Kai woke up with a start the next morning. It took him a moment to gather his bearings, realizing that he'd fallen asleep at the dojo last night—in Tyson's room, to be exact.

A glance at the clock showed that it was past ten, surprising him. He rarely ever slept in. And never in someone else's place. But the dojo was hardly less than home anymore.

For a moment, he just lay there, eyes scanning the room. Tyson's room was a bit of a mess—clothes tossed over a chair, with a half-eaten bag of chips abandoned by the nightstand. It was a miracle Tyson ever found anything in this place.

Kai sat up slowly, wincing as a dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. Yesterday—and the night before—had hardly been a walk in the park. That reminded him of Hillary, making him feel instantly guilty.

Hillary had had it worse, and Kai hadn't even checked up on her. He'd planned on doing it after visiting Tyson, but he had accidentally fallen asleep. The last thing he remembered was Tyson talking about his upcoming match—then, nothing.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Tyson appeared at the door, already dressed. "I see you've finally woken up," he said, fidgeting. He walked in quickly and closed the door. "There's something you need to see," he added, shoving a letter into Kai's hands.

One glance at the sender's address and Kai sat up straighter. It was from the Foreign Affairs Court. He tore the envelope open quickly, scanning the contents. It was an official warning: his visa was set to expire in five days, and he was to either leave the country within that time or report to the Immigration Office to explain his reason for overstaying.

The worst part? The letter was dated three days ago. And the Immigration offices were closed on Sundays.

"Why the hell did it take you this long to give that to me?" he demanded.

Tyson winced at his tone and took a few steps back. "I'm sorry, man, I just— with the whole fundraiser thing going on... We'll talk about this later though. There's someone waiting for you downstairs—I think he works for your grandpa."

Kai's frown deepened. He's not my 'grandpa', he thought automatically. Or gramps, as Tyson sometimes fondly called his own grandfather. Unlike Tyson, Kai had nothing fond to remember of his own grandfather. The title was nothing more than a courtesy—and also a tactic. He didn't want to provoke the man more than absolutely necessary, especially given that his friends' lives were always just one threat away from danger.

Kai rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He'd barely been awake ten minutes and already had too much on his plate.

"I need to look presentable," he muttered, heading to the washroom. "I'll be downstairs in ten."

*****

When Kai finally emerged downstairs, it was to a surreal sight. Tyson seemed to tolerate Igor slightly more than Boris. Kai knew for a fact Tyson had once threatened to 'beat the shit out of Boris' if he ever came near them again. But with Ivanov, Tyson was serving tea and biscuits, making polite conversation. Igor did have that old-school posh gentlemanly charm people couldn't help but instinctively trust, and he could be an absolute delight when he was aiming for a good first impression.

Tyson looked to be in a good mood when he spotted Kai, his eyes lighting up. "I'll leave you guys to it, I guess," he said, quickly excusing himself.

Kai took a seat opposite Ivanov at the dining table and waited for Tyson to be out of earshot before starting.

"What now? More threats? Ultimatums? Warnings about the lives my grandfather's willing to threaten just to get back at me?" Kai asked, his tone bored and annoyed.

Ivanov shook his head, clearly restraining his anger, a sharp smile curving his lips. "On the contrary. Your grandfather has agreed to let you stay here. If you can get your visa renewed in time, you have his blessings." He slid a folder across the table.

Whatever Kai had been expecting, it wasn't that. Getting what he wanted without a fight? That wasn't Voltaire at all.

"What's the catch?" Kai asked immediately, scanning the folder, trying to sound as haughty and arrogant as possible.

Over the years, Kai had realized it was always easier to play the role they'd written for him, than to fight to rewrite it. And for as long as he could remember, Igor Ivanov had considered him an ungrateful brat who never appreciated the silver platter he'd been handed.

Igor, who came from a poor background, believed money could solve everything. But he'd been loyal to Voltaire even before the man got rich—and Voltaire had generously rewarded him for it ever since. If there was anyone who knew everything about Voltaire other than the man himself, it was the person in front of him.

And his advice, though veiled, had always been clear: Kai was a fool to make an enemy out of his grandfather. Being the only heir wouldn't save him forever.

"What makes you think he wants anything from you, boy? I—"

"With all due respect, can we just get to the point?" Kai cut in smoothly, not in the mood for another sermon about how grateful he should be for ending up as the ward of his parents' murderer.

Igor seethed, irritated at being cut off. "The first order of business would be for you to retain your Russian citizenship, of course."

Kai rolled his eyes. He knew the change of citizenship was off the table the moment he heard of his arrival. "Of course. We can't have a Japanese kid inherit Russia's largest business empire, especially one that is this deeply involved in its military..." Kai jabbed dryly.

Igor shook his head in disapproval. "He also wants you to take multiple courses in management and economics alongside your high school curriculum. You'll first complete your bachelor's in management and finance. He'll send a list of all the other courses you're expected to complete as long as this agreement stands. You have no choice but to comply."

"This soon?" Kai asked, surprised. He thought he still had time for higher studies.

