"You and I,

are full of lies,"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Kai

Her polite smile faltered for a second.

Not enough for anyone to notice, but Kai had seen enough people and scrutinized enough expressions to know the minor changes in facial expressions. Especially when the one she was wearing was fake anyway– then again, a polite smile was most of the time fake only.

"I do have my own beyblade and know beyblading," she said, answering Tyson's previous question, "And no, I don't battle so don't bother to ask," her smile and voice had sharpened a hint, like a silent warning to not pry.

Kai really wasn't surprised when Tyson whined, pouting. That boy had never learnt to read a room or someone.

His gaze lingered on her for a second longer than he would like to admit. The faint definition of muscle beneath her navy-blue top hinted at more than just professionalism. The white skirt that ended mid thigh and black stockings paired with those navy blue wedge heels definitely looked professional for a team like theirs– but there was something about it he couldn't placed his finger on, it was like the outfit wasn't just made for professionalism but practicality, for tasks like running or maybe fighting.

Don't blame him for thinking so, the white cloth on her knuckles was enough of a sign that she could throw some punches.

His eyes trailed back to her poised expression. His eyes narrowing a bit, her expression wasn't one of arrogance or aloofness; it was control. Composure. As if she had trained herself to remain unreadable in the face of scrutiny– like she had trained because she had been scrutinized a hell lot more than most people– her fake smile, and otherwise blank expression tell that only.

And yet...

Something about her tugged at the edges of his memory, elusive and fleeting, like a dream half-forgotten.

Those ocean-blue eyes...

They were sharp and calculating, but there was something else beneath them—a flicker of familiarity perhaps? Or perhaps pain?.

It wasn't just the color, though the shade was striking enough– like the sky itself was condensed and moulded into those eyes of hers. No, it was the way they had held his gaze, unwavering but with a rare hint of crack, as though they recognized him... in a way that made his chest tighten.

Kai dismissed the thought almost immediately, shaking his head and clenching his jaw; he was never the one to indulge in sentimentality or think about nostalgia anyway. They just bring back memories, and his past was something that was better left untouched. Yet, there was something about her that tugged at his mind– like a haunting memory, so near and yet so far away.

It was comforting.

And he didn't like it.

Kai's attention snapped back when Tyson's voice broke through the quiet room, "Come on! How can you have a beyblade and not want to battle? That's like owning a car and never driving it!"

Ahana's lips twitched, her smile sharpening a bit– barely noticeable, but her gaze remained steady, "Let's just say I have different priorities, Tyson," she said, her voice was lidded with fake politeness but laced with finality, "Battling isn't one of them,"

"Tyson, leave her alone," Ray intervened, his tone calm but firm. His golden eyes flickered to her for a second, a curious glint in his eyes, "Not everyone has to share your obsession,"

"Hey!" Tyson pouted, crossing his arms. "I was just saying–"

"Maybe she doesn't want to crush your fragile ego," Dizzy said, her artificial voice humming into life.

"Fragile?!" Tyson's indignant squawk echoed through the room, prompting a round of chuckles from the team.

His gaze wandered back to her involuntarily.

The way she held herself– poised, controlled, deliberate– that posture seemed more suitable for boardrooms and battlegrounds, rather than a team of rowdy beybladers.

And yet here she stood sidestepping Max's humor and fielding Tyson's questions like a second nature. Even Ray's calm attempts at drawing her into conversation seemed to roll off like water from stones.

Kai's eyes narrowed as he took in the small details: the faint tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the tablet just a little too tightly, the almost unnoticeable shift in her posture whenever someone got too close.

It wasn't discomfort—no, discomfort was easy to spot, easy to exploit. What he saw in her was far more deliberate.

She was calculating. Measuring.

Testing the waters.

And yet, keeping her distance.

He recognized the signs too well because they were his own. He had spent years perfecting that same behavior: guarding his space, gauging the room, ensuring he always held the upper hand.

Seeing it in her was like staring into a mirror he didn't ask for.

He hated this. People like her were unpredictable, harder to read. She wasn't the type to let her guard slip or her emotions dictate her actions—not easily, anyway. And Kai hated not knowing what someone was capable of, what they were hiding.

And she was definitely hiding something.

No one blends in with a new team this fast– with this much comfort.

