This chapter is now rewritten
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The sting of her injured feet jolted Y/n from her deep slumber, a rude awakening as the pain shot through her feet. With a forceful blink, she reluctantly opened her eyes, greeted by the soft glow of afternoon light filtering into her room.
Afternoon?
SHIT
Panic surged within her as she realized the lateness of the hour.
"Afternoon?" she muttered incredulously, her heart pounding in her chest.
Y/n scrambled to disentangle herself from the sheets, her movements frantic with urgency. But her haste only led to calamity as she crashed to the floor with a resounding thud, her injured feet bearing the brunt of the impact. Agony pulsed through her, a sharp reminder of her recent mishap. Seems like panic and pain were definitely not the best of friends, and certainly did not go hand in hand.
The bandaged foot was hurt, igniting with a fiery sensation akin to a swarm of needles and bee poison. Yet amidst the chaos of pain and panic, Y/n failed to pause and consider the cause of her wounds or the identity of her unseen caregiver who bandaged them in the first place.
Instead, she berated herself mercilessly, each thought a sharp lash of condemnation.
"I'm such an idiot," she muttered through gritted teeth, oblivious to the irony of her self-criticism.
In her panicked state, she envisioned the dire consequences awaiting her. Chris, undoubtedly furious, would mete out punishment with unrelenting severity. She would strip her of everything she had worked so hard to achieve, leaving her destitute and alone-
A wave of hysteria threatened to overwhelm her, but with a shaky breath, Y/n fought to regain her composure.
"Oh, I need to calm down," she whispered, slapping her forehead in frustration and frantically fanning her flushed face.
She sank onto the edge of her bed, her gaze fixed anxiously on her feet. This is the second occasion she would be late, and by a few hours no less. Last time she was late a couple minutes, and that already bought so much anger on Chris's part and embarrassment to her end, and this time she's hours late! The weight of her stupidity bore down on her, amplifying her worry. She heaved a sigh.
As she scrutinized her feet, a realization dawned upon her with startling fear. She swallowed nervously. It was the first time she had properly examined the aftermath of the previous night's events. A flush of embarrassment swept over her as she suddenly remembered everything, mingling with the remnants of panic that still lingered.
"What an idiot," she whispered to herself, channeling her best Hermione Granger voice with a wry twist of self-mockery.
The memory flooded back with relentless force, each detail vivid and unyielding. Free's intense gaze, burning with a fervor she couldn't quite understand , remained etched in her mind. What secrets lay hidden behind those piercing brown eyes? It was a question that gnawed at her, igniting a wildfire of curiosity within her soul.
Yet, beneath the allure of his somewhat bipolar presence, lurked an unsettling feeling—a magnetic repulsion akin to the meeting of polar opposites. It was a contradiction she couldn't quite understand, a perplexing blend of attraction and aversion that left her dreading with her own emotions.
Y/n couldn't shake the memory of Free's seductive lulling voice, his nonchalant drawl, and the undeniable allure of his unconventional beauty. His eyes, initially appearing dull, held a depth she couldn't quite fathom—a mysterious pool of secrets waiting to be unraveled. The sensation of his strong arms carrying her lingered, leaving her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Taking a deep breath, she attempted to collect her thoughts. Despite his cocky demeanor and potentially manipulative nature, there was something about him that captivated her. She frowned, grappling with conflicting emotions.
"Why did he stick around for me?" she mused aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The realization dawned upon her like a slow, creeping shadow— maybe she was being used, albeit in a way that left her conflicted. There was an unspoken expectation, a debt to be repaid for his assistance. She knew for a fact that he was soon to ask for something in return , or so she thought. Yet, despite this realisation, she couldn't deny the gratitude she felt towards him for his unexpected help. If he did not come last night, she still would have been aimlessly wandering that forest, lost and hungry.
As she wiggled her bandaged feet, a pang of curiosity nagged at her. Who had taken the time to tend to her wounds while she slept? It was a question she couldn't answer, a thought left unanswered amidst the chaos of her mind.
