Ryuga: DragonFang2011 does not own Metal Fight Beyblade.

Me: This was a request from A.B.D.Y.Z. I hope it's not too horrible! Forgive me! It's a little... weird... and totally unrelated to the song Set Fire to the Rain! I'm so so so so so so so so so sorry!

Ryuga: Yeah, yeah... Just get on with it...

Me: Was I talking to you?

Ryuga: You were talking to no one.

EDITED

The glass shattered into millions of tiny pieces, scattering all over the cement ground, and some landing on the teen who had punched the window. He stared at his bloody hands—studded with bits of the broken glass—and didn't even bother to suppress a choked scream of anger and self-loathing. He slid to the cement ground outside the abandoned warehouse, curling into a ball as he brooded.

He had lost everything.

His pride.

His passion.

His partner.

L-Drago was everything to him. Until he disappeared.

Now he had absolutely nothing.

All because of his stupid arrogance and greed. He'd played at a gamble he couldn't win. He'd made a mad scramble for power, and he'd failed miserably, losing everything that mattered to him in the process.

There was nothing left for him now.

The teen unbuckled his belt and hurled the battered yellow launcher holder out of sight.

Only his thoughts were left.

Glass dug into his bare feet, and he pressed them to the ground harder, trying to make the emotional pain dissipate. He was the strongest of them all. So why was he like this? Why was he acting so weak?

I used to be the best...

A bit of glass lingered in the corner of his vision, calling out the teen's name: Ryuga...

Ryuga blinked at the glass shard, then ran his hands through his hair, staining the spiked locks with his crimson blood. Then, he reached out for the glass, taking it into his blood-slicked fingers and touching the serrated edge to his wrist.

He made a few light scratches on his wrist with the piece of bloody glass, teasing the delicate veins that lay under his skin. The dark clouds above him provided no light, and he was content to work at his skin in peace.

More and more blood trickled down his arm, and he bit his lip.

The pain was becoming unbearable. He squeezed his bleeding wrist in his hand and cried out in lurid agony, sending all his pent-up grief and fury and frustration into the endless skies. The clouds were lit up by a bright white light—lightning.

How cruel.

He felt numbness.

He wanted to die. He gritted his teeth and pushed on, eager to finish the deed, eager to end his misery.

Rain pounded on the ground, forming frigid black puddles and seeped through the girl's clothes and into her hair. Lighting was flashing over her head, and the sky was gloomy and thick with clouds. She was cold and wet.

But she was paralyzed.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She was pulled back into the first round of Battle Bladers, against him. A large, three-headed purple dragon loomed before her, its snarling loud enough to make her bones rattle. It rocketed towards her, snapping up large chunks of the stadium.

A scream formed on her lips as the evil red eyes drew closer...

A clap of thunder saved Hikaru from completely reliving that horrible moment. She turned back to the injured blader. His hands were bleeding, tanned skin marred with scratches, fingers clasped loosely around a large piece of glass—streaked with his blood, which was washing off from the rain. His eyes were closed. His lips were parted in a soundless moan.

She couldn't speak. For a moment, she thought he was dead, and a tiny piece of her hoped he was. But she saw his eyelids twitch, and she knew that he still had life in him. Her eyes once again wandered to the wickedly sharp piece of glass in his hand and she chewed on the inside of her mouth.

Did he try to kill himself?

Resisting the urge to run away, she knelt down next to him, trying to avoid the glass bits that littered the ground.

He opened his eyes. They no longer held the strength and pride that he used to have... the strength and pride that made him seem so distanced and aloof... the strength and pride that made him seem incredibly attractive to her, since the first time she'd laid her eyes on him.

The yellow irises were dull and lifeless.

These were not the evil eyes that plagued her thoughts, sleeping and waking. Nor were they the lofty eyes she used to daydream about as she trained herself in Beyblade, hoping that someday, she could battle him and battle him well, and those eyes would look at her with respect.

He was nearly unrecognizable.

Her heart pounded in her chest, slamming itself against the walls that sealed it in, the walls that kept the monsters out.

When she looked at him, her heart used to skip a beat, but later, those beats turned into a lifetime of tears wasted on something she knew she could never have.

He'd been so alluring when they met in that park... long before the thought of Battle Bladers had surfaced... He'd flirted with her a lot back then... with that husky voice that was much quieter and smoother and unmarred by adolescence.

