Writing request: Back in the abbey, Boris and Yuriy around 9 years old. Yuriy is afraid of thunderstorms. Boris calms and distracts him before the caretakers find out and punish Yuriy for his vulnerability.
This highkey went to a weird place, I donāt know why.
The wind howled as it hit the worn window panes. His tiny body trembled fiercely as he cowered in the darkest corner of the dormitory, as far away from the predatory gazes of the other children that searched for the weaknesses of their peers. The child residents of the monastery had learned that playing the role of rat would garner them special treatment, often in the form of a fresh piece of fruit with a meal, or some other tiny luxury like new socks.Ā
Volkov and his associates had bred a culture of disloyalty between their charges. A strategy designed to assure every single child looked at each other with a definite feeling of disdain. There was no need for camaraderie within these walls, only fealty to their handlers, and a desire to be at the top. It was an assurance there would be no revolutions.
Stringy red hair clung to the side of his face, as he clenched his jaw so hard his damaged, infected teeth hurt and kept his body rigid. Yuriy hated storms, and if anyone were to ever find that out, his bruised, frail body would meet the handle of a pastoral staff.Ā So veiled himself in darkness and held his body taut, as his mind rehearsed the right words to say if he was ever confronted.Ā
Not that there were right words to say.
A loud thunder crack made Yuriy dig his fingernails into his palms and curl his toes in his worn shoes. He swallowed hard and slinked further into the shadows, threatened by the bright flashing light that illuminated the barren room through its windows.
āItās more obvious when you do this.ā Yuriy jumped, instinctively throwing a closed fist out in front of him to punch the intruder. The taller boy just grabbed onto his wrist with strength no nine year old should have. But Yuriy relaxed, because despite the rules and politics within Volkov monastery, this person would always be safe.Ā
āWhatās obvious?ā Yuriy asked, playing dumb as he pulled his hand away from Boris. However the storm unleashed another loud boom that rattled the whole building and made Yuriy fall back into the stone wall, betraying the confidence he feigned.Ā
Boris sighed, loud enough it was audible over the whistling of the wind. He dropped to the floor, sitting cross legged, he rooted around in his pants pocket for something before holding a closed fist out to Yuriy, beckoning him with his middle and index finger. Yuriyās curiosity got the better of him as he slowly approached Boris, kneeling in front of him.
āDo you think if I put these under the best the mouse will come?ā Boris asked, opening up his fist to reveal a small pair of milk teeth that definitely didnāt belong to him. There was a childlike wonder to the question, an innocence that had yet to be stripped away.
āI think youāre better to bring them to Vladimir Anatolyevich and tell him who was stashing them, theyāve been giving apples for good behaviour,ā Yuriyās reply came as a whisper. Milk teeth were contraband, not because they carried any innate value, but because they were a connection between an individual and identity.Ā
And Volkov had put so much effort in stripping away every one of their identities.Ā
āYouāre no fun.ā Boris puffed his cheeks petulantly, closing his fist around the tiny pieces of bone in his palm. āā¦ You can do it, if you want the apples,ā he muttered eventually, thrusting them into Yuriyās hand, who looked at him with wide eyes.
āBut you found themāā Yuriy began, fully intending to argue that Boris should reap the spoils of his discovery.Ā
āI got one yesterday,ā Boris interrupted.
The two bickered back and forth over who should claim the reward of favorable treatment for quite some time. Not realizing it would become a game they would master in their teenage years. A push and pull, a fragile balance, an equilibrium just even enough that both boys maintained the same value to their handlers.Ā
He eventually conceded, closing his hand around the teeth. He abruptly froze, and his gaze shifted towards the old window. The wind no longer howled, and the skies were no longer illuminated by lightning flashes, instead rain pattered against the glass; a ferocious storm was now a gentle shower.
After lingering in comfortable laziness for a while, they had started their day with a proper breakfast and a proper shower. Kai had eagerly put on his contacts and was now getting dressed when Yuriy took him by surprise and sent him back sitting on the bed.Ā
He then moved to the window, trying to block the rays of sunshine getting through. Closing it was not an option, so he had to be satisfied with what he managed.
