back later when the tides changed; It really should not have been such a surprise to find out that the boy was indeed Russian.
The older man sighed tiredly and sat back in his chair. He wasn’t about to try and understand what these boys where thinking: why his son so strongly stood up for this amoral boy; why Kai was even ever on the team; what exactly the boys were thinking running about on the streets of foreign countries… No, there really was no point in trying to understand some things… He just had to make sure his son was never inn such a situation again. They were simply too young and too immature.
“Max, are you going to tell me more about this trip you’re planning to take?”
Max turned to look at his father, one eyebrow raised in question. He had been engrossed in a conversation on new beyparts Kenny was supposed to be building and had completely forgotten what they had been talking about.
“Huh?” Was the resulting reply and his father resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘My point exactly.’
“What? ...Oh!” The boy cried out with sudden inspiration, “of course! THAT trip…” Max paused and scrunched his nose in confusion. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, how are you getting there, for one. I also want to know when the trip is, how long it is; the living arrangements and who’s going to be looking after you.” His father listed these off rapidly in a typical fatherly matter that had Max wondering briefly whether or not his father had planned these questions beforehand for this exact moment.
“Oh! Right,” Max smacked his forehead. “I should have guessed.”
“I think we’re going there by plane, the day after tomorrow…” Tyson interjected quickly, bored of being left out for so long. Mr. Tate’s eyes widened considerably.
“So soon?” He questioned, shocked. Tyson nodded.
“Yeah, the letter came sooner, but… well… you were away…” He shrugged it off and looked at Max who nodded, agreeing that it was no big deal. Mr. Tate shook his head, constantly amazed at teenagers’ carefree natures and ability to conform to almost anything. He sighed and told Tyson to continue.
Tyson took a breath, “a-and… lessee… Mr. D’s gonna be looking after us… so you don’t hafta worry about poor wikle Maxie getting his proper nutrish-ments.”
Max mock glared at Tyson, while his father chuckled something in the background that sounded suspiciously like ‘nourishments’. Then Max’s mouth twitched and looked between his father and Tyson slyly. “You’re right Tyson,” he said slowly. “With you there, we’ll need the extra help to hold you off the food so the rest of us don’t starve. Eh, Dad?”
Max and his Dad shared a moment of laughter while Tyson attempted to salvage his reputation with his ‘I’m a growing boy!’ argument.
“But I am.” he grumbled surly as Max and his father fought to stifle their laughter, the situation made all the more funny by Tyson’s complaints.
“Anyway, smarty-pants,” Mr. Tate said, being the first to sober. “I’ll sign this permission slip of yours. You go and enjoy yourself, Max.”
Max literally beamed. “Yay! Thanks Dad, you’re the best!” Silently he cheered that his Dad gave in so easily. It’d looked like he’d have a hard time of it in the beginning.
“Cool” Exclaimed Tyson happily, already having gotten over his previous bad humor, “I knew you’d do it Mr. T! After all, my crazy, fruit-loopy grandpa signed it.” As he said this, Tyson turned and looked over his shoulder as though expecting his grandfather to pop out from behind the couch and whack him over the head. When no one appeared, he leaned in toward Max and his father and whispered conspiratorially: “Though I kinda expect him to spontaneously appear in Russia with that shirt of his, just to hit me with his kendo stick…”
Max look sideways at Tyson. “Why DOES he hit you with that thing anyway?”
Tyson sniffed with an air of righteousness. “Well I’VE never done anything wrong; he just comes out of thin air...no warning at all...and… WACK!” Tyson made a swiping gesture, nearly causing the vase near the couch an untimely death. Max rolled his eyes, wondering about the way the world looked from his friends eyes. Tyson then turned back to Max and his father, a suspicious grin adorning his features, and his voice turned devious. “I was thinking,” he continued, “about locking him in his room before I leave. Waddaya think?”
Max laughed lightly and smiled. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Tyson. You know how resourceful your Grandfather is. He’d probably get out another way. Then, when he DOES arrive in Russia, he’ll probably be twice as bad.”
Tyson pulled a face, “I guess...”
