Scene: Burning Jealousy
(Continuation)
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Shu sat in his office, unmoving. The room had gone still as glass, the only sound being the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the low murmur of the television playing the same news clip on loop.
Valt Aoi in America.
Valt Aoi walking beside Kristin Castillo.
Valt Aoi—smiling, glowing, laughing.
Not beside him.
Fubuki and Lane exchanged glances, sensing the coiling tension rising in their normally composed mentor. Lane, sharp as ever, took one step back. Fubuki stayed frozen by the door.
"Sensei…?" Fubuki asked quietly.
Still nothing.
Shu's crimson eyes were narrowed, locked on the screen like they could burn a hole through it. His fingers had clenched into fists on the armrest of his chair. His knuckles were pale.
There was a look in his eyes that neither of his students had seen before—not in training, not during tournaments, not even in his brief Red Eye days.
It was something… deeply personal.
Possessive.
Wounded.
And molten with jealousy.
> "Kristin Castillo and Valt Aoi were seen arriving together. Sources say the BC Sol founder and the World Champion will be working closely during their stay in Los Angeles—"
That sentence made Shu's jaw twitch.
Kristin.
Of all people. Kristin.
He'd known her back when he was a blader traveling with Valt—charming, poised, always hovering near Valt during BC Sol's events like some queen bee protecting her golden prize. And Valt, clueless and warm-hearted as ever, welcomed her affection and attention like it was no big deal.
But to Shu…
Even back then, he'd hated the way she looked at Valt.
And the way Valt smiled back.
Now she's flying into America with him?
Now she gets to be at his side, again, while Shu doesn't even get a damn message?
Shu suddenly stood up, his chair skidding slightly behind him.
"Three days," he muttered aloud, voice low and bitter. "He's been planning this for three days, and not a single word."
Fubuki flinched. Lane tilted his head, analyzing silently.
Shu began pacing—slow, stiff steps like a caged lion whose territory had just been invaded.
"He could've texted," he growled. "One message. A call. Anything. I would've picked up in seconds."
His hands shook at his sides, but he barely noticed.
"He tells me everything. Always has. Why not now?" he muttered, more to himself than to his students. "Why does Kristin get to be the one by his side? Why does she—why does she know and I don't?"
He stopped in front of the wall, jaw tightening. His reflection stared back faintly in the glass of the cabinet—disheveled, eyes sharp with something he hated to name.
Jealousy.
Ugly, boiling jealousy.
And it wasn't just about Kristin.
It was about the whole world knowing before him.
It was about Valt—his Valt—coming here, to his turf, and not even acknowledging him.
He didn't realize he had spoken aloud again until Fubuki said softly, "Sensei… are you alright?"
Shu turned, but not angrily.
His voice was tight, clipped. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't.
Not when memories of Valt's laughter haunted his ears.
Not when he could still picture Valt's smile—sweet, soft, and once meant only for him—now shining freely in a different light, beside a different person.
A part of him whispered:
Maybe he doesn't need you anymore.
Maybe you're not part of his world now.
He quickly shut that voice out.
No.
Valt wouldn't do that.
Would he?
Still, the silence between them now felt loud.
And Kristin's presence beside Valt in every frame was a burning ember shoved into Shu's ribs.
He finally ran a hand through his hair, then muttered under his breath, "If he thinks I'll ignore this… he's sorely mistaken."
Fubuki blinked. "You're… going to see him?"
Shu's lips twitched—not quite a smile. Not quite a snarl.
"I don't know yet," he said softly, "but if Valt wants to pretend I don't exist, then fine. Let's see how long that lasts."
His students stayed quiet.
Because the bloody red storm had only just begun to stir.
---
Scene: The Calm Before the Collision
(Continuation)
---
Early Morning — The Grand Rosemont Hotel, Los Angeles
Soft sunlight crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite, casting golden streaks over the luxury bedding and velvet furnishings. The city was just beginning to stir beneath them, but within the grand suite, the air was already warm with anticipation.
The world champion had a long day ahead.
In the bathroom, behind a wall of fogged-up mirrors and the scent of mint shampoo, Valt Aoi stepped out of the glass shower, towel slung low around his waist. He ran a hand through his soaked blue locks, water dripping down his bare, toned frame—chiseled from years of relentless training, discipline, and blading.
There was a quiet rhythm to his morning routine now. Elegance had joined the chaos of his earlier years.
After drying off, he slipped into the outfit laid out on the ottoman at the end of his bed.
A fitted black dress shirt—tailored to accentuate the sharp lines of his shoulders and slim waist. The top two buttons remained undone, revealing just a hint of collarbone and the silver chain he always wore beneath. Paired with it, black trousers that hugged just right, tucked perfectly into polished black shoes.
His signature blue hair was left untied today, cascading just past his ears in soft waves, damp but already drying into an effortlessly stylish mess.
Valt looked into the mirror and adjusted the collar slightly. He blinked at his reflection, almost unfamiliar with the man staring back.
"Guess this is what a world-class representative is supposed to look like," he muttered with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck.
Just then, there was a knock.
"Valt?" came Kristin's voice. "You up? It's almost time."
"Yeah, come in!" he called casually, still fixing the cuffs of his shirt.
The door opened—and Kristin entered, expecting the usual sight of Valt in some half-buttoned jacket or messy casualwear.
Instead, she stopped mid-step.
There he was.
A breathtaking blend of power and poise.
From the perfectly tailored shirt to the way his hair framed his sharp features, Valt Aoi looked like he had walked out of a high-end magazine shoot. Beautiful. Confident. Radiating quiet strength. Not the goofy boy she once mentored, but a grown man the entire world admired—and maybe, just maybe, a little more than admired.
Kristin blinked—her cheeks tinged with an involuntary pink.
He didn't notice. Valt was too busy straightening the watch on his wrist.
"You're finally here," he said, looking up and tossing her a grin. "Go get ready, will you? We can't afford to be late, and you're the one who said we have to represent BC Sol with pride."
Kristin blinked out of her daze, coughing lightly. "Y-Yes, of course. I just— I didn't expect you to… look like that this morning."
"Huh?" he asked, distracted as he checked the meeting location on his phone.
"Nothing," she said quickly, waving it off, walking backwards out the door. "I'll be ready in ten."
As soon as she turned the corner, she exhaled deeply.
"Who told him he could glow up like this?!" she thought, fanning herself slightly.
Back in the suite, Valt threw his blazer over one shoulder and glanced toward the morning skyline.
BUT.
He had no idea the kind of storm waiting for him today.
Not in the boardroom.
Not at WBBA.
And definitely not from the crimson-eyed man he hadn't dared to face in far too long.
---