Wondering if the Japanese summer heat had finally taken the final toll on his boyfriend, Kai observed the craziness unfold.Ā
Yuriy smirked back at him, sporting the confidence and resolution Kai had fallen for months before, and kept igniting his curiosity and interest.Ā
āWhat now?ā
āClose your eyes.ā
Yuriy lifted his index finger, blocking any possible discussion, and repeated the order. Kai did as told and made sure to exaggerate the movement. Yuriyās once rare light chuckle confirmed he was successful.
A few soft thumps betrayed Yuriy's movement toward the desk. Kai didnāt even think twice about sneaking a peek, his eyes drifting to the curved figure, watching as he fiddled frantically with something. A socket, maybe?Ā
āNo peeking!ā Yuriy suddenly turned and caught him red-handed. Defiant, Kai closed his eyes again while Yuriy kept rummaging through his things.Ā
The footsteps got closer again, a single thud of something being set down on the bedside table, until the mattress dipped next to him.Ā
Kai instinctively began to open his eyes, catching a brief glimpse of Yuriyās resigned yet amused smirk before his vision was blocked once more, this time by Yuriyās hand.Ā
Kai sighed loudly amid his laughter and waited for Yuriyās continuous rummaging.Ā
āI promised,ā Yuriy spoke, his tone suddenly serious as he finally raised his hand.Ā
Yuriyās skin shimmered with a blend of blue and purple hues, merging seamlessly with his natural complexion. A scatter of white dots mingled with the pattern of his freckles, like stars woven into his skin.
Kai had seen before the full effect of the galaxy lamp, now a bit lost in the incomplete darkness.Ā
āWhat is that for?ā Kai asked, eyeing the little astronaut projecting the images around the room, a fitting gift from Boris for Yuriyās last birthday.Ā
āItās midnight once again,ā Yuriy responded matter-of-factly. āSo, I can wish you a happy birthday as planned.ā
Mugginess engulfed his bare skin while he regained consciousness. The sheets under him moved with a slight rustle. A quiet āfuckā was murmored at his side.
Kaiās eyes opened sluggishly, focusing on the glimmer of light from the half-drawn curtains. The night sky behind it was slowly and relentlessly giving way to the pale yellow light of the sun, catching up warmth as it invaded the rest of the sky.Ā
Another sigh made him concentrate back on the bed. The room was still dark, and his eyes tried to adjust to the figure beside him. Kai was still too numb to bother reaching for his glasses somewhere in the room. He made do with the blurry outlines of Yuriyās hands rubbing tiredly his face and the red blotch of his hair.Ā
Kai adjusted himself on his right side, his left hand reaching for the pillow under his cheek.Ā
At that, Yuriy seemed to finally realize he was awake as well.Ā
āI fell asleep.ā
Kai just produced an affirmative noise, trying to guess how much Yuriy was furrowing his eyebrows: to admonish him for letting him sleep, or himself for failing the task to stay awake until midnight.Ā
āIām sorry,ā Yuriy sighed again.Ā
Kaiās hand left his pillow and reached forward until he could entangle his fingers in the messy red hair. The gentle pull wasnāt necessary, but it felt like clearance for both to reach forward.Ā
āStupid,ā Kai gladly sacrificed more of his clarity to have that proximity, any point of contact between them - the hand in the hair, the tip of their noses - giving him a shock of electricity directly to his heart. He looked for more, closed his useless eyes, and savoured their lips, tasting and exploring.Ā
With no sight, he welcomed the cold fingers brushing both his chin and his side, until they gripped him, absorbed his warmth, and burned hot against his skin.Ā
Another sigh anticipated the āHappy birthdayā murmured against his lips.Ā
Kai couldnāt help but smile, hoping that Yuriy could catch his reaction, either with his perfect eyesight or through the wrinkling of the skin under his touch.Ā Ā
Next
Notes: I hc Kai as far-sighted, not sure if I got it right, but a girl can hope lol
Itās 4:46am when the first ray of light peeks out from the horizon.
Yuriy exhaled and flicked the cigarette that he'd held between his fingers, watching the ash scatter in the cool morning breeze. Another sleepless night, it seems.