Kai's lips twisted in a faint smirk, more bitter than amused. Perhaps that was the crux of it, the thing that irked him most. It wasn't just that she didn't seem to fit—it was that she seemed to fit in the same way he did, she was finding her place in the team just like him. Not by belonging, but by forcing herself into the cracks, a shadow pretending to be part of the light.

That kind of familiarity was dangerous...

She was awfully similar to him in her subconscious actions, and that made her more unpredictable and far far more dangerous.

"You aren't going to say anything, Captain?"

Her voice sliced through his thoughts, cool and measured, carrying an edge that drew his attention as soon as it reached him.

His gaze snapped to her, his carmine eyes meeting hers with the kind of intensity that could make most people falter. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the silence stretch and coil around them like a living thing. It wasn't hesitation—it was deliberate. Silence was a weapon he had wielded with precision too many times, a lethal scalpel rather than a sword, sharp enough to unnerve, to peel away masks, to compel others to speak first just to fill the void.

But she didn't flinch.

Her ocean-blue eyes remained steady, meeting his gaze without even the barest flicker of discomfort. It wasn't the bravado of someone trying to appear unfazed, nor was it the naive confidence of someone who didn't realize the situation they were put into. No, it was something else entirely—something colder, sharper, more practiced.

Kai felt the faintest shift of irritation stir within him, like an itch he couldn't scratch. Most people crumbled under the weight of his silence, tripping over their own words in their rush to break it. But she? She didn't so much as blink.

The quiet stretched on, heavier with each passing second.

She was playing his game.

And, annoyingly, she was good at it.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the only outward sign of his momentarily curiosity. Who was she? And more importantly, what did she want? Because people didn't carry themselves like she did without a reason. The way she stood, the way she met his gaze, the way she waited—it all spoke of someone who had been in the presence of threats before. Someone who had learned to hold their ground, no matter the pressure.

Someone who knew that if they gave in, they would lose control over the situation.

But why?

What had shaped her into this?

The question burned at the edges of his thoughts, tempting him to ask, to dig deeper, to know. But he wasn't reckless enough to give in to that momentarily impulse that throbbed in his brain. Asking questions was a vulnerability, a subtle admission of interest. And interest was a weakness he refused to show.

So he let the silence linger, his carmine eyes boring into hers, waiting for her to falter, to shift, to react.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her expression unchanging. The faintest smirk tugged at her lips—just enough to make it clear she knew exactly what he was doing. And worse, she wasn't impressed.

Kai felt his jaw tighten, though his expression remained blank. She was baiting him, subtly, carefully, and for a moment, he wondered if she knew just how dangerous that was.

Or maybe she did.

Maybe that was the point.

"I don't talk unless there's something worth saying," he replied at last, his tone even, though the faint edge in his voice, betrayed his annoyance.

Her smile sharpened, not the polite facade that she had kept up for the past minutes, it was genuine– genuine with a hell lot of sardonic, "How efficient of you," she said lightly.

The irritation flared again, sharper this time, but Kai kept it locked beneath the surface. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction, no matter how much she pushed.

***

"And that would be all," she said, her voice clear– the holograph vanishing with a flick of her fingers.

And despite his annoyance and wariness from her, Kai had to agree that she was good at what she would be doing. Managing their schedules, training schedule and strategies, the team sponsors, meetings– all the useless shit he had to arrange and manage before, leaving him with little time to actually push his limits.

Atleast, her arrival was advantageous somehow.

"We have to leave for the American championship in two months, which would be the deciding factor on whether you all would qualify for world championships, or not. Until then, as I specified– training should be your priority. Tomorrow, 9 AM, BBA Garden, 'kay everyone?"

"Sure,"

"Alright,"

"Man, I don't even wake up at 9!"

"That's alright,"

"So, Ms. Sidorov," he started, uncrossing his arms as he stood up, one hand holding his leather jacket while he moved toward the door, his body angled just enough to indicate he was about to leave but his gaze never wavered from her, "how long do you think you can keep this up? Eventually, people like you crack under the pressure, don't they?"

He was out of the door before she could answer.

A lazy drawl in his steps, and subtle smirk in his face. His memories repeat the subtle narrowing of her eyes and clenched jaw– a reaction to his words.

Good.

So, she really wasn't as unshakable as he thought.