Mr. Tate relaxed back in his chair and gave a soft smile. “You really shouldn’t be so hard on him Tyson, he only wishes to look out for you.” Even with that one short sentence he seemed to scold Tyson with a short lecture.
“Bleh,” answered said boy, at a loss for words he merely worried lightly at the tip of his tongue with his teeth and then turned away. “You two are a buncha spoilsports. C’mon Maxie, let’s go see what the Chief’s doin’. Your father is a bad influence on ya’.” Max started to follow Tyson, still grinning, until he was stopped by his father’s voice.
“Max, just wait a minute. I need to talk with you about something for a second.”
Max subdued immediately at his father’s serious tone and quickly sent a meaningful glance at Tyson. Unfortunately the dark-haired boy continued to look back at them in confusion. Max turned back to his father.
“Um, okay Dad.” He said slowly.
“Is everything OK Mr. T?” Asked Tyson, concerned.
The man nodded, “everything is fine Tyson.” Before he could politely request the boy to leave however, Max surprisingly jumped in and did it for him.
“Ty, you go ahead, I’ll catch up in a few, ‘kay?” In answer, Tyson finally understood and nodded, heading to the door. Right before leaving Tyson turned and seemed to give Max a ‘you-better-tell-me-what-this-is-about-later’ look. Max just rolled his eyes and closed the front door.
Tyson only managed to get out a “I’ll see you at Kenny’s!” before his full view was of the door in his face.
“Right,” Max mumbled distractedly to his friend, his full attention on his father.
“Max, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Mr. Tate said as he stood and approached his son. Max looked up at his father with equally serious eyes. Despite popular belief, he could actually act grown up and responsible at times. He had to, since his mother was never there for him and his father was always working.
“Does this have anything to do with what has been on your mind since we left Mom’s place?”
Mr. Tate’s surprise was obvious. His son was very perceptive! Of course he realized. Max had always been sensitive to people’s emotions.
“Actually, yes” He started deliberately, wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say. He gazed down at his son—not that far down actually, Max had grown a lot over the past two years and was now only a little more than a head shorter than his father—and felt a small rush of pride. Over the past two years Max had not only grown in body, but in mind and spirit as well.
Not too many years ago, Max had been a very troubled child. With no friends, no mother and only a part-time father; the boy had slowly grown more and more withdrawn. Max though, being a naturally happy boy, tended to repress everything; his father remembered sadly. Then, two years ago, a miracle had happened. They had moved to Japan and Max made his first real friends in years. Max’s life changed dramatically as he discovered his talent for Beyblading, started competing and went on that crazy one-year trip.
Out of all these events the end result stood before the proud father: smiles no longer forced and an underlying strength of steel in his son. Yet Mr. Tate knew there was only one thing that could make Max truly happy: a complete family; and that was what he wanted to offer his boy.
“Max, before we left New York, your Mother and I… talked about a few things.”
“You didn’t argue again, did you?” Max asked anxiously.
“No, no, of course not” Mr. Tate paused for a second. “Max, listen, what would you think about living in New York… permanently?”
Max choked, swallowed and blinked a few times. “Wh-what?” He stuttered, not thinking he heard right.
“It’s like I said: your mother and I were talking. We believe that the situation between us has changed a little, and we considered the possibility of living in the same area. My job is versatile in the way that, as a chef and part-time writer, I can live almost anywhere and not be constrained in any way. It was your mother’s job that limited her to the US. We came to Japan because it was my homeland, and your mother and I-… Well, things have changed now, so … well…” Mr. Tate sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was not good at these things. “Look Max, ultimately it comes down to what you want. If you really don’t want to move then we won’t. But… otherwise… we will be moving as soon as this summer. We’ll live with your mother.”
“Ah-ah-I… I need to think… think about this.” Max blundered through his words, his mind drawing blank. “I mean… I-I’ve always…wanted us to live together… but-”
“I understand, and you can have plenty of time to think about it. You’re old enough now, and I trust what you say, but you have to decide soon. It’s a huge decision to make and I need to prepare things, including the high school I am going to enroll you into, you’ll be going to grade 9 soon and the school you graduate from can make a very big impact on your later studies. ” Mr. Tate said firmly.
