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Memories of Me	By : Resting-Madness Category: Beyblade > General Views: 205 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade in any way shape or form, not characters nor created universe . And I make no money with this work of fiction- duh.

Chapter List
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"I can't believe I have another recital this week. Are those people trying to make me crazy? They know I have to start my beyblade training for the worlds, and they bring up all these stupid music test." Zeo kicks a rock farther up the dirt road. "I'd like to know why the heck I started playing violin in the first place."
The young blader has been complaining since he left the music hall. He told his father he wanted to walk home rather than have their driver pick him up. He slumps his shoulders, in defeat, over the way the rest of the week is mapping out for him.
"Not to mention the others are all at Tyson's today, and they're probably having the best time."
A group of kids went laughing past him; carrying on about their blading skills, and who had a shot in the city tournament that's coming up. Zeo can remember wanting that. He used to watch the broadcasts on TV; beaming at all the talented bladers he's seen.
But, blading is as far back as he can remember. Being a cyborg, he only has the memories his father set into him about who he used to be, and memories of things that are going on with him now. Zeo often wondered about the past, but decided not to dwell in it. He's here now, and he's happy, and he has friends. Life could not be better.
Looking up when a shadow blotted his path, a smile breaks out on his face. "Kai!"
The Russian blader looked up at the sound of his name, smiling when he sees Zeo. Since meeting him, Kai has changed quiet a bit; for one thing he's taller, he wears a scarf almost all the time, and he's grown his hair out quit a bit- it dips so much between his shoulder blades now.
"Hey Zeo. What are you doing out here? I thought you were staying home today." He stops in his tracks when they get up to each other.
"Naah, I had to do the violin thing today." He raises the case that's, for today's mood swing, is hanging lovelessly at his side. "But what about you? I thought you were hanging out at Tyson's today?" He brushed a bit of wind-blown hair from the side of his face with his free hand.
"It got old," he shrugged. "So I'm heading home."
"Oh. Is Ozuma still over there?" He turns on his heels when Kai begins to move past him.
"Yeah. But its getting pretty late, he might be leaving soon, too." He waves over his shoulder indicating that the conversation is done on his end.
I should go over there after I drop this off. Thinks the blue haired boy. Maybe I could stay over if some of the other guys are! Happy with his plan, he hurries home as fast as his legs will carry him.
...
"Aaah, master Zeo. Glad that you've arrived." Says William, the butler. "Your father is in the study, and would like to see you."
"Oh boy, Dad's home!" He cheered, before he realized what the man had said. "Uh-oh... He wants to see me," he is saying to himself as he walks to his father's study. "I wonder what its about. He never usually wants anything."
The young teen walks through the large living room taking a left past the dining room, and a right past the second living room to where his father's study is located; the door is slightly open, which Zeo doesn't find inviting in the least.
Smoothing his hair out, he adjust his shirt then checked his breath. Something about his father always made him feel like he had to seek his approval, but that could just be an itch.
"Come in Zeo." The man grumbled from behind the door. "I can see you between the crack."
The boy yelped at being unknowingly caught; shoving the doors open he greets his father with a smile. "I went to practice like you told me. We did an awesome job." He walks closer. "Mrs. Nakano said that I'm really improving to become a master."
"Is that why she sent me this in the mail?" He asks.
"What in the mail?" He walks closer.
His father opened the letter reading it aloud to his son. Zeo can't believe he would embarrass him this way; but at least he doesn't have his friends with him, like that one time when they all came over for a swim and his Dad shoved them out because he and his men had to work.
He didn't even do it in a classy way, he just said: "Zeo keep it down, and tell your friends the party is over." I mean what is that?!
"Dr. Zagart, although Zeo is a fine violinist it seems that he has been lacking in terms of learning the new music that the class is assigned to play. I'm not sure if this has anything to do with his home life being too busy, or if he's simply putting it off. But if he is to participate in this weeks recital, we ask that you sit him down for some much needed practice. Sincerly, Chizura Nakano." Dr. Zagart lowered the letter, then looked at his son with disappointment. "Care to explain?"
Zeo couldn't really explain it without ratting on himself. He has been putting off violin, but its only so he can practice blading with the guys. But for his teacher to send a letter? That's just sneaky on her part.
"But Daaad; you know how it is when you have other things going on. Nationals are coming up, and now that I'm finally allowed to blade again I wanna make sure that I'm really good so I can win." He balls his fist in determination. "I wanna be in the big leagues like Tyson; I wanna get my name up on posters and said on tv."
"Zeo, blading is fine but there comes a time when a boy your age needs to learn how to balance two things in life." The man's voice is walking on the edge of pissed and somewhat understanding, or maybe Zeo is just hopeful. "I want you to get upstairs and practice that piece, because tomorrow you're going to perform it at a dinner gathering I'm having with some clients." He smiled knowing that that should light a fire under his son's feet.
"By tomorrow? But that's not fair!" He complained.
"What's not fair is letting down your entire class because you can't keep up with them. What's not fair is embarrassing the family by screwing up on a simple solo." With a wave of his hand he insist that he go.
Zeo's face scrunched up. How can his father treat him like this? "I'd like to see him play this stupid thing..." He mutters in his exit.
It isn't that he doesn't care about playing, he actually doesn't mind, and he sometimes plays for Ozuma and the guys... but this is the nationals he's training for, not some small city thing. Parents never understand.
When the young teen reached his bedroom he walked over to the stereo. Digging through his dresser he reveals a tape from under his boxers; slipping it into the machine he presses 'play' and shortly after, out comes the sound of one of his pre-recorded practices that he taped out in the woods.
