The Weird, Wild, and Wonderous World of Beyblade

Free-Peace

All rights reserved to Hiro Morita.

Free was done with the first camera flash.

The blonde's dreary-looking gray eyes struggled not to flinch as the flash was followed up by another and then another until there was an endless storm of them clouding his vision. He bit back a wince as a barrage of questions burrowed into his ears.

"What advice do you have for your fans?"

"When do you expect someone to overtake your position as champion?"

"What do believe is your greatest strength?"

The flashes circled around the blonde as the camera crews tried to get shots from different angles. The shuddering of cameras and the hail of questions rained down on the boy as he stood there and held out Drain Fafnir, trying to look as engaged as possible despite the rumble in his head.

Good thing these guys aren't telepaths. He thought as he tried to pull his thoughts together and get a few copout answers ready.

"Never give up, never, and heart." He answered quickly, pointing in the directions he'd heard them from. Unfortunately, the next wave came even louder than the last one, mics and cameras all began crowding around him as he tried to keep up his expression steady.

The sound of thunder was an upswing to his luck as the mob soon looked upward and before scattering, leaving Free to stand there as his yellow tank top was beginning to darken.

Picking up his feet to get out of the rain. Free couldn't help but sigh. He figured he get a few stares everywhere he went since he climbed to the top of the world ranks, but this was getting unbearable. All he wanted was a quick training session with Fafnir before that mob swarmed him, and it looked like wasn't getting that time back anytime soon.

Every day it seemed people were getting more and more frantic about him; the blonde couldn't find a shred of sense in it all. It's not like he'd won some big tournament or even struck down the last strongest guy; he'd just managed to pull through and get to the top. 

Was this what it was like for the last guy?  He wondered before the rumble of his stomach cut off. He hadn't eaten anything aside from a banana he'd scarfed down to try and get here to beat the mob, so much for that.

Looking to his left, his dull gray eyes lit up as he spotted a brick-and-mortar diner with a long rectangular window for peering in, which he happily did. He'd didn't particularly care for what they had on the menu, he just needed a nice and quiet place to settle down. 

The wide-eyed stares of a bunch of patrons immediately soured his mood.

He turned away from the restaurant and made a break for the direction of BC Sol, he could probably get something from there.

Free brushed some crumbs off of his lips with his knuckles as he walked through the ornate halls of BC Sol. The food here was as good as ever. It figured given that the team was already on top of the world before Free had become champion, but if he'd learned anything these past few days, good status wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

He had it pretty good here honestly. The team was decent, even if they could get a little blockheaded from time to time. Said blockheadedness was easily trumped by how much they got along. Best of all, they actually treated him like a real person with things like boundaries and a need for respect. That said, he couldn't stay cooped up in here forever.

Making his way to a wooden door, Free pulled it open to reveal the marble white walls of an office floored with emerald green. Off to the right was ceiling wide trophy case stacked with the aforementioned trophies and few framed snapshots of the team's history: Honey's 10th birthday, the group photo of their first tournament together, to the goofy look on a particularly cocky opponent's face after Fafnir demolished their Bey in one hit.  Free smiled a bit as he went down memory lane before turning to face the great wooden desk in the center of the room backdropped by the cloudy gray sky through the window.