Max nodded mutely and turned away. He walked a few paces and then abruptly stated that he was going to go catch up with Tyson. After getting permission from his father he practically fled the house. As he ran down the road towards Kenny’s house he decided that he had plenty of time to think about his father’s offer. Right now, all he wanted to do was push everything to the back of his mind and enjoy the day with his friends. When he got to Kenny’s house that was exactly what he did, the whole incident seeming surreal. Max couldn’t even bring himself to ask his friends’ opinions.
====================
Everything falls apart
Even the people who never frown
Eventually break down
====================
TBC
===
Italics = song lyrics
===
The song is “Pushing Me Away” by Linkin Park. All the words are not here.
Disclaimer: No. Just no.
Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun
By: Sholay
‘’
“Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.”
-Abraham Lincoln
‘’
;
Chapter 1: The Invitation
;
"Max!"
"Maaaaax!"
< br> “Huh? Whaazaa?” The tired boy reached up and attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. When he failed to do this, he decided to go back to sleep instead.
"MAX!"
Uh, there was that annoying voice again; couldn't it just go AWAY for a few hours? He just got home from visiting his Mom for a week. It took more then half a day to fly back and he hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane. So, Max was making another attempt to catch up. Unfortunately, he was being interrupted from his beauty rest by that annoying voice. Who WAS it anyway? It sounded vaguely familiar...
"Aww, c'mon Maxie! I know you just got back an' everythin' but you gotta see this! You've got mail from the BBA!"
"Whoa!" Max cried out and sat up abruptly, suddenly wide awake and excited. "Really!?"
"Yeah! Like I said: you gotta see this! Oh, and hurry up n' come down, or I'm gonna eat all the pancakes!"
Max laughed with good-humor, now having a pretty good idea who the guy yelling from the bottom of the stairs was. "Alright, ALRighht! I'm coming! Just gimme a sec to change!"
Max quickly yanked off the nightclothes he had put on just half an hour earlier. Then he pulled on a pair of loose beige shorts with pockets on the sides and a crude rope that acted as a belt and held them up. Tying the rope hurriedly, he tugged on a lime green sleeveless shirt at the same time. Over that he put on a loose blue t-shirt that had "I LOVE BLADIN' " written on it in bright sunny yellow letters. Checking himself in the mirror he quickly swept both hands haphazardly through his long honey blond hair, attempting to smooth them. Two seconds later they sprung back into their original spikes.
Disregarding his hair, Max quickly bent and hurriedly threw on some white socks that had previously been lying on the ground. He swept through his room and rushed out the door. Almost immediately, though, his hand reappeared and whipped around the door frame to grab a pair of crimson colored, fingerless gloves from his desktop.
Max barreled down the stairs stuffing on his gloves as he went. Jumping the last couple of stairs he landed with a muffled thump on the carpeted ground. He walked through a door on his right and was immediately enveloped in a friendly embrace.
"Maxie! It's great to see you again! Man, I haven't seen you for, like, a year!"
Max laughed and pulled away from his friend.
"Aww, c'mon Tyson," he replied, smiling widely all the while. "I live practically next door! And it's only been one week in America. It's Rei and the others that we haven't seen in a year."
As Max pulled back from his best friend, he finally had a chance to look at him. It was obvious that Tyson hadn't changed a bit over the past year. He was still impulsive, over-bearing and rash. He was also the best guy Max could ever want as a best friend: he stood by you no matter what.
His clothes hadn't changed either: with the navy shorts, neon yellow t-shirt and bright cherry red jacket, sleeves rolled up and all, no one would have guessed that it was December; but the weather had been unnaturally warm this year and Max couldn't even feel the cold.
On top of Tyson's head, the red baseball cap was still ever present, facing backwards as always. In fact, the only visible difference about him was that the long blue-black hair which was once pulled back into a loose ponytail that fell down past his shoulders was no longer present. Instead, Tyson's hair was now cropped short and fell messily at the nape of his neck. His large bangs hadn't changed though and still hung low enough to obscure his eyes.
A few weeks ago, Tyson had annoyed one of the girls in his class; something about calling her fat after she had snatched the last cupcake (which he had had his eyes on) at lunch. The girl, who's name was Hilary, had eagerly returned the favor by sticking a huge wad of gum in his hair with gusto.
