Title: On the Way to Christmas

Author: Rhea R. Rin

Rating: K

Summary: Random trips on Christmas Eve are fine... until Kai decides to have some fun.

Warning: Not much I can think of.

Disclaimer: Beyblade belongs to Takao Aoki. None of the characters used in this story belong to me. Any non-canon characters found in this story belong to me and are not to be touched. I write for the sole purpose of entertainment and definitely do not make money with this.


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"We should just try the chilly trick again," Max states to a presumably relaxed Dranzer-wielder, leaving no room for discouragement as he attempts to pick out the largest chilly from the bunch. Holding the bunch in his hands, he flinches; the chilly is irrationally small, so small that he doesn't think Takao is going to notice it. If there's anything that can wake up Takao, there's an added condition that it must be big enough for his taste buds to comprehend and potentially alert the poor soul's senses.

Takao's never-light sleep is, sadly, no joke.

It actually needs secret files and documents to be utilized, handpicked experiments that have at least a ninety percent success rate. There's even a separate folder Kyoujou has saved for the purpose. There's a full volume Hiromi has written down to record their experiments. There's a large chilly Rei keeps for back up uses. Max doesn't know about Kai, but he thinks the guy has at least a mental version of the one hundred and one ways to wake someone up. But Max has had enough; it's Christmas Eve! It's bound to guarantee a lot of games! And food! He doesn't get why Takao would ever want to miss it.

'I slept on Christmas Eve' is not a good achievement on your resume.

He shuffles his feet quietly, waiting for a response from his not-so enthusiastic teammate. With his legs rested on the table, eyes closed and arms behind him, Max is almost fooled by the unguarded moment; he knows Kai is very much awake and wary. And he knows Kai prefers not to comment on Max's seemingly plagiarized suggestion. However, ...it isn't fun. He needs the noise to keep going; Takao's in eternal sleep and Kai doesn't look very keen to fill the need.

How he wished he'd left along with the rest of the team…

He wouldn't have to deal with this, then…

He steps up the stairs; the light thuds that ring his ears are not welcoming. A dojo wherein you hear the tiniest, otherwise unnoticeable, sounds is never Kinomiya's dojo. It needs to have that constant assurance of non-stop noise, dilly-dallying hums and shouts that sums up to all the nonsense you can find.

And, unfortunately, this dojo is turning into Kai's idea of a silent lifestyle.

Mid-step, he halts. There's a little sleek cylindrical object lying down, glinting as it absorbs the nearby light. A moment of thinking; he's staring at it, a light bulb illuminating. Slowly, a smile cracks in; he picks the object up, steals a last glance at Kai and scurries away to find the third occupant.

He is so going to make up for the lost time.

And for once, it doesn't have to do with beyblades.

~???~

The first sign of latent mayhem comes when Kai realizes he has lost sight of Max. The dojo is illogically quiet; there isn't even the sound of running footsteps. It's a pin drop silence all over; the only thing that is heard are the faint snores from upstairs. While it isn't necessarily a big deal, it feels almost revolting. He has never kept tabs on his teammates, has never thought of keeping it and has never dreamed of it; they are unnecessarily loud enough to be heard in Mother Russia. He has never been given the chance to bother with it, actually. But it's been long since he has heard another word from his blonde friend; his first instincts tell him Max is up to something.

…And he knows better than not to trust them.

The shoji door is soon slid open, violet eyes scanning through the corridors for the lone form of his prankster friend. Obliquely, he shifts his glance upstairs; on the way, lies the source of the snoring and perhaps, the one he is searching. He believes he won't be able to live peacefully unless he ties all of his teammates to a chair; the trouble they get into while just going out for a stroll is baffling. It's almost comical to see them fit and alive every day.

Plot armour works way too much on them.

The stairs creak as he steps on it. He can almost hear the loud snores of the negligent; the animated fool who spent the last of his energy watching movies and now has to compensate the price. He shakes his head at the absurdity of man; if he were to be reborn again, he wishes he'd have better teammates to make up for the loss.