With a heavy sigh, Y/n shifted her focus to the present, determined to at least make herself presentable after the disarray of sleep had left her hair tousled and her eyes puffy. Though she wasn't quite ready to face the world, she attended to at least appear somewhat human before confronting what she expected would be Chris's anger.
Opting to not even wear shoes to alleviate the dull ache in her feet, Y/n quietly slipped out of her room, gently closing the door behind her. The hallway, once bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, now basked in the warm embrace of afternoon sunlight.
As she descended the staircase, a sense of anxiety settled over her. She silently prayed to avoid any encounters, yearning for a moment of solitude. However, fate had other plans, and her hopes were swiftly dashed as she came face to face with the magenta-haired figure of Chris.
Y/n's heart pounded furiously in her chest as she watched Chris draw nearer. Doubts and insecurities flooded her mind like a tidal wave, each crashing wave threatening to overwhelm her. What if Free had deceived her? What if his promise of an excuse to Chris was nothing more than a bluff? The realisation on sent a surge of panic coursing through her veins.
"Why did I trust him?" she mumbled to herself silently, her mind racing with a million what-ifs and regrets. Holy moly indeed, she thought, bracing herself for the impending confrontation with Chris.
Y/n's worries however dissolved instantaneously as she saw the concern etched on Chris's face, replacing the anticipated anger. A sigh of inner relief escaped her lips, quelling the turbulent thoughts swirling in her mind.
"Y/n, Free mentioned that you injured your feet. I hope you managed to get some rest," Chris said, her touch gentle as she patted Y/n's shoulder.
"Yes, I did. Thank you." Y/n replied, though she couldn't help but inwardly cringe at how brief and almost rude her response was. Thankfully, Chris either didn't notice or chose not to comment on it.
As Chris cast a glance at Y/n's feet, her eyes widened momentarily. "My goodness, I had no idea they were injured so severely. What happened?"
Y/n offered a sheepish smile and shrugged. "Just got a bit lost in the forest, nothing too serious, ma'am," she mumbled, silently grateful that Chris didn't press for further details about the incident. That cleared one thing however but left the same question. If Chris was not the one to tend to her injuries, then who was it....it could not be Free, or?
Raising an eyebrow, Chris persisted, "Are they causing you pain?"
Y/n shrugged again, muttering a noncommittal "kinda," though in reality, the pain was far more intense than she let on. Knowing Chris's perceptiveness, Y/n couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at being the recipient of unwanted concern.
"In that case, there's no need for you to train for the next few days, and please make sure to wear shoes when venturing into the forest. Free mentioned that you got lost?" Chris remarked, her tone a blend of amusement and admonition.
Internally pleading for Chris to leave her be, Y/n forced a sheepish grin and nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten into this mess, I won't do it again."
Despite Chris's kind demeanor, Y/n couldn't shake the desire for Chris to just leave. And as for Free, that troublesome dude, she couldn't help but wonder how much he had told Chris. With a shake of her head as if she dismissed her apology and forgave her already, Chris continued, "He approached me around 9 am, carrying you while you were fast asleep in his arms, requesting a first aid kit. Sasha won't be too pleased."
Y/n's mind was too dumbfounded to answer at the sudden nuclear bomb of information.
With a chuckle, Chris bid Y/n farewell, "You're free to go now, just try to stay out of trouble."
As Chris departed, Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of annoyance and gratitude. Perhaps a few days away from beyblading would provide some much-needed respite for her weary feet.
As Y/n made her way to the lunchroom, her mind buzzed with thoughts about Free and Chris's cryptic remark about Sasha not being too happy. The realisation that Free had been the one to bandage her cuts left her feeling a mixture of confusion and slight flattery. She couldn't help but blush a tiny bit, she had slept in his arms, and now he also tended to her injuries. What's going on? Was she looking too much into it?
