Posted: 2019-01-02
Word Count: 2,671 words

Relationships: Bull/Chrome Zephyr
Characters: Bull, Gray, Chrome Zephyr

This was a fun little fic experimenting with POVs to differentiate Bull's personalities.

In half a year, you won't be alone anymore, but for now, you don't know that. In half a year, you'll make your first friends, and you'll all be the best of friends, but for now, you don't know that.

In half a year, the boy standing in front of you will help another save your life.

But you don't know that yet.


They call me Bull.

I don't know if that's the name I was born with, but that's what they call me. I'm a B-daplaying drifter, and that means I travel 'round the towns of the western mainland picking fights. I also take losers' B-daman, 'cause I need the parts and losers don't.

See, I look out for only me. And you. And him, but we don't talk about him. You though, you don't know jack shit so you need me. I don't know how you lasted so long without me, but once I showed up, things got better. Fun. Look, I know you like battling, but idiots take me more seriously than they do you.

That was the only favor Old Man Borgnine ever did for us, you know. He battled you and trained you, and that's why you love the game. That's why we've got the strongest B-daman now. You would't have worked hard on Helio Breaker if you didn't love it.

Oh, yeah, we took the old bastard's name too, after he kicked the bucket. Ain't that a real kicker.


You've been drifting. That's what you do. You wander the towns and get in trouble and then somehow miraculously escape with new B-daman that you'll happily break apart for parts the next day. Sometimes you manage to sell a part you don't want anymore - Bdamage knows why anyone would buy from you, but you do it.

Today, you're hanging around the town's B-Center, picking out B-daman you'd like to try out. You don't remember the town's name, you never do, and besides they all start to merge together eventually. So you're relaxing at the B-Center when you spot it.

A sleek black B-daman, red trim lining its armor. The helm glints. It's obviously well loved if the owner polishes it with such care, but just this one look at it and you know. You know it's a strong one - control type, most likely. Most of its parts wouldn't fit Helio Breaker, but you bet you can figure something out with it anyway. You'd probably have the time of your life just playing on it too, a momentary fix before you move on to the next.

You want it. You want it. You want it.


Unlike you, I like to do a bit more scouting than just looking at the B-daman.

This one belongs to a pretty boy. He's blonde and wearing a big poncho and an okay hat. My poncho's cooler. I've got skulls.

So, this kid. He's leaning on the cafe counter, one hand fisted up and on his waist. This pulls his poncho up just enough so everyone in the room can see his B-daman in its holster around his thigh, and believe me, folks are looking. They're itching to pick a fight with him. So am I.

Okay, just watch him, Bull. This kid's asking the owner questions. There's something he wants, something he's looking for. Could be a someone instead. It's a B-daman. He's looking for some legendary B-daman.

Cobalt Blade.

I've never heard of it. I get out of my seat anyway and throw my hood on. He glances over, eyes narrowing because he knows I know something. When I head out the front door, I hear him thank the owner.

"Hey, you there!" he yells, "You know something?"

That's him all right, standing at the end of the alley, staring at me like I'm the answer to all his problems. I grin and pull down my hood. "Who's asking?"

He scowls. "Hurricane Gray."

He says that like I should recognize it. You don't, do you? No, 'course you don't. I don't either. I snort and point Helio Breaker at him. He doesn't even flinch, but I see his fingers twitch. He's dealt with my kind before, but he hasn't dealt with me.

"I'll tell you what I know if you have a battle with me." As soon as I say that, his stance changes. I spot his shoulders tensing under his poncho, his body angling forward with building hostility. Now he's itching for a fight too. I load up a single B-daball. It's for show, of course, who goes around without B-daballs loaded and ready to fight?

"Right." He's fast. I barely see his fingers twitch and he's drawn his B-daman.


It's a really good looking B-daman. You picked a great one.

"Wait," I say, "Before we start, I want to know what you call your blaster."

He doesn't respond for a long moment, just staring at me like I've grown two more heads. His lips thin into a line and his scowl deepens, but then he answers anyway.

"Chrome Zephyr. Who wants to know?"

I bare all my teeth for him when I grin. "The name's Bull. So, Chrome Zephyr, huh? How's this: you win, I tell you what I know. I win, you give your blaster to me."