And while the ones at work are figuring it out he'd like to add that he wants those people to actually clean up their rooms.

Unlike Takao who marks his territory from the accumulating dust.

More dust as he nears the destination.

The snores are still dominant. Unfortunately, there's nothing that can be done about it. Sounds of feet shuffling are heard, followed by the squeaking and unfastening of the mattress.

(Kai contemplates the idea of tying all of them in a tight leash; by all fair means, it allows him the privilege of knowing what they do.)

Moments later, the obstructing door is slid open and Kai finally sees it for himself; the moments of questioning and contemplating fall down the drain altogether. There is, practically, nothing to worry about.

Nonetheless, he fixes a pointed look on Max, efficiently asking him a silent question. Explain.

Max shrugs in reply. He gets off from the mattress and waves a marker towards Kai.

"Wanna try?" His face has morphed into a sneaky grin; one that he always uses to bring the innocent down the path to hell, the one grin that compels the enemy to drop their weapons and surrender to the wicked fake innocence. Blue eyes are directed towards Kai as he declares quietly, "I won't tell…"

However, the only gift he's rewarded for his efforts is a look less than friendly, also known as a glare.

His lips purse. The need to resign is evident. If his student refuses to learn, he can only do so much as give a few hopeless words of encouragement, meticulously shake his head in sorrow and sign off the resignation letter. The teacher would have to do the homework by himself.

And that's exactly what he's going to do next.

He uncaps the marker, drawing away whiskers on the unsuspecting canvas: switching colours from red to black, giving some additional shading for extra details, smuggling Kai's face paint when he eventually runs out of ink. He turns to Kai expecting a reaction to the latter, only to find an impassive look cemented on his frowned face. Max gathers that it'd be strange if Kai gets all worked up over paint.

A few more strokes later, it's evident that the masterpiece is complete. He sheds a few imaginary tears, brawls over it and adds a three second speech to commemorate the end of the artistic performance. There's a few nasty comments from Kai but he decides to ignore it, albeit, a bit saddened by the fact that Kai can't recognize true talent… He has had hopes that his student is one of the truly special, the elite class that very few can achieve; his expectations are crushed but he's not going to discourage his student.

He's a true teacher.

He isn't going to rub salt on the wound.

He equips himself, and trying not to think much about Kai's apparent lack of talent, he announces, "Time to wake the drumstick up"

"If he could, that is," Kai corrects him automatically.

~???~

Takao looks around at the packed subway station. The weather's nice and cold. The train's right on time. The festive season is bright and clear.

Things couldn't be any better.

Except for one strange fact.

Passersby keep eyeing him, citizens who are just walking their usual Christmas shopping spree; pause, murmur and coincidently start laughing lightly. He has noticed it on the way to the station, when he is just booking in, as he waits for the train and when he gets inside it. He feels self-conscious; he does like attention, has been bathing in it since day one, but he could tell that this attention is unwanted. Totally jeopardizing.

Now, now, they didn't do anything to face, right? …Right?

He pulls out his mask and scrubs a hand across, letting out a happy sigh when he finds nothing out of the ordinary. It's a red glove, red markers don't stain it…

He hears more chuckling from his left.

He glares at Max, who he thinks is responsible for the situation. And Kai, who he thinks is responsible for… something.

Takao is about to comment something, something that may shut the blonde's mouth up, but frowns when he notices the distance between them. He, once again, points the accusatory finger at Max, who he thinks is the cause of all the seating confusion. "Can someone explain why we are seven seats apart?"

"Dunno. Corona."

Takao resists the urge to roll his eyes. Max is right next to Kai!

There's an uninvited silence and Takao realizes that he's beating around the wrong bush. If he needs the right answers, he needs to ask the right questions.

…like, 'Is it international laughing day today?'

