World Beyblade Organization by Fighting Spirits Inc.

The yellow of the sun was my favourite part of the morning. I’d always smile as the burst of rays hit the sand-blasted stone buildings with a fresh hue. It was before the civilians flooded the streets that I would gaze at the painted city from the old bell tower. She was my keeper. The tower, I mean. We both had been abandoned. When they made the new, much higher tower as a part of the shrine to the Dragoon, this tower was left to waste. That was some years ago. We were both left behind at the same time – the right time.

Ever since, I’d wake up to invite the light into my home with the same stupid visage. By the time the city of Istallio was up and about, my cheeks had turned red from the sand captured in the air by the morning gusts. It stung, but I loved it anyway. Whatever grains in the wind that did not scamper away found their way into my teeth. Maybe nature knew of my hunger, although even I detest the salt and filth of the earth in my gums.

When the light in the sky had blanketed the city, the screeches of the merchant rats would fill the streets. Had I any guests, I’m sure they would argue that my stomach cries louder. It was my signal for food! I eased up from my stead with a roar of a yawn. I sucked my teeth, scratched my lower back gruffly, and caressed my middle.

In a daze, I swaggered around the bell and down the stairs I went – or what was left of them. Round I sailed, having to leap most the way. The decaying wooden platforms moaned in protest to my weight. Maybe one day the planks would shatter beneath me. Would I be harmed or bathed in splintered arbor? Half of the thrill is never knowing! There was always a creek or a snap unless there was a gap. Should the shouts of a collapsing limb ever reach my ears, I’d swiftly grasp anything that appeared in anyway firm to prevent another absent rung. It was a cumbersome journey downward that I’ll get around to fixing eventually.

I’m not the only resident to take refuge here. The people of Istallio are cruel to those less fortunate, but not I. I look out for my own. After all, you could mistake a cob web for one of those tattered curtains. People hate bugs, but I don’t mind them. I see the parallel between me and them – we’re both freeloaders. With each bound, I’d admire their threaded masterpieces draped across the rot of the building. I took great caution to not harm their art.

With every turn and every leap I made, I kept the upmost faith in my home. The tower was the only protector I had left and over the years she has become much like a motherly figure to me. She stays strong for me and listens to my struggles with neither a complaint nor argument.

Upon reaching the last step, I clutched the very start of the rail as if to hug it goodbye. I flew across two vacant steps and planted my feet in the soft dirt I had borrowed from the world outside. It served as a magnificent carpet on the frayed stone floor. Five steps forward and a twist to the right was the door to Istallio, the headache and the adventure of my life.

With the heel of my hand, I rubbed my eye to salute the climbing sun. The fingertips of my spare hand crept up my shirt to claw at my filthy belly. The smell of tantalizing baked goods filled my nostrils. It was a luxury meal forbidden to paupers like myself. Surely this is the city’s way of mocking my morning salutation.

So there I am, meandering the streets. I’ve been squishing that eye of mine with the end of my palm for quite some time now. You’d think I’d have settled the itch or ache that had been nested there. It wasn’t really an irritation, but more of a habit. I have some odd habits. Take this fruit vendor for example. Yeah, that pudgy guy that’s a few shops down in that rickety stall. Well, it was more like a cart with a canopy. It was so worn that I could never figure out if it actually moved. It was in the same condition he was. He had gaps in his bite, a short greasy mane, and tears in his tunic, which I might add, was so tiny that everyone had a simply delightful view of his bulging gut. I’m no prince, but he has a source of income so why not live like it? I suppose I do cut his profits down. See, that’s a habit of mine.

My hands were stuffed in my pockets, my eyes were far from the prize, and my beaten feet were making their way toward my victim. My trail halted at the terrain-chiseled frame of the cart. I rested my elbow on it and my back welcomed the merchant rat.

“You’ve gonna buy or what?” I heard through his snort.

“No, I’m just here to make a delivery.” I said nonchalantly.

“Delivery? I didn’t order no –“

I cut him off with a swing at the post holding up the tapestry above his stall. Well, it was more like a cart. It all came tumbling down and in his own confusion, he must have crushed the cart with his own dead weight. The carrier of such godly morsels was now lopsided and my breakfast was racing into the dirt. I tried to swallow my laughter and shock as I scooped up a few and stumbled away in a hurry. Profanity flooded the road only to be drowned in apathy.

I crammed the succulent treat into the large void between my lips, shredding its tender flesh. The sweet juices trickled down my jaw and neck as I gained unnecessary distance. Yum, peaches! I wonder if he’ll have apples tomorrow? I slipped the left overs into my pockets and tied the rope around my waist a little tighter to support the burden.

“That ought to do the trick!” There was that moronic grin again. I was so proud of myself. I managed to trick the same idiot nearly every morning. I must have thought I had some special talent. Granted, today I was more destructive than usual. Normally I prefer a stealthy swipe.