"He plans to make you an expert in several fields before you enter the family business," Igor elaborated. "He's working on getting you access to top institutes worldwide for remote learning. Anything less than perfect scores will result in termination of this agreement."

Kai rolled his eyes. "I figured that was implied. I'm offended you even brought up the possibility of my grades being anything less than perfect."

Igor's muttered under his breath, clearly getting annoyed. "Voltaire said you'd say that. But listen carefully—there's one last condition."

Kai raised an eyebrow, curious. What else could Voltaire possibly want from him now?

"He wants to leverage your positioning in Japan."

Kai tensed, rage simmering beneath the surface. He stood up, voice low and dangerous. "And undermine the one place in the world outside of Voltaire's reach? Are you out of your mind? Or do I look like a fool to you?"

Ivanov sighed, unfazed. He rubbed his glasses, his tone like someone trying to calm a cornered cat—because that's exactly what Kai felt like. For a moment, he had almost thought the offer was worth it.

"Honestly, Kai, your grandfather is trying to extend an olive branch here. Help him bring Japan under his control, and every act of insolence over the last few years will be forgiven. No threats, no warnings. He'll give you the limited freedom you so desperately crave. He'll let you have your friends, your dalliances. All he asks in exchange is your cooperation."

Ivanov stood up then, a smirk blooming on his face—the kind that meant he knew he'd struck a nerve. "After all, you're playing on borrowed time anyway. You can't stay under Mr. Dickinson's protection forever. You can't hide behind being a legendary beyblader forever. You'll have to retire by twenty-one. What then?"

He gestured to the photo hanging on the wall—the group photo from their second championship. "And your friends? If they were anyone else, maybe you could've hoped those bonds would last after your beyblading days. But with these people? How long do you think this will last when the truth comes out? Do you think Tyson will still look at you with the same awe and loyalty once he knows what you did?"

Kai looked away, feeling sick. He didn't want to talk about this.

Igor ploughed on, enjoying his misery. "In the end, your grandfather's the only one who'll always be there. Everyone else? They'll just vanish the moment they learn what you did."

Kai sat frozen, reeling from the implications.

"But your grandfather doesn't think it's necessary to rush the inevitable. Truth as big as that will come out eventually—and he's quite looking forward to seeing how it breaks you. Why do you think he's letting you stay here at all?" He smirked.

For the first time in years, Kai had no response. He never imagined Voltaire would stoop this low—use the truth not to destroy him publicly, because it would lead to his own destruction, but to destroy his replationship with the only people who saw him as someone more than a weapon was too much.

Igor saw the color drain from his face. He knew he'd bulldozed through every wall of protection Kai had ever tried to keep up.

"We'll start small," he chuckled, without waiting for his confirmation. "You are to establish a route for illegal steel export by the end of the year. Under no circumstances are you getting caught in this though."

Kai scoffed bitterly, feeling thoroughly defeated. "I'm offended you even bothered to mention that, because I'm sure as hell Voltaire didn't. Because if there's one thing he's confident in, it's my ability to pull shady stunts for him. And the funny part about this it, most of the time, I've done this without my own knowledge and consent."

Igor couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes then. He never could, not when Kai brought up his time being controlled by Black Dranzer when he was a mare child.

Instead, Igor sidestepped, as though he hadn't said the last part at all. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement over your place of stay. Tell Tyson thank you for the snacks. The biscuits were truly delicious." He concluded, before he turned and walked out through the back door.

Kai stood there for a moment after the door shut behind Ivanov. Every fiber of him screamed to punch something, to break something, to run—anything but stand still and accept that his past was slowly cornering him again. He thought he had time. He thought he had choices.

Clearly, he was wrong.

He turned away from the table, his eyes briefly flicking to the group photo Ivanov had pointed at. Tyson's easy smile. Max's peace sign. Kenny's awkward half-grin. Ray with his hand on Kai's shoulder.

Kai looked away before the ache in his chest could become anything more real. He didn't deserve that photo. He certainly didn't deserve their friendship.

Igor was right, maybe Voltaire didn't need to take his crime to court. All he had to do was tell them. Tell Tyson.And Tyson... he would point blank ask Kai if it was true. And Kai would be lucky if Tyson didn't kill him on the spot after hearing his answer.

But friendship? That would be gone, off the table forever. He didn't think any of his friends would even look at him the same way after they realise what he'd done. But Tyson might actually take it to the next level... He'll let himself be consumed by anger and betrayal over him, losing himself in the process.He was so pure now, always seeing the good in others, Kai couldn't bring himself to do that to him.

And if Kai was being honest with himself—he'd rather have Tyson kill him than let Tyson lose himself like that. Or let himself lose himself in it. 

*****

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A/N: So, what do you think of this chapter? What do you think about Ivanov? About Kai's crime? I'd hoped the chapter would be longer, but somehow that wasn't the case. Anyway, I hope you like it! 

Again, this is the 51st chapter, before 'Being Paranoid'. 

Vote and comment guys! It truly means the world to me! You can leave online comments, or comments at the end of the chapter or both! Do whatever you want, interact with the story, or share your theories with me, everything's welcome! 

Happy reading!