CH 45: Maybe I Did. Maybe I Still Do...

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Kai hadn't been to this side of Japan in a year. The underground market here in Japan wasn't big, but it was well-connected. From petty thieves to big-shot scammers, someone somehow knew the other here.

But it was also a tight-knit community. Too dependent on one another for things to run smoothly. Names didn't leave the circles easily enough, unless they were sure that they could be replaced.

On top of all that, one had to earn the names. And the best way to earn them—aside from threatening lives at knife-point or gambling away riches—happened to be beyblading.

Kai stepped into the off-road ramen shop, and the air shifted. The scent of cheap incense, damp wood, and old smoke clung to the walls, the same as he remembered.

He'd gone back to his apartment and dressed up for the occasion. His signature long black coat, hood pulled low. Black jeans. Black fingerless gloves. Black boots. The only pop of color happened to be his eyes, blood-red. He was reminded of the times when he used to wear a mouth mask, leaving only his eyes to be seen to the world. For two years, no one had known his real identity here.

There was no need for that anymore, but he still liked to keep up his persona. He was still RedEye to the people here, and he liked it that way.

The low lights flickered, casting shadows over familiar faces—people who had not been expecting him there and people who knew better than to meet his eyes.

Nothing seemed to have changed. Not really. The crackling music. The hushed whispers. Drunken laughs. Everything seemed to have stilled in time.

The shopkeeper's gaze snapped to him, recognition flashing behind a scowl. "RedEye." He greeted, with no warmth. Not that he'd been expecting any.

"Didn't think you ran in the same circles anymore. Thought you went soft, playing with your little team." He mocked.

He heard a drunk guy snicker, but one look from him shut him up. Kai didn't follow up, drunk men were hardly worth the fight.

He turned to the shopkeeper instead, acting unimpressed. The smirk that he gave him wasn't all that difficult. Just pulling up another mask.

"Spare me the chit-chat. I want a name. Someone sells a drug that weakens the body and erases the last few hours of memory. I want to know who sells it, where it came from, and I want proof. Tonight."

The shopkeeper crossed his arms, unimpressed. "You think I'm running a damn charity here?" he barked, way too loudly for someone just a few feet away from him, but Kai was used to this. "Information costs, boy, and you don't even belong here anymore."

Kai tilted his head, smirking just enough to be condescending. He didn't want to humiliate the old man. He needed his cooperation, after all. But to hell if he'd just bow to his tactics. "That so? I don't recall ever needing an invitation to take whatever I wanted."

Leaning in closer for better effect, he continued. "Be glad I'm taking the tamer route this time, not upending your close-knit bidding circle and black market every other week like I usually did."

The mannerism was calculated. Words sharp. The heady feeling of power, familiar.

Kai slipped into his place at the underworld bidding system, just like old times. The feeling of manipulating a conversation's result, addicting. A skill he rather liked but hadn't wielded in a while.

The shopkeeper shifted, his fingers twitching. He wasn't stupid. He remembered exactly what Kai had been before. The kind you don't mess with.

Kai rather enjoyed the raw fear he inspired in the man before feeling slightly guilty for it. But unlike all the other masks he wore, Kai didn't hate this one.

This mask had been his only refuge when he was hiding here in Japan, laying low after escaping the Abbey.

With no name attached to him here, he'd done whatever pleased him. He'd unleashed all his rage, all his frustration, all his deceitful ways. Running rampant with no consequences.

It wasn't exactly 'good old times', but this was one of the few places where he had no chains. Could be unapologetically himself. The worst version of it, by choice.

He had been a nightmare to the dark-alley beybladers in this region. Not just ruthless—violent. A delight to the bidders in the audience, who could always be promised an exciting match.

He was someone who was still remembered here. Someone who still inspired fear.

The shopkeeper's mouth curled in distaste, but Kai saw the hint of wariness in his eyes. "Fine," the man spat. "What's in it for me? Because I don't trade for nothing."

"A match."

