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The Colour Green	By : Lahmia Category: Beyblade > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Beyblade. I write these fics solely for the entertaniment of my fellow fan, and make no money off it whatsoever.

Chapter List
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Sunday night at the Russian house involved, as always, a pool tournament. It usually also involved a fair amount of alcohol, but they had decided to keep Tala sober, so instead they had a fair amount of sodas. Ian had taken the lead of the tournament and was currently crushing Spencer to bits. Tala and Bryan were leaning on their cues, watching with great interest. Bryan was in second place at the moment, and teased Tala for it. The wolf was usually a really dangerous player, but today he had gotten his ass kicked by Spencer and been pushed down to the bottom place. He was not at all happy with that, since it meant that his climb towards the house record was halted. A glance towards the the little blackboard on the wall next to the table told him that it would really sting if he came out the overall loser in this round. And to lose his first place to the midget, shit, that was just embarrassing. Ian had only 10 wins. Tala had 45. The first runner up was Kai with 30 wins, followed by Bryan with 18 and Spencer took the last place with 7.

“Aw, fuck you, Ian!” Spencer snorted when the small man sank the eight ball, with a triumphant grin on his face.

“Take that!” he exclaimed. “You really suck at this game, Spence.”

“Gimme a deck of cards, shorty, and I'll kick your ass back to last century.”

“Well, aint someone a sore loser?”

“Watch it, Ian!” Spencer growled. “You're half my size and I could crush you like nothing.”

“Hey hey hey!” Bryan intervened. “There will be no midget-crushing here tonight!”

“Midget-crushing?” Ian shouted. “You're going down, Bryan!” With that he jumped at the lilac-haired man, but was caught by the neck of his shirt by Tala. The violet-haired little man fought to get free and get his hands around the falcon's throat. Bryan just smirked at him, making him let out a long and nasty list of curses.

“Ian, for fucks sake,” Tala sighed. “You gotta stop erupting every time someone calls you a midget. They're just doing it cause they know it pisses you off.”

“If someone called you a cocksucker, wouldn't you erupt?” Ian growled.

“Nope.” He smiled a rather priggish smile. “Cause I am. And a damned good one at that. If you can stand up to what you are, no one can fuck you around.”

“Like that fact that you are an over controlling jealous wannabe dominatrix bitch?” Bryan asked with an innocent smile.

The wolf's eyes turned to blue ice. He dropped Ian on the floor, turned around and punched the falcon straight in the face. Bryan fell to the floor, rubbing his jaw, but still grinning.

“Hit a nerve there, didn't I?” he said.

Tala was positively fuming, his pupils drawn together to needle-points.

“You fuckheaded manwhore!” he growled. “How many lays this week? Do they at least pay you, or are you just a general slut?”

“Don't go there, Tal,” Spencer sighed. “Honestly guys. Cut it the fuck out, all of you. Geez it feels like I'm freaking babysitting a bunch of four-year-olds.” He pulled the lilac-hair too his feet, and looked at his family. “Let's do something else. Who's up for a Tekken-tournament? Then you can kick each others asses without me having to drive you to the ER – again. They are seriously starting to wonder what the hell's going on here.”

They abandoned the pool table and headed across the room to where the video-game area was. They owned pretty much every console known to man, and their pile of games was climbing towards the ceiling. Tala crashed down in the couch, alongside Bryan. Ian was trying to locate their Tekken collection without making the pile fall to the floor.

“Yo!” he said over his shoulder to his three friends. “Which one do ya wanna play?”

“Third,” Tala said. “I wanna kick your ass with that dino thingy.”

“He's called Gon, you moron,” Bryan said. “It's three letters, it can't be that hard to remember.”

“Hey, you knew what I meant anyway, so it doesn't really matter what the fucker is called.”

Spencer reached up and slowly maneuvered the game out, making the stack sway a bit, but it didn't fall over. With a deep exhale, he pulled it out and went to put it in the PS2 console.

“Honestly,” he said. “We have gotta come up with a better way to store the games. That shit is bound to fall over at any time, and I sure as hell don't want it to fall in my head.”

“Or in Ian's,” Tala said. “It'll put him in a coma.”

“Hey!” the violet-haired man said. “You calling me short again?”

“Ian. First off, you are short. That's a fact. Second, do you really want 300 video-games to fall in your head?”

“Nah, but-”

“Shut up then.”

xXx xXx xXx

“Alright, kids,” Kai said as he stepped into the classroom, where his students were making more noise than a beyblade stadium full of fan-girls. “Shut up, and let's get started.”

The classroom went quiet and they all looked at their teacher. He scared them a bit, but he was really cool. And he sure as hell knew a lot about art, and he never said they did good unless he meant it. He put a series of graphite portraits up on the blackboard. They recognized all the faces very well. The Bladebreakers and the Blitzkrieg Boys. They were so well drawn that they looked more like photographs. He turned back to his class, and pointed over his shoulder.

