Morning sunlight spilled across the classroom windows.
The hum of the city tournament had faded a little.
By now, no one was talking about what had already happened. They were all thinking about what came next.
The lesson started like any other. Pages turned, pencils scratched. The quiet rhythm almost felt peaceful.
Valt sat a few rows ahead, tapping his pencil against his desk. For once, he wasn't talking, but you could tell he was itching to. His notes were messy, but his focus was real.
When the teacher stepped out for a moment, Shu leaned slightly toward him. "Something on your mind?"
Valt blinked. "Yeah. I've been working on my Rush Launch again. I finally got it to ride the ridge clean, but it still bounces after the third hit. I can feel it slipping."
"That's because you're forcing it," Shu said. "You push too much power into the launch instead of syncing with the rhythm."
Valt grinned. "You sound like Ryo now. He says the same thing every time I mess up."
Shu smiled faintly. "That's because he's right."
Valt looked back toward me. "So what's the trick then? You ever just lose it mid-launch?"
"Sometimes," I said.
He laughed. "Good! That makes me feel a lot better. But when it works... wow. You can feel it, right? Like everything connects at once."
"Timing," I said.
Valt nodded. "Exactly. Timing. I'm getting there."
The bell rang, and the class emptied into the hallway.
Outside, the noise picked up again bits of chatter about brackets, training halls, and the weekend schedule.
I walked beside Shu while Valt trailed behind, still muttering to himself about angle adjustments.
"You're already thinking about your next opponent," Shu said quietly.
"Hayato Renji," I answered. "Attack type."
He nodded. "Fast and direct. If you try to read him, he'll overrun you."
"I'm not planning to read him," I said.
Shu understood. "You'll react instead."
"Exactly."
Valt caught up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "You two are doing that secret telepathic thing again, huh?"
"There's no secret," I said.
"Sure there is," Valt said with a grin. "You just don't tell me."
Shu smiled. "Maybe you talk too loud to notice."
Valt laughed. "Ha! Fair. But you'll see next round, Valtryek's hitting every rush perfectly. The ridge, the rebound, everything. No wasted movement."
"I'll be watching," I said.
During lunch, the courtyard buzzed with noise.
Tables were crowded with bladers comparing parts and arguing over launcher mods no one would ever actually use.
I sat under a tree with my notebook open not school notes, just patterns. Launch paths, impact angles, timing lines.
A shadow fell over the page.
"Still studying?" Shu asked, sitting beside me.
"It helps me think."
He looked at the sketches, then back at me. "You really don't stop."
"I can't afford to," I said. "Every opponent's different. One mistake and it's over."
Shu nodded slightly. "You remind me of someone I used to know."
"Someone good?"
"The best."
We sat in silence, watching a group practice nearby.
One blader caught my attention—a boy with orange-tinted hair and a sharp, balanced stance. His Bey struck the ridge so hard the stadium shook, yet his form never faltered.
"Hayato Renji," Shu said quietly. "Your next match."
I watched as his Bey slowed. The spin was steady, confident.
He caught it cleanly, turned, noticed us watching, and gave a small smirk.
"Guess I'll be seeing you soon," he said.
I met his eyes. "Yeah."
He walked off, calm and sure.
Shu exhaled. "He's fast."
"I noticed," I said, closing my notebook.
The wind moved lightly through the courtyard trees.
Everything felt still again not calm, but balanced.
Hayato's voice lingered in my mind.
The next match wasn't just another round. It was the start of something sharper, faster.
I tightened my grip on Drago's launcher case.
The storm was coming.
Morning came quietly.
The streets around Beycoma were still half asleep, the air cool and heavy with early fog.
By the time I left the dorm, the sound of spinning Beys could already be heard faintly from the distance practice matches in the warm-up halls, bladers chasing rhythm before the real battles began.
I walked toward the station with my bag slung over my shoulder, the case at my side.
Every few steps, the dull clatter of launchers echoed from somewhere nearby.
It wasn't noise anymore; it was rhythm. The sound of focus.
At the platform, Shu was waiting. His posture was calm, hands in his pockets, eyes tracing the morning sky.
Valt stood beside him, barely still, bouncing lightly on his heels.
"You're early," I said.
Shu glanced over. "So are you."
Valt grinned. "Didn't sleep much. Too excited. I kept replaying my last match in my head I think I finally got the perfect launch angle."
"You say that every time," Shu said.
"Yeah, but this time I mean it," Valt laughed.
The train arrived with a low hum. We stepped inside, the doors sliding shut behind us.
The ride was short but silent, the scenery passing in flashes of light and motion.
When we reached the BeyMall station, the atmosphere shifted.
You could feel the energy in the air posters on every wall, music echoing from the atrium, the sound of metal clashing in the distance.
Crowds were already gathering. Some kids held their Bey cases tight; others had cameras ready.
The screens above flashed live brackets and replays from earlier matches.
Valt whistled. "This place never gets old. It's like the whole city's spinning."
Shu looked toward the stage area. "You're up in the afternoon, right?"
"Yeah," Valt said. "I'll be around to watch Ryo first."
I gave a short nod. "Top sixteen starts in ten minutes."
We found the waiting area near the side entrance.
Rows of bladers were seated along the wall, each locked in their own world no noise, just quiet breathing and the steady click of launchers being checked again and again.
I sat down, opening Drago's case.
The red and gold layer caught the light perfectly, the metallic shine reflecting the overhead beams.
I tightened the driver and spun it once in my palm smooth, balanced, alive.
Shu crouched beside me. "You've already got a plan?"
"No plan," I said. "Just rhythm."
He nodded. "Hayato likes to open with fast combos. He'll hit early, try to overwhelm you."
"I know."
"Then don't let him set the tempo."
I closed the case and stood. "I won't."
Valt smiled, resting his hands behind his head. "Man, you two sound like strategists. I'd be terrified to battle either of you."
Shu gave him a small look. "You already have."
Valt laughed. "Yeah, and I survived!"
The call came through the speakers:
"Next match Ryo versus Hayato Renji. Competitors to the main stadium."
The three of us exchanged quick glances.
Shu stood, giving a single nod. "Focus."
Valt grinned. "Go show him what real timing looks like!"
I walked out toward the stage.
The lights were bright too bright but the sound of the crowd faded into the background.
All that remained was the steady beat of footsteps and the soft weight of Drago's launcher in my hand.
Hayato was already there, spinning his Bey between his fingers. His expression was easy, confident.
"Didn't think I'd get to face you this soon," he said.
"You were looking forward to it?" I asked.
"Of course. I like testing limits."
"Then I'll give you one."
He smiled, stepping into position. "Let's see if you can keep up."
The referee raised his hand.
The crowd noise swelled into one single roar.
I took a breath, shoulders still, focus narrowing to the stadium in front of me.
Every thought went silent.
"Three," the referee called.
Hayato gripped his launcher tight.
"Two."
Drago clicked into place.
"One."
Both our voices rang out together
"Let it rip!"
And everything exploded into motion.