Morning
The Metal City Open Tournament occupied the central Bey Stadium—a proper outdoor arena with reinforced battle platforms, tiered seating, and electronic scoreboards displaying brackets.
I filled out the registration form. Name. Age. Beyblade type.
"Entry fee is five hundred yen," the clerk said. "First prize is five thousand beypoints and fifty thousand yen. Sixty-four participants, four blocks of sixteen. Single elimination. Finals today."
I slid the money across without comment.
The stadium filled steadily. Bladers clustered around practice areas, testing launches, comparing parts.
I scanned the crowd with clinical detachment.
Twelve days of brutal training. This tournament will show if I've truly gained control—or if the phoenix still holds the reins.
Black Dranzer pulsed once against my hip—quiet, aware.
The bracket posted. Block C. Sixteen names.
One stood out: Kenta Yumiya.
Episode 1 version. Raw talent, zero refinement.
I turned away from the board.
Let's see how far I've come.
***
First Round — 10:00 AM
My opponent was tall, confident, attack-type beyblade.
"Name's Takeshi. Been blading for three years."
I loaded Black Dranzer without answering.
"Three! Two! One! LET IT RIP!"
Contact. Redirect. Stop.
Time: 3.2 seconds.
The crowd murmured.
***
Second Round
Defense type. Heavy fusion wheel.
Black Dranzer struck the spin track's weak point with surgical precision.
4.1 seconds.
The murmurs grew louder.
***
Third Round
Balance type. Tried strategy.
Black Dranzer moved before the enemy finished its launch arc.
2.8 seconds.
"Every battle under five seconds..."
"That beyblade doesn't move until it attacks..."
"Who IS that guy?"
***
Quarterfinals — 1:45 PM
"Kai Hiwatari versus Kenta Yumiya!"
The small kid with green hair stood across the stadium, hands trembling as he loaded Sagittario.
I recognized the determination in his eyes. The same look every underdog wore.
This will be instructive. For both of us.
The crowd pressed closer. Word had spread about my previous matches.
"Three! Two! One!"
"LET IT RIP!"
Two beyblades launched.
Black Dranzer shot forward in a perfect intercept arc.
Struck Sagittario mid-air.
Before it even touched the stadium floor.
The impact was surgical. Absolute.
Sagittario flew backward, over the stadium wall, clattered across the concrete twenty feet away.
Silence.
Complete, suffocating silence.
Kenta stared at his launcher. Then at the empty stadium. Then at Sagittario lying motionless in the distance.
His face cycled through confusion, disbelief, horror.
The referee blinked. "...Ring out. Winner: Kai Hiwatari."
The stadium erupted.
"IT NEVER EVEN LANDED!"
"DID YOU SEE THAT?!"
"UNDER ONE SECOND!"
"WHAT KIND OF BEYBLADE IS THAT?!"
I retrieved Black Dranzer and walked past Kenta.
He still hadn't moved. Hand frozen mid-launch, staring at nothing.
"Kenta!" His friend rushed over. "Are you—"
"I didn't even see it move," Kenta whispered. "It was just... gone."
***
As I walked away, the stadium buzzed with energy:
"Did you SEE that launch angle?! That's not normal!"
"My son's been training for months. That guy just—he just ended it in ONE SECOND."
Commentary Booth:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I've been announcing tournaments for five years. I have NEVER seen anything like that."
Kids in the Front Row:
"Mom, I want a black beyblade like his!"
"Sweetie, I don't think they make beyblades like that..."
Upper Stands:
"That's the third match he's won in under five seconds."
"Third? I heard it's his seventh."
Several bladers stopped training entirely, just watching me pass.
One whispered to his friend: "I'm withdrawing. I'm not fighting that."
***
Between Matches — 2:15 PM
"That was excessive."
Madoka stood near the practice area, arms crossed, expression complex.
"You came to watch."
"I came because..." She hesitated. "Because I was worried you'd push too hard and collapse."
I said nothing.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Kai, that kid—Kenta—he's been training for months. This was his first real tournament. And you destroyed him before his beyblade even landed."
"If you're not prepared to lose, don't enter the stadium."
Her expression shifted. Not agreement, but understanding.
"You really believe that, don't you?"
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, surprisingly, her tone softened.
"Your technique was perfect. Launch angle, intercept timing, everything." She glanced at Black Dranzer. "But that beyblade... it scares me, Kai. Not because it's powerful. Because I can feel something from it. Something wrong."
I met her eyes. "Then trust that I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?"
I didn't answer.
She sighed. "Semifinals are in an hour. Just... be careful."
She walked away before I could respond.
I watched her go, something uncomfortable settling in my chest.
She sees more than I give her credit for.
Black Dranzer pulsed once—not communication, just... presence.