“This what we're going to do for the next three weeks. Portraits is a tough thing to draw, but it's fun. And I think you're talented enough to handle it. Yes, Yumi?”

A thin, bleached blonde girl blushed and spoke in her shy voice.

“Uhm, who are we going to draw, Mr. Hiwatari?” The rest of the class murmured in agreement. Kai sighed.

“Each other, if you feel like it. Or from a photo of someone. It's the same thing no matter where the original comes from. The advantage a photo has is that it will be still, which a person won't. But, a photo is often too small for beginners to extract all the details from, because it's hard to see every line and shade in the picture. A person is obviously larger, and so it's easier to see all the details.” From a cardboard box he stacked a number of small, flat metal cases on the desk. “These are graded graphite pencils, going from 2H, which is the lightest shade, to 8B which is the darkest. Using different grades of pencils will help you make the pictures more alive.” He pointed to the portrait of Max. “That portrait is made with an H for the lines, and 2B to 5B for the shadings. Rei here,” He pointed to that picture. “Lines done with the same as for Max. To get lines that won't take over the picture. Shadings done with 4B to 8B, since his colors are darker than Max's.”

A boy raised his hand, and Kai signed for him to speak.

“Uhm, how do we start, Mr. Hiwatari?” he asked.

“First off, choose a motif. Try to find one that is a picture showing the face from the front. That's the easiest to start with. Take it from a magazine, for example. Or choose a friend to model for you. When you've done that, I'll run you through the next step, which is the basic sketch of the outlines. Ok, you ready?”

They nodded, and made a dash for the desk to get their hands on one of the cases. Because, they were in a school after all, and that usually meant that there would be maybe two cases with good pencils in them, and a shitload of very worn down and sucky pencils in the rest. So, they let out a collective gasp when they opened the cases and found that they were all brand new. And their mouths dropped to the floor when a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of their teacher's mouth.

“These are your pencils now. Take care of them and don't lose them, cause I aint giving you new ones.” He looked a bit stern again. “Now go find your motifs. Be back in fifteen, and we'll get started.”

They rushed out of the classroom, excited. Kai sat down behind his desk, and started to sketch the outlines for a portrait of Hilary. He would use it to guide them step by step, by adding things to it when he explained the new steps. And Hil was a part of his team too, and the only one who wasn't already hanging on the blackboard behind him. A polite cough came from the door, and the headmaster came in.

“Ah, Hiwatari,” he said and smiled at the younger man, busy sketching. “I saw your students rushing through the hall like they were late for a pop concert.”

Kai looked up and smiled.

“Hn. I'm teaching portraits starting today. I sent them to find motifs.” He looked at his watch. “They have 11 minutes to find one and come back here.”

“You really have a way with these unruly kids,” the headmaster smiled and looked at the pictures hanging behind the bluenette. “They actually do as you say, and that is quite unusual. How on earth do you do it? Lovely portraits by the way.”

“Thank you. I'm treating them like Max,” Kai said calmly. “Which means that I tell them to shut up, behave, and work, or there will be no rewards. Which in the case of Max usually meant sugar. And then I tell them when they are doing good. They are really talented kids. At least five of them could go to AMA tomorrow, only based on what I've seen so far.”

The older man chuckled.

“So it is really true that the little kid was addicted to sugar?”

“Yes, it is. To take away his sugar was like ridding you of your lungs. And he got so cranky when he wasn't allowed to have any. So, he made sure to train hard and do what he was told, or else his beloved sugar would be taken away. He put sugar on everything. And I do mean everything. It was a real hassle sometimes, but he just wouldn't be Max if he wasn't bouncing around on a sugar-high.”

“Ah, you were an interesting bunch,” he said. “How you all got along remains a mystery to me.”

“We complemented each other. But it wasn't fun all the time. We snapped at each other every other day, but we always cleared it up.”

“I can picture that,” the old man smiled. “I was a fan of yours. My daughter loved you all, and forced me to see all your battles. You were really talented.”

“Thank you, Mr. Keniwa.”

“Where are they all now?”

“Well,” Kai said and leaned back in his chair. “Kenny is making the teachers at MIT cry themselves to sleep for the next years. Max is in New York somewhere. I think he's designing custom blades now. Tyson is an archaeologist, so where he is at any given moment is a bit hard to know. Rei works as head chef in Hong Kong at the number one in-place in the whole town.”

The headmaster was just about to say something when the herd of teens in Kai's art class came running through the door again. They all sat down quickly, with magazines or newspapers in front of them, and looked at their teacher. Kai looked at his watch and arched a slate brow.

“You made it back with three minutes to spare,” he sounded a bit impressed. “Alright. Bring out the graphite.”

xXx xXx xXx

“Tyson Granger?”

Tyson looked up from the possible remains of a hut he was carefully bringing into the light. With his forearm he wiped some mud off his forehead. His father, who was working right next to him looked up as well. By the edge of the pit they were currently kneeling in, stood a tall and slender man with a violet color to his hair, serious green eyes, and dressed all in black.