Heād lost count at how many there had been now.
Even after all these years, when Yuriy closed his eyes all that awaited him were monochromatic memories stained with the most violent shade of red. It was almost as if an unfamiliar film noir was playing in his mind over and over; if not for that the audio track was the same terrified screams endlessly reverberated like a freight train.
Yuriy idly kicked his foot back and forth, his heel knocking against the worn concrete building. He glanced down at the city below him, silent still. The only souls scurrying about were the drunks who had yet to make the walk of shame home to their wives, and those unfortunate enough to already be on their way to work.Ā
The peace would be lost soon, Moscow would awaken and continue on business as usual as it had for centuries. And those who had been swallowed by it for the sake of progress wouldnāt even get to be a footnote in its history.
That place hadnāt even been demolished when the horrors it had contained had been revealed. The entire four years heād spent in university, heād been required to walk past a towering monument to his own subjugation, and no fucking fresh coat of paint or newly planted gardens would change that. It was an important cultural location, a heritage site.
What a sick joke.
He took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing itĀ onto the sidewalk below him, it could be someone elseās problem. Just like how he was always someone elseās problem.
āSo, you planning to jump today, or you just sulking?ā Borisā asked from behind him, his voice still gravelly from the sleep that didnāt evade him. He trudged towards where Yuriy sat on the ledge of the building before dropping down beside him.
āItās dawn,ā Yuriy answered simply, as he stared down at the filthy city street below.
Boris replied with a hum. He retrieved a lighter from his pocket and idly flicked it, the flame would ignite, and then disappear as quickly. Perhaps if Yuriy fancied himself a philosophical person he would see something profound in the action, but instead it was just his oldest friend trying to get under his skin, as always.
āYou ought to try that shrink shit out, did wonders for Sergei,ā Boris said, as he continued playing with the lighter in his hand.
āI said Iām not interested,ā Yuriy sneered through clenched teeth, his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand as it formed a fist.
āI know, but Iām just saying.ā He knew Boris was just saying that so ifā when it all inevitably went to shit, he could take comfort in that heād tried his best. Heād done everything he possibly could. Heād been there every single day to talk Yuriy off the ledge until he couldnāt be reasoned with anymore.Ā
He did it so that he wouldnāt have to live the rest of his life thinking it was his fault.
Yuriy carefully swung his legs up over the ledge he sat on, placing them back onto the dirty roof of their apartment complex. He rose from where he was sitting, dusted himself off and treaded towards the exit. Boris silently watched him in his periphery.
āI need a coffee,ā was all Yuriy said, as he pulled the heavy metal door open and vanished into the stairwell, his heavy footsteps echoing as he descended towards their apartment floor.
What Boris failed to understand was every morning he found him, sitting on that ledge after the sun had already breached the skyline, that the window of opportunity had already been lost.
Because like every other person swallowed by this cityā¦Ā
a change of circumstances or fortune, typically one that is unwelcome or unpleasant.
For @syfien who I have had the pleasure of considering my best friend.
Iām sorry this wasnāt completed for your birthday, you deserved better.
The original version and finished version ended up being very different, I suppose you were my muse until the very end.
There is a playlist I guess.
Thank you to @tribius-art for helping me bring this vision to life.
His muscles ached in protest as he forced them to move. It felt like he was operating on autopilot as he walked down the familiar streets. He wasnāt in control.
He had never been in control.
There had always been an inevitable outcome hadnāt there? He had always been doomed to love and lose. You play with fire and you get burned and all that pseudo-philosophical shit. But at the time Boris didnāt consider the consequences, he dove head first into inevitable tragedy because it had been the first time in his entire life that he had felt something so clearly.
Most of his life could be categorized as varying levels of numbness, a grey cast and miserable life where he was destined to die and fade away, obscure and unremembered. And Boris had been at peace with that, because at least if he was numb he wasnāt suffering. He had already witnessed the great deal of suffering from those considered family as they worked to repair their long broken lives.
All the while Boris remained numb, an arrested development.
āI didnāt like the way they were looking at us,āĀ
The sudden and bitter reminder of his own words brought Boris to an immediate standstill. He gazed at the dimly lit buildings on either side of him and he longed for a sense of belonging, in a world as colourless as him.
