The cracked stadium was silent now.
The battle had ended, but the tension hadn't dispersed. It clung to the air like a pulse, even as Aarav and Gingka quietly stepped away from the battlefield. Their shirts were torn, their gloves frayed, and dust clung to their skin like the memory of every clash.
Kenta walked beside Aarav, still buzzing with excitement. His eyes sparkled, even though words failed him. He had watched battles before—but never like that. Not a single shout, yet the air had cracked open.
Gingka stretched his arms casually, as if the battle had been nothing more than a warm-up. "Guess I owe you a rematch, huh?"
Aarav's response was simple. "You'll have to break rhythm first."
Before Gingka could retort, a sharp voice cut through their path.
"Hold it."
Madoka Amano stood firmly in their way, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with the precision of someone who had seen enough to know better. In her hand was a small scanning device, already aimed at Phoenix and Pegasus.
"You're not walking away with Beyblades in that condition."
Gingka blinked, his grin unchanging. "Relax, it's just a few scratches—"
"Stress fractures in the Fusion Wheels, core stabilizer degradation, and your friction layers are about to strip themselves apart." Madoka's tone was blunt, but not unkind. "If you think you can battle again like this, you're not just reckless—you're stupid."
Aarav didn't argue. He simply unhooked Phoenix from his belt and handed it over.
Gingka scratched the back of his head, chuckling. "Guess we're in your hands then."
Madoka gave a quick nod, turning on her heel. "Come with me. You need more than a patch-up. You need a full teardown and rebuild."
The walk to Madoka's workshop was a sharp contrast to the battle that had just taken place. The backstreets of Metal City were quieter here, the noise of vendors and Bladers fading as they navigated through narrow alleys and rusted stairways.
Madoka's workshop wasn't flashy. It was a compact space, tucked between an old parts shop and a maintenance garage. But the moment they stepped inside, it felt different.
The walls were lined with neatly organized Beyblade parts—Metal Wheels, Spin Tracks, Performance Tips—all categorized by type and function. Workbenches stretched across the room, scattered with precision tools, holographic displays, and diagnostic scanners. A faint scent of machine oil and polish filled the air.
Kenta's eyes went wide. "Whoa… this is amazing!"
Gingka whistled. "You weren't kidding. This place is loaded."
Aarav's gaze didn't roam. He stood quietly, his focus fixed on the scanner as Madoka placed Phoenix and Pegasus onto the diagnostic table.
The screen lit up instantly, streams of data pouring in.
Madoka's fingers danced across the console. "Let's see… Phoenix's rotational core is holding, but barely. You're controlling rhythm, but you're absorbing too much edge damage. You're sacrificing endurance for stability."
Aarav's only response was a faint nod. That much, he had already calculated during the battle.
She shifted her focus to Pegasus. "And you—" she glanced at Gingka "—your attacks are clean, but you're overextending. Your Spin Force disperses on wide-angle rebounds. You're lucky you didn't burst after that last strike."
Gingka leaned back, grinning. "Guess that's why we found you."
Madoka exhaled sharply. "I'm not patching this. These aren't battlefield scratches. If I don't rebuild them properly, they won't survive the next clash."
"How long will it take?" Aarav asked, his tone matter-of-fact.
"A full day," Madoka answered, already pulling tools from the wall. "You two really went all out, didn't you?"
Kenta chuckled nervously. "It was… intense."
Gingka scratched his head, eyes sparkling. "Worth it though."
As Madoka began disassembling the Beyblades, her sharp eyes occasionally flicked to Aarav. His silent, focused demeanor intrigued her. Gingka was loud and transparent, but Aarav's rhythm wasn't just in battle. He carried it in every movement, every breath.
"You don't rely on power," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "You weaponize control."
Aarav's gaze met hers. No denial. No confirmation. Just acknowledgment.
Gingka leaned against the wall, smirking. "She's reading you like a blueprint, Aarav."
Madoka didn't stop working, but a faint smirk tugged at her lips. "That's my job."
But outside, on a rooftop two blocks away, another presence had been watching.
Kyoya Tategami, leader of the Face Hunters, stood with arms crossed, his eyes sharp and narrowed. His gang, including Benkei, flanked him, but none of them dared speak.
They had witnessed the battle.
They had seen the crowd's reaction.
And now they saw the aftermath.
"That silent one…" Kyoya's voice was low, almost a growl. "He doesn't need to shout. The city listens anyway."
Benkei, always eager, cracked his knuckles. "Let's take them now, boss! We'll crush them!"
But Kyoya's hand shot out, halting him.
"No. We don't attack prey we don't understand. We observe. Then we strike."
His eyes remained fixed on Aarav, noting his calm posture even in conversation.
"Storm or not, rhythm can be broken. I'll show him that."
The Face Hunters retreated into the shadows, their plan brewing.
Inside Madoka's workshop, the tension had eased slightly.
Madoka, her sleeves rolled up, was fully immersed in the rebuild. Gingka had found a stool, leaning back casually, while Kenta perched on a crate, animatedly recounting parts of the battle to no one in particular.
Aarav remained standing, arms crossed, quietly observing.
Madoka glanced up, noticing their state.
"You two wrecked your Beyblades and forgot to eat? Typical."
Before they could respond, she tossed wrapped burgers their way.
Gingka caught his mid-air with a grin. "You're a lifesaver!"
Kenta fumbled his, nearly dropping it, while Aarav caught his calmly, unwrapping it with precise fingers.
They ate in a strange, comfortable silence.
Gingka, between bites, grinned. "Not bad, huh Aarav? Burgers after battle might become a tradition."
Aarav didn't reply with words. He took another bite, his calm presence somehow fitting into the group naturally.
Madoka's smirk returned as she worked. "You two need each other. One breaks rhythm. The other holds it. But both of you are breaking your Blades."
Gingka laughed. "Guess that's what you're here for."
Aarav gave a slight nod, acknowledging her words without fanfare.
As night crept in, the workshop glowed under soft lighting. Phoenix and Pegasus lay disassembled on the table, their core parts glimmering under Madoka's meticulous care.
Gingka stood near the window, gazing out at the city skyline.
"Feels like Metal City's waiting for something."
Aarav adjusted his launcher holster, his tone even.
"It is. The storm's watching."
Far beyond, hidden by shadows, Kyoya's smirk widened as his eyes gleamed under the moonlight.