Chasing the Sun

Summary: When Kai Hiwatari is given young Tala as a companion, he learns that friendship can be a precious gift as well as a curse.

Disclaimer: This authoress does not own Beyblade or any of the respective characters, with the obvious exception of those that are original.

Warnings: Language, violence and shonen-ai.

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"Keep up, you worthless brat!"

One swift jerk on the rope binding his wrists brought the small boy stumbling forward through the thick snow. Choking back a sob, he rubbed one dirty sleeve across his eyes before Boris could see the tears gathering there.

Boris strode on through the cold, glancing back now and then to ensure that the boy was still there and giving the rope a vicious tug every time he felt Tala begin to slow down. With every pull of the rope, the redhead winced and swallowed back a cry. Intent on not making a sound, he looked at the woods to distract himself and immediately wished he hadn't.

Dark skeletal trees towered above him, reaching out with spindly black claws and Tala scurried closer to the older man. Even though he was frightened of Boris, the forest was much scarier.

And cold. He shivered violently as another gust of icy wind whipped through his sweater straight to his bones and gazed longingly at the thick winter jacket Boris was wearing. Maybe if he asked nicely enough, Boris would let him wear it for a little while.

"B-Boris?"

Timidly, he reached up to tug on the edge of his jacket and was rewarded with a sharp slap.

"I told you not another word!"

His head reeling, Tala nodded weakly and kept quiet. Muttering oaths under his breath, Boris jerked him forward and the redhead floundered awkwardly in the deepening snow before finding his feet again.

As they walked on, the forest around them thickened and grew darker still, until Tala could barely contain the whimpers of fear that clawed behind his closed lips. Everywhere he looked, trees blackened from winter sickness wanted to snatch him. They looked hungry, with their thin branches. A thrill of horror rippled through him at that thought. What if they wanted to eat him? He was only a skinny little boy but he didn't think these trees would care. They might gobble him up anyway!

He crept closer to Boris, desperate to clutch at him just to make sure he wasn't alone, but the painful sting lingering on his cheek made him hesitate. He didn't want Boris to get mad again. This time he might decide to leave him alone in the woods instead of hitting him. And the thought of being alone with the dark and very hungry looking trees was much worse than a slap to young Tala.

He let out his breath with a whoosh and watched it mist in an icy cloud that hung lazily in front of his face. A faint little smile tugged at his lips as Tala remembered that there were some nice things about winter. Even though it was hard to walk through, he loved the snow and the way it sparkled in the sun. Sometimes it hurt his eyes but that was okay. It was pretty to look at, even when the windows were frosted with ice. He had liked hot chocolate too, back when his mama could still afford it… back when she had still wanted him.

Mama… why did you go away?

Ploughing ahead through the snow, Boris cursed when he felt the rope tense. The boy was already more trouble than he was worth and now he had to dirty his hands further for common filth. "What did I tell you about keeping up?" he snapped, jerking the redhead around to face him. Tala stood bewildered, looking up at him with blue eyes clouded by tears. "Can you not follow a simple command? Are you retarded as well as weak?"

"Boris, I-I …"

"HOLD YOUR TONGUE!"

A pained yelp echoed through the dead forest, sending a nearby crow spiralling into the air. Eyes narrowed into slits, Boris stared down at the small figure with something close to loathing. "God knows what Voltaire wants with a pathetic child like you," he spat furiously. "If it were up to me, I would have left you to die where that whore dumped you!"

Tala stared up at him with something akin to dismay. Was Boris going to leave him alone in the forest? "I-I'm sorry," he blurted out desperately. "I won't do it again, I p-promise!"

At the stammered apology, Boris shook his head in disgust. "Weak… that is what you are. Voltaire can do with you as he wills."

The tears escaped, freezing into little diamonds that frosted on his lashes and he remained on his knees in the snow. "Please…" he choked out, "don't leave me!"

Boris jerked him viciously to his feet, resisting the urge to kick him. "Tempting as it is to leave you here to rot," he sneered, "it will prove far more beneficial to me if you reach the estate alive. Now come, we have some ways to go before dark."

But Tala did not move. He stood in one place, shivering violently, a tinge of blue flaring around his lips. "I-I can't… too c-cold…" he whimpered, his knees buckling under him.

He swore under his breath. If the boy died under his supervision, he would have to answer to Voltaire, who would be none too pleased that his latest toy had frozen to death. Muttering angrily about weaklings and stupid children, he slid out of his jacket and bent down to wrap the barely conscious Tala in the warm folds, untying the ropes at the same time. The redhead gave a little sigh and snuggled closer to the warmth as Boris picked him up. He glared at the now dozing child, noting the slow return of colour to the pale face with a scowl.

