Notes: When I mention a koi I'll refer to it by it's predominant color because writing 'red with white shashes/zigzag/whatever takes a lot of effort. Phew.

Tyson blew air in the glass shield that covered the open corridor surrounding the conference hall. The morning chill froze the vapours that fogged the shield.

When it was gone, he saw Brooklyn standing on the opposite corridor. He waved in acknowledgement, the other boy nodded at something below, his gaze followed the direction reflexively.

There was nothing unusual just reporters taking their seats, some more people in business suits and camera. He wondered what was ginger refering to, he was about ask but the boy had vanished.

This tournament was still not big as WBA at its peak, but bigger than the recent events. He was a little nervous at the thought of facing the mob of reporters after a long gap. He made sure to revise the go-to responses Mr. D had sent for him. They needed Tyson, now more than ever in hopes to reclaim the previous glory of the sport. The recent response by the masses to the game itself had not been kind. But that didn't stop it, this was just another hurdle to overcome.

"Is that the Bald Eagle's insignia?" Hillary said.

"In what?"

"The news group that constantly critiques everything about beyblade."

He squinted his eyes and found the symbol on a big box, a few people came and opened it taking out their equipment with the similar picture of the eagle.

"Doesn't everyone."

The brunette scoffed, "Maybe, but I don't like them. They're going eat you alive down there."

"Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence, Hillary."

"I'm just saying."

Tyson turned his back to the hall and found Max chugging another suspicious green drink with excess glucose.

"You should really stop drinking that."

"It's healthy."

"Not in the amount you're taking."

Max rolled his eyes and tossed the can into the bin.

"We should go now." Hillary said.

The three of them went to the hall below. Tyson wished he had something to eat, which might had calmed his nerves a little.

He felt oddly dwarfed by the room, it didn't looked this large and crowded from above. He hoped something stupid won't come out from his mouth.

The reporters had oddly keen eyes and taut postures like predators waiting to sunk their teeth on the prey.

Daichi and Kai were supposed to be here with him, but in their absence Hillary and Max accompanied him. Mr. Dickinson wasn't worried, he thought that friendly faces would help them gain trust. To his right Hillary looked like a statue, he wondered if she was even breathing and to his left Max was grinning like a cat.

"Mr. D said to smile at the camera." He explained.

"You look creepy."

That sobered him a little. "Okay."

Tyson sneaked a glance at Hillary who raised a brow at him, he wisely avoided saying anything.

The moment Mr. D took his seat, the conference begun. But he was aware that more than half of eyes were trained on him.

"Mr. Granger, what are your thoughts on WBA hosting a tournament of this size again?'' A reporter asked.

"I think it's amazing." Tyson said.

"Do you think there will be more strong bladers this year?"

"Yes, we ge-"

"What is the possibility of another beyblade team going rogue?"

That question wasn't on his cheat sheet. "It's pretty low..."

"How does it feel to be treated as a. Chosen one?"

"Excuse me?"

"Was the damage, last time not enough?"

"Huh?" This took him off-guard, it was no secret this question was not his to answer.

"What about those families that were endangered three years ago? "

Tyson was overwhelmed by this wave sudden verbal attacks.

"It was hosted by BEGA and it's a widely known that Tyson and many other prominent bladers were against it. And even then Mr. Dickinson did his best to provide assistance with the help of local government." Max said, for which Tyson was grateful, he licked his lips in anticipation, 'Get a grip Tyson.'

"Why didn't the rogue beybladers held accountable?"

"The mastermind after the whole fiasco is behind the bar, as for the bladers, they were sent to the rehabilitation camps for a period."

"Do you think it'll be safe for parents to take their children to see the matches, does WBA takes responsibility for that as well?"

Before Max or Hillary could began to answer that question, Mr. Dickinson cleared his throat and stood up. Tyson noticed a few pleased faces on the crowd, he clenched his palms into fists.

"That I'm afraid is a question for me. But before that, I want to clear something again. In the light of the BEGA incident, I can understand the scrutiny of the guardians. But it is my humble request for you to not blame the crimes of an unhinged individual on the sport or anyone associated with it. It won't help you, me or anyone for the matter."

He bowed slightly to the whole room, when he spoke up again his voice was clear and steady, "being one of the founding member to bring it to the world stage. I alongside my colleagues felt deeply responsible for it. I pledged to myself to never let that happen ever again and my words are not enough for it, I understand that."

He examined the audience, "we had meticulously worked three years to stand up again. Better security measures, better training facilities, camps, research and Id system. We have also made morale camps essential before attending a tournament. I believe we all had our time to heal and re-evaluate our values. With that in mind, I can say that families are welcome to watch the matches. For the passion all these children carried with them and for the spirit of the sport itself, I wish for it to continue growing."

The room was quite before Tyson started to clap causing everyone to join him as the applaud grew louder.

A single hand raised between the hoard of reporters earning all the attention of the room. Mr. Dickinson nodded at the thin pale man with flat red cap and a monocle.