He grit his teeth and allowed an uneven sigh to escape him. It couldnāt be more apparent that the worst thing that had ever happened was Garland forcing his way into his life, staining everything with brilliant jewel tones.Ā And while those colours were faded and dim now they were still stuck on him.
He could only hope with time, his world would return to the comfortable ashen hue he remembered.
He kicked at a piece of debris on the ground, sending it hurtling towards the building it had eroded from. The old concrete shattered into dust on impact, and Boris almost found it silly how much he resonated with the unrecognizable remains. Its final resting place towered over by the thing that had birthed it, and abandoned it.
He had to wonder whose shadow would tower over him when it was his time? Boris pushed himself onward to his destination, ignoring the twinge of pain that spread through his calves.Ā
There werenāt many options.
His motherā she had left him a long time ago, succumbed to the addiction that had slowly and meticulously torn their lives apart. What had remained was a father who could only see the woman he resented in his son's eyes. So instead of beating him in all his drunken rage, he wordlessly left him on the steps of an old monastery.
Boris wonders if his father had considered those actions merciful.
What a tragicomedy.
His black hair would be completely grey before his tenth birthday.
Vladimir Volkov presented himself with an air of piety from the moment Boris had laid eyes on him. A charitable man who was just doing his Godās work, taking in the children of families broken and destroyed by the collapse of the Soviet Union. Offering safety, shelter, and a chance to escape the generational trauma they shouldered.
Perhaps it wasnāt completely a lie, none of them would ever be like their parents.
Because the majority of them would never have the opportunity to see age thirteen.
When Volkovās exploits finally came to light, all that remained were a couple dozen traumatized teenage boys who were destined to be shuffled endlessly through a broken system that didnāt want nor care to help. Only keeping them alive until they were old enough to send to work in the mines in Norilsk or some other shitty remote city.Ā
And Volkov had disappeared into the night, his actions and involvement downplayed by a government he and his companions had come to accept had funded their abuse.
āHow were they looking at us?āĀ
Boris inhaled sharply, he could remember the brightness of his voice, the carefree spirit unbothered by all the expectations whispered around him. A man who hadnāt been forced to come back to reality yet. He subconsciously moved his left arm into a lonely, incomplete embrace.Ā
Perhaps it was also inevitable that it would be him.
Their first meeting had been irreparably tainted. A teenage Garland stood arrogantly beside the same man who had put him through a life of hell, only to silently fade into the night free to live his life unburdened by the lives heād destroyed.
That teenager, who had grown up surrounded by wealth and affluence, had not a care in the world for who heād have to step over to get the fame he desiredā¦ and Boris had found him reprehensible for it. The first colour heād seen in years and it was the colour of blood.
So when their lives converged almost a decade later, he could never have anticipated the very different person he was faced with. Heād hesitate to call it maturity, Garland still gave off an atmosphere of self-importance, but hidden beneath it was something elseā guilt.
He could tell immediately when they shared a glance across the dingy automotive workshop. His rental cars' back windows had been shattered by petty thieves doing a smash and grab, and there was a nervousness in Garland's voice as he greeted Boris, thanking him for assisting so late in the evening because he certainly didnāt have to.
He had waved it off: āThe sooner I fix it, the sooner I can get rid of you,ā heād declared dismissively. Garland had almost smiled.
Boris found himself still wishing he had.
By the end of those two weeks Boris had to wonder if Garland was really cursed with incredibly bad luck, or if he was intentionally wrecking his own vehicle. Two more smashed windows, a flat tire and a dented bumper. As Boris stared at him in disbelief the fifth time, Garland sheepishly commented that the rental insurance was usually more expensive than to pay for the repairs out of pocket himself.
That was bullshit when you were paying more than triple the going rate, in euros, for a mechanic in this part of the world. But Boris snatched the keys from Garland's hands and rolled his eyes, throwing the door open allowing him entry into the shop heād familiarized himself with by now. As he stalked towards the automotive bay to open the doors he heard Garland offering to buy him dinner, and the words were a serene deep forest green.