“Yeah?” Tyson confirmed, a bit suspicious.

“I am Lukas Wilkes, and I have been sent to find you and deliver a message.”

The senior and junior Granger looked at each other.

“Ok? What message?” The man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read it to them.

“Miguel beats Hilary and her child. Get on the next plane.”

“Say fucking what?” Tyson cried. “Who sent the message?”

“My boss; Mr. Kai Hiwatari.” He looked at them. “He has transferred money to your account so you can make the trip without problems.” With that he simply turned around and walked away to an awaiting car. Tyson stared at the disappearing vehicle, for a long time, and then turned to his father – who was watching him closely.

“What the fuck is going on?” the former dragon blader said. “How does Kai know what's happening to Hilary? He lives in Hong Kong now. Or Moscow. And how the hell did he find us?”

“Does it really matter, son?” the older Granger asked. “You still love her, and she obviously needs your help. I don't know Kai as well as you do, but he didn't seem like the type to send a message like that if it wasn't important.” He got up on his feet and climbed out of the pit, dragging his son with him. “We're going back to the HQ to clean up, and then we're going straight to Tokyo.”

xXx xXx xXx

“Yay! Kai!” an excited voice shouted when he stepped through the front door with four large paper bags hanging from his arms, and a second later, a tiny blonde little figure jumped straight up in his arms. Melody clung to his neck, putting her boa constrictor move in effect. Kai gently loosened the possibly deadly grip a bit, and smiled.

“Hey, Melody,” he said, and tried to put the bags he carried down on the floor without dropping the child in his arms. “What have you been up to today?”

“Watching the Little Mermaid five times,” Hilary said, as she came towards them. “I think I know Under the Sea by heart now, whether I like it or not.”

Melody put up with being put back on the floor, as the red-eyed man took all the bags and walked into the living room. They followed him curiously as he placed them in the opposite end of the room from the large window where he was always sitting.

“What's in those?” Hilary asked.

“Art supplies,” Kai said with a smile. “I need to paint something or I'll go nuts. I only had a sketch pad with me, and that is just not enough.”

The contents of the bags soon became an easel, a full set of both acrylic and oil colors with all the things needed to make the oil behave the way it should. A whole forest worth of brushes were placed in a glass jar he had found in the kitchen, and set neatly on the small table that had obviously just been waiting for these things. Two large rolls of masking tape and two palettes landed on it as well, and a large roll of canvas emerged from the last, largest bag. Next things out of the bag was what Hilary guessed to be the raw material to make frames from, and a plywood board. A small set of spatulas got dug up and placed on the table as well, and a scalpel along with a scissor was placed on top of the bookshelf that separated the space from the rest of the living room without blocking out any of the sunlight.

Kai immediately measured up a satisfying amount of canvas and cut it off the roll, before taping the rectangular piece on to the plywood board and putting it on the easel. From his pocket he dug out a pencil, put it in his mouth and looked around – eyes narrowed.

“Mel,” he said. “Could you sit on that chair?” He pointed to his office chair that stood next to the wooden desk beside his little art area. The tiny girl happily complied. She clutched her Dranzer plushy closer and climbed up on the seat. He moved it a bit more into the light, and turned it to a good angle before smiling and taking the pen out of the corner of his mouth. Hilary watched him quickly draw all the outlines and marking the areas to be shaded with the pen – mumbling to himself about what colors to use and how to blend them to achieve the best result. The brunette smiled. It was hard to imagine the cold and practical Kai Hiwatari to be a passionate artist, but it was obvious that he was happy when he had a paintbrush in his hand and an empty canvas in front of him. His cellphone suddenly rang half an hour later, which was met with a menacing growl, since he had just started to apply the first color to the picture. He stuck the brush in the corner of his mouth, picked up the phone and answered it. Pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder, he took the brush from his mouth and continued his painting. The tone was not polite when he spoke to the caller.

“Hiwatari. Re-schedule. Wednesday afternoon. At three. They want my money, so they have to adjust to my schedule. Tell them to shove that up their-” He looked over at Melody's innocent face. “Tell them no. Yes this is a bad time, Valerie. Painting. Do svi danye.” He turned the phone off with a very determined face, and cursed low in Russian. Hilary didn't understand the words, but she knew it had to be swearwords. Good to know a man who spoke several languages as well as being the one person she knew who could utter curses that made people faint, without even putting very much effort in to it. That way he could vent his frustrations without Melody understanding a single word he said. He finally stopped the cursing and went back to painting under deep concentration.

“Kai,” she said.

“...”

“Kai.”

“...Hn?”

“I'm going to make dinner.”

“...”

She rolled her eyes and headed out to the kitchen, smiling.

((Artists. When they get an idea, they might as well be on the moon, cause they won't hear a word you say.))
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The Colour Green