In the end, the only way to get rid of the gum was to chop off the entire ponytail. Tyson, of course, threw a fit and fumed for days after the deed was done. Eventually, he did calm down, but all chances of civilized interaction between the two teens were out the window. Tyson and Hilary now refused to speak to one another voluntarily, but even Tyson had to admit that the hair would grow back eventually. Besides, he still had his bangs. Max had to give Hilary credit though, she was good when she wanted to be.
"Max, it's a good thing you came! I don't think I could've held your friend back from my pancakes much longer!" Came an older voice from the kitchen door to Max's left, ending his train of thought.
"Aww, c'mon Dad, I'm sure he’s not THAT bad."
Not three minutes later Max ate his words—actually, technically it was probably Tyson who ate them—as he stared at his best friend who was literally inhaling his fifth pancake, still with no signs of slowing.
"Whoa," He said, blinking a few times. "You really weren't kidding..." Max himself was on his second pancake.
"It's a good thing you don't bring Tyson over every day, Max, he'd eat us out of house and home!" Max's father joked; snatching away the maple syrup before the dark haired boy could empty it, the latter faltered only briefly before grabbing the icing sugar instead, much to Mr. Tate’s chagrin.
When Tyson heard this, and registered it a few moments later, he paused around his bites:
"HEY! I Opp-JECThh ThO' dAT!"
Max grinned. "You would, but you have to admit it's true."
"Gimmmuh a bh-reakh, 'm uh grohwn' bh-oy!" Tyson spluttered, causing a few crumbs to spray from his mouth onto the table.
Max and his father wisely decided to stay quiet after this; not wanting to risk being the next target for Tyson's crumbs. It was in this manner that half an hour passed comfortably, while Max and his father ate and chatted, while Tyson simply ate.
Eventually, all three of them were sitting comfortably on the couches spread out through Mr. Tate’s family room. Max and his father were engaged in a light conversation.
“Hey, Dad, look! Tyson’s finished eating!”
“I don’t think it was a choice of finishing eating, as much as it was a forced decision, due to the shortage of pancakes. That… and the sausages are still frozen.”
They both laughed while Tyson fumed and did his best to shoot both of them death glares. Max noticed, but instead of getting intimidated by this, he only laughed harder.
“Watcha’ tryin’ to do Ty? Tryin’ to act the Kai or some’m’? Sorry dude, but you’re real-ly not that effective.”
Tyson blinked when Max said this, then his face lit up so brightly it was as though a light bulb went off above his head.
“Oh! That reminds me, you’ve got mail!” Tyson groped around inside his pocket until he seemed to find something. Eyes lighting up, he withdrew his hand; clutched between his fingers was a folded letter, slightly worse for wear after doing hard time at the bottom of his pocket with the lint and old gum wrappers.
“This came in the mail for you yesterday!” He held out the letter, grinning.
Max took the envelope with a raised eyebrow. “Tyson?” He questioned. “Exactly what were you doing poking around my mail?”
The boy in question shrugged sheepishly, “well, you were gone away, so I had to… y’know… keep it safe… Technically, I saved it from getting bored in the mailbox!” Max’s eyebrow remained raised.
“Right, and you didn’t ‘rescue’ the rest of the mail?”
Tyson puffed out his cheeks with indignation. “Look, Maxie-e, just open it already!”
Max fingered the envelope and smoothed it out on the edge of the wooden table in front of him. After he had the paper straight enough to read, he pulled it back towards himself. He read the front of the envelope out loud:
“To the Bladebreakers,” he said slowly. “Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve read that. Ty, did you get one of these?”
“Yup! Now hurry up and open it!” Tyson exclaimed impatiently, practically bouncing up and down on his seat opposite Max in his excitement. Max shook his head in amusement, while his father finished cleaning up the last of the breakfast and joined the two on the sofas.
“Ty, you already know what’s in this, so why are you getting so excited?” Max wanted to know.
“I think he just wants to see your reaction. I admit; I’m curious too. It’s from the Bey Blading Association isn’t it? They haven’t sent you a letter for a year at least.” Max’s father said softly, leaning to the side of his armchair, so that he could glance slightly over his son’s shoulder. Not being able to make out any words, he shifted back. “What does it say?”
