Kai didn't look at him. Kept adjusting his fingerless gloves. Kai's movements were precise, yes—but slower than usual. Mechanical.

Ray stepped in closer. The signs were subtle, but there. The hollowness in his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes—how could he miss this?

"You've been skipping meals, haven't you? And sleep too."

There. A pause. Barely noticeable, but there.

"Didn't have the time." Kai grunted. The excuse couldn't get worse. How exhausted must he be, that he couldn't come up with a decent cover-up?

Ray's frown deepened. "You had time to cook for a hundred people." he frowned, gesturing at all the containers of food Kai had prepared minutes before.

No response.

Ray's chest tightened. This wasn't the first time Kai's skipped food. And Ray had been observing Kai long enough to know that he skipped food when he was stressed, which was counter-productive yes, but very much Kai.

The concern, the frustration—they all bubbled together. Ray was so tired of all the polite pleas he'd uttered over the past two years. The results he'd gotten out of them were hardly promising. Maybe it was time for some tough love.

"You know," Ray said sharply, "sometimes I really wonder why you even bothered making friends."

He didn't bother with sugarcoating. The words hit. Kai's shoulders stiffened.

Ray hated himself for saying it—but it had some essence of truth in it. He'd wondered about it a hundred times, yet could never figure out a definite reason.

Ray continued, "You don't trust anyone. You don't talk. You vanish for hours, sometimes days. Then you swoop in like it's your job to fix everything. Then poof, you're gone again. You're not a damn shadow, Kai!"

Kai finally looked, eyes cool and unreadable. "Your idea of expressing gratitude is rather futile," he said flatly. "A simple 'Thank You' would've sufficed." he sassed back.

Futile. Sufficed. Rich-boy Kai with his fancy words. Ray clenched his jaw. "That's not what this is about! And you know it!"

Kai shrugged. "No, I really don't." He flat out lied. Ray could see the truth shining in his eyes, but to hell with actually admitting it. Daring him to challenge him. Usually, he didn't rise to such petty baits, but today was different.

Ray's patience snapped. "We care about you, you idiot! We want to be there. But you make it impossible! You don't let anyone in, and then you act like we're not good enough to help. Is that what you think? That we're not good enough for you?"

Kai's eyes flashed. His voice came low. "You should stop." his tone warned. Kai's first hint of emotion.

Ray didn't. "You act like you're the only one who's allowed to be strong. Like the rest of us are just after-thoughts in your life!"

Silence.

Then Kai's jaw shifted. A flicker of something—resentment, or maybe, hurt—passed through his eyes.

"You're right," he said evenly, his voice void of all feelings.

Ray blinked, the sudden admission a slap to his face. That was not the reaction he'd been hoping for.

He'd been trying to rile up Kai. Trying to see if Kai would let slip anything in the heat of the moment. But when in God's name had Kai done anything the way he wanted him to?

Absolutely never. "Kai—" Ray started, softening his voice, but the damage was done.

"I shouldn't have bothered making friends." Kai finished, turning away. Calm, composed—but the words knocked the breath out of Ray. He could feel the weight behind those words. It wasn't something one said just because they're angry.

It sounded like someone who'd been thinking of the very same thing for quite some time, and had finally reached a conclusion.

Ray stepped forward, instinctively trying to fix things, but Kai was already pulling on his jacket.

No slam. No storming out.

Just the soft, final click of the door closing.

Ray stood there, stunned, the trays of food still warm beside him. He hadn't meant to push Kai away. He was only trying to look out for him, if only Kai would let him in.

*****

Hillary was met with an unexpected sight when she went to check on the supposedly 'not so urgent but important' problem at the ticket collection booth.

Standing off to the side, smiling warmly at her, were her parents. Excitement bloomed in her chest—but the feeling didn't last long.

Amar Tachinbana's right hand was wrapped in a cast, and under the harsh fluorescent lights, he looked rather pale. Her mother, too, seemed exhausted, dark circles under her eyes betraying her cheerful demeanor.

Hillary gasped. "What happened? Are you guys all right?" she demanded, rushing toward them.

"Your father got into some sort of an accident. Fractured his hand," her mother muttered, giving her father 'the look', looking more upset than worried.

Hillary turned to her father then, her confusion evident. Her father gave her mother an exasperated look before turning to her, "It's nothing, sweetheart. Just a scratch. Some good-for-nothing drunkard crashed his bike into me."