That should keep his father guessing while he practices his blading skills. Tossing the instrument onto the shelf, he has to give it an extra shove since it seems that it got stuck on something just out of his view.
Hopping onto his bed he lays on his back taking a few relaxing deep breaths. He hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until he actually laid down. Being in the band is bad for your health. I can't believe Mrs. Nakano told on me like that. I could have improved by the end of the week; what does she know. Reaching over for his phone, he picks it up from the base then quickly dials the Granger dojo. After a few rings the phone is answered.
"Hello, this is Tyson the champ speaking- who may I ask is calling?"
"Tyson," he said in exasperation. "It's me, Zeo."
"Huh? Oh, hey Ze'." His voice lower a bit in bravado or volume, when he spoke with the phone away from his mouth to the others. "Guys, it's Zeo."
"Tell him I said, hey."
"Hey Max!" He greets the boy.
"Zeo says what's up?" Says the world champ
"How did he hear me so quickly?"
"I've got you on speaker."
Confusion melted from his tone. "Oh."
"What's the noise in the background? Are you washing a cat or something?"
Blushing, he said very matter-of-factly. "No! It's me practicing for this weeks recital, and it isn't a cat being bathed; its Mastroyiannis. I'm gonna be playing something of his for my solo."
"Mastro- what? Sounds painful."
"Yeah, yeah." He and Tyson always engage in this kind of banter, it was becoming 'their thing'. "Is Ozuma still there, can you put him on?"
"He's in the kichen with Rei; they're helping Grandpa make dinner."
Max must have taken the phone, since he came in a lot louder this time. "We all were actually, but we heard the phone ringing and came to answer it."
"I'm the taste tester." Prided the hungry teen.
Zeo can see his friends so clearly; the two of them sharing the speaker between them. "I wish I was over there with you guys."
"So why not come over? You said you have a tape playing, how long is it?"
Zeo looks at his stereo. "About two hours."
"That's plenty of time," his voice cracks a bit. "Bring your beyblade, we can work out before dinner."
"Okay."
"Zeo?"
His smile beamed for miles. The brightness of it could bring vision back to the blind. "Ozuma! I wanted to ask you if you could watch me play this weekend?" He sits up a bit more, as though he had to have perfect posture for the one he loves. "My dad can come get you."
"I can probably make it." He replies.
Ozuma's voice is always so casual and controlled. Ozuma would make a great negotiator, if he wanted to be.
"Great! I'm gonna sneak over there in a minute; I just need to grab Cerberus." His gaze went over to the shelf where he put the blade.
That's probably what stopped-up his case. Now he'd have to get a chair to reach it. His father gave him some new limbs so that he can grow with the rest of his friends- it was no big deal, its about the same thing as when you have prostetics and they need to be changed out whenever you grow so you don't wobble when you walk, or make your arms uneven.
"See you later, Zeo." Says Ozuma before hanging up.
Walking over to the dresser in his bedroom, he can't help but smile at all the things he's put up since he became aware of how bare his room was. He has posters on the wall of Tyson and the others, pictures of himself and his friends- both individual and group shots- tons of him and Ozuma. A band he likes, and knick-knacks of all kinds.
A pair of roller blades, that he never uses, sit under the windowseat that has a space for what Zeo could guess was a drawer or something. But his destination was for the chair at his desk. He dragged it over to the closet then stood up on it to see better on top of the shelf.
It seems that his instrument case hit something else, because his blade was still in the front where he left it. Looking closer, he notices a small chunk of the wall has been moved; its too even to be a hole so what could it be?
"What the?" Reaching up for it, he moves it over and finds a small book inside. It reads: 'Diary' across the front. Could this be...?
...
Zeo stood atop the chair for what seemed like days in his mind. He is clutching the book so hard its a wonder his fingernails haven't broken clean off, or the cover hasn't started to rip.
This is really... It's in my room, so...It must be... Mine.
Stepping down from the chair, he walked over to his bed taking a seat. Swallowing hard; Zeo looks at the lock on the book.
Oh see, it's locked. Guess I can't look in it after all. His hands are still holding it so tightly that he can feel a lump making his fingers a bit uneven with the hard cover.
The young boy has to raise it above his head to see what is on the bottom, because he can't seem to let the object go. There's a place on the back that looks out-of-sorts, and behind it is a little lump; the key is taped to the back of it under what seems to be a piece of construction paper matching the maroon color of the book! Not very clever but just like him, if he could say so.
But should I? I'll be intruding, and I don't wanna...
His heart is pounding so loudly its all he can hear, even over the sound of his broken playing on the stereo. Swallowing again, he sits farther back on the bed, his eyes never leave the book within his hands.
Taking the key from the back, he sticks it into the lock hole; giving it a turn, Zeo's eyes pop open in surprise when the latch flips over. Placing the book down on the bed beside him, he gets up.
"I need a drink!" He declared to no one with a nervous laugh.
Running over to the stereo he pauses the tape; glad that he's still coherant enough to not blow his own cover. After going downstairs, he heads into the wide oldfashion looking kitchen to the fridge, where he pours a glass of punch.
After a second thought, he knew he could use some cookies; going into the pantry he pulls out a bag of oreo's, then heads back into his room. Setting down his snack, Zeo returns the music to the house, then sits on his bed.
It's now or never. Thinks the teen.
Picking up the book, he opens it; eyes skimming down the sloppy hand-writting, that was nothing like his own: very crips and perfected, he returns his gaze to the top and reads.
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Memories of Me