Chapter 6 — When the Wind Finds Its Name
The world didn't announce that a new era had begun.
It never did.
Legends were already standing at the summit when the first gust stirred below.
Japan had changed.
The underground chaos of the past had been replaced by structure—leagues, rankings, titles. Stadiums gleamed under floodlights, and Beyblade was no longer whispered about in back alleys. It was broadcast. Celebrated.
And at the top stood four names.
The Supreme Four.
Lui Shirosagi.Shu Kurenai.And two others whose strength had earned them a place among monsters.
They were the standard.
They were the wall.
Lui stood apart even among them.
Longinus rested on his launcher like a predator waiting to be unleashed. Every match ended the same way—domination, destruction, silence. Commentators spoke of him in absolutes.
"Unstoppable.""Unchallenged.""The strongest blader in Japan."
Lui accepted none of it as praise.
It was simply fact.
And yet—between matches, when the stadium lights dimmed and the roar faded, he sometimes felt it.
That same pressure.
Distant.Patient.
Europe.
Lui's lips curled into a smile.
"Still running," he thought. "Good."
Shu Kurenai stood on the opposite side of the spectrum.
Where Lui burned, Shu refined.
Spriggan responded to the slightest adjustment, every launch precise, every movement intentional. Analysts dissected his battles frame by frame, calling him a genius, a once-in-a-generation tactician.
Shu listened politely.
And ignored them all.
Because control was becoming harder.
Each battle demanded more restraint. More suppression. The storm he kept locked away pressed harder against its cage, especially when his eyes drifted—unconsciously—to the sky.
Sometimes, the wind felt… familiar.
Shu tightened his grip.
"Not yet," he told himself.
Far from Japan—
Ryuga did not watch the broadcasts.
He didn't need to.
In Europe, his name was spoken differently. Not shouted. Not glorified.
Respected.
He stood in open-air stadiums beneath gray skies, facing champions who had clawed their way to the top through grit rather than spotlight. Storm Dragoon spun with controlled fury, adapting, flowing, striking only when the battle demanded it.
Ryuga had become one of Europe's strongest.
Not through conquest.
Through understanding.
And still—he felt them.
Two presences, sharp and familiar, pulling at the same horizon.
"Soon," Ryuga murmured, as Storm Dragon stirred quietly within.
Back in Japan, in a small, unremarkable neighborhood—
A boy shouted with joy.
"Did you see that?! Did you see that?!"
Valt Aoi burst into his room, Bey clutched in his hand, eyes blazing with excitement. His launcher was scratched. His stadium cracked. His technique—
Terrible.
And yet, he laughed like the world had just opened up.
His Bey—Valtryek—spun wildly, wobbling, crashing into the walls, refusing to give up even when it should have stopped ten times over.
Valt didn't notice.
He trusted it completely.
From a distance—far too far for coincidence—the wind shifted.
Shu watched Valt for the first time at the local stadium.
He saw the reckless launches.The unpolished movements.The absolute, unquestioning belief.
And his chest tightened.
Ryuuga…
Not the loss.
Not the destruction.
The beginning.
Shu adjusted his glasses, expression calm, voice gentle.
"You'll break your Bey if you keep launching like that," he said.
Valt grinned. "Then I'll just make it stronger!"
Shu froze.
Something inside him cracked—just a little.
High above Japan, storm clouds gathered without rain.
Lui stood on a rooftop, Longinus resting against his shoulder, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Another one?" he scoffed, sensing the faint disturbance. "Hmph. If he survives, maybe he'll be worth crushing."
Three legends.
One storm reborn.
And now—
A spark.
The Blade Runners era had begun.
And none of them—neither domination, nor restraint, nor balance—could stop what was coming.