The traditional Japanese tea house in the quiet sector of the Chiyoda ward was an oasis of absolute, undisturbed serenity. The only sounds were the gentle trickling of a bamboo water feature and the occasional splash of a koi fish breaking the surface of the pond.
Ryu O'Hara sat on the wooden veranda, his legs crossed perfectly. In front of him sat a delicate ceramic plate holding a traditional matcha warabimochi. It was dusted with kinako powder and drizzled with a rich, dark brown sugar syrup.
He took a slow, deliberate bite. The texture was flawless—soft, yielding, and perfectly balanced between bitter and sweet.
It was a good morning.
He picked up his phone, his mismatched eyes scanning the screen. He had downloaded the official WBBA rulebook for the upcoming National Tournament. He scrolled past the equipment regulations, the stadium dimensions, and the conduct policies, landing squarely on Section 4, Paragraph 2.
*National Tournament Registration:*
*Entry into the National Bracket requires a registered team consisting of one captain and a minimum of four active members. Solo entries are strictly prohibited to promote sportsmanship, camaraderie, and cooperative strategy.*
Ryu stopped chewing.
He stared at the words on the screen. *Camaraderie. Cooperative strategy.*
He thought about the concept of relying on four other people to secure a victory. The probability of another blader maintaining his exact standards of mechanical maintenance, emotional control, and launch precision. The statistical likelihood of finding four such individuals was zero.
A team meant chaos he couldn't control. A team meant relying on someone else's flawed baseline to advance.
Ryu tapped the screen, permanently deleting the PDF from his phone.
"I do not participate in group projects," Ryu murmured to the empty tea house.
He finished his warabimochi, paid the bill, and walked out into the busy Tokyo streets. The District Qualifiers had solidified his ranking, but if the WBBA expected him to hold hands with four other rookies just to step onto the National stage, they fundamentally misunderstood how he operated.
If the front door was locked behind a team requirement, he would simply tear the roof off.
Forty-five minutes later, Ryu walked into a high-end, privately funded athletics facility. The Murasaki family wasn't the only one with money in Tokyo.
He bypassed the front desk entirely, walking down a long, air-conditioned hallway until he heard the harsh, rhythmic sound of heavy breathing and shifting metal. He pushed open a set of double doors leading into a massive indoor training gym.
Lui Shirasagijo was in the middle of the room. He was wearing a weighted training vest, doing explosive, high-box jumps. Sweat was pouring down his face, his jagged teeth bared in a permanent, aggressive grimace.
Ryu walked over to a nearby equipment bench. He didn't interrupt. He simply pulled a cold bottle of green tea from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip, watching Lui abuse his own joints.
After completing a set of fifty continuous jumps, Lui dropped from the box, landing heavily on the rubber mat. He ripped the weighted vest off, throwing it to the floor with a loud thud, and grabbed a towel.
He didn't look surprised to see Ryu. He just wiped his face and glared.
"You're trespassing," Lui said, his voice entirely breathless but carrying its usual bite.
"The front desk attendant was asleep," Ryu replied smoothly. "And I require an opinion on a bypass."
Lui scoffed, tossing the towel over his shoulder. He walked over to the bench and grabbed his own water bottle. "If you're here to ask me how to beat Shu in a rematch, you can leave. I'm going to crush him myself."
"Kurenai's already mapped. He is not the current issue," Ryu stated. He took another sip of his tea. "The WBBA requires a five-man team for National entry."
Lui stopped drinking. He lowered his bottle, a sharp, genuinely amused smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Ah. Let me guess. You looked at the roster of local rookies and realized you'd rather walk into traffic than team up with them."
"The liability of a team format is unacceptable," Ryu confirmed. "I will not tie my advancement to a random clankers ."
"So what are you going to do?" Lui challenged, crossing his arms. "Sit on your island and cry about the rules? The WBBA doesn't make exceptions for anyone. Not even me."
"I am aware," Ryu said. He looked directly at Lui, his slate grey and pale pink eyes entirely serious. "Which is why I am not asking for an exception. I am going to force them."
Lui raised an eyebrow. The fiery, aggressive aura around him dialed back slightly, replaced by genuine curiosity.
"The Supreme Four are the WBBA's absolute benchmark," Ryu explained, his voice flat and clinical. "You, Zac the Sunrise, Xander Shakadera, and eventually Kurenai. You are the pillars of the National stage. If a solo blader were to track down and dismantle the Supreme Four in unsanctioned, undeniable matches... the WBBA would be forced to acknowledge the result."
Lui stared at him.
"If I break the pillars," Ryu finished, "I become the fifth. A wild card entry. No team required."
The gym was completely silent for five seconds.
Then, Lui Shirasagijo threw his head back and laughed. It was a loud, sharp, entirely manic sound that echoed off the high ceilings.
"You're going to hunt the Supreme Four," Lui laughed, running a hand through his spiked blue hair. "You're going to crash their private training grounds, humiliate them, and force the WBBA to rewrite their entire National bracket just to accommodate you."
"That is the most available route," Ryu agreed.
Lui stopped laughing. He stepped forward, his eyes burning with a fierce, absolute thrill. He loved nothing more than pure, unadulterated chaos, especially when it insulted the established hierarchy.