Max glanced at his father for a second. He had noticed that his dad was being a lot quieter recently; he almost seemed distracted, or thoughtful about something. However, Max didn’t want to get into an argument over any issues his dad was having; he also didn’t want to ruin the mood while Tyson was still there. Instead Max turned back to his half opened letter and shredded the remaining half of the seal, as it refused to open neatly; reaching inside, he slide out a neat thrice-folded letter. Reading it, his eyes widened considerably.
“Oh…Wow!”
“What does it say, Max?” Mr. Tate repeated; his full attention on Max now.
“It’s-” Max started, but was immediately cut off by Tyson:
“-An invitation to a reunion! YES!” Tyson cried out, jumping out of his seat, pumping an arm in the air. “We’re going to Russia!”
“Hey, whoa, wait a second there.” Mr. Tate interjected seriously raising a hand in objection. “What do you mean Russia? Who’s authorizing this? Are there going to be adults looking after you while you’re going?” Mr. Tate had been reluctant in allowing Max to on his Beyblading tour around Europe and America, especially with only Mr. Dickenson in charge. He had been extremely disappointed and worried when he found out the man was only a part-time guardian and in his place stood a fourteen year old street thug of all people! Max insisted that Kai was well-meaning and responsible, but Mr. Tate couldn’t forget his son’s was a rather biased opinion. Max was too trusting for his own good. Mr. Tate had since sworn he’d be damned before letting his son go off gallivanting across the world again without proper accompaniment; especially in a place as volatile as Russia. Max was only thirteen! Barely old enough to be traveling on his own! Tyson couldn’t even be counted because he was the same age!
“Aw, c’mon Dad, relax,” Max said while smiling reassuringly, although not succeeding much in alleviating his father’s fears. He handed his father the letter, “Here, look: There’s going to be a one year reunion for the top 5 teams from last year’s tournament. It’s taking place in a few days and it’s gonna to last the entire Christmas. I suppose Mr. D had something to do with the organization of it all, since he knows how well we all got along. Every team’s manager will be going with their own team… so I’m guessing they’re gonna use this chance to talk about what happened…um… last year?” Max phrased the last part like a question, looking at Tyson like he had the answers, earning only an idle shrug in return as said boy fiddled distractedly with a nearby pad of paper.
“You mean like all the dangerous things that happened and how that boy—Kai—betrayed you.” Mr. Tate stated bluntly, looking from the letter to his son, who was standing next to the arm of his chair.
“Uhhh… weh-… no bu-… ” Max stuttered on various unfinished words before finally falling silent a slight frown of disagreement on his face.
“It’s possible,” shrugged Tyson dispassionately, while carefully shredding the paper in his hands into a spiral. He didn’t bother to look up. “Maybe they want to, like, ban Tala and his team or something; Kai, too.” He finished the spiral and quickly tiring of it, tossed the worthless piece of paper into the trash can next to him. He then leaned back on the semi-hard sofa-bed, his arms cushioning his head. “It’s not like he ever did anything ‘cept lean on walls, scowl, be mean and steal bitbeasts last year anyways.”
“Tyson!” Max was shocked, “How can you say that?” He cried, half angry, half shocked. “Kai is our capt-”
“Was.” Tyson corrected, tilting his head to the side and looking at Max pointedly.
“Fine.” Max amended, uncharacteristically snappish. “He WAS our captain. But you know that he might had been a little cold sometimes-”
“Sometimes?” Snorted Tyson, Max ignored him.
“But he STILL trained us,” the blond boy persisted. “He pushed us harder than we thought we could go. He helped us when we didn’t know what to do AND he was always there for us.” Tyson snorted again but Max was undeterred, he readily launched himself into an impassioned speech. “Without Kai we would have never gotten past the Asian tournament. And you know it! He was very smart and he was always calm, cool and collected, no matter what! We all looked up to him, he was our best blader.”
Tyson’s head shot up at the last part.