However, the mention of Sasha stirred up a whole new wave of speculation in Y/n's mind. Was Sasha somehow connected to Free? Did Chris's comment imply that they were in a relationship? The mere idea seemed ludicrous to Y/n, prompting her to pull a disbelieving expression.
Free didn't strike her as the type to be tied down in a relationship, let alone with someone like Sasha. While he undoubtedly possessed the charisma and looks to attract a partner, the notion of him being someone's boyfriend seemed out of character. Yet, the pang of unease that gripped Y/n's stomach at the thought of Free being involved with someone else was undeniable.
Shaking off her irrational worries, Y/n reminded herself that it was none of her business. She didn't harbor any romantic feelings for Free, so why did the idea of him dating bother her? Sasha, she acknowledged, was undeniably beautiful, and she could understand why Free might be drawn to her, if indeed they were involved that is....
With a frustrated groan, Y/n yelled at herself silently for overthinking the stupid situation. Chris's remark could have meant something entirely different, and here she was, jumping to conclusions that had no bearing on her own life. Brushing aside her unfounded concerns, Y/n focused instead on the more pressing matter at hand: her rumbling stomach and the promise of a much-needed meal.
After hastily devouring her meal in the lunchroom, where Anne kindly insisted on serving her a heaping plate of food to make up for missing breakfast and being "a poor hurt thing," Y/n emerged with a contented stomach, ready to continue her day.
As she leisurely made her way towards the training room, relishing the feeling of satisfaction that came from a good meal, she was suddenly confronted by an unwelcome presence.
"You suck!" Stan's voice rang out, filled with venom as he shoved past Y/n.
Y/n bristled at the unwarranted hostility and, in a moment of immaturity, decided to retaliate in kind. "Not as much as your mom!" It was a tired comeback, she knew, but sometimes the classics were effective.
Stan came to an abrupt halt, his face contorted with fury. "What the hell did you just say?"
Describing the boy as furious would have been an understatement. Y/n fought the urge to gulp nervously, unwilling to contemplate the consequences if Stan were provoked any further.
Despite the rapid thumping of her heart and the knot of fear coiled in her stomach, Y/n stood her ground, facing Stan with a steely resolve. Folding her arms across her chest, she summoned every ounce of courage she could muster, determined to show him that she was not one to be intimidated easily.
"I think you heard me, big boy," she shot back, her voice laced with anger. Lifting her chin defiantly, she met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him see the trembling within.
Her frustration with Stan, compounded by their tense encounter in the lunchroom, fueled her determination not to back down. She had regretted her silence during their previous interaction, berating herself for succumbing to shyness. But now, with the opportunity for confrontation laid before her once more, she vowed to seize it with both hands.
Stan, for his part, regarded her with narrowed eyes, his expression unreadable. Despite the hostility that had initially coloured their exchange, he couldn't help but feel a begrudging respect for the girl standing before him. She was different, he noted, in a way that he couldn't quite place. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, just... different.
"Why weren't you in training?" he asked, his tone surprisingly casual given their previous animosity. It was almost as if they were engaging in a normal conversation, rather than a heated confrontation.
Y/n arched an eyebrow, her confusion mounting at Stan's sudden shift in demeanor and the almost friendly tone in his voice. Just moments ago, he had been seething with anger—was he bipolar or something? She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the towering boy, unwilling to let her guard down so easily. After all, he had been nothing but a jerk to her the entire time.
Deciding to assert her indifference, Y/n ignored Stan's attempt at conversation and turned away, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. To her dismay, Stan showed no signs of being deterred, falling into step beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Would you talk if I apologized for being a jerk?" Stan's question held a hint of amusement, suggesting that he wasn't entirely serious. But Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more to his inquiry than met the eye.
Reluctantly, Y/n let out a resigned sigh. "Sure, I guess I could let it slide," she conceded, though she remained on guard, ready to snap back at him at the slightest hint of hostility.
