Metal City hadn't been this quiet in years.
The echoes of battles still lingered, but they were memories now—no longer loud enough to shake the streets. Where once the roars of the Face Hunters dominated, now there was something different. Something heavier.
Aarav sat in his usual spot at the ramen shop's corner booth. The faint aroma of freshly made veg ramen floated around him as he calmly picked up his chopsticks. The seat opposite him was empty, but not for long.
"Oi, Aarav!" Kenta's energetic voice rang out, cutting through the subdued murmurs of the shop.
Gingka trailed behind, scarf fluttering lazily, flashing his trademark grin as he flopped onto the bench across Aarav. "Took you long enough to order, man. You could've saved us some seats."
"You don't need seats if you're always moving," Aarav replied without looking up, calmly stirring his bowl.
Kenta slid into the side seat, already peeking into Aarav's bowl. "Same old? Veg ramen, huh?"
"Rhythm," Aarav replied, taking a bite.
Kenta blinked. "Rhythm?"
Gingka chuckled, ruffling Kenta's hair. "He means even eating has a rhythm, Kenta."
The shop wasn't packed like it usually was. Bladers used to crowd this place after matches, boasting about wins, shouting challenges across tables. Now, the conversations were quieter, more measured.
But whispers still floated.
"That's Aarav, right?"
"The silent one who spun Kyoya out…"
"And Gingka's the only one who fought him to a draw."
"Two Kings now, huh?"
Aarav didn't react.
Gingka grinned wider, leaning back. "You hear that? They're calling us Kings now."
"I'm not interested," Aarav said, calmly finishing his ramen.
Kenta, ever the middleman, looked between them. "But it's true! You two are the top Bladers now! Everyone's watching, waiting to see who's going to be the real King."
Gingka smirked. "Sounds fun, doesn't it?"
Aarav stood, placing his bowl neatly aside. "Crowds don't spin. I do."
Later at Metal Park, the three of them stood near the public battle arena. The air was different here too.
Bladers weren't rushing to shout challenges. They were watching. Waiting.
Aarav unclipped Phoenix, examining its balance ring with quiet precision. The crowd's murmurs didn't touch him.
Gingka, meanwhile, was casually launching Pegasus into practice rounds, his carefree aura a stark contrast to Aarav's focused presence.
"Ever think about a rematch?" Gingka asked, eyes following Pegasus' spin.
"It's not time," Aarav replied.
Kenta flopped onto a bench nearby, kicking his legs. "Everyone's waiting for that rematch, though. Aarav vs Gingka—the real King match!"
Aarav launched Phoenix with a smooth, quiet motion. The Beyblade spun with a controlled rhythm, unbothered by the watchful eyes.
"That's the thing, Kenta," Gingka said, watching Phoenix spin. "He's not spinning to be a King. He's spinning because that's just who he is."
Kenta frowned. "But then what happens to the city? Without Kyoya roaring, without a King shouting orders—"
"The city spins on its own," Aarav said, his voice calm.
But the unease was there. The city's heartbeat was off-tempo. Two dominant Bladers, both unmatched, yet neither claiming the throne.
Metal City had always known how to follow noise. But now, caught between Gingka's storm energy and Aarav's silent rhythm, it didn't know which pulse to follow.
In the alleys beyond Metal Park, whispers carried.
"Kyoya's gone… but those two are still spinning."
"One crashes through storms. The other doesn't even make a sound."
"The city's waiting to see who makes the next move."
The Bladers weren't used to waiting. Metal City thrived on chaos, yet now it felt… paused. Held in a rhythm where no one dared to break the balance.
And that balance frustrated many.