"Useless wretch…"

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To call the Hiwatari estate secluded would be a gross understatement. Hidden by acres upon acres of forest in the heart of Russian wilderness, few had ever seen the enormous mansion that had been the pride and joy for several generations of the esteemed Hiwatari family. Traditionally, they prized their solitude. Secluded from the rest of the world, the family controlled their vast empire with an iron hand that none could or dared oppose.

The mansion was quiet as dusk fell and the snow that transformed the grounds into fields of sparkling diamond dust during the day continued to fall. Voltaire, leader of Biovolt and the Hiwatari dynasty, waited on the outskirts of the woods fringing the estate, alone save for his manservant. He cut an imposing figure in the twilight, swathed in a heavy black cloak and carrying a gold topped cane emblazoned with the family crest at his side. Every grey hair was meticulously in place and piercing eyes swept the deepening gloom.

Balcov was late.

Voltaire frowned. If this had been any other employee, they would not only lose their job but be socially disgraced for making a Hiwatari do something as trivial as wait. However, Balcov was the director of the Abbey and had proved invaluable thus far in the project. Even if he could be replaced, there was no guarantee that another person could achieve the same results with the children. Much as he loathed to admit it, the man was a necessity. Worse still, Boris knew it and shamelessly exploited that fact whenever possible. Unfortunate really, since his laboratory in Serbia was in need of new test subjects and he was sure Boris would have made an excellent addition.

Sergei stirred next to him, placing one hand briefly on the side of his head just above the ear. A blank look entered his eyes and he listened intently for a few moments before his eyes cleared. "My lord?"

"Speak." Archaic as the custom was, Voltaire always insisted that servants ask for permission before addressing him. It was a habit that he had learned from his grandfather and one that kept the more bold servants in check.

"The east tower has sighted Balcov. He is moving on foot."

Nodding in wordless acknowledgement, Voltaire strode off in the direction of the east guard tower with Sergei following closely behind.

Even though Sergei had been a trusted servant for almost twenty years, Voltaire still treated him with the same cold indifference that he had in the beginning. But as a reward for his service, Sergei was handsomely compensated to the point where his loyalty would not be questioned. Simply put, he was a man who would get his hands dirty when his master could ill afford to and was feared by the other employees in the Hiwatari household.

When Boris emerged from the woods a few moments later with Tala still in his arms, he was not surprised to find Voltaire waiting for him with his lapdog Sergei.

"You are late." The cold voice would have reduced any other man to a babbling wreck, sputtering apologies like a garden hose, but Boris only bowed his head briefly in greeting, saying nothing.

At the flagrant display of disrespect, Voltaire swallowed his rage forcefully. "Is this the one?" he demanded, examining the soft bundle with a tuft of flaming red hair sticking out from the fur lined collar.

"His name is Tala Ivanov," he informed him, lifting the folds of the jacket away to let him study the sleeping boy. Voltaire observed him with a satisfied smile, noting the delicate little face with beautiful features evident even under the smudges of dirt and the fiery red hair that made his pale skin appear even more translucent. Oh yes, the child was perfect.

"You say he was found wandering in Moscow?" Voltaire said aloud, snapping his fingers for Sergei to take the boy.

"Apparently his mother left him outside one of the government orphanages and little Tala could not believe the fact that he had been abandoned. He ran away several times before one of our agents found him living on the streets. I was surprised that a prostitution syndicate hadn't picked him up by then but the brat must be more resourceful than he appears." Boris snorted, removing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a flick of his wrist. "We thought he might have some potential as a blader but after observing him for three days…" he shook his head. "Physical weakness can be remedied, but emotional and mental frailty can take years to repair. He is too great of a risk for Biovolt to invest anything in his future."

Voltaire waved one hand dismissively and signalled to Boris to begin walking. "It matters not. The team is all but formed even at this early stage, we have no need of him. He will serve his purpose better away from the Abbey."

Boris knew better than to question what that purpose would be and steered the conversation towards safer waters. "It has been a long while since your last visit, Voltaire. The boys have progressed well with the latest model, indeed they mastered it within four days." He smiled proudly at that before continuing. "If you wish, an exhibition match could be arranged for tomorrow."

He knew from experience that Bryan, Spencer and Ian would be more than eager to show off their improved skills only to their peers. They would complain at first, as they always did about performing for their benefactor, but would do as they were told in the end.

"That will be unnecessary. If indeed they have mastered the new system, it will no doubt take time until modifications can be made again. When that is done, I will see them compete."

"Modifications?" he stopped abruptly, snow flying up around his boots. "The system is perfect as it is. I designed it myself!"

"Is that so? Then take more pride in your work, Balcov. A model that can be mastered within four days by a group of children cannot be perfect, no matter how skilled the blader." Contempt dripped off his tongue and he gestured irritably to Sergei, who immediately disappeared into the house with the still sleeping Tala.

