Chapter 10 — The Sound of Something Breaking
The regional tournament ended the way storms often do.
Not with a single strike—
But with everything giving way at once.
By the final rounds, exhaustion clung to Valt Aoi like sweat.
His launches were slower.His breathing uneven.Valtryek bore fresh scars from battle after battle.
And still—he smiled.
Not because it was easy.
Because he was still standing.
The people who would become the Beyblade Club found him one by one.
They didn't arrive as a group.
They arrived through conflict.
Daigo Kurogami was the first.
Powerful. Direct. Honest.
Their battle was loud—metal screaming as Daigo's heavy attacks forced Valtryek back again and again. Valt nearly lost it early, barely stabilizing after a near-burst.
But instead of panicking, Valt leaned into the pressure.
He didn't overpower Daigo.
He endured him.
When Valtryek finally outlasted Daigo's assault, Daigo laughed—loud and unrestrained.
"You're terrible," he said. "And awesome."
That was how he joined.
Wakiya Murasaki came next.
Speed incarnate.
His Bey danced around Valtryek like a blade on silk, punishing every overcommitment. Valt chased him—and failed. Over and over again.
Until he stopped chasing.
He listened.
Adjusted.
Let Valtryek move instead of forcing it to attack.
The match ended with a narrow win—earned, not gifted.
Wakiya smirked. "You're annoying," he said. "Guess I'll stick around."
Ken Midori—Rantaro's older brother—was different.
Measured. Thoughtful. Observant.
Their battle felt less like a clash and more like a conversation. Ken exposed Valt's weaknesses without cruelty, forcing him to see how far he still had to go.
Valt lost.
And bowed.
"Please," he said earnestly. "Battle me again someday."
Ken smiled.
"That's the right answer."
By the time the dust settled, Straw Street was no longer just a place.
It was a club.
Rantaro nearly cried when everyone signed on.
"We're really doing this," he said. "A real Beyblade Club!"
Valt beamed.
Shu watched quietly.
The final matches of the regional arc arrived.
Pressure mounted.
Crowds thickened.
And Shu's restraint reached its limit.
His semifinal match was flawless.
Too flawless.
Every movement was controlled. Every response precise. Spriggan obeyed without hesitation.
The audience applauded.
Ryuga—watching from the upper shadows—did not.
Shu's breathing was shallow.His grip white-knuckled.His eyes… hollow.
This wasn't mastery anymore.
This was suppression.
In the decisive clash, it finally happened.
A momentary delay.A fraction of a second too much restraint.A correction made too late.
Spriggan staggered.
The impact wasn't catastrophic—
But Shu felt it.
A sharp, internal snap.
Not his Bey.
Himself.
The match ended in victory.
But Shu swayed as he caught Spriggan, chest tight, vision blurring. Applause washed over him like static.
From the darkness, Ryuga closed his eyes.
"So it begins," he murmured.
Lui watched from the summit, unimpressed.
"You're cracking," he thought. "And when you break… I'll be there."
That night, the Beyblade Club gathered under flickering lights, laughing, arguing, planning.
Valt stood in the center, surrounded by friends he'd earned through battle.
"This is just the start!" he said. "We'll get stronger together!"
Shu smiled.
But when he turned away—
His hand trembled.
Rain began to fall again.
Soft. Persistent.
Ryuga stood alone outside the stadium, coat pulled tight, storm calm within him.
The regionals were over.
The club was formed.
The cracks were visible now.
"The next stage won't be forgiving," Ryuga said to the wind.
Storm Dragon answered, low and steady.
The Burst era was accelerating.
And soon—
There would be no more shadows to hide in