The train rolled steadily through the misty countryside.
Outside the window, fields stretched into the distance, fading into soft gray morning light.
It had been years since I had gone farther than the next town.
Now every passing station felt like leaving another small piece of home behind.
My bag rested on the seat beside me. Inside it was Eclipse Drago, packed carefully in its holder.
I had not said much since leaving. There was nothing left to say.
The quiet rhythm of the train reminded me of Drago's spin.
Constant, balanced, almost calming.
It kept my thoughts steady.
Ren's last words echoed in my head.
"Don't forget why you started."
I wondered what he was doing right now. Probably already fixing something, pretending not to think about me leaving.
That thought made me smile a little.
The speaker above me came to life.
"Next stop, Beycoma City."
My hand tightened around the strap of my bag.
This was it.
As the train slowed, the view changed from quiet fields to wide streets and tall glass buildings.
Posters covered the station walls, all with the same logo: Beycoma Academy.
Even through the window, I could hear faint echoes of metal striking metal somewhere outside.
When the doors opened, warm air and noise poured in.
I stepped out and joined the flow of people leaving the platform.
Students were everywhere, laughing, arguing, testing their Beys in small pop-up stadiums.
You could almost feel the energy in the air.
I adjusted my bag and followed the signs toward the Academy district.
The sound of battles grew louder with every street corner.
Soon, the top of a tall gate came into view above the buildings ahead.
Beycoma City was louder than I expected.
Every street carried the rhythm of launchers snapping and metal clashing.
Shops sold Bey parts in open displays, while posters showed smiling bladers mid-battle.
It felt like the entire city revolved around this sport.
I followed the sound of voices through a park filled with trees and open paths.
At the center stood a large public stadium made of steel and glass.
The bowl curved deep into the ground, surrounded by benches packed with spectators.
It looked almost like a miniature tournament arena.
The crowd's energy was contagious.
Two bladers stood on opposite sides of the field.
Their Beys moved at high speed, hitting the sloped walls before colliding again in the middle.
Sparks burst with each strike, flashes of red and blue reflecting on the metal.
The noise was sharp, the impact real.
One Bey finally cracked apart.
The crowd shouted in excitement, some clapping, others laughing at the friendly defeat.
It was raw, competitive, and alive.
Then a stray Bey rolled down the outer ramp and stopped near my foot.
I bent to pick it up just as a boy ran toward me.
"Sorry about that! Guess I pulled a bit too hard."
He took the Bey from my hand and looked up.
"Hey, never seen you before. You new in town?"
"Just arrived," I said.
He grinned. "Then you've got to battle. We've got one slot open."
I hesitated. "I was heading to the Academy."
"Perfect. A warm-up then."
The crowd cheered, encouraging me to join.
I sighed and stepped closer to the field. "Alright. One match."
The boy reset his launcher and gave me a nod. "Name's Taro."
"Ryo." I attached my launcher and placed Eclipse Drago on it.
A few people in the stands leaned forward when they saw the launcher.
One of them pointed. "Wait, is that a left-spin grip?"
The noise around us shifted immediately.
"Left spin?"
"No way, that's rare."
"What kind of Bey uses that?"
Taro smirked. "That's pretty cool, but it won't save you."
We took our stances. The crowd began counting down.
"Three, two, one, let it rip."
The cords snapped at the same moment.
Taro's Bey launched right, fast but uneven.
Drago shot in the opposite direction, its hum deeper and steadier.
When they met, the sound changed completely.
Instead of sharp clicks, there was a deep metallic growl, the clash of two opposite forces.
Sparks spread in wide arcs as the air filled with heat.
Drago skimmed the rim, smooth and focused, while Taro's Bey struggled to hold its line.
"Push him back!" Taro shouted.
His Bey hit again, but the rotation difference pulled it off balance.
Drago curved along the slope and struck from the side, the impact throwing Taro's Bey toward the wall.
The crowd gasped as metal scraped against steel.
"What kind of movement is that?"
"It's like it's pulling the hits in."
"I've never seen one spin like that."
Taro gritted his teeth. "I'm not done."
He tried to angle another hit, but Drago's rotation drew him straight into the center.
A final collision echoed through the arena, followed by a flash of orange light.
