Chapter 25 — After the Fire
The BeyMall didn't calm down after the burst.
It stuttered.
Like the whole building had tried to shout and only remembered how to breathe half a second later. The noise came back in layers cheers, laughter, people talking too fast because their heads couldn't catch up with what their eyes had seen. The stadium lights kept shining as if nothing had changed, but the air felt different, charged and thin, like the last hit was still hanging there.
Drago sat in Ryo's palm, warm and steady,
Across the stadium, Shu didn't move.
Storm Spryzen was back in his hand whole, intact, quiet. Not shattered, not ruined. Just… still. The kind of stillness that made the loss feel louder than any broken part ever could.
The referee's arm was raised. The scoreboard had already locked it in. The announcer was trying to speak over the roar and failing, voice breaking into excited fragments.
"THAT'S IT! THAT'S THE MATCH! RYO TAKES IT!"
Ryo heard the words, but they didn't land properly. Not yet.
His eyes kept drifting to Shu, as if his brain was waiting for Shu to say something that would make this feel real.
Shu's gaze lifted, finally meeting his.
There was no anger in it. No cheap drama. No "I'll get you next time." Just that sharp, quiet honesty Shu always carried, even when it hurt.
A single nod.
Ryo nodded back without thinking.
And then the stadium hit him again the sound, the lights, the people everything rushed in all at once like a wave that had been holding itself back.
"RYO! RYO! RYO!"
Valt was already screaming before the chant even formed, gripping the railing like it was the only thing stopping him from launching himself into the arena.
"HE DID IT! HE DID IT! DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT?!" He slapped the glass so hard it made the front row flinch. "THAT WAS SO COOL THAT WAS SO COOL"
Rentaro grabbed the back of Valt's hoodie before he could climb over. "If you jump, you're getting banned."
Valt twisted around like Rentaro had personally betrayed him. "I DON'T CARE!"
"You will in ten minutes when you realize you like this building." Rentaro didn't look away from the stadium. His voice was calm, but his eyes weren't. "He didn't just win. He proved something."
"RYO! LOOK UP! YOU WON!"
Ryo didn't look up.
Not yet.
Because he could feel his hands trembling, and he didn't want the crowd to see that. He didn't want Shu to see that. He didn't want it to look like the win had shaken him.
But it had.
Not because it wasn't deserved.
Because it was real.
The referee stepped in, close enough that his voice cut through the noise. "Ryo. Center. Presentation."
Ryo nodded once, forcing his legs to move. He stepped forward, careful, like the stadium floor might shift under him if he walked too fast. The cameras followed instantly. Screens overhead flickered, zooming in, catching the warmth still clinging to Drago's metal.
The announcer's voice surged again, finding its footing now that the moment had a shape.
"Ladies and gentlemen The Regional Tournament has its champion!"Eclipse Drago's blader RYO!"
The chant hit harder.
Ryo reached the center and stopped. He could feel the heat inside his chest, still rolling, still bright, but it wasn't wild anymore. It wasn't trying to escape. It was just… there. Present. Like a heartbeat.
He lifted Drago slightly, not a victory pose, not a show. Just a quiet acknowledgement.
The crowd answered anyway.
And somewhere in that noise, Ryo finally let himself smile small, tired, honest.
Shu walked in a straight line across the stadium, calm as always, but the distance felt heavier than it should have. He stopped in front of Ryo and held out his hand.
For a second Ryo froze, because the handshake suddenly felt more important than the trophy, more important than the chant, more important than the scoreboard.
Then he took it.
Shu's grip was firm. Warm.
Ryo swallowed. "You almost had me."
Shu's eyes narrowed slightly not angry. Just real. "I did have you."
The words hit like a punch, because Shu wasn't trying to be cruel. He was just stating a fact the way he always did.
Ryo nodded again. "Yeah."
Shu's thumb pressed once, briefly, against Ryo's knuckles like a small anchor, like a quiet "Don't lie to yourself either."
Then Shu let go.
And as he turned away, the crowd kept roaring, but Ryo's focus followed him instinctively.
Because Shu didn't walk like someone who had lost.
He walked like someone who had just discovered a new limit.
He walked straight off the platform and into the corridor behind the stadium where the lights were colder and the sound was muffled into a distant rumble that felt almost insulting.
He stopped by a blank wall.
For a moment, he just stood there, breathing.
And then his hand tightened around Spryzen's case so hard the strap creaked.
His jaw locked.
His shoulders didn't slump. Shu didn't collapse when he lost. He didn't do dramatic breakdowns. He didn't throw things.
But the anger still existed.
It just had nowhere to go.
So it turned inward.
He opened the case with one controlled movement, set Spryzen in his palm, and stared at it like it had betrayed him.
His thumb traced the edge of the layer.