"Never have I seen a girl with such breathtaking beauty," he purred, bowing to her mockingly. He grabbed her hand with smooth fingers and kissed it with soft, warm lips. "May I have the honor of knowing your name, fair maiden?"

Hikaru felt her face turn crimson. Then, she faked a scowl and pulled away. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she scoffed.

"Then which pickup line usually works on you?"

"You strike me as a player."

He crossed his slightly muscled arms over his broad chest, that charming smile never leaving his handsome face. "I'm a basketball player. Does that count?" As he spoke, his white teeth flashed in the sun.

"Well, I only go out with musicians," Hikaru said teasingly. "Not clowns. And I've seen you play basketball. You suck at it."

"Don't judge me! I just started last month! And by the way, I am a musician!"

"What instrument do you play?"

"... I honestly don't know." He scratched the back of his neck in a rather adorable manner. Then, he leaned forward, hands behind his back and those golden eyes gleaming mischievously. "If you go on a date with me, I'll give the piano a shot."

She poked his forehead with her index finger, and he laughed.

"You know," she said, "you're pretty tall. How old are you? Are you a pedophile? Do you molest little girls?"

"Thirteen. No. And definitely no. You've seen me at school! Can't you see me wearing the eighth grade uniform? I really like it just the way it is now—do they need to change the eighth grade color from black to neon yellow, just for you to notice me?"

Both of them groaned at the thought, but Hikaru felt herself blushing.

"No," she said. "But at least you don't wear that hideous seventh grade red-orange fluff..."

And you look cute in your uniform anyway, she thought privately. It looks really good on you... Especially the way you wear it, with your tie and shirt all loose, and with those belts and chains and stuff... She barely managed to stop herself from swooning.

His grin widened. "We should start a petition about that."

"We should..." she said.

No words were exchanged as Hikaru pulled out a handkerchief from her purse and pressed it on the cut on his wrist. She knew that the cut wasn't deep enough to have cut an artery, but she also knew that it still needed to be treated.

Afraid of him or not, she was going to help him.

He screamed, a rush of words pouring out of his mouth in a desperate prayer. She flinched. The glass shard was still in his fingers, glinting evilly. His grip had tightened around it. She shakily took his hands into her own and started to pry the glass out of his grasp.

He lashed out, slashing with the glass like as if it were a knife. Fortunately, Hikaru's reflexes were as sharp as ever, and she pushed herself backwards, narrowly avoiding the menacing tip. Her hands slipped on the slippery ground and she landed on her back. She cursed under her breath.

She stared at the white-haired teen with wide eyes, terror flooding her mind once again. She knew what he was capable of. She knew that he could hurt her—he'd done it before and had never shown a hint of remorse.

She was trembling as she pulled herself up again, preparing to run.

But I can't just leave him here. He's injured.

She summoned what was left of her courage and positioned herself next to him again. Thunder shook the sky, and the rain poured ever harder.

She crooned to him, humming all of the lullabies and soothing songs she knew as she gently slid the glass from his fingers and tossed it away. She wrapped his wrist with her handkerchief.

He hissed and writhed like a snake, arching his back. She found herself on top of him, holding his broad shoulders to the ground. He grabbed her waist.

"Hikaru..." he breathed.

He remembers my name. A blush crept across her face.

She couldn't stop the burst of happiness that coursed through her body like fire. No longer feeling the coldness of the rain, her palm hovered near his face, watching the water trickling down it, unsure how he'd react if she touched him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the left, letting her stroke his cheek and feel the wounds on his face.

Strangely, she no longer feared him.

Ryuga.

OMIGAWD! This pathetic story doesn't deserve the title Set Fire to the Rain! Adele is amazing! But I have to admit, I had some help from the song Tourniquet by Evanescence. Love that song, by the way. Awesome, just like Set Fire to the Rain!

Please don't hate me!

Ryuga: This is so not you...

Me: Yeah, you're right. Omigawd! I need to get back to doing my best at school, and buying my mom a birthday present! It's her birthday today! We're having a party tonight, and I'm buying the cake and my brother and I made her a card and drew all over it, and I think I went overboard with the ink drawings (by the way, I'm so into inked drawings nowadays)! And I need to continue Gaelleon's War, and that other RyuKaru story I'm writing! And doesn't the younger Ryuga sound so cute? I just couldn't resist putting that flashback in!

Ryuga: She's back!

Me: Hug me, Ryuga!

Ryuga: No.