The sky above Wolf Shore didn't know how to stay quiet.
The wind whipped across jagged cliffs, twisting into violent spirals that screamed through the empty valleys. The terrain wasn't made for human presence — loose gravel shifted beneath every step, sharp ridges jutted out like teeth, and the drop-offs promised a long, brutal fall.
But Kyoya Tategami stood amidst it, unmoving, his jacket torn, hair flaring wildly, and lips curled into a grin that the storm couldn't wipe away.
He wasn't bracing against the storm.
He was grinning at it.
In front of him, Rock Leone spun fiercely, its trajectory jagged as it fought against the relentless winds. The blade's tip scraped along loose rocks, yet every wobble was met with a vicious recovery.
"You think this is enough to break me, Doji?" Kyoya muttered, his voice blending with the storm's howl. "This isn't punishment. This is fun."
The storm screamed louder.
Kyoya laughed back.
He launched Leone once more into a rising vortex, watching as his Beyblade vanished into the air's wrath, only to reappear, spinning defiantly as it descended.
Doji had sent him here to be tamed.
But Kyoya had no intention of ever being caged.
Back in Metal City, the storm was quieter. But for Benkei Musashibou, the battle was no less intense.
In a secluded corner of a practice yard, away from the buzz of Metal Plaza, Benkei stood locked into his own rhythm. Dark Bull slammed against reinforced walls again and again. Each launch was powerful, but not wild. His arms moved with precision. His stance had no wasted steps.
Sweat dripped down his brow, but his eyes didn't falter.
He wasn't launching to prove anything to Kyoya.
He wasn't launching to outshine Aarav.
He was launching because he wasn't satisfied with himself.
"Tch," he grunted, retrieving Bull after another sharp impact. "Again."
From a few meters away, Kenta Yumiya watched quietly.
He stood, launching Sagittario into a spin lane near Benkei, matching his rhythm—not by skill, but by effort.
He hadn't said a word when Benkei arrived.
He didn't ask to join him.
He just... stayed close.
It wasn't random.
Ever since watching Benkei's battle with Aarav, Kenta had felt it — the grit Benkei displayed, refusing to crumble even in defeat. Kenta respected that. It wasn't loud or flashy. It was the kind of strength Kenta wanted for himself.
Benkei noticed him, of course.
He always noticed.
But he didn't send Kenta away.
The repetitive thud of Bull meeting the wall continued.
Kenta kept Sagittario spinning beside him, his launches imperfect but timed to match Benkei's tempo.
After several launches, Benkei's voice cut through.
"You don't have to hover around, Kenta. Training with me won't fix your weak spin."
Kenta launched Sagittario again, his grip steady. "I saw your match with Aarav. You didn't lose like the others. You spun through till the end."
Benkei's eyes narrowed, though he didn't turn.
Kenta continued, his tone calm, genuine. "I want to battle you someday. Not now. But when I can keep up."
Benkei let out a small huff, launching Bull sharply.
"Tch. Big words, kid."
Kenta smiled. "You'll see."
Benkei didn't answer immediately. But as he retrieved Bull and reset his stance, there was a small, unmistakable smirk.
"Just don't slow me down."
Back at Wolf Shore, the storm had worsened.
Kyoya crouched low, the ground beneath him trembling as he launched Leone into the heart of the vortex once more.
His arms were sore, his legs strained from bracing, but his grin was wider than ever.
"This is it, Leone. This is how we sharpen ourselves."
The storm wasn't an opponent to defeat.
It was an opponent to tame.
Leone spun into the violent current, and for a moment, Kyoya saw it — a flash of Leone's spirit, roaring back against nature itself.
"You don't command me, Doji."
Kyoya's voice, rough and wild, cut through the chaos.
"I command the storm."
The day wore on.
Benkei and Kenta continued their silent training, launching side by side.
The rhythm wasn't forced.
It wasn't coordinated.
It just happened.
From across the practice yard, a cocky Blader approached, his tone laced with mockery. "Didn't know babysitting was part of Blader training, Benkei. Or are you teaching him how to lose quietly?"
Kenta's fingers flexed on his launcher.
He didn't respond. He didn't need to.
But before the challenger could press further, Benkei's voice rang out, low but sharp.
"You've got a problem with how we train?"
The Blader paused.
Benkei wasn't posturing.
He wasn't shouting.
He was just standing there, launcher resting casually on his shoulder, gaze steady, unblinking.
That was enough.
The challenger muttered under his breath and backed off.
Kenta's grin was quiet. "Knew you had my back."
Benkei retrieved Bull, resetting for another launch. "Don't read into it. I just don't like noise."
Kenta chuckled, launching Sagittario beside him.
Their spins continued in sync.
No declaration of teams.
No forced camaraderie.
Just rhythm.
At Wolf Shore, night had begun to fall.
The storm didn't care.
Kyoya stood, exhausted but not defeated, staring at the storm as if daring it to do more.
Leone spun at his feet, defiant, its path no longer dictated by the chaotic winds.
This wasn't survival.
This was domination.
With one final launch, Kyoya sent Leone tearing into the heart of the vortex, and for the first time, the storm seemed to bend.
Kyoya's grin widened into a roar.
"I'll tame this storm myself!"
The wind didn't answer.
But Leone's spin did.
As evening settled over Metal City, Benkei and Kenta packed up their launchers.
They sat on a low wall, catching their breath. The day's training had been intense, but not tiring. It was... fulfilling.
Kenta broke the silence, adjusting his grip on Sagittario. "Hey, Benkei… do you ever think about joining a team again?"
Benkei snorted. "Teams are overrated. They just slow you down."
Kenta smiled. "Yeah, but hanging around you doesn't feel slow at all."
Benkei huffed, but didn't push him away.
He stood up, stretching. "If you're going to keep hanging around, you better fix that weak spin of yours."
Kenta's grin widened. "Deal. But don't blame me when Sagittario outspins Bull."
Benkei's smirk was sharp. "Tch. I'll believe it when I see it."
They walked back towards the city, not as partners, not as rivals — but as two Bladers spinning forward on their own pace.
No declarations.
No forced bonds.
Just their pace.