Tokyo was loud.
It was a constant, overlapping static of train crossing bells, digital billboards playing advertisements on loop, and thousands of footsteps hitting the pavement at once. For Ryu O'Hara, the sheer volume the city provided was almost overwhelming, but it was organized chaos. Traffic lights dictated the flow of movement. Pedestrians subconsciously adjusted their walking speeds to avoid collisions. It was a massive.
Ryu stepped out of a brightly lit confectionary shop, holding a small triumph in his right hand. It was a limited-edition Black Sesame and Hokkaido Milk swirl cone, topped with a delicate piece of honeycomb. The sign inside had loudly declared it to be the final batch of the day.
He took a careful step out of the doorway, raising the cone. The structural integrity of the swirl was perfect. The temperature was optimal. He opened his mouth.
A blur of blue and yellow slammed into his left shoulder.
The kinetic transfer was immediate. Ryu stumbled back half a step, his balance easily correcting itself, but his right hand was jolted. Gravity took over.
The Black Sesame and Hokkaido Milk swirl detached from the cone, falling in a slow, agonizing arc before splattering against the hot concrete sidewalk.
Ryu stood completely frozen. He didn't look at the person who had hit him. He just stared down at the melting puddle of black and white ice cream, the honeycomb piece rapidly dissolving into the pavement.
"Oh, man! I am so, so sorry!"
Ryu finally shifted his gaze. The culprit was a boy around his age with wildly spiked blue hair, wearing a red short-sleeved jacket over a yellow shirt. He was frantically waving his hands, his face scrunched up in sheer panic.
Ryu didn't say a word. He just locked his mismatched pink and grey eyes onto the boy. He didn't yell, and he didn't frown. He simply unleashed a silent, unblinking stare that carried the weight of a thousand curses. It was a look of pure, clinical judgment, mentally calculating exactly how much this boy had just ruined his afternoon.
The blue-haired boy took a step back, sweating nervously under the heavy silence. "I-I wasn't looking where I was going! I was running late for practice! Look, I'll buy you another one! Promise!"
He quickly spun around and ran into the confectionary shop. Ryu didn't move. He just held the empty waffle cone. Ten seconds later, the boy walked back out, his shoulders completely slumped.
"They... they sold out," he mumbled, looking genuinely devastated. "That was the last one."
Ryu let out a slow, incredibly tired sigh. He tossed the empty cone into a nearby trash bin. "Forget it," he said, his voice flat. "Just watch your trajectory next time."
He turned to walk away, fully intending to find a vending machine and cut his losses. But as he pivoted, the bottom edge of his jacket flared open, revealing the heavy, custom-machined launcher holstered at his belt.
The blue-haired boy gasped. The guilt vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a blinding, almost aggressive level of excitement.
"Whoa! Is that a launcher?!" The boy pointed at Ryu's belt, leaning in so close Ryu had to lean back to avoid bumping heads. "You're a blader? Are you entering the District Tournament? I'm Valt! Valt Aoi! What kind of Bey do you use?!"
Ryu blinked, completely thrown off by the whiplash in the boy's demeanor. "Yes. I'm a blader. Now, if you'll excuse—"
"This is perfect!" Valt didn't wait for him to finish. He grabbed Ryu's wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. "You have to come battle us! We're practicing right now at the park! Come on!"
Before Ryu could properly process the situation, Valt took off sprinting down the sidewalk, dragging him along. Ryu could have easily planted his feet and stopped the momentum, but the sheer absurdity of the moment left him entirely dazed. His mind was still mourning the ice cream, and now he was being hauled through a crosswalk by a boy who apparently operated completely outside the laws of normal social interaction.
"Hey. Let go," Ryu said, though he didn't raise his voice. Valt didn't hear him over the sound of traffic.
Two blocks later, Valt veered off the pavement and dragged Ryu onto the grass of a public park. Under the shade of a large cluster of trees, a few kids were gathered around a standard plastic Bey stadium. One was a tall, loud-looking guy in an unbuttoned uniform coat with a lollipop in his mouth. Another was a quieter kid with a dark bandana.