The shopkeeper snorted. "No one's stupid enough to go against you. You were just an upstart blader then, just a kid. People took their bets. They know better now, especially since you're part of the World Championship's winning team now."

Kai was prepared for it. "I'll even the odds. Go in blindfolded."

That got a reaction. The shopkeeper's brows rose, intrigued, but not convinced. "Blindfolded? Huh. Could be fun. But still not enough."

Kai fought the urge to roll his eyes. How tedious.

"Three minutes," he added, feigning reluctance. "I won't dodge or defend. Let them take their best shots."

Silence stretched before the shopkeeper let out a slow, amused chuckle. "That desperate, huh? Never thought I'd see the day."

Kai didn't react. Didn't blink. He didn't want to let him think he was desperate, that he was out of options. That was the game, wasn't it?

"Or maybe I just miss it," he started, his smirk widening slightly.

He knew the shopkeeper had been thinking it over, because he barked out a booming laugh. "Of course! The thrill, the blood... you were a different animal here, RedEye. And I think you liked it."

Kai's smirk turned razor-sharp. He wasn't so sure of that anymore, but he played along. He needed the match after all. "Maybe I did. Maybe I still do."

The shopkeeper waved him off, apparently satisfied with his acting skills. "Tonight, alright. Get out of my sight now. I don't need any unnecessary brawls breaking out here." He must have seen the look I sent the drunkard before.

Kai turned without another word, stepping back into the moody midday sun.

He'd made some progress at least. It was some consolation. And in six hours, he'd have a name.

But until then, he didn't have anything else to do but sit back and wait. He might as well spend it with his friends.

*****

Kenny returned, arms full with a bag of noodles.

"I brought the noodles!" he called, brushing his hair from his forehead as he rushed inside the stall.

"Perfect timing!" Max grinned, quickly moving to the plating counter. The flow of customers had increased since Mariam left, but nothing was unmanageable. "I'll handle this part—you take the orders." Kenny nodded enthusiastically.

The scent of Ray's signature spice mix lingered in the air from the morning prep, and Max felt almost proud of how wonderfully he was handling things.

Then, without warning, a wave of people flooded in. A school group, a couple of families, college students. The stall was suddenly overcrowded.

"Uh... Kenny?" Max called out uncertainly, glancing at the empty trays. "We're nearly out of the pre-made ones—"

"Yeah, yeah! I'm trying to stall them!" Kenny shouted back, half-joking, half-drowning in receipts.

Max looked back at the kitchen. His fingers were clumsy, heart racing. He was no chef, especially not someone as talented as Ray. He didn't know what to do.

Ray and Mariah weren't supposed to come back for half an hour more. The pots were nearly empty, time was ticking, and he didn't want to mess up Ray's standards.

"Move."

The voice came out of the blue—quiet, low, but firm.

Max turned and blinked.

Kai.

Clad in a black coat, sleeves rolled, hair slightly messy—he moved past Max without a word and placed a pot on the stove.

"Kai?" Max said his name more like a question than a statement. He hadn't seen him all day.

Kai didn't answer. He quietly pulled out ingredients, measured spices with practiced hands, and lit the stove with a flick.

The scent was familiar—sharp like Ray's. Max barely had time to recover before Kai grunted, "You serve. Kenny—money. I'll handle this."

Max didn't argue. He fell into a rhythm from then on, running plates out to waiting customers, letting his body move on instinct. A few minutes passed before he realized—most of the crowd had left, happy with their orders.

He took a quick bite from the edge of one plate. His eyes widened.

It was Ray's flavor. Exactly. The warmth. The balance. The subtle kick at the end.

"Kai!" Max called between orders, incredulous. "You're recreating Ray's cooking. It's—dead on. I can't tell the difference."

Kai didn't look up. Just smirked faintly and moved on to the next pan.

Max just shook his head, sharing his plate with Kenny, making sure he wasn't imagining things. Kenny agreed with him, just as surprised as him.

When Ray had brought up Kai's cooking skills yesterday, neither of them had expected this level of prowess from him.