Taro's Bey burst apart, its pieces scattering across the field.
The crowd erupted in noise.
Cheers, shouts, and disbelief filled the air.
I crouched and picked up Drago, feeling the faint warmth from the metal ring.
The red core shimmered briefly before cooling down.
Taro collected his parts, shaking his head but smiling.
"You've got some serious precision. That thing moves like it's alive."
"Maybe it just listens," I said quietly.
He laughed. "You sure you're not already in the Academy?"
"Starting today."
That got more whispers from the crowd.
"Of course he is."
"Left-spin kid's going to destroy everyone."
Taro clipped his launcher to his belt and nodded. "If that's how you battle, you'll fit right in."
I nodded back, slung my bag over my shoulder, and left the field.
Behind me the crowd was already setting up another match, voices rising again in excitement.
The sound of spinning Beys followed me down the street, echoing through the city as I walked toward the Academy.
The neighborhood changed before the gate came into view.
Classroom buildings sat beside a library, a gym, and a long cafeteria with big windows.
Students in uniforms crossed the paths with books under their arms.
Off to the side, beyond the gym, stood several open practice courts and two official Bey stadiums under a glass canopy.
It was a school first. The Beyblade parts were just another wing.
I joined the flow through the front path. A signboard listed homerooms, club rooms, and office hours.
Somewhere behind the main hall I heard the sharp ring of metal.
Not loud, just present.
Near the canopy, a small group of students were setting up for a practice match.
Their movements were careful and quiet.
No shouting, only short calls and clean launches.
I stopped a little distance away and watched.
A boy in a blue jacket jogged up with a launcher in his hand and almost tripped over the step.
Blue hair stuck up in all directions.
He skidded to a halt, grinning as if nothing had happened.
"Valt, you are late again," someone said from the side.
I knew the voice before I saw the face.
Shu Kurenai stood near the barrier with folded arms, calm as stone.
His uniform was neat, and his eyes were steady in a way that made everyone else look louder.
"Sorry, sorry," Valt said. "I will nail it this time."
He set his Bey, took a stance that looked more excited than stable, and pulled.
The launch was strong but messy.
The Bey bounced, clipped the wall, then spun unevenly toward the middle.
The other student's Bey held the line and tapped it aside with a clean counter.
No burst. Just a simple loss.
Valt scratched his head and laughed anyway. "Okay, that was not great. Again."
Shu stepped forward and adjusted the angle of Valt's grip.
"Lower wrist. Relax the shoulder. You are forcing it," he said.
Valt tried again.
Better, but still rough.
His Bey fought the slope instead of using it.
Shu did not sigh. He only nodded once. "You improved. Keep the stance. Less muscle."
The small group reset the stadium. No crowd gathered, no cheering.
This was practice, not a show.
I moved closer to the fence. A teacher with a clipboard noticed me and walked over.
"Transfer?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Registration is in the main office. After that, you can request facility access."
Her eyes dropped to the case at my side. "You blade?"
"I do."
"Good. You can schedule practice time once you have your ID."
She pointed me toward the building and returned to the courts.
I looked back at the canopy.
Valt was already laughing at himself again as he reset his launcher.
He was not strong yet, but he was not afraid of losing in front of people.
Shu stayed patient beside him, fixing small things without many words.
On my way toward the main office I passed the gym doors.
Inside, a physical education class ran laps while a coach shouted times.
Through a classroom window I saw a science lesson in progress.
The Academy felt like any other school, only louder at the edges where metal met metal.
At the end of the hall a receptionist slid a form across the counter.
"Name, age, homeroom preference. If you are joining the Bey club, tick here. Placement battles begin next week."
I filled it out, returned the pen, and waited while she printed a temporary ID.
When she handed it over, she smiled. "Welcome to Beycoma. Try not to run in the halls."
"Got it," I said.
Back outside, the afternoon light had shifted.
The practice courts were still busy.
Valt lined up another launch, face set in a serious way that did not quite fit him yet.
Shu watched the angle and gave a small nod.
I rested my palm on Drago's case through the canvas of my bag and stood for a moment longer.
Then I turned toward the dorm list to find my room and leave my things before practice hours closed.