I slowed my pace in search of a place to relax. I wanted something new, something scenic. Why not a rooftop? Not new, but I’m normally too lazy to climb. I scanned the road. There were a few pedestrians and a man struggling to haul his cart. I didn’t want to cause too much commotion while scaling a wall so I took flight to a narrow passage. I entered through the unlocked door of a tall gate. Rubbish was scattered through-out the corridor and a stone wall marked the end. I proceeded to clamber up the wooden fence.

I rose up several body lengths using the holes as holds for my hands and feet. With such a fragile structure, I knew this was going to be dangerous. As I came to the peak of the fence, I felt it quake below. There was a plank branched between the two buildings that I used to hoist myself to the top. Thankfully, I avoided disaster.
From the rooftops of the slums, I watched its rodents scurry in the streets. They were not of much interest to me that moment. I lay on my back and fixated on something more calming.

For hours, I lost myself in the sky, my thoughts gallivanting away with the dashing clouds. The breeze rippled my locks and brought with it a clean scent, different from the putrid odor I’m accustomed to. I enjoyed soaking up the day’s warmth. At this height, I could be free with the world above, paying no mind to the ruckus of the life below. I spent my day here, gazing at the strands of white against the blue. For a desert town, we had many clouds and a moderate climate.

As the sun began to retire, I felt the need to as well. Just as I was making the effort to rise, crashing bounced through the alley beneath. They didn’t seem to let up either. With a groan of inconvenience, I rolled around to peer into the path from my perch.
I watched intently as a group of thugs trapped a girl at the end of the alley. Should I intervene? She was pretty cute – looked to be around my age with long, ash brown hair. I could be her hero and she could be the babe who totally falls for me. As an added bonus, I’m sure those vandals will be angered by their defeat. It’s a win-win situation: I get the girl and I can piss people off. What can possibly be better?

I left my sunny paradise with a jump. Where I landed was a fall of two stories so needless to say that tingle of pressure shot straight through my feet and up my legs, but I wasn’t about to let that show. I let my knees give a little to absorb the impact, but I still stumbled to catch my balance. After I regained my stance, I saw that I was between my foes and my soon-to-be love, all according to plan.

“Lay off my girl and I’ll spare ya,” I announced confidently through a cocky sneer. A few snickers danced off the stone around us. They reached behind their backs to reveal their trump cards – daggers. I whipped out my peaches. To my dismay, there were four men, but I only had three peaches. If I managed to knock out the first three, I could take the last guy. Their snickers evolved to laughter. I gritted my teeth. Better make the first shot count.

As I reached back to catapult my tender ammunition, an arrow soared from just behind my head and pierced one man’s arm. A barrage of more, one by one, showered among them as they scrambled away with yells of panic and agony.
I failed to hide my shaken expression when I turned to face this new heroine. I was suddenly staring down a raised and loaded bow. My peaches fell to the ground and I raised my hands to prove I was unarmed.

“Your girl? You wish. Don’t interfere.” She sternly warned.

“Hey, hey, I was just trying to help. Four guys and only one gi– “ she lowered her weapon.

“Oh really? By what means? A food fight?”

I relaxed my arms and dropped my glance to the ground to eye my dinner.

“But… they have pits inside…”

She grabbed my shoulder and forced be aside. I toppled to the ground and got up only to find her gone. The tail of her tunic was the only farewell I got.

A strange feeling swept over me, like I had to ask her something. There wasn’t any question in mind, but she had an answer. I stared off into the dark street. The wind licked my hair. As I started down the road home, I braced my arms from the wisps of night air teased my flesh.

With a feeling of regret and defeat, I sulked up the stairs to my lofty hammock which was strung halfway up. I watched the rusty bell that hung up the few flights of stairs. Biting into my leftover peach, I winced at the thought of being shown up by a girl. The peach would have tasted better after a rebound from a man’s head.


By the time the sun was just peaking over the horizon, I was already interrogating anyone who appeared to have an iota of general knowledge. The memory of that girl just kept eating away at me. She felt so familiar. Why do I have this irresistible desire to know about her and talk to her? I wouldn't even have a clue as to what I would say. All I know is I'm driven to learn more, which doesn't occur often.

I found myself fumbling over her description. I spoke of her cat like eyes that just seemed to dart at you, much like the words that she shot from the scowl on her smooth lips. Her face was long and slender to complement her figure. Of course, I hadn't been as vivid with those I queried. I threw out terms like "cat girl" and "pissy archer".

No one had an answer until I spoke of her tunic. A worshiper told me it was the uniform of those from the temple of the Dragoon wore. When the man I spoke with gestured west, I scampered off without so much as a "thank you".

I wasn't any less than sprinting toward my destination. Those who stood in my path were pushed aside and left with the dust of my wake. My heart was racing with anticipation, but why would I even care about meeting someone so much?

