The night air in Metal City had a different feel after a battle. Not heavy like after Kyoya's storms, not tense like after Tetsuya's chaos—but quiet, balanced, like the city itself had paused to breathe.
The neon lights of Metal Burger Joint, the city's most famous Blader hangout, cast a warm glow against the cool night. Inside, the air was filled with sizzling patties and the low hum of Bladers recounting battles. But tonight, there was no bragging, no shouting—just murmurs, respectful and aware.
At a corner table, Gingka, Kenta, Madoka, and Aarav gathered.
Kenta was animated as usual, gesturing wildly. "Gingka! The way you leveled the sand, that was genius! Tetsuya had no clue what hit him!"
Gingka chuckled, scarf loose around his neck, as he stacked burger buns in a tower. "Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta clean up the battlefield yourself."
Madoka, half amused and half analytical, added, "You adapted to Tetsuya's bounce tactics mid-battle. That's not just instinct—that's rhythm control. The city noticed."
Aarav sat calmly, a burger untouched in front of him. He wasn't one for loud conversations, but his presence held weight. When he spoke, it was never to fill silence—it was to anchor
Gingka leaned back, flashing a grin at Aarav. "You stayed back on purpose, huh? You knew I'd handle it."
Aarav's gaze was steady. "You didn't need me. You knew your spin would cut through."
Madoka smiled. "Metal City's starting to spin differently now. It's not just noise anymore—it's finding its rhythm."
The table shared a quiet moment, the kind that didn't need words. It wasn't victory they were celebrating—it was balance.
"Alright!" Gingka suddenly declared, slapping his palms on the table. "Enough with the serious faces. Time for the real battle. Who's stacking the tallest burger tonight?"
Kenta shot up. "You're on!"
Even Aarav's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, as the group leaned into the silly challenge. In that moment, Metal City didn't feel tense. It felt alive.
Meanwhile, far from the neon lights, under the harsh glare of a lone streetlamp, Benkei stood alone.
Sweat dripped down his brow as he trained relentlessly, Dark Bull spinning fiercely against a worn practice wall. Every charge was precise, every impact fueled by a storm that hadn't been released since Kyoya's departure.
The image of Gingka's battle replayed in his mind. The way Tetsuya's chaos had been dismantled, not by brute force, but by rhythm. It gnawed at Benkei.
"Boss isn't here… but storms are still spinning." His fists clenched tighter around his launcher. "I won't let Face Hunters fade. I'll build my own storm."
Dark Bull rebounded, its spin sharp, unyielding. Benkei adjusted his footwork, matching its rhythm—not through noise, but through sheer will.
His body ached, but his spirit didn't waver. Gingka had set a new standard. Aarav had anchored the city's pulse.
Benkei wasn't aiming to copy them.
He was going to forge his own rhythm, one bull charge at a time.
Elsewhere, in a dimly lit control room, Doji watched silently, the entire battle replaying in a hologram projection. His fingers steepled, eyes scanning every movement, every clash, every pause.
"Tetsuya was a loud crack, easily patched," Doji muttered. "But what's fascinating is how the city mended itself."
The projection zoomed in on Gingka's final attack, then froze on Aarav's expressionless gaze from the sidelines.
"That one… doesn't need to spin to shift the city's pulse. He spins in silence, but his rhythm cages storms and chaos alike."
Doji's smirk sharpened.
"They've grown. Faster than I predicted."
Behind him, a sealed chamber hummed faintly. Though its contents remained unseen, Doji's glance towards it was telling.
"Balance is fragile. It only takes a single crack… from within."
His fingers tapped a button. The hologram faded.
"This balance won't last. The next move will be mine."
Back at the burger joint, the challenge was in full swing. Kenta's burger tower leaned dangerously, Madoka's was a model of precision, and Gingka's, though haphazard, stood defiantly.
Aarav's stack, unsurprisingly, was perfectly balanced—minimal, efficient, and sturdy.
"I guess rhythm applies even to burgers," Gingka joked, nudging Aarav.
Aarav, for once, allowed a brief, genuine smile. "Balance isn't for battles only."
The night felt light, but beneath the laughter, Metal City's pulse was evolving.
Storms still spun. Chaos still lurked.
But rhythm—rhythm had found its hold.