Another long moment. He's considering it. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, the scales tipping back and forth while he figures out what's worth it and what's not. How badly does he want this information? How much is he willing to give on the chance some stranger in a nasty alley knows what's up? Most importantly, does he think he can win?

If he's even half a real B-daplayer, the answer to that's always yes. He'd be a lame chicken otherwise.

"Fine," he grunts out, his fists tightening around Chrome Zephyr's grip.

Damn, I'm not gonna be able to concentrate with that B-daman right there.

Hey, I've got an idea. What do you think?



I shift my grip, and focus my gaze right on Gray.


I close my eyes and take a deep a breath, and drop away.


"B-DAFIRE!" he roars, ripping into existence in a blaze of rage and fury and lust and passion.

He catches the enemy off guard, just as he always does. The enemy - blonde, shocked, really sexy B-daman - practically leaps back to dodge the flurry of B-daballs he fires. He laughs, just as he always laughs, at the enemy, at the place - nasty alleyway - at being freed to do his thing.

"What the fuck?" Is all the enemy manages to say.

He shoots off another series of B-daballs. No one has ever defeated him, ever. He roars and laughs, dodging the enemy's weak shots, cheering for himself when he nearly catches the enemy.

Nearly isn't enough. He slows the barrage, watching the enemy's reaction. Confusion, good. Slow down, don't be predictable. Make them keep guessing what you're doing next. Oh - this one is smart. This enemy figures him out almost immediately. That's not okay. That's NOT okay.

Back to firing everything so the enemy can't even get a shot in -



"Hey!" someone's shouting at you.

You come to and yawn. What a nice nap you've had.

"Hey, can you hear me?" Someone's shouting at you, and waving a hand in front of your face. You blink a few times, and realize it's someone you don't know.

At least, you don't think you do.

"Oh Bdamage...You're a real piece of work," mutters the someone. He has gold hair and blue eyes, and he's wearing a poncho, just like you. Well, your poncho is way cooler. You've got skulls!

He does have a pretty neat hat, you'll give him that.

"Do I know you?" you ask.

He stares at you.

"Is there something in my teeth?" you try that question instead.

He breathes in, deeply, then slaps one hand onto his face and drags it downward while making a very strange noise. That can't be very healthy.

"Do you even know who you are?" he growls.

"I'm Bull!" you eagerly supply, because yes, you do know who you are. Old Man Borgnine always made sure you knew. "Bull is my name. What's yours?"

"R...right." The other boy starts to back away from you. "Look, I'm Hurricane Gray. We just had a B-dabattle. You promised me you'd tell me what you knew if I won, and hey, I did win, and you lost, so -"



Some fucker is slapping me in the middle of my nap.

So I punch him.

"Ow! The hell is WRONG with you!?"

...Oh right, oops. I grin at Hurricane Gray, who isn't as cool looking when he's stumbling back with a hand over his nose. It's so silly looking I can't help but laugh in his face.

His glare could probably kill any lesser man on the spot.

"Man, you're not really that tough, are you?" I ask. Oh yeah, he hates me.

"Look," he says, voice all weird because he's talking through past his hand. "We had a deal, and I won."

Oh, he did? Lame, guess he was smarter than I thought. I glance down and spot Chrome Zephyr in its holster and, as if guessing what I was doing, Gray pulls his poncho and covers it up.

"Yeah, so?"

"So hold up your end of the deal," he snaps. He's just about at the end of his patience with me. Probably with you too, which is just perfect for me, honestly.

"What was I supposed to tell you again?"

He grinds his teeth. I bet he's wondering why he ever even bothered to come after me now. He's about to regret it even worse.

"Tell me what you know." His tone is a threat, like he's ready to strangle me on the spot.

I can't help it. I laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Bdamage, I haven't laughed this hard since the last time I visited Old Man Borgnine a few years ago and found him covered in as much rust as the chair he died on. He never made it to the scrapheap, or whatever the hell counts as Robot heaven. He's not even good enough for parts.

When I was done laughing, I spat on him to help the rust out.

I don't spit on Gray when I'm done laughing here, but I'm about to trample all over his hopes and dreams.