He had known it was the beginning of something.
Yet, he didnāt put a stop to it.
āLike this was temporaryā¦ that you werenāt really mine,ā
Boris scowled, fishing a key out of his jacket pocket and shoving it into the old weathered oak door in front of him. He turned until he heard the loud click and aggressively threw the door open.Ā The sound it made when it hit the wall reverberated through the small apartment. He kicked off his boots, tossing them haphazardly onto the rack to dry. From deeper inside the residence there was a familiar sound of a chair scraping across the old scratched hardwood floor.
He figured his day of reckoning awaited, as messy red curls emerged from one of the doors down the neglected hallway. Instead, Yuriy almost seemed surprised to see him.
āYou brought booze at least?ā Was all the asshole asked as he moved his arms behind him, straightening his back into a stretch.
āJust some overpriced shit from the airport,ā Boris said flatly.
āGuess itāll have to do,ā came Yuriyās nonchalant reply as he sauntered down the hallway towards Boris, giving him a once over before disappearing through a doorless opening to his left.Ā Boris followed him quietly into the small kitchen dropping his lone bag on the tiny shaky dinner table in the corner of the room. A small silver keychain of a hawk jingled as it made contact with the wood and there was a pain in Borisā chest.
āLeftovers not too good for your tastes?ā Yuriy asked, pulling Boris back from a dangerous ledge heād been edging himself towards.
āDepends if it's something you cooked or some crap from that dive down the street,ā Boris retorted.
āOf course I made it, as I recall Iām not the masochist who kept ordering food from the place,ā he said with only a hint of malice as he opened the fridge and pulled out a small assortment of containers.
Boris unzipped the main pocket of his backpack, removing a single bottle of amber liquid from it and setting it down on the empty counter. With a frown he replied: āShould be fine then.ā
Silence.
The room descended into silence, and all Boris wanted was for Yuriy to boil over, to berate him, to call him a traitor and ask him if it had been worth it? Abandoning his oldest friend in this hellscape of a country to fuck off with some rich foreigner. A rich foreigner who had put him in a coma ten years ago.
But instead the calm, patient silence continued to engulf the room as Yuriy shuffled around the kitchen, and suddenly Boris was faced with the fact that in the last yearā
Yuriy had changed without him.
And it felt like he was still the same as heād always been.
If Boris believed in divine punishment, this would be the perfect example of it. Heād run away, chasing the first flash of colour heād seen since his mother had departed from this world, and inevitably cycled back to the same monotonous existence. All the while the people around him took another step ahead of him.
Another step further away from him.
The sound of a dish clinking against the wood table in front of him brought him back down to earth. He looked up and met Yuriyās indifferent gaze.
āFigured you were accustomed to being served at this point,ā Yuriy quipped but he could tell there was no real hostility to it.
āNot really,ā Boris muttered, straightening himself in the chair and reaching for the fork that lay on the table beside his plate. In his periphery he watched Yuriy slide into the chair across from him. He picked up his own fork, tapping the end gently on the table, as if in contemplation.
āSo thenā¦ why are you here?ā Yuriy finally asked, as he moved to take a drink of the glass of whisky Boris hadnāt noticed heād poured for them.
āYou can rejoice! What you said would happen, happened!ā Boris ground out, his words acid laced as he formed a fist underneath the table with his free hand.
Yuriyās eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled slightly. His face was completely absent from the satisfaction Boris had anticipated him to have as he derided him for his stupidity.
Disappointment.
Instead all that was present was an unmistakable disappointment.
After dinner, Boris trudged down the hallway and opened the door to his bedroom. He tossed his bag onto the crummy old bed and slammed the door shut. Yuriy had calmly informed him before he had left to attend one of his evening classes that the room should be relatively clean because heād used it as a guest room a couple times. Boris had scowled at his friend but didnāt put up too much of a fuss, he could have just thrown all his traitor friends shit in the trash after all.
He sighed and sank onto the hard mattress beside his discarded bag and rested his head in his hands.Ā
Just fucking breathe he quietly repeated to himself,
but he still failed to suppress his silent sobs.