Hillary pulled back, horrified. Seeing her face, he hurried to reassure her. "As far as bike accidents go, this one's pretty tame. I'm fine! Really. I'm so sorry we couldn't get here sooner. We had planned to surprise you this morning, but... well, we got a little delayed," he said, lifting his cast with a rueful smile.

Hillary nodded mutely, unsure what to say or do. Her mother picked up where he left off. "You mentioned last week that there were some reservations for volunteers' family. Is it still available? We would love to see how wonderfully you've arranged everything!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, of course." Hillary said quickly, finding her voice again. This was a scenario she had thought of beforehand and had a solution at the go.

She gave them a knowing smile. "You guys showing up isn't that unexpected. I know how you think. I reserved two seats just in case—next to Grandpa Granger. Tyson's one of the hosts tonight. I thought you might want to catch up with him!"

Her father beamed. "That's our girl. Always thinking ahead."

Hillary's heart warmed. For a brief second, the chaos of the event, the exhaustion weighing her limbs—all of it faded. Her parents were here. They were safe. They were happy. They were there to surprise her. They were proud of her. That was enough.

"Come on," she said, slipping into her efficient coordinator mode. "I'll get someone to escort you to your seats. The show's about to begin anyway," she urged them in.

Her dad chuckled, wrapping his good arm around her mother. "Look at the authority in her voice. I like it."

"Dad!" Hillary blushed, swatting him playfully. "Who do you think she gets it from?" Her mom added.

As Hillary led them toward the designated area, she allowed herself a small, content smile. After yesterday night, it was good to see her parents teasing each other. Good to know some good things haven't changed yet.

"Stay out of the snow as much as possible, alright? And come find us after the concert. We can go home together." Her mother told her as she was leaving, affectionately patting her cheek.

Hillary smiled, grateful that she'd just touched up her makeup. With both her parents distracted by her father's injury, they didn't notice how tired—or how pale—she actually was.

She planned to keep it that way for the time being, no matter what Dev had to say on that matter.

*****

Kai half-wished he hadn't bothered to go back to the food exhibition in the afternoon. As much as he wished to help Max out, he'd have rather avoided a spat with one of the only people who knew him at his worst—and chose to look out for him anyway.

Ray also happened to be one of the only person on his team who had an inkling of understanding of the dangers of all the choices he was currently making.

Trying to outsmart his grandfather. Balantly refusing his direct orders to return to Russia. Playing a dangerous gamble of threatening to use his mother's heritage to get a Japanese citizenship. Blackmailing to abandon his Russian citizenship.

Putting his best friends at unnecessary risk by extension.

And now this.

He shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets as he made his way down the quieter backstreets, teeth grinding together.

Hillary.

He couldn't get the image out of his head — her trembling, the way her voice cracked, the confusion in her eyes. She didn't remember what had been done to her. Someone had deliberately wiped her memory and Kai had no idea who.

And the worst part was, she could have gotten caught in the crossfire because of him. He had no way of either confirming or denying this possibility.

He knew Ray cared, that's what cut the words deeper. He was being reckless, it was clear as day.

But what was the alternative? Lay low and wait for Voltaire to drag him back like a chained dog? Let the people he cared about become collateral damage in a war he'd been fighting from the moment he ran away from the Abbey?

No.

He couldn't do that anymore.

Kai's boots scuffed against the cracked pavement as he ducked through a narrow alleyway that cut toward the abandoned warehouse district. The place where tonight's match was supposed to be held wasn't far now.

He could already hear the distant thrum of bass-heavy music vibrating through the night, accompanied by the occasional burst of raucous laughter.

It didn't matter if Ray hated him for a little while. It didn't matter if they all pushed him away.

He just needed them safe.

Even if that meant lying. Even if that meant fighting alone. Even if it meant crossing all the boundaries he'd drawn for himself. Even if it meant for him to sell his soul.

Kai slowed as he reached the rusted chain-link fence, stepping through the gap someone had torn open. His eyes adjusted quickly to the low lighting — the warehouse loomed ahead, a hollow giant against the skyline.

He paused for a moment, rolling his shoulders back, the familiar, dangerous calm settling over him like an old, worn cloak. He couldn't afford to be distracted anymore.

He had to become Red Eye again.

With a final breath, Kai slipped into the shadows, his figure disappearing into the warehouse.

*****

The energy in the venue was electric. The audience roared, neon lights flashed, and cameras panned across the packed crowd.

