The Weird, Wild, and Wonderous World of Beyblade

Lean-Embers

I always felt like this character was a good concept done dirty so here's a good shot at a rewrite to give him some much-needed pathos as well as him unlocking his Flare.

And just for a heads up, basically, every other fic involving this character is going to branch off of this rewrite.

All rights are reserved to Hiro Morita

Lean honestly thought the sky was blue today just to mock him.

The sunny blue seeping through the shattered window honestly felt inappropriate as the dark pink-haired boy rubbed the sleep. And salt from a pretzel some loser threw at him the other day, from his ringed yellow eyes as he crawled from his makeshift bed of a holed tarp and a yellowing mattress. Lean took in the dump around him. The steel walls were laced with rusted yet sturdy pipes that sloshed with the sound of liquid and whatever else was caught up in it. And the walls themselves were drenched with what looked and smelled like molding fruit (he could tell what kind since he wouldn't dare go near one).

While most people would sulk or sob at the situation around him, all it made Lean want to do was scream.

"Another day, same old dump." Lean thought as he walked around the room. For as long as he could remember, it was like this. Waking up in this wreck of a building and trying to scrounge up some cash for food when going into town and getting there only to get chased off because living in a dump made him smell like death. He hated living like this, from dawn to dusk. He couldn't stand it. How pathetic he was, how powerless he was.

That wasn't any further helped by his Blading skills, with his rank being the miserable number of 481, thanks partly to First Uranus. Lean shoved a hand into his pocket to pull out the pale, six-bladed Beyblade, the glassy blue eyes of the layer's gold face glaring at him in oh-so-convincing aggression. Lean honestly knew he hated the worthless thing. The only thing it ever got him when he went to the local Beystadium were laughs, pointed fingers, and tossed sodas. But given his circumstances, something like Uranus was a dime a dozen. It was all just so unfair. All the losers who mocked him hardly even came down to the stadium floor to Blade. All they ever did was laugh at him and gawk at the fights!

One day... One day I'll show them. I'll show 'em all!! Lean thought bitterly as he clenched Uranus, as a strange feeling singed his body. It was something like anger but not quite. This feeling pulsed through his veins just like the other. But on top of that, it felt like something else pulsed with him. Almost like it was calling to him.

Simmering down and letting out a snarl of contempt as the feeling faded. Lean stormed back to his bedside, grabbed his black raincoat, and threw it on with his red training gloves as he headed for the door. If he was going to rage, he might as well do it through some Blading. While Lean wasn't the best at the sport (at least not yet) anything was better than kicking around this trash heap.

Lean felt like slapping himself as he came to the front of the local Beystadium. The scene was disgustingly picturesque. The blue sky and yellow sun were a backdrop to the stadium entrance, flanked by dozens of kiosks lined and flanked in turn with people of all ages. All of them were gossiping, clamoring, and laughing while taking up food, drinks, and merchandise commemorating them!

"Stupid Legends," Lean seethed under his breath as he walked through the peepy display. His gaze came across all sorts of crap, from tacky plushies to gift cards to cardboard cutouts depicting the world's mightiest Bladers. Lean's irritated gaze fell on one unoccupied kiosk containing cardboard cutouts of the Legends' best and brightest, The Big Five.