"Guys! Look!" Valt yelled, finally letting go of Ryu's wrist. He threw his hands up in triumph. "I found a new blader! He's got a super cool launcher, and we're going to battle right now!"
The tall guy with the lollipop raised an eyebrow, looking Ryu up and down. Ryu just stood there, adjusting his jacket and brushing a stray leaf off his sleeve. His expression was completely blank.
"Valt, you can't just kidnap people off the street," the tall guy sighed, waving a large paper fan. "We're supposed to be running practice drills."
"Just one battle, Honcho! I'll show you my new launch!" Valt reached into his pockets, a massive grin on his face. He patted his jacket. Then his pants.
The grin slowly slipped off his face. He patted his pockets again, much faster this time. He checked his jacket lining. He froze.
"Valkyrie..." Valt whispered, his eyes widening in horror. "I left Valkyrie on my desk."
Without another word, Valt clutched his head, screamed something completely unintelligible, and sprinted away from the stadium, disappearing back into the city streets as fast as he had arrived.
Ryu stood perfectly still. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves. The ambient noise of the park continued in the background.
He was alone with four complete strangers.
Nobody spoke. Honcho stopped fanning himself. The kid with the bandana coughed awkwardly. The atmosphere was so thick and uncomfortable it could have been cut with a knife. Ryu stared at the space where Valt had been standing just five seconds ago, his mind struggling to compute the sequence of events.
*My ice cream was destroyed. I was abducted. And now I have been abandoned,* Ryu thought.
"So," Honcho said finally, breaking the heavy silence. He pointed his fan at Ryu. "You're... a friend of his?"
"I have never met that boy in my life," Ryu answered, his tone perfectly even. "He owes me a limited-edition Black Sesame cone."
Honcho winced sympathetically. "Yeah, that sounds like Valt. I'm Rantaro Kiyama. Everyone calls me Honcho. This is Daigo." He gestured to the boy with the bandana, who gave a brief, silent nod. "We're the Beigoma Academy BeyClub."
"Ryu," he replied simply, making no move to step closer to the stadium. He glanced at the gear scattered on the benches. Standard grips. Factory-issued ripcords. Nothing that indicated high-level output. "You're preparing for the District Qualifiers."
"Yeah. Trying to, anyway," Rantaro grumbled, crossing his arms. "Gotta make sure we're in top form before the brackets drop."
Ryu gave a small nod. He turned away, ready to walk back to the commercial district. There was no data to be gathered here. Valt was a strange creature , but the rest of this club looked like standard, baseline bladers.
"Wait."
The voice was quiet, but it carried a sharp, authoritative edge that cut through the background noise of the park.
Ryu paused and looked back. Standing near the edge of the clearing, leaning against the chain-link fence, was a boy he hadn't noticed before. He had striking, snow-white hair and deep red eyes. He wore a crisp pink dress shirt and a black tie.
Unlike the others, who held a casual, relaxed posture, this boy was perfectly composed. His eyes were locked onto Ryu, specifically tracking the subtle way Ryu held his balance and the heavy, custom launcher at his waist.
*He's observant,* Ryu calculated instantly. *Center of gravity is low. Shoulders are relaxed but ready. He's not a novice.*
The white-haired boy stepped away from the fence and walked straight toward the stadium. He didn't introduce himself to Ryu. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a Beyblade—a striking crimson and gold layer that caught the sunlight.
"I'm Shu Kurenai," he said, stepping up to the edge of the plastic arena. He held up his Bey. "Valt dragged you all the way here for a battle. It would be a waste of time to leave without one."
Rantaro and Daigo immediately stepped back, exchanging surprised looks. Shu rarely initiated battles with random strangers.
Ryu stared at Shu. He looked at the crimson Bey, analyzing the heavy metal contact points and the balanced layer design. It was a well-crafted piece of equipment. Much better than the ones the others had.
A faint, almost imperceptible shift occurred in Ryu's chest. It wasn't excitement, but it was a spark of genuine curiosity.
"Shu Kurenai," Ryu echoed quietly, his flat grey and pink eyes meeting Shu's intense red ones. He slowly reached down to his belt, his fingers wrapping around his launcher. "Fine. Let's see "
***