“WHAT!?” He practically shouted. “I was our best! Me and Dragoon, not him and his over-cooked turkey, or are you forgetting who became WORLD CHAMPION?! Well, let me remind you. It was ME! Me, not HIM! He LOST his match against Spencer! And also, I WON the match again him in the regionals!”
“Oh, get over it already, Tyson,” sighed Max, frustrated. “You of all people should know you won by luck alone. Plus we’ve all gotten a lot better since then.”
“I still won!” Tyson persisted childishly.
“Yeah? Well, one match doesn’t mean anything!” Max threw back, but regretted the words almost immediately. It was too late though, both boys were shouting by now.
Tyson’s eyes widened, he had long since abandoned his comfortable position on the couch and now jumped to his feet. He stared down at his friend with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.
“Are you saying my match against Tala meant nothing?”
“Well… no, but I-”
“BOYS!” Mr. Tate had had enough. A single shout and lowered eyebrows was enough to get both teens quiet and back in their appropriate seats. The older man now knew that the subject of Kai was obviously a touchy one.
“Stop this at once! You should not argue and just say whatever you want without meaning it. Honestly, you two should know better than that.” His tone faded from angry to exasperated when he realized that the boys, both looking appropriately abashed now, were just having a childish squabble, nothing more. True enough, it wasn’t long before Max apologized, Tyson following almost simultaneously. Soon enough the boys were all smiles again, both simply lacking the censure to stay angry with one another.
Max’s father was silent throughout this exchange. He didn’t want to take a side since he himself barely knew Kai. At the very most his image of the teen was limited to a nasty, harsh antisocial character with no sense of honor. One who only just happened to get lucky and become a part of his son’s team-of course, only to turn traitor, betray the team… and come crawling back later when the tides changed; It really should not have been such a surprise to find out that the boy was indeed Russian.
The older man sighed tiredly and sat back in his chair. He wasn’t about to try and understand what these boys where thinking: why his son so strongly stood up for this amoral boy; why Kai was even ever on the team; what exactly the boys were thinking running about on the streets of foreign countries… No, there really was no point in trying to understand some things… He just had to make sure his son was never inn such a situation again. They were simply too young and too immature.
“Max, are you going to tell me more about this trip you’re planning to take?”
Max turned to look at his father, one eyebrow raised in question. He had been engrossed in a conversation on new beyparts Kenny was supposed to be building and had completely forgotten what they had been talking about.
“Huh?” Was the resulting reply and his father resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘My point exactly.’
“What? ...Oh!” The boy cried out with sudden inspiration, “of course! THAT trip…” Max paused and scrunched his nose in confusion. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, how are you getting there, for one. I also want to know when the trip is, how long it is; the living arrangements and who’s going to be looking after you.” His father listed these off rapidly in a typical fatherly matter that had Max wondering briefly whether or not his father had planned these questions beforehand for this exact moment.
“Oh! Right,” Max smacked his forehead. “I should have guessed.”
“I think we’re going there by plane, the day after tomorrow…” Tyson interjected quickly, bored of being left out for so long. Mr. Tate’s eyes widened considerably.
“So soon?” He questioned, shocked. Tyson nodded.
“Yeah, the letter came sooner, but… well… you were away…” He shrugged it off and looked at Max who nodded, agreeing that it was no big deal. Mr. Tate shook his head, constantly amazed at teenagers’ carefree natures and ability to conform to almost anything. He sighed and told Tyson to continue.
Tyson took a breath, “a-and… lessee… Mr. D’s gonna be looking after us… so you don’t hafta worry about poor wikle Maxie getting his proper nutrish-ments.”
Max mock glared at Tyson, while his father chuckled something in the background that sounded suspiciously like ‘nourishments’. Then Max’s mouth twitched and looked between his father and Tyson slyly. “You’re right Tyson,” he said slowly. “With you there, we’ll need the extra help to hold you off the food so the rest of us don’t starve. Eh, Dad?”
Max and his Dad shared a moment of laughter while Tyson attempted to salvage his reputation with his ‘I’m a growing boy!’ argument.
“But I am.” he grumbled surly as Max and his father fought to stifle their laughter, the situation made all the more funny by Tyson’s complaints.