But maybe that was them once again underestimating Kai. That guy could probably do anything under the sun with the best of his skills.

It was futile for him to assume otherwise.

*****

By three in the afternoon, the line had thinned. The last of the customers left with a happy nod.

Ray and Mariah returned, wide-eyed and excited to share their findings at the exhibition, but the conversation shut down even before it started. They'd just spotted Kai in front of the stove.

"...Kai?" Ray said in disbelief.

"He saved us a lot of trouble," Max blurted excitedly, bouncing up and down. "You should've seen him! He just showed up, and boom—cooking like you. I mean it, Ray—I still can't tell the difference!"

Kai shook his head at Max's enthusiasm and nudged a tray toward the group. It held a plate of everyone's favorite dishes. Kai'd somehow even picked Mariah's favorite dish right. Was there anything he didn't know?

Ray and Mariah exchanged glances and quietly grabbed a plate each, testing out his claim. From what he gleaned from their expressions, they weren't disappointed.

"You two." Kai glanced at Max and Kenny then. "Go on. Check out the other stalls. You've earned it."

Max beamed. "You're serious?" he asked, nearly vibrating on the spot with excitement.

Kai nodded once. They didn't need to be told twice. He dragged Kenny off into the crowd immediately, laughing at how wonderfully the day was turning out so far.

*****


Ray moved toward the stove, only to stop short. The kitchen was spotless. Counters gleamed. Trays were filled with warm food, neatly arranged and covered, enough to feed the crowd for hours.

Kai had already done everything.

Ray's brows drew together. Impressive, sure. But also—worrisome. Kai was a perfectionist, no doubt about that, but this was pushing it too far.

Perhaps he was trying to compensate for not turning up in the morning? He knew that he wouldn't really mind... They were all pretty used to this.

"Whoa!" Mariah's voice rang out as she peeked into the kitchen. "Did he... clean everything already?" She squealed as she walked inside, eyes wide with disbelief.

Ray nodded slowly. "Looks like it."

Mariah smiled giddily. "Okay, I knew he was fast, but this is next level!"

Kai, standing near the sink, glanced sideways at her. "It's called efficiency," he muttered, leaning back slightly against the counter.

Mariah moved around the kitchen with a bounce in her steps. She had that mischievous glint in her eye again, and he knew trouble was brewing.

"Efficiency, huh?" Mariah smirked, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at Kai. "I think you're just showing off. I mean, seriously, who gets the kitchen spotless this fast? And gets so many dishes ready? Are you trying to win a medal here?"

Kai just rolled his eyes. "It's not showing off, it's called doing things properly. Something you wouldn't know much about." His voice was dry, but there was the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Mariah's eyes widened in mock outrage. "Oh, so now I'm the messy one? You better watch out, Kai. Keep up with all this 'perfect chef' nonsense, and Ray might start worrying that you're the better cook."

Kai's eyes narrowed. "I am the better cook. It's just that not many people know about it yet."

Meanwhile, Ray busied himself packing food. Thought of sending Hillary and her unofficial team a few gifts. 

Four plates. Tyson, Hillary, Cassie... and Luke. He didn't know the guy well, but they were working together for the day. Leaving him out felt wrong.

"Mariah, can you take these to Tyson and his friends in the auditorium?" Ray asked, handing them off.

"On it." She gave him a playful two-finger salute and breezed out, her energy like sunlight in the room.

The second she was gone, Ray turned back to Kai, his voice dropping. "You're hiding something again."

*****

Words: 2129

*****

A/N: So, how was this chapter? What do you think about Kai's upcoming match? What do you think of Kai as RedEye? Tell me what you think! 

Anyway, what do you think of this poster? Hillary looks slightly older and more in control of her life in this pic, don't you think so? Which one is better? This one or the previous one? 

What do you think of all the pairings so far? Are you liking their dynamics? Which one's your favorite and why? 

Vote and comment guys! I love interacting with all of you, talking about the story! 

The 19 votes offer still stands! 

Happy reading! 


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