"With all due respect sir, last time your competitors displayed dangerous levels of power. Who's to say they won't use it again for something even more reckless?"

"This display is precisely the reason re-establishing the WBA is necessary, simply ignoring them is even more dangerous. Because as we had all witnessed, they don't need training to attain that." He carefully avoided mentioning the name. "What they need is ability to control that power because if left unchecked it'll be a danger not just to others but the bladers themselves."

The reporter clearly wanted to ask more questions but stayed quite. Some more mellowed up questions later, the conference was wrapped up with a bow. They did a few photoshoot and annouced some celebrity appearances in some of the major tournaments.

"The chart for the tournament will be released soon. But yes, the competition this year is solo and we'll begin with continental titles." Mr. D said addressing the camera.

"That was so, exhilarating. Like a beyblade match but less fun." Max said as offered two cones of lemon sour ice-cream to Hillary and Tyson.

Tyson took both of them and started eating absently.

The other two gaped at him, before Max left to get more, "Why am I even surprised?"

"Get a different flavour." Hillary said.

Frankly she didn't had an appetite after this. They weren't questioned that openly earlier because most of the tournament were held with zero publicity and less viewers, not to mention WBA HQ was a hut beneath a bridge by the river.

This year things started to pick up, everyone had licked wounds and healed and Mr. D knew the stakes. She trusted him with the descision because he had been doing it for a long time.

Tyson crouched hitting his head with his knuckles. "My brain froze!"

"That's what you get for eating it all at once."

Max came back with two more ice-creams.

"Here, for our favourite manager." He said, trying to flick his hair.

"Don't do that again," she said.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He combed his hair self-consciously.

Tyson rolled his eyes. He looked around casually when his gaze fell on the reporter from earlier, standing parallel to them in a distance. Without his cap, he looked younger, his plain black hair were sticking on his face.

When he noticed Tyson he glared at him and turned away.

"Well, someone's got a problem."

Mr. Dickinson came to see them off and thanked Max and Hillary for saving the show. To which Max replied that while he'd never be their first choice for assistance, he wanted to help in any way possible. Tyson felt guilty about it, all he did was mimic a gold fish on live camera. Mr. D reassured him that it was unplanned, but Tyson couldn't get it out of his head if things had gone worse.

Soon enough, they were packed in Taro's car and headed home, the sun was beating down overhead. They stopped at a petrol pump, at Hillary's request, leaving the three of them in the car.

He noticed the shift in the atmosphere. Taro caught his eye in the rear view mirror, Max was sulking in the passenger seat.

"So Tyson, how's school?"

"Boring?" He wondered briefly if a well thought out answer had been better. The other two chuckled at the response. "Also I think the math teacher hates for me for some reason."

"Did he had a reason?"

"Plenty."

"So, did Max told you why he's not participating this year?"

"He didn't." Tyson looked at Max for an explanation.

"It's not a big deal." Max said shifting in his seat to look at his father.

"But what happened?"

"Nothing important." He snapped, "did you have to brought it up now?"

"You need to talk to someone."

For a moment it looked like Max would say something, but then he opened the door and slammed it close behind him.

"Max! Where are you going?"

"Washroom."

It was really awkward after that, Tyson wondered if he should exit the vehicle too.

"I'm sorry, I probably made you uncomfortable." Taro said, as he examined the steering wheel with great interest.

Tyson rubbed his neck, "It's alright."

"Max had became more secretive, I mean I understand he is growing up. But sometimes I wish he would tell me what's bothering him."

Tyson felt a weird feeling in his chest.

Taro let out a tired sigh, "I was wondering if you would talk to him. Since, you know there are things we share with our friends that we can't with our parents."

Tyson was quite before he realised he was expected to answer, "Ofcourse. You'll have the juiciest secrets on your plate, served by detective Granger." He gave Taro a two fingered saluted.

The older man laughed, "That won't be necessary. As long as he won't do something really stupid or harmful. But I trust him enough for that." He said the last part more to himself than to Tyson.

The moment Max and Hillary came back, they hit the road again.

Being near the suburbs, Tyson's home was their first destination. Hillary sensing the uneasiness, decided to drop with him.

They were standing at the gate.

"Sneak attack!

Tyson barely caught the wooden sword between his hands before it could hit him on his head.

Hillary will never get used to it. "Good evening to you too, Grandpa."

Grandpa Granger retracted his kendo stick and narrowed his eyes at her, "Hillary, how did I missed you. Could you be practicing stealth secretly?"

A sweat drop appeared on her head, as tried to stop her brow from twitching.

Tyson glared at his Grandpa, "No she isn't, you're just getting old."

"Who did you called old, boy? These bones still had the strength to bent metal."

Tyson dragged a hand through his face when he flexed his arms. "Please stop doing that."

"Uh Grandpa, Tyson. I think I'll head home." Hillary said.

"Hey, wait! Won't you stay for dinner." Tyson said.

Grandpa nodded walking inside, "No one leaves my home with an empty stomach."

"I'm not really hungry." She said to no one in particular.