That final exchange replayed again and again behind his eyes, and he hated that he could see it so clearly hated that he knew exactly where the line had been, exactly where his timing had been perfect, and exactly where perfection still hadn't been enough.
His breath came out sharper than he meant.
He closed his eyes.
Not to calm down.
To keep the feeling from showing.
Because if he opened them again too soon, he knew what he would see: the moment Ryo stopped holding back. The moment Ryo became honest. The moment Shu realized he'd been waiting for that moment while also fearing it.
A soft footstep behind him.
Shu didn't turn. "Not now."
Valt's voice cracked anyway. "Shu."
Shu's fingers tightened again. "Valt, I said"
"I know." Valt's tone was quieter than usual, but it still sounded like Valt too earnest, too fast, too alive. "I know you want to be alone. But I'm I'm not good at leaving people alone when they look like that."
Shu turned slowly.
Valt stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets like a kid caught sneaking snacks. His eyes were bright not with cheering now, but with something uncertain, like he didn't know what to do with the victory that hadn't been his.
"Don't pity me," Shu said.
Valt flinched. "I'm not."
Shu waited.
Valt rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm just… mad."
Shu blinked. "Mad."
"Yeah!" Valt stepped forward a little, voice rising because he couldn't help it. "Because you're Shu. You're Shu. You don't lose like that and then just… make that face like it doesn't matter."
Shu's expression didn't change, but something in his chest shifted. "It matters."
"Then say it!" Valt blurted, then immediately looked guilty for being loud in a hallway. He lowered his voice again. "Say it matters. Say it hurts. Say you're angry."
Shu's gaze held him.
For a long second, nothing.
Then Shu exhaled, and the honesty slipped out like it had been waiting behind his teeth.
"I'm furious," Shu said softly.
Valt's shoulders dropped in relief like he'd been waiting for permission.
Shu looked past him at the wall again, voice still quiet, still controlled, but the emotion finally visible in the tightness of his words. "I did what I always do. I controlled the center. I cut the rhythm. I forced the line. I made him pay for every mistake."
His fingers tapped Spryzen once. "And he stopped making mistakes."
Valt swallowed. "He went all out."
Shu's eyes sharpened. "He went honest."
That word sat between them.
Valt stared at the floor for a moment. "Is… is it wrong that I'm kind of happy about that?" he asked, like he was confessing a crime. "Not about you losing. That sucks. I hate that. But about him… finally doing it."
Shu watched him.
Then, slowly, the anger in Shu's face softened into something cleaner: acceptance without surrender.
"No," Shu said. "It isn't wrong."
Valt's eyebrows lifted. "It's not?"
Shu shook his head once. "Because if he can do that now… then it means the next time I face him, I won't be fighting a half-step version of him."
Valt's grin tried to break through. "So you're gonna get him back."
Shu's eyes narrowed not playful. Determined. "I will."
Valt nodded like that solved something in his soul. "Good."
He hesitated, then added quickly, "Also… you were still awesome."
Shu's mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. "Go scream somewhere else."
Valt lit up immediately. "I CAN DO THAT!" He turned, then paused at the doorway. "Hey, Shu?"
Shu looked.
Valt's voice softened. "Don't be alone too long, okay?"
Shu didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly: "I won't."
Valt left like a storm that had finally decided where to go.
And Shu stood there again in the quieter hallway, anger still present, but no longer choking him.
He looked down at Spryzen.
"Next time," Shu murmured.
Spryzen was silent.
But it didn't need to speak for Shu to feel the promise settle.
---
Ryo didn't get a second alone.
The moment he stepped off the stadium, staff were already guiding him down the tunnel like he was suddenly fragile glass.
"Champion interview in two minutes. Photos. Trophy. Don't leave the corridor."
Ryo nodded to all of it without actually processing any of it.
Because the heat in his chest was starting to fade, and in its place came something that was almost worse:
The realization that people were about to look at him like he belonged here.
Like this was normal.
The tunnel opened into a brighter back area filled with staff, cameras, and the constant hum of the event moving on without waiting for anyone's feelings to catch up.
Rentaro appeared first, slipping through the crowd of staff like he'd done it a thousand times. He stopped in front of Ryo and stared at him for a second like he was checking if Ryo was still real.
Then he nodded once. "You survived."
Ryo let out a laugh that surprised even him. "Barely."
Rentaro's eyes flicked to Drago's case. "That finisher… you didn't throw it. You placed it. That's the difference."
Ryo's throat tightened. "I didn't know if it would work."
Rentaro snorted. "That's what everyone says right after they do something impossible."
Rentaro glanced past Ryo's shoulder. "You're about to get swallowed by cameras. Enjoy."
Ryo's pulse spiked. "I hate cameras."
"You'll hate them less when you realize they're scared of you too," Rentaro said dryly.