Like it was reminding me: We're not done yet.
***
Semifinals — 3:30 PM
"Kai Hiwatari versus Ryo Nakamura!"
My opponent was older. Mid-twenties. Serious eyes. Quality parts.
First genuinely competent blader all day.
"Ryo Nakamura. I didn't come here to lose in five seconds."
"Then don't."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Let's see what you've really got."
"Three! Two! One! LET IT RIP!"
His beyblade circled. Tested. Analyzed.
Smart. He's reading the battlefield.
Black Dranzer waited in the center. Patient.
Nakamura struck—fast, precise, threatening.
The impact was clean. Technical.
His first hit almost shifted Black Dranzer's axis—almost.
I felt it through the connection. The phoenix stirred.
Not alarmed. Interested.
Nakamura repositioned, struck again from a different angle.
Better technique than anyone else today.
Then Black Dranzer moved.
And the atmosphere changed.
A faint, unnatural distortion rippled through the air—like space itself bending inward.
Several spectators gasped. Stepped back instinctively.
"What... what is that feeling?"
"It's like the air just got heavier..."
Soul Drain.
Black Dranzer's fusion wheel darkened. Not glowing—pulling light into itself.
One strike. Full drain.
Time: 10.4 seconds.
Nakamura stared at his fallen beyblade. Then at me. "...You were holding back the entire time."
I retrieved Black Dranzer. "You lasted longer than the others, Nakamura. That says something."
"What does it say?"
"That you understand the difference between power and skill."
Grudging respect crossed his face.
"If you fear losing, you've already lost," I said. "Remember that."
I walked away as the crowd buzzed with speculation and unease.
That distortion. That wrongness.
They'd felt it. They'd remember.
***
Pre-Finals
I was walking toward the finals stadium when I heard them.
Whispers. Tense. Fearful.
Near the Vending Machines:
"Busujima's in the finals..."
"That's bad. Really bad."
Group of Younger Bladers:
"He destroyed another beyblade? That's three today!"
"He does it on purpose. Enjoys it."
Older Spectator to His Friend:
"Someone should report him to tournament officials."
"And say what? That he's too good? Destroying beyblades isn't technically illegal."
"It should be..."
Near the Stadium Entrance:
"I heard his last opponent quit blading entirely after their match."
"Can you blame them? Busujima didn't just win—he humiliated them."
When I arrived at the finals stadium, the crowd had already formed a wide circle.
Not for me.
For the blader standing at one side.
Busujima Ren.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Scarred knuckles. Spiky dark blue hair. Eyes that promised violence.
At his feet lay the shattered remains of his last opponent's beyblade. Fusion wheel cracked. Spin track bent. Performance tip completely destroyed.
He was grinning. Malicious. Enjoying the destruction he'd wrought.
Several spectators looked physically uncomfortable just being near him.
I walked to the opposite side of the stadium.
The crowd parted silently.
Busujima's grin widened when he saw me. "Hope you're not fragile, kid. Rock Scorpio doesn't play nice."
I stopped across from him.
We stared at each other.
No words.
Just suffocating hostility.
The referee visibly hesitated before raising his hand, clearly uncomfortable with what was about to happen.
Several audience members near the front took involuntary steps back.
Even they felt it—this wasn't going to be a normal match.
This was a collision.
***
Finals — 5:30 PM
The crowd had swelled to capacity. Word had spread beyond the stadium.
Madoka stood near the front, notepad clutched tight, expression worried.
"Finals match," the referee announced, voice shaking slightly. "Single battle. Winner takes all."
Busujima loaded Rock Scorpio with theatrical aggression. "I'm going to enjoy breaking your beyblade. Piece. By. Piece."
I loaded Black Dranzer without responding.
His grin faltered at my complete lack of reaction.
"What, no comeback? No tough talk?"
I met his gaze. Cold. Empty.
"You're not worth words."
His face twisted with rage. "I'LL DESTROY YOU!"
"Three!"
The crowd held its breath.
"Two!"
Busujima's hands shook with fury.
"One!"
I felt Black Dranzer pulse once.
Not a message. Just... readiness.
Like a coiled spring waiting to be released.
"LET IT RIP!"
***
Two beyblades launched.
Rock Scorpio hit the stadium floor hard, immediately taking defensive position. Heavy. Grounded.
Built to outlast.
Black Dranzer landed in the center.
Perfectly still.
"ROCK SCORPIO! DEATH STALKER!"
His beyblade charged, fusion wheel glowing—special move activating desperately.
Black Dranzer waited.
Then the temperature
spiked.
Not gradually. Instantly.
The air around Black Dranzer shimmered. Distorted. Heat rising in visible waves.
Several spectators gasped. Some covered their faces.