āThen prove to everyone Iām yours.ā
Boris saw the cracks in the facade not long after the party. The hushed fights Garland had with his family that abruptly ended when he entered the room. Garland felt physically anchored to him but mentally adrift. Empty smiles and empty touches.Ā Ā
Hesitation.
All the while his mind reminded him of what those who surrounded Garland thought of him.Ā He was an act of rebellion, a phase, something to inevitably grow bored of and throw in the trash when it was time to get himself a wife and give his parents heirs.Ā Garland would eventually get his shit together and fall in line like they all did, and Boris would be left to pick up the pieces of the shattered heart he had dared to trust someone with.
Heād seen Garland holding her hand when he was running some errands. They were sitting in the outdoor terrace of some fancy restaurant, chatting amicably, hands held on the table, and the smileā Boris hadnāt seen such a warm smile on Garland's face in months.Ā
A familiar cold began to creep across his skin as he hastily made his way to the apartment theyād been sharing for almost a year now. Even if heād refused to believe what everyone else had been saying for months, even if heād rolled his eyes and uttered a few choice words at them. He couldnāt deny what heād seen with his own eyes.
He was scheduled to be discarded.
It must have been then that his survival instincts kicked in because Boris spent the next few weeks in a fog, going through the motions of living while his mind frantically concocted an escape plan.
So he slipped away one quiet overcast morning when Garland had brunch with his mother and sisters. Making his way back to the grey concrete world heād known all of his life, ready to bear whatever punishment he had coming to him. Heād taken with him only the things heād arrived in Germany with, or so heād thought, until his eyes had caught on the shiny keychain still attached to his bag just before dinner.
Boris shifted on his bed, gently grabbing onto the tiny ornament and unclasping it from the zipper it dangled from. Closing his fist around it, he brought it to rest against his chest and exhaled.
Garland had held the little silver hawk out to him and laughed at his baffled expression. Boris remembered the warm orange of his voice as he commented: āhey it kind of looks like you.ā He had laughed as Boris snatched it out of his hands and grimaced at him before eventually offering an awkward thank you.
It was unknown to Boris how long he had sat there clutching onto this fragile tiny memory scared it would turn to dust like the concrete buildings surrounding him. It was the only reminder of a happiness that felt like it had been stolen from him prematurely.
He should toss it.
He didnāt have the heart to.
The sound of banging on the front door startled him from the conflict inside him. Just his fucking luck that Yuriy would have some fucking parcel that needed a signature, and of course he wouldnāt make mention of it before pissing off to school.
The bang came again, strong and insistent that he answer it. Boris pushed himself off the bed, shoving the tiny hawk into his jacket pocket, swearing to himself he would definitely deal with it later. As he neared the front door there was another series of knocks, Boris snarled before shouting angrily in Russian:
āHold the fuck on, Iām fucking coming.ā
He disarmed the lock and turned the handle, throwing the door open ready to chew out whoever was delivering packages at this time of night.
And what stood on the other side was a familiar vibrant blue in the middle of this faded city.
āThank god youāre here,ā Garland said, his voice frantic but his body visibly relaxing.
āYeah, but why are you here,ā Boris asked, his hand clutching onto the open door.Ā
He replied with an unintelligible noise before he stepped forward and shoved Boris back into the apartment. He slammed the door shut behind him leaving them standing in the dimly illuminated entryway.
āYou have some nerve,ā He finally answered with a breathy laugh that Boris could only suspect was out of some kind of frustration.
Boris said nothing.
Garland inhaled deeply before grabbing onto Borisā jacket and using all his strength to push the larger man backwards until he hit a wall.
After a few quiet moments the man finally released his hold on Borisā jacket, instead laying lax on his clavicles. Garland didnāt create any physical distance between the two of them, he refused to allow Boris any freedom to push himself away from the wall, to escape.
His hands slowly moved from where they rested on Borisā clavicles to gently cup his face, Garland finally dared stare into the other man's eyesĀ before he finally spoke with a conviction Boris had never expected:
Hereās a little story about Yuriy I threw together in a weird way. Told from Boris`s perspective, a few years after it happened - when heās still a bit emotional about it. Itās also more his thoughts, I think he wouldnāt really talk like that.