Before Ryo could respond, the announcer's voice boomed again from somewhere nearby, calling his name for the official segment.
Then the crowd behind the barrier started chanting again because they'd seen him.
Ryo took a breath.
He stepped forward.
And that's when he saw them.
Not staff. Not cameras. Not fans.
Them.
Two adults standing near the edge of the restricted area, clearly not sure if they were allowed to be there, but there anyway. The father stood stiff, arms crossed too tightly like he didn't know what to do with pride. The mother had her hands clasped in front of her mouth like she'd been holding back tears for hours and finally failed.
Ryo stopped so abruptly a staff member almost walked into him.
The world narrowed.
The tournament noise became distant.
His mother's eyes found his first.
And she smiled in a way that wasn't polite or controlled.
It was the smile of someone who had spent too long being afraid and was now watching that fear fall apart.
Ryo's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
His father stepped forward first, slower, careful like he didn't want to spook the moment. His face was tight, but his eyes were bright.
"You really did it," his father said, voice rougher than it should've been.
Ryo swallowed hard. "I… yeah."
His mother moved fast then faster than Ryo expected and wrapped him in a hug that hit like a wave. Not gentle. Not careful. A real hug. The kind you give when you're terrified the person will disappear if you let go.
Ryo stood frozen for half a second, then his arms came up around her automatically.
He felt her shaking.
He felt the warmth.
He felt something inside him crack open in a way the stadium never could.
"I saw you," she whispered into his shoulder. "I saw you out there."
Ryo's voice came out small. "I was scared you wouldn't come."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, tears in her eyes, angry at herself and the world and time. "I will always come," she said, like she was rewriting history with the sentence.
Ryo's throat burned. "I didn't want you to see me lose."
His father snorted quietly. "Then stop planning to lose."
Ryo laughed, a broken sound, and wiped at his face too fast, pretending it wasn't emotion.
His father stepped in, and it wasn't a hug not fully. Not at first. His father hesitated like he didn't know if Ryo still needed it.
Then Ryo leaned forward, and his father's arms came around him, firm and grounding.
"You finally stopped holding back," his father murmured.
Ryo's hands tightened around his father's jacket. "I almost didn't."
His father's voice lowered. "I know."
Ryo pulled back, blinking fast. "I thought I was protecting everyone."
His father's eyes sharpened. "You were protecting your fear."
Ryo flinched.
His father didn't soften it. But he didn't weaponize it either. He just said it like a truth that could finally be handled.
Then his father's expression shifted, and pride broke through properly for the first time.
"I'm proud of you," he said. "So proud it's annoying."
Ryo choked out a laugh. "That's a weird way to say it."
"It's my way."
His mother wiped her face and looked at Drago's case like it was alive. "Is it… okay?" she asked softly.
Ryo nodded. "Yeah. Tired. But okay."
His father's gaze narrowed slightly, the builder in him, the trainer in him. "That resonance you've been flirting with…" He paused, then shook his head. "Not now. We'll talk later."
Ryo knew what he meant. He felt the same thing in his bones: power could be beautiful, but it could also become something that swallowed you.
Ryo nodded anyway. "Later."
A staff member approached cautiously, voice apologetic. "Ryo, we need you for"
Ryo didn't look away from his parents. "One minute."
The staff member blinked like he wasn't used to champions refusing. Then he nodded. "One minute."
Ryo's mother squeezed his hand. "Go," she whispered. "Finish it properly."
Ryo inhaled.
Then he stepped away, turning toward the lights and cameras and noise again.
But it felt different now.
He wasn't walking alone.
---
When Ryo stepped into the interview zone, the crowd erupted again behind the barriers. The announcer handed him the trophy shiny, ridiculous, heavier than it looked and Ryo almost laughed because it felt like a prop from someone else's life.
The announcer leaned in, microphone up. "Ryo champion. That final burst… what was going through your head?"
Ryo looked out over the crowd.
He saw Valt practically vibrating.
He saw Rentaro watching like he was cataloguing the moment for later.
He saw his parents standing together, his mother still wiping her face, his father pretending he wasn't emotional.
Then Ryo looked down at Drago's case.
His answer came out simple.
"I stopped lying," Ryo said.
The crowd went quiet in that strange way crowds do when they sense something real.
The announcer blinked. "Stopped… lying?"
Ryo nodded once. "To myself. To my Bey. To everyone."
The announcer swallowed, then recovered with a grin, because he was still an announcer. "Well whatever truth that was, it just won you The Regional Tournament!"
The crowd roared again, but the sound felt warmer now, less frantic, like it finally knew what it was cheering for.
Ryo lifted the trophy not high, not dramatic just enough for them to see it.
And this time, he let the smile stay.
Because the fire had burned.
And he was still here.
**End of Chapter 25.**