The waiting room hummed with the echoes of spinning metal and roaring crowds. Each round ended in cheers, but Ryo barely listened. His fingers rested on his launcher, calm and steady.
"Next match!" the announcer called. "Ryo versus Toru Minase!"
He stood, adjusted his badge, and walked toward the stage. The lights hit him first — bright and blinding. Opposite him waited a boy in a blue jacket, sharp-eyed, his hand confidently gripping his Bey.
"This'll be quick," Toru said with a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm Toru Minase. Holy Horusood Upper Claw — top stamina type in this district. You'll see why it never stops spinning."
Ryo simply nodded. "We'll see."
They placed their Beys.
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
"Let it rip!"
The two Beys shot into the stadium.
Holy Horusood spun with a clean, stable arc, circling the center like a dancer.
Eclipse Drago carved a sharp, opposite path its leftward spin throwing off sparks as it met the friction of the stadium floor.
Toru's eyes widened. "Wait… left spin?!"
Before he could adjust, the two collided.
Impact.
A single, explosive clash.
Holy Horusood burst apart instantly — its layer and disc launched against the clear wall and dropped motionless to the floor.
Silence filled the air.
"Burst finish! Winner, Ryo !"
The referee's voice echoed. The crowd hesitated, unsure if they'd just seen luck or precision.
Toru knelt, picking up the broken parts of his Bey, eyes still wide.
"That rotation… it reversed the hit completely…"
Ryo walked over, lifted Drago from the arena, and spoke softly. "You said it never stops spinning. Guess everything does at some point."
He turned away, the cheers slowly rising behind him as whispers spread through the stands.
"That was left spin."
"No way a stamina Bey bursts like that."
"Who is that kid?"
Ryo didn't answer any of it.
He just walked back through the tunnel, Drago resting silently in his hand — a single, faint scorch mark glinting on its tip.
The crowd in the BeyMall roared as the next match began.
Ryo leaned against the railing, eyes fixed on the stadium below.
Valt was on the floor again, launching with that same explosive energy that filled every corner of the arena. His Victory Valtryek shot around the rim in wild circles, slamming into Raging Roktavor over and over, refusing to slow down.
"He still hasn't learned control," Shu said quietly beside him.
Ryo turned his head slightly. Shu stood there, arms crossed, calm as ever. They'd shared the same classroom for months now, but this was the first time they'd actually talked.
Ryo nodded once. "It works for him, somehow."
"It shouldn't," Shu said, his tone flat but not unkind. "That's the strange thing about Valt — even when he launches wrong, something drives his Bey forward anyway."
Down in the arena, Valt shouted again, "Go, Valtryek! Hit it with everything you've got!"
The next impact made the whole floor shake.
Ryo's gaze didn't waver. "He's reckless. But there's honesty in the way he battles."
Shu gave a faint smile. "You notice the details quickly."
"You do too," Ryo replied.
For a while, neither spoke. The arena lights flickered across their faces as Valtryek clashed again, faster, harder, until Roktavor burst apart mid-spin. The referee's voice echoed above the noise: "Burst finish! Winner, Valt Aoi!"
The crowd went wild. Valt threw both arms in the air, laughing like a kid who'd just won the world championship.
Ryo exhaled quietly. "He really fights like he means it."
"That's Valt," Shu said softly. "He might be noisy, but he has something most bladers never find — real drive."
Ryo looked at him. "And you?"
Shu's smile faded into something more thoughtful. "I chase perfection. Whether that's better or worse… I don't know."
Ryo nodded slowly. "Perfection's a moving target. Every battle changes it."
Shu turned to face him fully now, a spark of interest in his eyes. "You think like a veteran. You've been training for years, haven't you?"
"Since I was six," Ryo answered. "Drago's been with me the whole time."
Shu's gaze flicked down briefly. "It shows. That kind of precision doesn't come from luck."
They both turned back toward the arena as the announcer called for the next group of matches.
For the first time, the silence between them didn't feel distant it felt like understanding.
The crowd was still buzzing from Valt's victory as the day's final matches ended.
Ryo and Shu stood near the exit ramp, the arena lights dimming one by one until only the main screen stayed bright above the stadium.
"Match results are in," the announcer said. "Tomorrow's pairings will be displayed now!"
A grid appeared, names flashing in neat lines.
Ryo scanned it quickly — Round Two: Ryo versus Daichi Mori.
His eyes lingered on it for a moment. He didn't know the name. That didn't matter.
Beside him, Shu followed the list too. "Looks like you're up early tomorrow," he said evenly.
"Yeah." Ryo's tone was calm, steady. "It won't take long."
Shu gave a faint smile. "You're confident."
"Just realistic," Ryo replied.
For a few seconds, there was silence — only the hum of the stadium cooling down. Then Shu spoke again, softer this time.
"Ryo."
He turned slightly.
"That precision you have," Shu said, "don't let it turn into hesitation. Sometimes, too much control stops you from seeing what's next."
Ryo didn't answer right away. He just nodded once. "I'll keep that in mind."
Shu looked back toward the empty arena. "Good. I'll be watching."
As the crowd began to thin out, Ryo tightened his grip on Drago's case and started walking toward the exit.
The echo of the crowd faded behind him — replaced by the quiet click of his steps and the faint sound of the next round being prepared.
Tomorrow, another match.
Another test.