To her surprise, however, Stan never reverted to his previous jerky demeanor. Instead, they walked in relative silence, the tension between them dissipating with each step.
Stan emitted a snort of amusement before stuffing his mammoth-sized hands into his equally large pockets. "So where were you?" he inquired, his tone casual but tinged with curiosity.
"Sleeping," Y/n replied tersely, inwardly bracing herself for the inevitable question about her absence. She wasn't keen on divulging the details of her encounter with Free, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Stan broached the subject. Besides, it wasn't any of his business. Social interactions had never been her forte, particularly in an environment as daunting as this. She couldn't help but yearn for the familiarity of Japan, where things seemed so much simpler.
"Chris didn't mind?" Stan raised an incredulous eyebrow, his expression bordering on disbelief. Y/n wondered just how angry Stan had seen Chris in the past, considering his status as one of the older members of BC Sol.
"No, I hurt my foot in the forest, got lost and stuff," Y/n explained, instantly regretting her decision to mention the latter part. Stan's scrutiny intensified as he glanced down at her bandaged feet, prompting a flush of embarrassment to creep up her cheeks.
"How the hell did you get back?" Stan's curiosity seemed genuine, though Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort under his intense gaze.
Y/n blushed slightly but quickly concealed it. "Well, Free found me and, uh, brought me back," she admitted reluctantly.
Stan let out a low whistle, causing Y/n to whip her head towards him, her expression a mix of irritation and apprehension. But Stan remained unfazed, flashing her an annoying grin. "Bet he bandaged your feet," he remarked, nodding towards her injuries with a knowing look.
"So?" Y/n persisted, her glare unwavering as she awaited Stan's response.
Stan shrugged nonchalantly, his grin refusing to waver. "Gotta tell Sasha," he declared with a hint of amusement.
Y/n's frown deepened slightly, a flicker of realization dawning upon her. It seemed that her suspicions about Free and Sasha's relationship were not unfounded after all. The thought left her feeling unsettled, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why.
Despite her burning curiosity, Y/n found herself hesitating to ask the question that lingered on the tip of her tongue: What would happen if Sasha found out? There was a gnawing fear within her, a sense of trepidation that she couldn't quite shake. And so, she chose to remain silent, opting instead to offer a noncommittal response.
"Whatever you say," she muttered, her tone guarded as she sought to mask her inner turmoil.
As Y/n and Stan entered the training area, the air was thick with the faint scent of fresh sweat and the lingering heat radiating from bodies engaged in intense physical activity. The sound of spinning tops and animated conversations filled the air, drowning out the duo's presence as they made their way through the bustling space.
Stan offered a brief "see ya" and a pat on the back before veering off towards a group of familiar faces, leaving Y/n to navigate the sea of bladers alone. Amidst the flurry of activity, most people seemed preoccupied with their own pursuits, either engrossed in fine-tuning their beyblades or engaged in lively discussions with their fellow bladers.
Y/n's attention was drawn towards a particular group, where Stan approached a boy whom she believed to be Django, accompanied by Sasha and her sister. Sasha's gaze flickered briefly towards Y/n before settling on Stan, her expression brightening into a wide smile as he initiated conversation. Y/n couldn't help but notice Sasha's features more, the way she looked and the way she spoke. Subconsciously almost comparing herself to the pretty blader.
As Y/n's presence became more noticeable, she couldn't help but notice the curious glances directed her way. Some individuals averted their eyes upon catching sight of her, while others, particularly those closer to her, openly stared, their gazes lingering on her bandaged feet.
However, despite the evident curiosity, no one approached Y/n to inquire about her injuries. It seemed that the lack of familiarity with the girl served as a barrier, stopping them from probing into her personal affairs. And so, Y/n found herself surrounded by a mix of indifference and cautious curiosity, left to navigate the training area amidst a sea of wary glances and unspoken questions.