He shakes his head mentally; he knows Max is going to find an alternative way to skip around the topic. He has done that before and would not hesitate to do it again; if there's any way he can pester out his answers, it's by supreme intelligence. (Which he silently admits he doesn't have. He's impoverished in the area.)

He has to think of another way.

A family enters between them, and unfortunately, Takao has to save the questions for later. He peers over through the small gap and sees Max saying something. Kai, being Kai, scoffs at him.

He pulls back immediately. He tells himself that he can spend his time thinking of better questions. He isn't lonely. He still has himself. He, by no means, is tempted to join Max; who he thinks is the one responsible for what he is going through. In fact, he wants to hurry away from the everlasting ride.

A boy is pointing at him, attempting to bring in his mother's attention. It's in vain, though. She's busy tending to the rest of the squad and has no time for the little nitpick. And when there's no mama, logic brings you to papa.

So sad, it's another futile attempt; the father, in turn, is busy making some space for himself. The boy tugs his father's sleeve; he's getting irritated by the relentless cold shoulder. Takao almost grimaces; raising children must be hard. And noisy.

Next second, his eardrums are attacked by wailings, and it's getting louder by the second. It brings in more attention. People lock their eyes on the crying child, then on to Takao and resume their businesses, although this time their lips curve upwards, trying their best not to chuckle. This irks Takao; he knows he's their target, in the same way he knows that Max is the culprit…

The train halts; it's the first stop. And he wouldn't be getting out until another… Takao soon wishes he didn't live so far away.

But fear not, he isn't going to wallow in the pain. He decides to use the time wisely; in the mere moment where the family prepares to leave, he crumbles a piece of paper, wadding it into a ball and waits patiently. He's learning time management.

~???~

A grand piece of paper hits Max square on the head, right when he is giving his art lessons to a not-so interested student; and marks the revival of the train. He's angry now, albeit in a playful manner, and picks up the crumbled mess.

XXX car washing services. He has been thinking that it's a secret message…

His aim is targeted at Takao; the tides are in his favour. Kai doesn't seem to be against it. The paper is thrown; it's a near miss. Takao sticks out his tongue. The same paper is thrown back.

It halts briefly; reverses its path and hits Takao. Max says that it's destiny. Takao says that it's density. Kai says to shut up.

Max grins at Takao's plight. He isn't evil. He's merely watching Takao return back to sulking, chittering away as he is lost in his thought process. Max looks around; strings of words are forming in his head. He has switched from artist to author.

"Stop it," Kai tells him before anything can be done. There's an unexpected feel to his voice and Max turns around in confusion. "Whatever you're thinking of, stop it."

Unintelligently, Max blinks.

"You don't know what I'm going to do."

That's the reason it needs to be stopped.

"Either way, it's up to no good," Kai pauses, reconsidering his next words, "If it has something to do with Takao, it's obviously up to no good."

Max stares at him briefly, chooses to ignore it and the sinking pit in his stomach that Kai has hit jackpot; he tries not to shiver. This is just one of the many times he wishes that he doesn't want a perceptive companion. (Just to make things worse, there are two more in the waiting line.)

It's a critical hit to his self-esteem that the student can figure out the teacher's misgivings; but he stands up straight, learning from the shame. In effect, he has to think Kai is supporting him. He can visualize his previous student behind him, pushing Max forward with all his spirit. He's no longer doing it for himself. It's also for Kai! For Kaisy!

Even when he thinks of Max as a permanent headache…

There's no one who can fool you more than yourself.

"Listen, Takao," he brings his hand forward, ready to place it over Takao's shoulder for nothing more than 'effects'; but then, tersely remembers that they are seven seats apart and brings it over to his head, brushing the tips of his hair. His mood turns dark, his head is lowered and his eyes peer out from the obscurity. Darkness looms over his voice. There's evil lurking in the corner. Bats may be coming out anytime. "Listen," he repeats warily, "I'm like that one writer who writes amazing stories…

'I'm sorry I'm dealing with some shit right now, so I'll come back in a month. Until then, this story is on a temporary hiatus. Keep adding this to your alert list and don't forget to keep reminding me to update. Keep spamming the review section with 'update pls' and I'll surely come back after a month.'

