Metal City didn't change overnight, but its pulse had shifted.
Tetsuya's defeat wasn't just a battle result; it was a message. The city had grown used to storms and chaos dictating the pace, but now, whispers of rhythm control were spreading through its alleys, parks, and stadiums. Bladers weren't just practicing wild, heavy strikes anymore. Some of them started to pay attention to their spin flow, their timing, their balance.
Yet, Metal City was restless. The silence after chaos always felt unnatural. Something—or someone—would eventually try to disrupt it again. But for now, the city spun in a fragile balance.
At Metal Park, the heart of Blader practice, Gingka, Aarav, Kenta, and Madoka stood around a practice stadium, their bond quietly growing stronger with each spin.
Kenta launched his Beyblade with enthusiasm, though his form was still a bit rough. "Alright! This time, I'll hold my rhythm, just like Aarav showed me!"
His blade spun decently, but a wobble appeared quickly.
Gingka watched, grinning. "Not bad, Kenta. You're starting to feel the spin flow."
Aarav, standing nearby with Phoenix clipped at his side, didn't comment. He didn't need to. His eyes, sharp and steady, were fixed on Kenta's blade, analyzing every tilt, every imbalance. When Kenta's blade slowed, Aarav's hand lifted subtly, signaling a small correction in Kenta's launching posture.
Madoka observed with her device, smiling. "It's amazing how quickly the city's adapting. A few days ago, no one cared about spin rhythm. Now, even beginners are trying to control their flow."
Gingka stretched his arms, his trademark grin lighting up. "That's because battles are more than just hits now. Rhythm feels… fun."
Kenta nodded excitedly. "Yeah! It's like… I'm not just battling the other Beyblade—I'm syncing with the stadium too!"
Aarav's gaze shifted to Gingka. "Storms can spin wild, but even storms follow a rhythm."
Gingka laughed. "Well, I'm still learning to tame the storm, but I'll get there."
Madoka checked the readings. "If you keep pushing like this, Metal City's battling style is going to change for good."
Aarav didn't respond. He didn't need to. The way Phoenix spun in his grip was enough.
Meanwhile, not far from the main city square, Benkei Musashibou trained alone, his figure hunched forward as Dark Bull spun across a battered practice wall. The usual Benkei—the loud, brash, face-hunter leader—was gone. The Benkei who remained was quieter, focused, his movements deliberate.
"Dark Bull… Uppercut—again!" His voice wasn't shouting orders; it was refining commands.
Bull charged, hitting the wall with a precise upward strike, kicking up dust but not losing balance. Benkei's expression tightened, analyzing every recoil, every shift in Bull's rotation.
The image of Gingka's battle against Tetsuya replayed in his mind. He had seen the way rhythm controlled the battlefield. He respected it. But Benkei wasn't going to copy Gingka—or Aarav. He was going to forge his own rhythm, built on the raw strength of Dark Bull, but sharpened with precision.
"Boss Kyoya isn't here to lead Face Hunters… but I'm not waiting for someone else to take Metal City's pulse. If Gingka can spin through storms, I'll break through with my own force… controlled."
He launched again. This time, Dark Bull's Uppercut connected perfectly, the recoil minimal, the follow-through smooth.
Benkei smirked. "Not bad. I'll make sure this city doesn't forget how to respect the bull's spin."
As the sun dipped lower, the city's light buzz settled into a softer hum. The rhythm held, but the tension of 'what comes next' loomed in the air.
At Metal Park, Gingka and Aarav continued to spar—Phoenix's precise flow against Pegasus's storm-heavy patterns. The clashes weren't explosive like before, but calculated, tactical.
Madoka's eyes lit up as she analyzed their spins. "You're not overpowering each other anymore. You're syncing, adapting. This is real Blading."
Kenta watched in awe, his fists clenched. "I wanna be able to spin like that too…"
Aarav's Phoenix countered one of Pegasus's attacks with a silent shift, subtly adjusting its spin angle, causing Pegasus's storm to redirect rather than clash head-on.
Gingka laughed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You're making me work for every spin, Aarav."
Aarav's expression didn't change, but his grip on the launcher told Gingka all he needed. The storm wasn't being caged—it was being taught to spin sharper.
As the city adjusted to its new pulse, at Metal City's entrance, a lone figure stood observing.
Hikaru Hasama.
Her arms crossed, eyes sharp, posture straight. She watched from a distance as Bladers practiced noisily, sloppily, spinning without rhythm. The crudeness of their form made her lips press into a thin line.
"Metal City spins too loudly," she muttered under her breath. "No precision."
She had heard whispers of Aarav's rise, of Gingka's evolving storm, of battles that didn't rely on brute noise but on rhythm. That had piqued her curiosity.
Hikaru wasn't here to disrupt. She was here to enforce.
She watched as a group of Bladers tangled their Beyblades in a chaotic free-for-all, their lack of technique making her frown deepen. "Battles are meant to reflect discipline. This city's forgotten that."
She didn't announce her arrival. She didn't need to. Metal City would soon realize the presence of someone who didn't tolerate chaos masked as battling spirit.
For now, she simply observed.
But soon, Metal City would feel the sharp edge of rhythm enforcement.