The local train to the mountainous outskirts of the city rattled along the tracks with a rhythmic, hypnotic clatter. The morning sun streamed through the large windows, casting long shadows across the mostly empty carriage.
Ryu O'Hara sat by the window, his arms crossed over his black jacket, his eyes closed.
He was attempting to achieve a state of light meditation. It was a technique he had mastered on the island to pass the time between training blocks. It required a still environment and a clear mind.
"I'm just saying, if you eat the sour plum rice ball *before* the tuna mayo, it completely ruins your palate!"
"Valt, it's eight in the morning! I don't care about the palate, I care about not starving on a mountain!"
Ryu slowly opened his eyes. The meditation was a catastrophic failure.
Across the aisle, Valt Aoi and Rantaro Kiyama were engaged in a fierce, high-volume debate over convenience store snacks. Daigo was sitting next to them, staring blankly at the ceiling with his headphones on, having clearly surrendered to the noise. Ken Midori was sitting quietly, though his blue puppet, Keru, was aggressively nodding along with Rantaro's argument.
Ryu looked out the window. The dense concrete skyline of Tokyo was already giving way to lush green hills and thick forests.
He remembered the silence of his family's private estate. For years, the only sound he heard in the mornings was the ocean hitting the rocks. It was pristine. It was perfectly controlled. He had spent his entire life in that quiet, sterile bubble, waiting for a challenge that never came, slowly going numb to the sport entirely.
He glanced back at the aisle. Valt had accidentally dropped his sour plum rice ball. It rolled under Rantaro's seat, prompting a frantic rescue mission that involved Valt crawling on the floor while Rantaro yelled at him for getting his jacket dirty.
It was a complete mess. It was loud, disorganized, and entirely unnecessary.
Ryu let out a slow, quiet breath. *I don't miss the island at all,* he realized.
He leaned his head against the glass. He had told them this was a solo operation, but the entire BeyClub had materialized on the platform like a flock of incredibly loud pigeons. He could have lost them, but... he didn't want to. Having an audience to witness the dismantling of the Supreme Four wasn't entirely a bad thing.
"Hey, valt!" Rentaro popped up , holding the slightly dusty rice ball. "How far is Xander's place from the station?"
"There is a three-kilometer hike up the mountain trail" valt answered smoothly. "The dojo is secluded to build endurance!!! . Xander is a training maniac!!"
Rantaro groaned, slumping back in his seat. "A hike? You didn't say anything about a hike. I thought we were just taking a bus to the front door."
"A bus cannot navigate a forty-degree dirt incline," Ryu pointed out. "If you lack the stamina, you can wait at the station."
"No way!" Rantaro sat up, grabbing his paper fan. "The Head Honcho doesn't back down from a little walk! I'm just pacing myself!"
Ryu turned his attention back to the window. The train was slowing down.
---
Miles away, in a private, high-end training facility, the air was heavy with the smell of sweat and burnt rubber.
Lui Shirasagijo stood in front of a massive, heavily reinforced stadium. He pulled the ripcord of his launcher with a violent, full-body snap. Lost Longinus hit the plastic with the force of a wrecking ball, tearing around the basin in a terrifying, jagged blur.
Lui watched his Bey, a sharp smirk pulling at his face.
By now, the silver-haired ghost was probably halfway up the mountain. Lui grabbed a towel from the bench and wiped his face. He had purposely pointed Ryu toward Xander Shakadera.
Xander was a powerhouse. He relied on overwhelming, explosive strength. Most bladers crumbled the second Xander's Xcalibur hit the stadium. But Lui knew exactly what happened when an unstoppable force hit an immovable object. He had spent years throwing himself at Ryu's defense, only to watch his attacks get absorbed or countered.
*Xander thinks his raw power makes him untouchable,* Lui thought, letting out a dark, mocking laugh. *He thinks because he's a giant, nobody can stand their ground against him. He has absolutely no idea what's walking up his driveway right now.*
Lui picked up his launcher. He respected Ryu. It was an angry, bitter kind of respect, but it was there. Ryu was the only person in the world who viewed the Supreme Four not as kings, but as stepping stones.
