Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of the characters – Aoki Takao is the god.
Well, here's a one-shot for you all. If you want, tell me what you think.
Mariah watches him.
He stands in the waterfall, letting the water cascade down his body as if he were letting memories seep through his skin, and she wonders just how many memories he carries, and which ones that they share, and which ones that they don't, and she contemplates this for awhile, because it is the right thing to do.
She wonders how many times he has left, and wonders how long he will stay this time, because it is the only thing she can do, because he has not opened his eyes to notice her yet. And calling out to him would be just wrong, because he is still letting the memories slip out if his skin and into the water beneath him. And she silently shifts in her step and waits, because it is the right thing to do.
And it goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on until she feels that she has been standing there forever, just waiting for him to open his eyes and notice her. And she secretly wonders how many moons it has been since he has opened his eyes, and she wonders just how many memories he has. And she thinks this while she waits, because it is the right thing to do.
And then the sun comes up. And she is still waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting. But he only stands there more, and even the water is becoming drowsy with sleep. But she does not close her eyes in return, because it is the right thing to do.
And then the sun is high in the sky, and finally a voice that isn't her own calls, and he opens his eyes, and sees them. And all of them smile – she included – because it is the right thing to do.
And he comes and takes the towel from her hands, and presses his tanned face into it, to dry the leaking memories that are still seeping out of his skin, and she wonders how long it will take for him to dry them. And she greets him, because it is the right thing to do.
And then they walk home, watching the ground beneath their feet for false steps and shifty dirt, because it is there. She silently wonders how many false steps and shifty dirt he has stepped on, and if he has gotten hurt. And she ignores the need to cry, because it is the right thing to do.
And then they train, and do not speak, because it will break the concentration they haven't been able to reach in so long, and then the rain comes to wash away any thoughts of giving up, and replaces it with the memories that have seeped out of his skin. And she keeps going, because it is the right thing to do.
And then he is fighting. And she silently asks herself how long it has been since he has closed his eyes to look away from her, but puts it to the back of her mind for safekeeping, and instead grabs hold of the obstacle that wants to defeat him, and doesn't let go so that he has a chance to get back up again, because it is the right thing to do.
And then he loses, and his headband is gone, yin and yang separated from his skin, the swirling color of raven pooling in front of the golden eyes that belong to her, and she decides to not be so silent anymore, and lets go of the obstacle because she now sees red feathers that burn his flesh. And now there are no memories seeping out of his skin at the moment, and he falls backwards, landing into the gentle arms that embrace him with pride. For he has fallen, but he is still awake and able to stand. And then she runs up to him, because it is the right thing to do.
And then he looks at them – her – and sees her smile and knows it belongs to him, and knows that his golden orbs belong to her, and that they are open once again. He sees her, and she wonders if he knows she sees him too. And then she loves him even more, because it is the right thing to do.
And then she hugs him, because she wants to.