“Anyway, smarty-pants,” Mr. Tate said, being the first to sober. “I’ll sign this permission slip of yours. You go and enjoy yourself, Max.”
Max literally beamed. “Yay! Thanks Dad, you’re the best!” Silently he cheered that his Dad gave in so easily. It’d looked like he’d have a hard time of it in the beginning.
“Cool” Exclaimed Tyson happily, already having gotten over his previous bad humor, “I knew you’d do it Mr. T! After all, my crazy, fruit-loopy grandpa signed it.” As he said this, Tyson turned and looked over his shoulder as though expecting his grandfather to pop out from behind the couch and whack him over the head. When no one appeared, he leaned in toward Max and his father and whispered conspiratorially: “Though I kinda expect him to spontaneously appear in Russia with that shirt of his, just to hit me with his kendo stick…”
Max look sideways at Tyson. “Why DOES he hit you with that thing anyway?”
Tyson sniffed with an air of righteousness. “Well I’VE never done anything wrong; he just comes out of thin air...no warning at all...and… WACK!” Tyson made a swiping gesture, nearly causing the vase near the couch an untimely death. Max rolled his eyes, wondering about the way the world looked from his friends eyes. Tyson then turned back to Max and his father, a suspicious grin adorning his features, and his voice turned devious. “I was thinking,” he continued, “about locking him in his room before I leave. Waddaya think?”
Max laughed lightly and smiled. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Tyson. You know how resourceful your Grandfather is. He’d probably get out another way. Then, when he DOES arrive in Russia, he’ll probably be twice as bad.”
Tyson pulled a face, “I guess...”
Mr. Tate relaxed back in his chair and gave a soft smile. “You really shouldn’t be so hard on him Tyson, he only wishes to look out for you.” Even with that one short sentence he seemed to scold Tyson with a short lecture.
“Bleh,” answered said boy, at a loss for words he merely worried lightly at the tip of his tongue with his teeth and then turned away. “You two are a buncha spoilsports. C’mon Maxie, let’s go see what the Chief’s doin’. Your father is a bad influence on ya’.” Max started to follow Tyson, still grinning, until he was stopped by his father’s voice.
“Max, just wait a minute. I need to talk with you about something for a second.”
Max subdued immediately at his father’s serious tone and quickly sent a meaningful glance at Tyson. Unfortunately the dark-haired boy continued to look back at them in confusion. Max turned back to his father.
“Um, okay Dad.” He said slowly.
“Is everything OK Mr. T?” Asked Tyson, concerned.
The man nodded, “everything is fine Tyson.” Before he could politely request the boy to leave however, Max surprisingly jumped in and did it for him.
“Ty, you go ahead, I’ll catch up in a few, ‘kay?” In answer, Tyson finally understood and nodded, heading to the door. Right before leaving Tyson turned and seemed to give Max a ‘you-better-tell-me-what-this-is-about-later’ look. Max just rolled his eyes and closed the front door.
Tyson only managed to get out a “I’ll see you at Kenny’s!” before his full view was of the door in his face.
“Right,” Max mumbled distractedly to his friend, his full attention on his father.
“Max, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Mr. Tate said as he stood and approached his son. Max looked up at his father with equally serious eyes. Despite popular belief, he could actually act grown up and responsible at times. He had to, since his mother was never there for him and his father was always working.
“Does this have anything to do with what has been on your mind since we left Mom’s place?”
Mr. Tate’s surprise was obvious. His son was very perceptive! Of course he realized. Max had always been sensitive to people’s emotions.
“Actually, yes” He started deliberately, wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say. He gazed down at his son—not that far down actually, Max had grown a lot over the past two years and was now only a little more than a head shorter than his father—and felt a small rush of pride. Over the past two years Max had not only grown in body, but in mind and spirit as well.
Not too many years ago, Max had been a very troubled child. With no friends, no mother and only a part-time father; the boy had slowly grown more and more withdrawn. Max though, being a naturally happy boy, tended to repress everything; his father remembered sadly. Then, two years ago, a miracle had happened. They had moved to Japan and Max made his first real friends in years. Max’s life changed dramatically as he discovered his talent for Beyblading, started competing and went on that crazy one-year trip.