Boris flushed with humiliation at being insulted so deliberately but bit back an angry retort. This was the head of the Hiwatari family, the most powerful man in Russia and not one of his technicians. No matter how much the old man deserved it, he could say nothing in his defence. Furiously, he crushed his cigarette into the snow.

Voltaire watched him with some amusement. Although ambition was the last thing Balcov lacked, he still needed to be pushed at times. And if there was one thing he had learned over the years, it was that nothing did that deed as well as anger and frustration did. "I pay for results, Balcov and I expect to see them. If they have mastered the system, build one that they cannot. Design a blade that will drive them to their very limits."

Defeated, Boris could only nod. "As you wish… sir." He spat the last word out bitterly between clenched teeth.

"Good," Voltaire said curtly, intent on not wasting any more of his time. "A car will be waiting on the west road to escort you back to the Abbey. And I expect to see notes on the redesign by the end of the week, Balcov or you will be getting a visit from me and it will not be a pleasant one."

"Very well," he said stiffly, before turning on his heel and stalking away, sending snow flying in all directions.

Voltaire frowned. He did not know whether to be content or displeased about the news of his bladers advancement. Truth be told, it was excellent news. But on the other hand…

The Abbey children were progressing much faster than he had originally thought they would. Boris had designed a very challenging system and he had expected their training to last for at least four weeks. Of course, there was no doubt that Kai was far beyond any of them but one could never be too careful. Perhaps Boris had been right in suggesting a visit, he mused as he entered the mansion to where Sergei was waiting in the entrance hall. It would certainly give him a firmer grounding as to where his grandson stood with the other children.

A servant materialised silently from a side entrance, taking his cloak as he shrugged off the heavy black fur and waited for him to peel off the matching winter gloves. Already she had taken the cane and she took the gloves from him without a word, except for a graceful curtsey that Voltaire ignored. That was the golden rule in the Hiwatari house: servants should not be seen and heard even less.

Once his attire was back in order, Voltaire favoured the sleeping redhead with a rare smile that was more predatory than genuine.

"I do believe it is time to pay my grandson a visit."

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"Kai, it is imperative that you complete these word exercises!"

The young bluenette only gave him an imperious sneer that made him want to tear his hair out. Taking a deep breath, David pushed the book back across the table, reminding himself that harsh words were not advisable when addressing a member of the Hiwatari family. It was absolutely ridiculous that he, a respected and published university scholar, was being dictated to by an eight year old child. Really, it was bad enough that he was forced to treat the boy as if he were bloody royalty.

Kai glared at the offending book and pushed it back towards his tutor. When David pushed it back again, the bluenette simply shoved it off the table.

Deep breathes, David. Deep breathes. He is only a child. However stubborn and arrogant, he is still only a child. Kai is an intelligent boy, reason with him.

"Kai, a respectable command of the English language is essential to your education and the principle reason that your grandfather hired me. If you do not cooperate with me, you cannot learn."

The blood red eyes narrowed dangerously but David continued doggedly. "I know that it is a difficult language to learn, especially since all children are naturally more comfortable with their mother tongue, but this is not something you may choose not to do…"

"If you are that desperate to teach me Professor, then tell me what is the point of studying a language I have already mastered." The little voice, still with the sweet edge that came with being young, rang with authority as it carefully pronounced each word in flawless English.

His mouth fell open. "Kai, how…?"

The bluenette stared at him with something resembling pity and shrugged. "While you continued with your childish exercises every week, I moved on to more important things."

They warned me he was gifted, but this is absurd. There is no possible way he could have made that kind of progress without a teacher!

"Who taught you this, Kai?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Inside, he was shaking from anger. Voltaire had never informed him that the boy would have another teacher aside from him.

Now he looked bored and turned his attention to the snow falling past the library window. "Who do you think, Professor Clarkson?"

"You could not have taught yourself, you are an eight year old child! Has someone been instructing you?"

Kai looked at his tutor, eyes suddenly as frigid as the ice coating the window. "Are you telling me that I am lying?"

David winced as the temperature in the library suddenly dropped ten degrees.

"If I told you I taught myself, then I taught myself. If you're not clear on that, feel free to speak with my grandfather if you are unhappy with my progress."

The thought of confronting Lord Voltaire with the accusation that his grandson was a liar was top on the list of Things He Would Rather Not Do In Order To Stay Alive. He took a deep breath, carefully considering what he was about to say next. "No, Kai. I don't think you lied. I was just… surprised." He laughed suddenly. "After all, the average eight year old is not capable of teaching themselves to speak in a foreign language."

The bluenette stared at him for a moment and then gave him a slight smirk. "Then I guess someone neglected to tell you I was a prodigy."

