Not Just Dragoon

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There was a general misconception about Kai. This was the idea that his 'lone wolf' thing was out of arrogance or hate for mankind, most of which he didn't see as up to his level, which, to some extent, was true. But, then, he would probably argue it was hard for anyone to not feel like they were surrounded by imbeciles when you were in a sport based off of children's spinning tops, and most of the players of said sports were, well, children. Course, there was an explanation to that as well, and there were some adults that played, and the group that had gotten involved with Beyblade was finally growing up—not to mention the often left out fact that guns were banned by the entire world....I digress.

The real reason that Kai often went off on his own was because he was shy. At least, that's the coquettish word for the mess of social anxiety and general social ineptitude that often left him frustrated, and therefore angry, at the world.

People just had too many hoops they needed you to jump through in order to get the desired result. Though they often lawded truth, truth was more often than not considered offensive. Most didn't want to change, and almost all feared hard work. Only an ounce had any ambition or real desire to have control over the world around them, and whenever faced with someone with said ambition—aka, everything they were not—they, well...how would you feel around someone who made you feel bad about yourself just by their existence?

Perhaps that was arrogance. But for now, standing a street down from where his team had got caught up in some street brawl in a filthy alley, Kai only knew that, when it came to Tyson and the others, the tables were switch. He became the common rabble. For it was only with them, with his self-proclaimed friends, that he began to see just how little and depraved he was.

"Why have you led us here? Don't tell me you're one of those creeps who are after our bits beasts!"

Ah, Tyson. Always the main character and spokes person. It irked Kai to no end that such a lazy, gluttonous, disgusting child was better than him by pure virtue of loyalty and friendship and—he could just barf.

But, of course, he wouldn't lie to himself. After all, he knew exactly who he was. Why else would he be so arrogant?

"Yeah, because it's really getting old!" added Max, who's voice had finally dropped at 16, albeit not by much.

"More or less," said the wry, feminine voice of a woman who could have been in her late twenties and thirties. "Either way, it's probably not the best idea to leave your precious blades hanging by your belts. Here."

Kai heard the chink of the metal blades against the leather of someone's fists. He leaned his hands on his knees in breathless relief. After all, 'lone wolf' or not, he was still their captain, and nobody stole from his team.

"If you want Drigger, however, you must defeat me. I challenge you to a battle."

"Fine! I'll scrape the floor with you!" cried Tyson.

"Wait, Tyson, shouldn't we think about this? We have no idea why she's led us here."

Thank you, Ray, for once more being the only other member of the team with an ounce of common sense.

And still they're better than me. Better than me, and accepted at the same time. They know the hoops. No, that wasn't it. Tyson hadn't a shred of decorum in him. He just bowled the hoops over.

Ray's voice continued. "How about you hand over Drigger and I won't mess you up."

Kai grinned. Common sense indeed. So many of their problems in the past would have been fixed, even avoided, with just a good punch. Freaking do-gooders.

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