"What's happening?!"
"The air—it's burning—"
Black Dranzer's fusion wheel began to glow blazing crimson.
Like metal heated past the breaking point.
I felt it surge through our connection. The phoenix's power. Ancient. Primal. Volcanic.
My hand burned where I gripped the launcher. Actual pain. Searing heat crawling up my fingers into my palm.
For a fraction of a second, the pain threatened to break my focus—sharp, consuming, wrong—but I crushed it down with pure will.
This is it. Full power. No restraint.
"Black Dranzer," I said through gritted teeth. "Volcano Emission."
The beyblade erupted.
Flames—actual flames, black-edged and crimson-cored—exploded from the fusion wheel.
The attack was instantaneous. A high-speed charge engulfed in fire.
The impact when it struck Rock Scorpio was tremendous.
CRACK—!!!
Rock Scorpio didn't just stop.
It shattered.
The fusion wheel split down the middle. The spin track exploded into fragments. The performance tip melted from sheer heat.
Pieces scattered across the stadium like shrapnel.
The shockwave cracked the reinforced stadium floor in a perfect circle.
Busujima was thrown backward from the force, landing hard on concrete.
His malicious grin—the one he'd worn while destroying three beyblades today, the one that had terrified opponents and spectators alike—was completely gone.
Wiped away in an instant.
Replaced by shock. Disbelief. And then—
Tears.
"My... my Scorpio..." His voice cracked. "No... no no no—"
The cruelty. The arrogance. The enjoyment of others' suffering.
All of it stripped away, leaving only raw, shocked grief.
Silence.
Absolute, stunned, terrified silence.
Black Dranzer returned to the center, still spinning, flames dying slowly as the crimson glow faded.
Time: 4.1 seconds.
I breathed out—steam rising from my hand.
Small burn mark on my palm. Blood vessels burst in my eyes from the strain.
Fatigue. Heat. The phantom weight of Black Dranzer pulling energy through our connection.
My hand trembled. Once. Then steadied.
Worth it.
I retrieved Black Dranzer. The beyblade was warm—almost hot—but already cooling.
The phoenix settled back into quiet observation.
Tired. Satisfied.
I turned and walked away.
Busujima was still on the ground, clutching the scattered pieces of Rock Scorpio, tears streaming down his face.
I didn't spare him a glance.
"W-winner..." The referee's voice barely worked. "K-Kai Hiwatari. Tournament victor."
The crowd didn't cheer.
They just stared.
Some in awe. Most in fear.
A few looked at me like I was a monster.
Maybe they were right.
***
Aftermath — Outside
The evening air was cool against my burned hand.
I stood alone outside the stadium, letting the adrenaline fade.
"Kai."
Madoka's voice. Quiet. Shaken.
I turned.
She stood a few feet away, face pale, eyes wide.
"Your hand." She stepped closer, voice trembling slightly. "It's burned. And your eyes—there's blood—"
"It's nothing."
"It's NOT nothing!" Her voice cracked. "That beyblade is hurting you, Kai. That power—it's not normal. It's not safe."
I looked at her. Cold. Final.
She wanted to shout. To argue. To make me understand.
But something stopped her.
For just a moment, she saw it.
Behind me. Faint. Almost invisible in the dimming light.
A silhouette. Dark wings spreading wide. Eyes burning cold crimson, staring directly at her.
A phoenix.
Not a trick of the light. Not imagination.
Real.
Her breath caught. The vision faded like smoke.
But the chill remained.
In all her years fixing beyblades, studying their mechanics, understanding their physics—she'd never seen anything like that. Never felt anything like that.
Beyblades were metal and science. Engineering and skill.
Not... this.
Not something that could stare back at you with intelligence and hunger.
"What..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "What is that thing?"
I didn't answer.
Just walked away into the evening shadows.
Behind me, I heard her whisper: "Please be careful, Kai. Please."
I didn't look back.
***
Night — Rooftop
I stood on my rooftop as the city lights flickered on, Black Dranzer in hand.
Five thousand beypoints. Forty-two thousand to go.
But more importantly: I maintained control. Even at full power.
Twelve days of training. Validated.
Black Dranzer pulsed suddenly—sharp, insistent.
Different than before.
A presence. Distant but growing stronger.
Bright. Warm. Burning with life and determination.
Storm Pegasus.
"He's here," I whispered.
The beyblade pulsed in agreement.
Somewhere in Metal City, Gingka Hagane had arrived.
The collision was inevitable.
I looked down at Black Dranzer. The phoenix etched into its fusion wheel seemed to stare back.
"Soon," I said.
And somewhere in the darkness, I swear I felt it smile.
End of Chapter 5
A/N: Alright guys cannon is starting and i appreciate every suggestion.