"Grandpa can we eat noodles?"

"Nope, Homegirl's here. We're making Tempura."

"Yay!"

Hillary sighed and texted her mother if it's okay for her eat at Tyson's. Her reply made her frown, she said Hillary could even stay the night.

"Hey Hillary! You're coming?" Tyson called from inside.

"Yeah," she gave her phone one last look hoping for another text or a call. Then she went inside.

Tyson and Hillary were watching the the koi pond while waiting for dinner. They could hear Grandpa arguing with the monkey, as he made dessert for them. Hillary offered to help but he insisted on doing it himself.

"This one is older than Grandpa." Tyson pointed at the black koi in the pond, "It's more than hundred years old."

"No way."

"Yes way. This bunch is in our family since the time of my, great times five or more grandfather's." He ended his sentence in a confused note.

"Hundered and fifty six would be the correct." Grandpa said as came outside balancing three plates of Anmitsu in his hands and a little monkey on his shoulder and joined them. "That's Kenzo for you and that red one near the moss, that's Kie the oldest one."

Hillary looked at fish whose fins were noticeably frayed and slower than others, "looks ill."

"She's on her last days."

"Oh"

Upon noticing their sullen faces, Grandpa added, "but she lived a good life and that's more important."

"Did you named them all?"

"Oh no, we still haven't name Tyson's brother here." He said as he petted the monkey's head who chattered happily and stole sweets from Tyson's plate without being noticed.

Hillary laughed as she took her.

"She meant the fishes and he's not my brother Grandpa, seriously." Tyson all but shoved the dessert in his mouth.

"What's this one called?" She pointed at the bright orange one.

Grandpa smiled sadly, "Ai."

Tyson stopped eating and paid attention to him.

"Yoshie bought this one when she was expecting Tyson. This was her first gift to him."

Hillary didn't knew what to say except eating her dessert quietly, after that there were few things to talk about and she decided it was time to head home.

"What are you doing?" She watched Tyson quizzically as he put on his red jacket and shoes.

"I'm coming with you, duh."

"Hey, I can go by myself."

"I know that but it's late and Grandpa will throw me out, if I let you go alone."

They exited the house, walking on the sidewalk. A silver car passed them.

"I mean it, I'm not a kid Tyson."

"I never said that."

"And how are you coming back?"

"We're wasting time, come on." He stared back at her, as she stubbornly stood with hands on her hips. There was something in her eyes that he couldn't comprehend.

"Seriou-"

The silver car came back in reverse making them jump, the black window rolled down revealing Ming-Ming twinkling at them from the passenger seat. "Aw, look at you. Did you lost your way home?"

"And I thought the day couldn't get any better." Hillary said under her breath.

"What are you doing here?" Tyson said.

"You can't answer a question with a question." Ming-Ming huffed at them.

"Ming-Ming, stop annoying them."

"Only because I'm tired." She winked and settled back on her seat.

Tyson tilted his head and found Garland behind the wheel. "Hi?"

"Hey, do you guys want a ride? We'll pass by the supermarket."

Hillary perked up at the landmark. "Yes, my house is a block before it." She looked at Tyson, who shrugged.

The back seat wasn't empty as they'd thought earlier, Brooklyn was slumped at one corner with his back turned to them.

Hillary hesitated before getting in.

"Call me when you get there." Tyson said.

"I'll text you."

Tyson stood there long after the car had disappeared in a distance.

After telling his grandfather that Hillary had reached home, he went to his room glancing at his school bag that screamed unfinished homework. He dropped on his bed.

He groaned tiredly when his phone buzzed. His body refuse to separate with the comfy heaven. He tried to reach it without getting up, knocking something in the process. He cursed his luck, the message was from Hillary that she'd arrived home. He sat up lazily and picked up the fallen object. It was unharmed fortunately, 'Maybe my luck isn't that bad.'

It was a photograph, his mother was holding a baby beside him his father had a kid Hiro on his lap. They all looked at the baby with smiles and adoration, that made him frown. He had that weird emptiness in his chest again. It was a little like a burn.

He put the photograph on it's place and laid back staring at it.

His mother's face had an aura that made him feel placid, she was like a mythical figure to him. He wondered sometimes, if she was more than Grandpa's story. Like Max's dad caring but flawed in his own way, He'll never know.

He wondered if she was here, would she be worried about him, too?

He fell asleep staring at the photo, with the events of the conference floating in the back of his head. Sometimes after that, someone draped a blanket on him and turned off the light.

Yeesh, okay I didn't wanted this chapter to be this long. That and can you believe it I've been working this for a week, I deleted more than five scenes. That was so redundant. Anyway, if you guys had some tips, do tell me. This was messy.

Hey Twilightuniverse018, thanks for reviewing DHA and I'm glad your sister like your poem. I kinda of sat on that story for two years, so kind of messed up my notes for it. I'm making new outline for it.

Thanks for reviewing, reading and fav -ing (fight me) XD guys. Stay safe and healthy, bye!