"Tear him apart, O'Hara," Lui muttered to the empty room. "Break the big guy's ego. And when you finally crawl your way to the National stage... I'll be the one waiting to bury you."
---
On the rooftop of a quiet apartment complex, Shu Kurenai stood alone.
He held Storm Spriggan in his hand. The morning breeze ruffled his white hair. He wasn't launching. He was just staring at the red layer, replaying the final clash of the District Tournament over and over in his mind.
*Ryu had tilted his layer.* *He had used the gyroscopic force to cancel a burst mid-air.*
*He had weaponized a downward drop to crush Spriggan's center.*
Shu closed his hand around the Bey. The frustration from the loss was still there, a hot ember in his chest, but it had refined into absolute clarity. Ryu had exposed a massive flaw in his blading style. Shu had spent years perfecting his precision, learning to hit the exact millimeter of a target.
But precision meant nothing if the target didn't care about being hit.
"Anvil," Shu whispered, remembering Ryu's exact words. *A counter strike cannot pierce a moving anvil.*
If Ryu was a wall of heavy mass, Shu couldn't just rely on finding a weak point. He needed to hit hard enough to crack the metal itself. He needed a launch that didn't just strike, but penetrated. A completely new level of kinetic force.
Shu turned toward the makeshift stadium he had set up on the roof. He locked Spriggan onto his launcher. He didn't take his usual, upright stance. He widened his legs. He dropped his shoulder. He mirrored the exact, heavy foundation Ryu had used in their final battle.
He pulled the cord.
Spriggan hit the plastic with a loud, aggressive crack, tearing around the basin significantly faster than its usual baseline.
It wasn't perfect yet. His arm ached from the unfamiliar tension. But Shu's red eyes burned with a fierce, unwavering promise.
He was going to Nationals. And he was going to break the anvil.
---
"Are we there yet?"
Rantaro's voice cracked. He was leaning heavily against a large pine tree, completely out of breath. His jacket was tied around his waist, and he was using his paper fan like his life depended on it.
The dirt trail winding up the mountain was steep, entirely unpaved, and littered with tree roots.
"Honcho, we've only been walking for ten minutes," Daigo sighed, casually stepping over a large rock. He wasn't even sweating.
"Ten minutes of vertical climbing!" Rantaro wheezed, pointing a shaking finger up the path. "This isn't a hike! "
Valt jogged past him backward, a massive grin on his face. "Come on! Xander does this run every single day! Sometimes carrying logs!"
"Xander is eight feet tall and eats boulders for breakfast!" Rantaro shot back.
Ryu walked at a steady, effortless pace at the front of the group. His breathing was completely even. His daily routine had involved running along the shifting, unstable sands of the private beach. A dirt trail with a mild incline barely registered as physical exertion.
"Pace your breathing, Kiyama," Ryu said without looking back. "You are panting. You are expelling too much oxygen and burning out your muscles."
"Easy for you to say," Rantaro grumbled, pushing off the tree and forcing himself to keep walking. "You're probably a robot."
Ken's brown puppet, Besu, popped up from behind a bush. "You can do it, Honcho! The dojo is right around the next bend!"
Besu was actually right. As they rounded a thick cluster of bamboo, the dense forest suddenly opened up into a massive, meticulously maintained clearing.
Traditional stone walls surrounded a sprawling compound. The main building was a huge, classic wooden dojo with sweeping tiled roofs. The sound of dozens of people shouting in unison echoed across the courtyard. *Kiai!*
"Whoa," Valt breathed, his eyes shining. "The Shakadera Dojo. It's even bigger than I remember."
Ryu stopped at the edge of the clearing. He took in the details. The dirt in the courtyard was swept clean. The training equipment was heavy-duty. It was an environment built entirely on discipline and raw physical output.
They walked through the open wooden gates.
Dozens of martial arts students, wearing traditional white gi, were lined up in rows, practicing striking drills.
Standing at the front of the formation, correcting their stances, was a boy who completely defied standard human proportions. He was massive—easily towering over full-grown adults. He wore a red sleeveless top, dark pants, and a thick martial arts belt. His wild, spiky red hair looked like an open flame.
He yelled an instruction, and the entire courtyard snapped to attention.