Funfact: Yuriy himself doesnāt remember the breakout. He even laughed about it, saying Boris is kidding him.
Who is we/us in the last panel? - Boris, Ivan, Sergej, other abbey children, basically Yuriys friends.
Ever worry that when you join a fandom you wonāt be able to easily find others who like what you do? Worry no more! We at animebonds are listing the fans of each fandom so that anybody can easily find blogs to follow!
So, if youāre in the fandom above, like or reblog this post to become a part of the fandom list!
VisitĀ ANIMEBONDSĀ to find out more about the project, and feel free to suggest any fandoms to us, or ask about the project in general, in the askbox ~ Please spread the word so blogs of each fandom can be found!
Sorry if this is rambling about the ship I had missed for 20+ years. I wonder when do you start shipping YuKa? I just started shipping them when I watched the series during 2025 new year. I had watched them long time ago and literally had no idea why I didn't notice their bond earlier. It could be because it's more difficult to interpret or too subtle for kid's brain than Kai&Tyson and Kai&BBA's relationship.
Of all people, Kai decided to see Tala during his lowest and most vulnerable moment. Like, Kai has had his moments of confusion and being lost in the past, and it was always the BBA who had to break through his walls and pull him out to open up. But with Tala, Kai chose to approach him on his own. Tala didn't really need to break anything, Kai seeks him.
The anime focuses on the mental link between Kai and Tyson during battles, but itās only now that Iāve noticed Tala and Kai also share a moment of connection(The Tala's crying scene ;;). If Kai and Tysonās connection happens when both are at their strongest, then Kai and Talaās bond is about connecting when they are at their most vulnerable.
Kai might not realize it, but whether it's platonically or romantically, Tala is his safe zone. Seriously Kai, if you seek someone out when youāre at your weakest, emptiest, and most lost, they are your the one and only.
hello! omg, never apologize about rambling in my inbox, it made me so happy to see this! <3 thank you for sending your thoughts on YuKa, feel free to send more whenever!
what made me fall for the ship decades ago were the clips and excerpts from the third season i saw (I couldn't watch the whole thing back then because our local TV only aired the first season and watching anime online was only possible if you torrented the whole episodes which i didn't know how to do).
of course this could not replicate actually watching the season and I was a kid back then so I didn't exactly analyze their relationship and came to an informed decision that i will support this ship, it was more of seeing how they interact in GRev and going "hey. i like them together".
When I rewatched the whole series, all seasons last year, I was wondering if I would still ship them, after all it's been a long time and i'm an adult, will i like them the same? I was unsure for a long time, but ultimately came to a conclusion that like you said, Kai and Tala have a type of a connection he doesn't really have with anyone else in the show and Kai has possibly not realized that yet.
Like you pointed out, even though at first we are led to believe they are not exactly close, he was the one Kai went to when he was at his lowest, showing that he was willing to bare this part of himself to Tala that he was hiding from the BBA, possibly out of pride. It was childish to run away from his friends but he's allowed to, because Kai is just a child, which is easy to forget sometimes.
My personal interpretation is that it's going to take Kai at least another year or two once he fully realizes what Tala means to him, platonically or romantically. Possibly longer because he has a tendency to push back his emotions instead of trying to understand them properly
beyblade relationship that i think is very cute and would love to see it more talked about: yuriy and dickenson/daitenji in g-rev
he barely knew this kid before but he sits with yuriy in the hospital for half of the season.
dickenson has just had the bba, something very important to him taken away from him by volkov. and yet he sits there with yuriy who had his childhood, innocence, trust in people, etc taken away by volkov as well. i am certain that he would think that losing the bba is nothing compared to what yuriy went through and grow attached to him.
then he would try to help him in any way he can, pay for his therapy, etc. he himself received help and got back what volkov took away from him, he would want to provide the help yuriy needs to get back what volkov took as well
yuriy on the other hand has most likely never had a proper familial relationship and i want him to experience one. i want him to eventually accept that this sweet old man genuinely wants the best for him and call him dedushka bc he probably never had an actual dedushka in his life.
jbbartram-illu
snowghoul
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