"Deal's a deal," I start, holding out a hand to Gray. He shifts his glare to it for an uncomfortably long enough time that I just withdraw it and shrug. "But here's the thing, Gray. I'd love to help you out, but you never told me what it was you think I know something about."

I barely dodge his fist.

"Quit screwing around," he snarls, winding up for another punch. "Just tell me about Cobalt Blade!"

"I never said I knew anything about Cobalt Blade."

If you could see the look on his face right now...heh. Whoops, dodged another fist.

"I shouldn't have even wasted my time with you," he hisses. He's all squared shoulders and silent rage and acting like he's too cool to show any more of it when he's already tried to punch me twice. He's too cool to stick around too, given he's already turned away from me and started walking.

"Hey!" I shout at his back. "I'll tell you one thing if you let me hold Chrome Zephyr."

He doesn't even turn to look at me. Ouch. I roll my eyes.

"What, you don't wanna hear about the wild kid who was found holding a B-daman?"

That does it. He stops in his tracks, then looks over his shoulder at me. He's still glaring, because of course he is, but I can tell. He wants to know more. He thinks this might be a lead. I know it's a whole load of baloney that Old Man Borgnine made up to get a horde of orphans to shut up, but he doesn't need to know that.

"I'm listening."

"Chrome Zephyr first."

I hear him inhale, then exhale through gritted teeth. He turns back to me, and draws Chrome Zephyr, but doesn't step any closer.

"No, you don't get to hold it, you big jerk." He raises Chrome Zephyr to eye level, so I'm looking directly at its gorgeous frame. It's really shiny for having just been in a battle. Wonder how often he polishes it?

I try to swipe it. He's ready for me and shoves it back in its holster.

"C'mooon." I make a grab for it, but he's still ready for me. He shoves me away.

"No. You just get to look."

"Fuck you," I mumble. But fine. I'll behave if it means I get to see Chrome Zephyr one more time. I step back and stare at him expectantly until he rolls his eyes and takes it out again.

"If you're done slobbering over my B-daman, tell me about the kid."

"It's just something that happened a few years ago around these parts," I tell him without looking up. There's practically no dust on this machine, what the fuck? That's like impossible to achieve on the western mainland. There's literally nothing but dust and sand out here. "A kid was found out in the wild holding a B-daman. He couldn't talk or do anything like a normal person, but he could battle. Story goes that folks traveled from all over to try and catch him but this kid defeated them all."

I glance up at Gray's face. There's that look again. He's thinking about it, hard. His free hand goes up to his chin. He's thinking about it even harder than the battle.

"That's got to be it," he mumbles, obviously just talking to himself. "Story must come from somewhere..."

"Well before you even think about asking, I dunno where it's from," I tell him. "Just heard it from...someone."

"Who was it?" he demands, the hand around Chrome Zephyr shaking. "Tell me right the hell now."

Old Man Borgnine. I don't say those words. I haven't said them in years. Bull Borgnine, sure, but that other combination with that name. Never.

He hurt you. He doesn't deserve to be remembered.


"What were we talking about?" you ask.

It's that guy again. Hurricane Gray. Oh, look, he's holding up his B-daman for you.

You like it. It's black and red, and looks well cared for. You could take care of it. You reach up to grab it. He's faster and he puts it away in his holster.

"Nothing," he answers, and you can't really read his expression. He reaches up and pulls down his hat rim over his face, before stepping away from you. "Look, why don't you just...go back to that cafe or something."

"Okay!" You don't have anywhere else to be anyway, and you haven't been lucky with getting his B-daman from him. Maybe you'll run into each other again. You hope you do, you want to battle him. He looks kind of strong, and you want to see his B-daman again.

He stares at you like he doesn't really know what to do. He raises a hand, moving it toward you, but stops and backs away instead.

"Whatever," he mutters, turns away, and walks off.

You ponder what to do from here, now that you're alone again. Eventually you decide you want to get back to drifting along like always. There's a lot of fun to be had, just wandering the land. There's towns to visit and B-daman to take. People to battle.

Hello Breaker needs new parts soon. You think you can pick something up at the B-Center the next town over.


Your drifting takes you somewhere old and dusty, where an old rusting Robot sits inert and silent. You kind of remember this place, but you don't want to.

You keep on walking.

In half a year, you'll find a reason to stop.