…and then I never update it, leaving you with jam-packed suspense for as long as ten years," he extends his hands for the added emphasis, totally forgetting the abyssal mood, "and ever more after."

"What are you trying to say?" Takao gulps from the eerie atmosphere. He has had such experiences... And they are heartbreaking to remember. Max is, unintentionally or intentionally, rubbing salt to the renewed wound. "Are you saying you're not going tell?"

"Bingo!" Max cheers.

He's had his time of the day. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a dumbfounded look on Kai's face, before it quickly morphs into his persistent frown.

Double jackpot!

~???~

The door is burst open, its poor frame taking all the wanton damage and its hinges creaking to welcome the impudent guests. Takao has no time to worry about doors; nor Max's and Kai's less than nice comments on Takao's rising immaturity. The only thing he cares about now is the fresh scent of Christmas, the feast they will be having and all the desserts waiting for him. He is finally in time for the party! He is at peak condition!

…But before that, a good look in the mirror would be nice. He feels the need to confirm the validity that he hasn't turned into a zebra.

He steps foot on to the hall and is almost thrown out by a huge talking tree. On second thoughts, it's just Hiromi.

The laughter is imminent, and he feels there is no way to escape it. He feels it's even more stupid because he doesn't know the reason for it. Kai has been mute ever since the start of the ordeal. The passengers obviously won't tell him and he's left with the most scathing option. If only Max hadn't pulled that ultimate hiatus-writer card…

"Did you come here looking like that?" It's evident Rei is trying not to laugh. Daichi and Hiromi don't bother to conceal it. Max is chuckling in high spirits.

"You look like ma' squirrel," Daichi tells him, "But you're just Takao…" Hiromi rolls her eyes at the idiosyncrasy. Kai briefly mourns for the poor squirrel; for its plight, for its owner and for being compared to Absurdity himself.

Hell hath no fury like a squirrel scorned!

As for Takao, he's starting to think the train ride is a million times better; at least he doesn't have to tolerate ridiculous monkeys with pet squirrels, talking trees and laughing friends. He just, has to deal with a lazy hiatus-writer and a mute emo.

Hiromi brings in a hand mirror for him to see, giggling as she watches Takao's blue face, a perfect contrast to the red ink. The blue turns green as the victim finally takes a look, red as the same person flushes in embarrassment. Daichi thinks he will be a nice replacement for the broken fairy lights.

"Maxieee," he wails out; never will he ever sleep again. "How can you do this to me?"

"Uh…," Max looks at his canvas staring at him with big, huge sad eyes. For a short while, he gloats in the fact that he, and only him, can actually replicate the ever amazing, irresistible puppy eyes… Takao is doing his best, …but not enough. There's still a long way for him to go. But, because every single thing has a flaw in this world, he feels a slight unfathomable twinge in his heart. The feeling artists feel when their canvases reply back; filling them with all the troubles of their past life, the friends they made, the problems they cannot solve… Max feels the deep stare of his previous student. This isn't just for himself. It is for Kaisy too!

"Takao," he accentuates his words, his heart relishing in the beautiful artist-to-canvas moment, "Kai did it."

Several pairs of eyes shoot towards the said teen, who is contemplating the idea of digging a hole and burying all of them alive. He doesn't bother answering the questions; instead he gives them his furious, silent means of expressing disapproval.

(Because writing 'glare' isn't classy enough.)

Wordlessly, the cahoots turn back to whatever they are doing.

Random trips on Christmas Eve are fine… until Kai decides to have some fun. Or that's what Max says.


A/N:

When I think of Christmas, I think of friendship fics.

I sort by newest, and I am just one of the very few who thinks that way.