"Let it rip!"
The shout echoed, and in that instant, the entire stadium held its breath.
Two Beyblades tore across the launch ramp.
Dark Bull H145SD blasted forward with a solid, grounded rotation, its weight evident in every inch of its spin. Opposite it, Eternal Phoenix glided with a smooth, calculated burst, its fiery edges cutting through the air without wasting a single motion.
The collision was instant.
A sharp crack of metal on metal. Sparks flared. The impact sent a shudder through the stadium floor.
The first clash was not a test. It was a declaration.
Benkei's grip on his launcher tightened as the feedback of the clash echoed in his palms. Dark Bull met Phoenix head-on, not yielding an inch, the sheer force of his launch refusing to buckle under Phoenix's graceful assault.
But Aarav's Phoenix wasn't phased either. It spun with precise rhythm, absorbing the shock, its rotation line unshaken, as if it had anticipated the collision from the start.
As the blades disengaged and circled again, Benkei's mind was sharp.
"This isn't going to be a battle of overwhelming him. He won't fall to brute force."
His thoughts drifted back.
Days Earlier — In the Warehouse, After Kyoya Left.
The warehouse was empty now. The noise had left with the helicopter that carried Kyoya and Doji into the sky. The Face Hunters had scattered, unsure of what remained.
But Benkei stayed behind.
The vast space was quiet, the dust still unsettled from the earlier chaos. Alone, Benkei stood in front of a practice wall, launcher in hand. Dark Bull slammed against the concrete, rebounding with each strike. But unlike before, these charges were no longer wild.
Each Bull Swing was deliberate. Each recoil was met with a measured footstep, adjusting his stance. There was no shouting. No bravado. Just the sound of a Blader who had been broken enough times to understand that strength needed control.
He remembered Kyoya walking away. He remembered how powerless he felt when he couldn't keep up.
He remembered every loss.
He remembered the silence that followed every defeat.
He wasn't going to be the Blader who only roared and charged blindly.
He was going to spin with weight that meant something.
It was then, as the echoes of his training reverberated, that Doji appeared.
Not dramatically. No mocking smile. Just quiet footsteps echoing against the walls.
Benkei noticed him but didn't stop his routine.
Only after the next charge, as Dark Bull came to a halt near his feet, did Doji approach.
Without a word, Doji extended a small, heavy case.
Benkei looked down. He didn't ask why.
Inside: Dark Bull H145SD—heavier, reinforced, built for raw impact, but only usable by someone who had learned to control it.
Doji's words were brief. "This Bull has more weight than you're used to. If your swing is still wild, it'll crush you. But if you've sharpened it, it'll carry you through. Use it. Not for me. For yourself."
Benkei didn't reply.
He accepted the Beyblade.
He wasn't doing this for Doji.
He wasn't doing this for Kyoya.
This was about giving himself the right to stand tall in a stadium again.
"This Bull isn't Doji's gift. It's my challenge."
The present.
Dark Bull surged forward for a second strike.
This time, Benkei wasn't aiming for a head-on collision.
He pivoted the launch vector, using Bull's weight to create a rotational uppercut, a rising strike designed to knock Phoenix off its balanced axis.
Phoenix countered, shifting its angle in a delicate spiral, absorbing the strike with a feathered glide, reducing Bull's upward force into a sliding rebound.
The clash didn't explode. It bent.
The audience could feel the weight of the exchanges. These weren't wild attacks. They were tactical impacts.
Madoka's device beeped softly. "Benkei's Uppercut angle has tightened by three degrees. He's holding it deliberately."
Kenta clenched his fists. "Benkei's not going all out. He's… aiming?"
Gingka's grin sharpened. "Told you. He's not swinging wild anymore."
From the sidelines, Hikaru watched, arms folded, eyes narrowed. She had dismissed Benkei as a brute before, but now she was curious. He wasn't battling like someone who wanted to overwhelm. He was battling like someone who wanted to stand.
The Beyblades clashed again.
This time, Phoenix took the initiative.
Aarav's command wasn't vocalized, but his subtle wrist movement sent Phoenix into a controlled spiral dive, slipping under Bull's rotational path.
Bull's counter-response was sharp. Benkei adjusted, launching a side-angled recoil to block Phoenix's advance.
The stadium sparked again.
Neither Beyblade yielded
Inside Benkei's mind, his thoughts were clear.
"He's not reacting to my charges. He's spinning to guide them. Every attack I launch, he absorbs, shifts, and controls."
But this wasn't discouraging.
It was invigorating.
He hadn't trained to outsmart Aarav.
He had trained to meet him.
"I won't stop his rhythm. But I'll make sure my Bull doesn't break."
The battle continued, each clash sharper, more intense.
Every time Bull charged, Phoenix met it with minimal yet effective counters.
But Benkei wasn't being baited. He wasn't falling into reckless patterns.
Madoka's device continued to log the data. "Their spin control is identical. Aarav's Phoenix is redirecting impact vectors, but Benkei's Bull isn't losing spin velocity. He's matching Aarav's rhythm through raw balance."
Gingka's eyes lit up. "He's making Aarav spin on his terms too."
Kenta couldn't take his eyes off the battle.
The next clash was different.
As Bull surged forward, Aarav shifted Phoenix into a defensive glide, but Benkei anticipated it. He lowered Bull's angle mid-charge, creating a grounded rebound that trapped Phoenix's path into a closed arc.
It was a bold move.
Forcing Phoenix into a closed arc meant Aarav couldn't redirect the impact. He would have to confront it.
The collision was loud.
For the first time in the battle, Phoenix's spin line shifted.
It wasn't a clean counter.
From the side, Hikaru's eyes flickered.
"Not bad," she murmured.
Benkei felt the shift.
He wasn't winning.
But for the first time, Aarav had to adjust.
This was no longer a battle of breaking rhythm.
This was a battle of who could maintain their spin when forced into the other's flow.