On stage, Tyson and Cassie stood front and center, microphones in hand, working the audience.

Tyson stepped forward first, flashing his signature grin.

"Alright, who's ready for an unforgettable night?!"

His voice boomed over the speakers, drawing a deafening roar in response.

Cassie laughed, raising a hand as if shielding herself from the blast of noise. "Okay, okay, we hear you! But seriously—you're gonna need to save some of that energy. We're just getting started!"

The crowd whooped louder.

Tyson paced the stage, hyping them up further. "You guys came all the way here, you're dressed to impress, and you're ready to party for a cause. That's what I'm talking about!"

He tossed a playful wink at the cameras, drawing squeals from the front rows.

Cassie chimed in, her voice teasing but warm. "But hey, friendly reminder: no pushing! Security's watching, and if you're thinking of sneaking into the VIP section—" she tilted her head with a mock-serious look, "—don't. Seriously."

The audience laughed. A few playful boos echoed from the back.

Tyson chuckled, nudging her lightly with his elbow. "C'mon, Cass, let 'em dream a little!"

Cassie smirked. "Dream all you want. Just don't make us pause the party to kick you out."

The banter flowed naturally, effortless.

Tyson grinned wider, turning back to the crowd. "We're raising money for an awesome cause tonight, and trust me—you're gonna want to stay till the end. Big performances. Big surprises. And maybe..."

He leaned in, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, "...a few challenges along the way."

The audience ate it up, laughter and cheers shaking the walls.

Everything was going perfectly.

Until—

A flash of metal.

Tyson barely had a second to register it—a spinning Beyblade, streaking through the air like a bullet, heading straight for Cassie.

His body moved on instinct.

Snap!

He caught it in his palm just inches from Cassie's face. A sharp sting sliced across his hand.

The crowd gasped.

Cassie's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her mic. For a moment, the entire venue froze—silent and tense.

Tyson's heart pounded, a cold rush of fear flooding his system before morphing into something hotter. Anger. He knew exactly what this was.

His grip tightened around the Beyblade, but he forced himself to stay calm. The crowd couldn't see him snap.

In a flash of brilliance, Tyson threw his head back and laughed.

"Whoa ! Guess someone's eager for some action already!"

He held up the spinning Beyblade like a trophy, ignoring the blood trickling from his palm. "Nice aim, but maybe next time, try not to take out my co-host, yeah?"

A ripple of nervous laughter spread through the audience. Some fans thought it was a scripted stunt; others exchanged uneasy glances.

Then, from the crowd, a voice rang out:

"Tyson Tatsuya Granger!"

Tyson winced inwardly. It had been a long time since someone called his full name.

A young man with wild brown hair and a cocky smirk stepped forward. Beside him stood another blader, slightly taller, arms crossed over his chest. Both wore confident, almost taunting expressions.

Tyson's eyes locked on them immediately.

He knew their type. He'd dealt with them before.

"We challenge you—both of you!" the second blader shouted, jerking his thumb toward Max, who was watching from the sidelines. "The world champions—Tyson and Max. Let's see if you can really live up to that title."

Tyson spun the Beyblade once between his fingers, feigning casual amusement.

"Oh, so that's what this is? Man, you guys could've just asked, y'know. No need for the sneak attack."

Cassie shot him a worried glance, but Tyson just patted her arm reassuringly, his grin never wavering.

He turned to security. "Mind showing these two the way outside? We'll be with them in a sec."

The guards moved in swiftly, escorting the challengers out as the crowd cheered again, thinking it was part of the show.

From the sidelines, the stagehand flashed a thumbs-up—cue for the concert to officially start.

"And on that note, " Tyson said, turning back to the audience, "let's kick off this fundraiser with the concert you've all been waiting for! Make some noise!"

The cheers came back full force , music exploding through the speakers as Tyson and Cassie waved and made their way offstage.

*****

Words: 2363

*****

A/N: So, how was this chapter? Who's scenes do you want next? The high stakes never seem to end, does it? This fundraiser is becoming a rather long day, don't you think?

Have you guys observed the change in my narration style? I've been trying to show emotions through actions more than just telling them. And improved my dialogue writing too. What do you think?

Vote and comment guts! It means a lot to me!

What do you think about the poster now? Ia this good or the previous one? Don't mind me, I like to experiment with chatgpt!

Anyway, happy belated Easter to those who celebrate!

Happy reading!