Finally, I rounded my last turn. The trail of lingering sand whipped around my abrupt halt. The palace lay before me. It's that place where all those stuck up rich people live. I took a quick look over my shoulder to make sure the shrine was still down the road. There is was, shimmering in the setting sun, although I still think the old one looked much more appealing. This one maintained that "perfect image" as if it was from some sort of fairy tale.

My focus shifted back to the huge. pompous edifice which I deeply resented. Why were there no guards? There was just this wall only about four times my size separating us both. Perhaps it was the back? Either way, I wanted to meet this house and see what amazing treasures it would grant me.

My vision covered the length of the wall in search for a way in. There! A barred gate note far down the road. Too preoccupied with my new scam, I shortly forgot about my mysterious beauty.

Dropping to my belly at the edge of the gate, I attempted to squeeze beneath. I was all skin and bone anyway so I should fit, right? I etched at the earth, digging my mitts into it in an effort to drag my body through. Past the dirt in my eyes, I could see boots journeying toward me. As a parting gift at the wearer's amusement, the shoe was planted on my head with enough force to drive me back to the world outside. A chorus of laughter erupted from behind the barrier. If that's what this fortress holds, I never want a part of it.

I picked myself off the dirt and proceeded to brush the earth from my clothes. How rude! You'd have thought those lavished in royalty could at least spare a "hello". Wealth is wasted on the ignorant.

Cramming my hands in my pockets, I kicked the road in frustration. My eyes wandered toward the rising moon. I heaved a sigh - well, more like a groan. The cool evening gusts kissed my tangled locks as the falling sun beckoned for my quest to retire. Just as the stars grew larger, so had my doubt of finding that girl that evening. Nobody ever roamed the streets after dark. I'll just have to wait until morning.

My arms grew cold in the brisk night. In an effort the compensate for my missing sleeves, I rubbed my bare limbs with my hands. At least my gloves kept my hands warm.

Instantly, time seemed to slow down. Every part of me jumped to attention. I lifted my gaze from the ground to the path ahead. Not a thought had crossed my mind, but I felt my legs venture after a hooded figure who had turned into a nearby ally. This moment was too euphoric to be real. Was I dreaming?

Once I rounded into the back street, I saw no sign of him. I scanned my surroundings to make sense of it all, but my body already knew. Beyond the litter decor, there was a small set of stairs leading downward to a rotted door. It hung by a sole hinge. The corner of the broken wood scraped against the rough, rocky floor as I forced it from my path. The stale air flooded my nostrils. I coughed for a minute while I adjusted to the stench of must and old man.

The cobwebs were everywhere, adorning the old bottles behind the counter and draping the small basement windows. Past the murky containers, I saw my warped reflection in the damaged mirror. I could make out my short, black curly hair and my ripped green shirt with its missing sleeves. Fortunately, the dust on the mirror hid the grease in my hair and the dirt on my shirt. Peering further into the reflection, I caught the shadowed man sitting among the shattered furniture in the corner of the room. Startled, I twisted my body to face him. There I stood, frozen, searching for words - a question, but he beat me to it.

"You're a little young to be in a pub."

At his words, my eyes purged the room. He was right; this place must have catered to many a drunk in its prime. His voice did not bellow like a grown man, either. Who was he to call me young?

"And who do you think you are anyway?" I remarked arrogantly.

"Wouldn't you rather know why you followed me?"

I couldn't think of a proper way to respond. I only gawked at him.

His hips formed a smirk. The field of tiny hairs on his sharp mug made him look all the more sinister. If only I could make out the face that hid in the darkness of his hood.

His hand clambered onto the table and metal twinkled from the edge of his sleeve. He was wearing armor. As he shifted his weight to the table to rise, I stood on guard. A mocking chuckle echoed through the bar.

He came three steps closer; I faltered half a step back. When he lifted his arm, I could only wince like a coward as his hand came at my neck. Instead of strangling me, he perched it on my shoulder. Now he leaned his head forward to my ear. Still, I could not make out who he was.

He whispered into my ear. As the words rolled off his tongue, my eyes grew wide. I trembled in anticipation, question, disbelief, hope and anger. How could he know so much? More over, just how little did I know this whole time? Everything around me seemed to spin. I could only contain myself with a grin. His plan was too interesting to pass up.

He drew back as he finished.

"Don't know who you are, but you have a way with words," I teased. I twirled around and swaggered to the exit. I paused at the door.

"I'll see you again, I'm sure," I looked back and glared at this unknown ally. "You're too weird to miss."

He hadn't moved, most likely for a lack of concern. I strolled out of the bar and back into the road.

It was still night. I inhaled. The darkness, the sand, hopes, fears, excitement, memories, all poured into me. I was ready to retire, but not to home, oh no. This was my resignation from the usual. No, I wasn't going back. A devious smile grew on my sullied face. Life just got too interesting for that.

If/when I hold a tournament, if you come, and if this book is published, I'll be able to say, "I knew her before she wrote this!" And that is completely off this topic, haha.