Out of all these events the end result stood before the proud father: smiles no longer forced and an underlying strength of steel in his son. Yet Mr. Tate knew there was only one thing that could make Max truly happy: a complete family; and that was what he wanted to offer his boy.
“Max, before we left New York, your Mother and I… talked about a few things.”
“You didn’t argue again, did you?” Max asked anxiously.
“No, no, of course not” Mr. Tate paused for a second. “Max, listen, what would you think about living in New York… permanently?”
Max choked, swallowed and blinked a few times. “Wh-what?” He stuttered, not thinking he heard right.
“It’s like I said: your mother and I were talking. We believe that the situation between us has changed a little, and we considered the possibility of living in the same area. My job is versatile in the way that, as a chef and part-time writer, I can live almost anywhere and not be constrained in any way. It was your mother’s job that limited her to the US. We came to Japan because it was my homeland, and your mother and I-… Well, things have changed now, so … well…” Mr. Tate sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was not good at these things. “Look Max, ultimately it comes down to what you want. If you really don’t want to move then we won’t. But… otherwise… we will be moving as soon as this summer. We’ll live with your mother.”
“Ah-ah-I… I need to think… think about this.” Max blundered through his words, his mind drawing blank. “I mean… I-I’ve always…wanted us to live together… but-”
“I understand, and you can have plenty of time to think about it. You’re old enough now, and I trust what you say, but you have to decide soon. It’s a huge decision to make and I need to prepare things, including the high school I am going to enroll you into, you’ll be going to grade 9 soon and the school you graduate from can make a very big impact on your later studies. ” Mr. Tate said firmly.
Max nodded mutely and turned away. He walked a few paces and then abruptly stated that he was going to go catch up with Tyson. After getting permission from his father he practically fled the house. As he ran down the road towards Kenny’s house he decided that he had plenty of time to think about his father’s offer. Right now, all he wanted to do was push everything to the back of his mind and enjoy the day with his friends. When he got to Kenny’s house that was exactly what he did, the whole incident seeming surreal. Max couldn’t even bring himself to ask his friends’ opinions.
====================
Everything falls apart
Even the people who never frown
Eventually break down
====================
TBC
And that is ALL for now! So, now for the reviewer notes; first of all thank you everyone for reading this and I hope I continue to meet your expectations. Make no mistake though, this story will be LONG and perhaps not particularly fast paced, but that goes for all epics, doesn’t it?
Kavbj: Thanks for reviewing! I’m actually 17 years old and I’m flattered you think I write like a pro! I’m sorry to say that this is currently the only idea I have for beyblade. However, I promise you that the story will be long and will contain many exciting twists! And hey, I’m open to any story suggestions you may have!
Miako6: Hiya, thanks for reviewing! I am happy to say that this fic will NOT BE KAIOC! I am not a fan of any form of Mary Sue/Gary Stu and I can guarantee that all Original Characters’s will be kept down to earth and away from any romantic relationships with Kai. I can also say for sure that romance will not take a central role in this story, so you don’t have to worry. Oh, and I’m a fan of torturing my fav character too, which would explain why I keep getting all these glares from Kai as I write this story…ah, (throws up hands) the trials of an amateur fanfic author!
LadyAmazon14: Yay! My first review on Mediaminer! So, as I can completely relate to you as a part of the Kai female fan base (YAY! He’s just so huggable! ;glomps Kai; ;Kai shoves me off; Hey! (brushes off shirt) oh well, I still love you, ;Kai walk out of the room; I think he’s just sore, cause he read the story plot yesterday… Anyway, as for romance… well you’ll just have to wait and see won’t you ;). But I’m pretty sure I won’t make it a large part of the story, you may have to make do with cute moments and subtle hints… but hey! You never know!
Linesy: Hey, thanks for reviewing, I hope you keep reading my story! I was wondering, since you gave me an 8 on spelling and grammar (and originality, but I can understand that one), what you think I should improve one?
Finally! Time for the big Question: What language is the title in? Well, I can honestly say that it is NOT Russian! Ha! Now, what else could it be? I’ll leave you all to ponder this, keep guessing though! I’ll take all the reviews where I can get ‘em!