Adjusting his glasses on his nose, David gave him a bemused smile. "Then I suppose I will have to adjust my lesson plans," he said lightly. "If I am to keep your interest."

Kai shrugged his shoulders again and continued looking out of the window, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand. "Do what you must."

David took the moment to study his pupil. Such an enigma… I do not think I have ever met a child quite like Kai Hiwatari. One moment I'm dealing with a child, the next I'm speaking to an adult. Yet at the same time, I have the feeling that he is neither.

"Shouldn't you be going, Professor? The lesson is over for today."

Startled out of his reverie, David blinked. "Ah, yes. I should be getting back to the university." He rose hastily and began stuffing books into his bag. Once he was ready, he paused. "Kai…"

"What now?"

You're losing your childhood and it seems like you don't even care. "Same time next week?"

There was a slight pause. "Whatever," was the final answer.

In other words, yes. Relieved, he bid Kai good afternoon and was immediately escorted to a car by a servant waiting outside the library. It was only when he was well away from the mansion when he was suddenly struck by something.

"Whatever?"

How on earth did he learn that from the antique books that his grandfather insists on keeping for him?

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Brigitte stared at the boy in dismay. "Master Kai, you were supposed to keep it a secret!" she wailed, lapsing into her native tongue.

Kai sighed, slipping into Swedish as well. "He was boring me with those stupid exercises. Did you expect me to have to do them all over again?"

She clasped her face in horror, oblivious to the bluenette. "What if he tells Lord Voltaire?"

"He's too afraid of Grandfather to say anything about me," Kai scoffed, picking up a book and settling down in front of the roaring fire. "And if he does, then I will just say I taught myself from textbooks. He will believe his own grandson over some idiot professor."

That was still not enough to reassure her and the petite blonde began to pace up and down, worrying about what Kai obviously felt was trivial. But if Voltaire discovered that she had been teaching Kai Swedish and English without permission, it would mean her head. Well, he was already adept in her mother tongue so technically she was no longer teaching him, but Voltaire wouldn't care.

Eventually, Kai grew irritated with watching her wear a path in the carpet. "Brigitte, the last thing Grandfather wants to see is a hole in his new rug."

She stopped abruptly, chewing her nails agitatedly instead. "My apologies, Master Kai."

Crimson eyes stared accusingly at her over the top of his book. "Biting your nails is no better."

Making a face at him, she clasped her hands behind her back and tried to calm herself down. But Brigitte was so tense that when the knock on the door came a moment later, she almost jumped out of her skin. And when Voltaire walked through a second later, she thought her heart would stop dead in her chest.

"Lord Voltaire!" she dropped into a deep curtsey as he swept past her, going straight for Kai.

The bluenette barely acknowledged his grandfathers appearance, a fact Voltaire chose to ignore for today.

"I have brought you a gift, Kai."

His grandson looked up at him with as much interest as he could muster, which in all truth was none. "I don't want another toy," he replied distantly in Russian.

Voltaire smiled. "Ah, you may change your mind once you see him."

That caught his attention and he looked up with puzzled red eyes. "Him?"

He snapped his fingers and Sergei entered the room, silent as a ghost with Tala still wrapped up in his arms. Brigitte gasped as she saw what he carried and put a hand over her mouth to hide the sound.

Is that a child?

Kai watched the manservant approach with undisguised interest and frowned when the redhead was presented to him. "I thought it was a puppy," he said accusingly.

"I told you that I would not have a disease ridden animal running loose in the house," his grandfather replied sharply. "At any rate, this boy is better than some flea bitten mutt."

"So what am I supposed to do with a dirty street child?"

Voltaire swallowed his impatience at having to deal with a child as stubborn as Kai. "Whatever you wish. He belongs to you. From now on he will be your constant companion: you will share mealtimes, he will sleep in the bedroom adjoining your own and he will attend your training sessions as well as school lessons."

Kai was silent, considering the offer. "What if I don't like him?" he asked finally.

"Then I will simply make him go away."

The bluenette examined the sleeping boy with more intently. The boy had hair as red as the flames flickering in the hearth and he looked small, delicate even. But there was something nice about his face, underneath all the dirt.

"Do you like him?" his grandfather asked, watching the young face carefully.

Kai was quiet, staring at Tala in the dim light. "… I think I will keep him."

Voltaire could hardly keep the smile off his face and turned to Brigitte, who still stood in silent shock. "Sergei has instructions for you regarding the boy. You are to care for him, but do not let it interfere in your duties to Kai. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord." Helplessly, she glanced to where Kai knelt on the floor next to the sleeping boy with the most curious look on his face. But she dutifully followed Sergei from the room and watching his grandson with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, Voltaire soon followed.

Leaving Kai alone with Tala.

TBC