When Atlas was younger, he was the world's biggest BeyBlade fan, he was absolutely sure of it. Every morning before school, he'd be sat in his school uniform in front of his old television, watching the episodes intently.
It didn't matter if he had seen an episode before, he'd eagerly rewatch it, practically memorizing the dialogue until it was second nature to repeat it.
Whenever he couldn't watch the show, he spent his time imagining himself in that world, being a Bey Mechanic like Madoka and a blader, being one of the strongest alongside Ryuga & Gingka.
He absolutely loved all of the characters, but he had to admit, season 3, Metal Fury, was a letdown. Although he was still very young when it came out, and he wasn't a critic, even the young him could tell it wasn't that good of a season.
He disliked almost everything about Metal Fury, as it was just too rushed, but there was one particular character and Bey he liked, Dynamis.
He was a Huge Dynamis fan, thinking the character was underused, and Atlas thought his Bey, Jade Jupiter S130RB, was amazing and underused, and it was the favorite Bey he had gotten after saving up from mowing lawns.
As he reached his teenage years, Atlas got more invested in BeyBlade. He loved being a Bey Mechanic, even if these BeyBlades were made out of plastic, he learned about the parts as much as he could, wanting to learn how to make custom parts, custom beys, cleaning beys and more.
However, all of that amazing passion for BeyBlade had come to an end.
Why?
BECAUSE HE WAS DEAD!!!!
Seriously, he was a BeyBlade fan, yet somehow truck-kun had found its way to him, taking him out as he was walking his dog.
At least his dog lived, hopefully Ash would live a long life without him.
After that, he was in a void of darkness for who knows long. Maybe an hour, maybe 600 trillion years. He lost track of time immediately, and maybe that was magic.
Atlas wasn't sure when the darkness ended.
One moment, he was drifting in the immense void of nothingness, weightless, thoughtless and timeless. The next, he felt gravity press against him, air filling his lungs in a sharp inhale. His eyes snapped open.
Immediately, he was barraged by a variety of senses, and he instinctually brought his hand to cover his face, blocking the warm sunlight from hitting him directly in the eyes.
He blinked once, twice and a couple more times all the way until the world came into focus, and the first thing he spotted was a ceiling, smooth and familiar but unfamiliar at the same time.
"Huh," he muttered, looking around as he spotted a bedroom, neat and organized with the exception of a desk in the corner with scattered BeyBlade diagrams, metal tools, drafting pencils, and a small notebook filled with handwriting that was distinctly his, except he had never written that before.
Or had he?
Atlas sat up slowly. His body moved differently than he remembered, lighter, stronger. His muscles felt toned in a way sixteen-year-old him had only dreamed of, the kind of athleticism that came from years of disciplined training.
"Did I take a Super-Soldier Serum?" He said, walking to the full-body glass in the room and raising his pajama top above his abdomen, revealing some firm abs that he never had in his prior life.
"Good enough, call me Bootleg Steve Rogers," he muttered with a smile on his face, raising his hand once more and looking at it more intently now.
These weren't his old hands, these ones were slimmer and more refined. The fingers carried an instinctive steadiness, the hands of someone who grew up learning precision from scientist parents… and yet, deep in his soul, he knew these were also the same hands that used to struggle opening a new booster pack as a kid.
The realization hit him like a stadium knockout.
"I... I'm Atlas," he whispered "Atlas Kurosawa."
Memories, two lifetimes worth, flooded him in a warm rush. Memories of his past self, and his present self. His various dreams, relentless passions, his childhood watching BeyBlade every morning before school.
His time spent fixing cheap plastic tops in his bedroom. His death. His arrival in the void.
And this life, a new life. Atlas Kurosawa, a kid of two scientists who traveled the world with them, learning quite a-lot. His parents weren't big bladers, but they were very intelligent, and doted on their son quite a-bit, buying him anything he asked for.
All of this led him to one conclusion.
He hadn't replaced anyone or stolen anyone's body. He also wasn't trapped in someone else's body.
He was Atlas Kurosawa. He had always been Atlas Kurosawa.
He had simply… awakened, the memories of his past life finally being unlocked. His breathing steadied as more knowledge slid gently into his mind, like a whisper from beyond.
A Beyblade world…
…but not that Beyblade world.
No Nemesis. No Rago. No catastrophic planet-threatening chaos. No destiny of destruction looming over the horizon.
This universe was peaceful, competitive, lively, full of battles and spirited Bladers, but without the looming shadow from Metal Fury that had always felt rushed, forced, and half-finished.
This world was simpler, and Atlas liked that. He let out a shaky laugh, biting back the urge to cry or scream or both. Relief washed through him like warm water.
"No Nemesis… so this time, I can just… live," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I can be a Mechanic. A Blader. A friend. I can… finally enjoy Beyblade the way I always wanted to in my dreams. Holy shit, I can blow up a building with my BeyBlade,"
His heart fluttered with excitement. A soft glow of lavender seemed to pulse in his hair for an instant, his soul reacting to the realization of identity, and freedom.
Then, as if guided by instinct and a lifetime of reverence, he reached to his waist. His fingers brushed metal, touching the launcher and bey-holder that hung at his side.
He quickly clicked it open, and picked up his BeyBlade extremely carefully, his breath hitching as he stared at it,
Jade Jupiter S130RB.
Not the plastic one he'd bought with lawnmower money. Not the show model that barely got screen time despite being vastly more entertaining than other Legendary Bladers like Chris or Yuki.
His Jupiter. It was given to him by his parents the day before for his 16th birthday, a mysterious bey they had been given by an archaeologist who found it on an expedition. His parents had researched it and saw its potential, so gave it to Atlas for his birthday.
It was certainly a coincidence, but with everything that happened, Atlas had to accept this was probably the work of some higher being setting up his life, so he just took it all in stride.
They BeyBlade felt so special in his hand, metal, weighty, perfect, balanced, beautiful. He stared at the Face Bolt that depicted Zeus, the Greek God of the Sky & Thunder, and smiled, exhaling softly to calm his immense excitement.
"Hey there, Jupiter… long time no see," he whispered, brushing his thumb over the Fusion Wheel. The metal balls inside clicked gently, shifting with soft metallic music. "Looks like we finally get to do this… right."
His chest warmed. He wasn't scared anymore. He wasn't lost. He wasn't dead.
He was alive, with a future that belonged to him, one where he could fix Beyblades, create custom parts, help Bladers, and battle for the joy of it.
Unlike the boredom of his old life on Earth, In this world, he'd have all the benefits of technology, but with also the immense satisfaction that comes from being in the BeyBlade Metal Saga world.
A life where he could meet Gingka, Madoka, Hikaru, Tsubasa, Ryuga… not as a spectator, but as someone who belonged in their world.
A world where he could build, learn, and grow without cosmic annihilation breathing down his neck. A world where Jade Jupiter could finally shine.
Atlas stood from his bed, sliding Jupiter back into its holder. He grinned as he spoke, "Alright," he said to no one except the universe that had given him a second chance. "From today on… this life is mine. And I'm going to enjoy every bit of it."
With that, Atlas Kurosawa took his first step into his new, peaceful Beyblade world.