Valt didn't hesitate. He cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs. "Xander!"
The giant turned around. He blinked, staring at the group standing near the gates. A second later, a massive, booming laugh erupted from his chest, entirely drowning out the ambient noise of the courtyard.
"BWAHAHAHA! Valt!"
Xander Shakadera marched across the courtyard, his strides eating up the distance in seconds. He grabbed Valt by the shoulders and effortlessly hoisted him two feet into the air.
"Look at you! You actually made it up the mountain without passing out!" Xander laughed, setting the dizzy rookie back down. He looked at the rest of the group. "Honcho! Daigo! Ken! It's been a while! What brings the Beigoma crew all the way up to my turf? Did you come to join the dojo?"
"No way, man, my legs are already jelly," Rantaro groaned, leaning on Daigo's shoulder.
"We didn't come to train," Valt said, shaking the dizziness from his head. He grinned and stepped aside, pointing directly at the silver-haired boy standing quietly near the back. "We brought a guest."
Xander shifted his gaze.
He looked at Ryu. He took in the casual black jacket, the pristine platinum hair, and the completely unbothered, flat expression on the boy's face. Xander's eyes dropped to the heavy, custom-machined launcher holstered at Ryu's belt.
Xander recognized him instantly. Everyone in the competitive circuit watched the District broadcasts.
"Ryu O'Hara," Xander said. His booming voice dropped a fraction, the friendly giant persona dialing back to reveal the sharp, highly observant blader underneath. "The District Champion. I saw what you did to Shu."
"Then you are aware I don't waste time," Ryu replied smoothly.
He stepped forward, walking past the BeyClub until he was standing just a few feet away from the towering giant. The height difference was comical—Xander was a mountain, and Ryu was a completely immovable stone standing in his shadow.
But Ryu didn't look up with intimidation. He met Xander's gaze with cold, absolute certainty.
"I read the WBBA rulebook this morning," Ryu stated. "I have no intention of joining a five-man team. I find the concept incredibly flawed."
Xander crossed his massive arms. "Is that so? The rules are the rules, O'Hara. You can't just walk into Nationals by yourself."
"I can if the WBBA realizes the current roster is flawed," Ryu replied. He pulled Eclipse Nidhogg from his pocket. The dark violet layer caught the afternoon sun. "I am here to dismantle the Supreme Four. Once your team realizes their captain can be broken by a solo entry, the tournament committee will have to offer me a wild card slot."
The entire courtyard went completely silent. The martial arts students stopped their drills. Daigo adjusted his bandana. Rantaro visibly winced. You didn't just walk into Xander Shakadera's home and threaten his title to his face.
For a long, agonizing moment, Xander just stared at Ryu.
Then, Xander threw his head back.
"BWAHAHAHAHA!"
The laugh echoed off the mountainside. Xander slapped his own knee, genuinely, thoroughly entertained.
"You're going to dismantle the Supreme Four?!" Xander wiped a tear from his eye, looking down at Ryu with a massive grin. "Oh, man! I like you! You've got some serious guts walking into my dojo and saying that without even flinching!"
Xander reached behind his back and pulled out a heavy, red launcher. He locked a massive, jagged, sword-shaped Beyblade onto it. Xcalibur.
"I've been bored out of my mind waiting for the National bracket to start," Xander said, rolling his massive shoulders. His aura suddenly flared—a thick, heavy pressure that felt entirely different from Shu's cold focus. It was raw, untamed, explosive power. "If you want a shortcut, O'Hara, you have to go through me. And let me tell you right now, I hit a lot harder than Shu Kurenai."
Ryu didn't blink. He pulled his heavy metal launcher from his belt and snapped Nidhogg onto the prongs with a sharp, echoing *click*.
"I am counting on it," Ryu said, dropping smoothly into his launch stance. "Show me your power."
Valt, Rantaro, Daigo, and Ken quickly scrambled backward, giving them space. The dojo students formed a massive circle around the open dirt courtyard, leaving a clear path to the stone stadium built directly into the center of the grounds.
The air was electric. The quiet islander against the mountain giant.
Xander took his stance, raising his launcher high. "Don't blink, Ryu. You might miss the end of your own career!"
.......
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