Y/n sighed and resolved to ignore the lingering glances from the other bladers as she made her way towards the left corner of the room where Valt and Rantaro were engrossed in conversation. They seemed far more amiable than some of the other individuals in the room, making them a more appealing choice for company.
As she approached, Y/n couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation, her curiosity piqued by their discussion. Their beys clashed fiercely in the arena, but Valt and Rantaro appeared more focused on their verbal exchange than the battle unfolding before them. The name "Shu" seemed to be the focal point of their discussion, drawing Y/n's attention.
"Who's Shu?" she interjected, unable to resist the urge to satisfy her curiosity, despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind cursing her for prying into others' conversations. She screamed at herself in her head. Maybe Free had been right all along—maybe she was nosy by nature. But in her defense, her curiosity was driven by harmless intent. After all, a little curiosity couldn't hurt, could it?
Valt and Rantaro's conversation halted abruptly as they turned their attention towards Y/n, their eyes widening in surprise. Y/n felt a blush creep up her cheeks, wondering if she had made a mistake by approaching them. However, any doubts were quickly dispelled as Valt, the indigo-haired blader, lunged forward to envelop her in a sudden hug, much to her dismay.
Caught off guard, Y/n laughed awkwardly, feeling her ribs protest as Valt's exuberance threatened to crush her. She stood frozen in place, her mind racing as she contemplated the brief moment of panic that had flashed through her mind.
Thankfully, Rantaro intervened, pulling Valt away and apologizing for his friend's overzealous display of affection. Y/n managed to catch her breath, offering a grateful smile to Rantaro as Valt grinned up at her, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.
"Was Chris okay with you sleeping in alllllll day?" Valt inquired, his attention already shifting back to his beyblade as he retrieved it from the arena and pocketed it.
Y/n chuckled softly and nodded in response, the sound punctuated by a playful pop of her lips.
However, Rantaro's sharp observance didn't miss the bandages wrapped around Y/n's feet, prompting him to voice his concern. "The hell happened to your feet?!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in alarm.
Y/n sighed, briefly recounting the events that had led to her injuries, noting the surprise on their faces when she mentioned Free's unexpected assistance and the subsequent bandaging of her wounds.
Before either of them could delve further into the conversation, Y/n hastily interjected, her curiosity burning to know more about this mysterious "Shu."
Valt's smile faltered for a moment, his eyes clouding over with a hint of sadness. Instantly, Y/n regretted her question, sensing that she had inadvertently touched upon a sensitive topic. She scolded herself internally for prying once again, cursing her own nosiness.
However, before she could utter an apology, Valt waved off her concerns. "Hey, it's fine," he reassured her, though there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice. "Shu's my friend—"
"I think she guessed that," Rantaro interjected with a roll of his eyes, his sarcasm evident.
Valt shot his friend a pointed glare before continuing. "He got scouted to America! We just haven't heard from him, and I'm kinda worried, you know—"
"It's only been two days!" Rantaro yelled, cutting off Valt's explanation.
Y/n offered a sympathetic smile to the bluenette, her heart going out to him in understanding. Though she couldn't fully comprehend his emotions, she could sense his longing for his friend, a feeling she too knew all too well.
"I'm sure he'll come around once he's settled in. America is huge. Plus, I know how you feel. I miss my friends in Japan," Y/n reassured him, her voice gentle and comforting.
Valt's smile returned, a bit brighter this time, and Y/n felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing that she had managed to lift his spirits, even if only momentarily. For the first time since arriving at BC Sol, she found herself smiling genuinely, the weight of loneliness and isolation momentarily lifted from her shoulders.
However, she was so lost in the moment, Y/n failed to notice the burning gaze fixed upon her, too caught up in the laughter and companionship that surrounded her. The gaze on her was not friendly, instead it was alarmingly hostile.
But Y/n , for the first time since arriving at BC Sol, she at last felt truly at ease. She did not know however, that this was never going to last. It was all an illusion.