"Do it," Lui demanded, pointing a finger directly at Ryu's chest. "Break the board. But listen to me carefully. Zac is a showboat. Xander relies entirely on raw, unrefined power. They are easy targets for you. Go after them first."
Lui leaned in closer, his jagged teeth glinting under the gym lights. "But leave Shu for the tournament. And save me for last. When you finally get your wild card entry, I want to be the one who shatters Nidhogg in front of the entire country."
"Your terms are acceptable," Ryu said, entirely unbothered by the threat. He screwed the cap back onto his green tea. He had the data he needed. Lui's endorsement meant the plan was culturally viable in the blading world.
Ryu turned and walked toward the exit.
"Don't lose to Xander's height advantage, O'Hara!" Lui called out behind him.
"I do not lose to giraffes " Ryu replied without looking back.
He pushed through the double doors and stepped back out into the humid Tokyo afternoon. The plan was set. He just needed to locate Zac or Xander.
As he navigated the busy commercial district, enjoying the quiet anonymity of the crowd, he spotted a flash of bright red and blue near a public bulletin board.
Ryu stopped. He let out a very slow, very quiet sigh.
Valt Aoi was standing on a concrete planter, holding a roll of duct tape. Rantaro Kiyama was holding up a large, incredibly poorly drawn poster. Daigo and Ken were standing nearby, looking incredibly uncomfortable.
Ryu tried to calculate the fastest route to bypass them. He turned to walk down an adjacent alleyway.
"Ryu! Over here!"
The escape failed.
Valt leaped off the planter, nearly dropping the duct tape, and sprinted over. He grabbed Ryu by the sleeve of his black jacket, practically vibrating with energy.
"You're just the guy we were looking for!" Valt cheered, dragging Ryu toward the bulletin board. "Look! We're making it official!"
Ryu allowed himself to be dragged, largely to protect the seams of his jacket. He stopped in front of the board and looked at the poster.
It read: *BEIGOMA BEYCLUB! WE NEED ONE MORE MEMBER FOR NATIONALS! FREE SNACKS IF YOU JOIN! *. The drawing of Valkyrie at the bottom looked more like a crushed blueberry.
"We have four members!" Valt explained rapidly, holding up his fingers. "Me, Honcho, Daigo, and Ken! Shu is technically our fifth, but he's already qualified through his Supreme Four status, so the WBBA says we need one more actual rookie to fill the roster! We've been looking all day!"
Rantaro crossed his arms, looking exhausted. "We asked everyone at the local park. They either already have a team or they ran away when Valt started yelling at them."
"Which brings us to you!" Valt grinned, pointing both index fingers at Ryu. "You don't have a team! You're the District Champion! If you join us, we'll be completely unstoppable! It's fate!"
Ryu stared at Valt. He looked at the poster. He looked at Daigo, who just gave a small, apologetic shrug.
"No," Ryu said.
Valt blinked, his arms dropping. "Wait, really? Just like that? You didn't even think about it!"
"I thought about it extensively approximately two hours ago when I read the rulebook," Ryu replied smoothly. "My answer is no. I do not participate in group projects."
Rantaro scoffed, stepping forward. "Oh, come on, man. Don't be like that. We know you like hanging out with us. You literally cooked us okonomiyaki yesterday. You can't pretend you're an ice-cold loner anymore."
"I cooked the okonomiyaki because watching you destroy the integrity of the batter was physically painful to observe," Ryu corrected factually.
Ken raised his left hand. The brown puppet, Besu, looked up at Ryu with wide, pleading felt eyes. "Please, Ryu? We really want to go to Nationals together. We promise we won't be too loud!"
Keru, the blue puppet on the right, immediately barked. "Speak for yourself! I'm going to be screaming the whole time! But we still need him!"
Ryu looked at the puppets. He felt a very faint, almost imperceptible twitch in his right eye. They were utilizing psychological pressure. It was highly effective.
Ryu pulled his gaze away from the felt dog and looked at Valt.
"Your launch angles are entirely inconsistent," Ryu stated, his voice flat. "Kiyama relies entirely on stamina attrition and lacks a viable counter-attack. Daigo's layer is intentionally unbalanced, making it a liability in a prolonged tournament. Midori's defense is solid, but lacks offensive pressure."
Ryu crossed his arms, leaning back slightly. "You are all statistical liabilities. If I join your team, my advancement is tied to your baseline. I will not compromise my perfect record for a cooperative exercise."
Valt didn't look hurt. He didn't look angry. He just tilted his head, a massive, entirely genuine smile breaking across his face.
"You're right!" Valt cheered.
Rantaro stared at him. "Valt, he just insulted all of us."
"No, he didn't!" Valt argued, turning to the group. "He said we have flaws! But that's the best part! If we were all perfect like Ryu, we wouldn't have any room to grow! That's why we need him! He can point out all our mistakes, and we can help him figure out how to actually have fun!"
Valt turned back to Ryu, his brown eyes shining with absolute determination. "We aren't liabilities, Ryu. We're your friends. And we're going to prove it."
Ryu stood perfectly still. He looked at the sheer, unfiltered honesty in Valt's expression. It defied all logic. He had just listed their failures to their faces, and Valt had somehow interpreted it as a team-building exercise.
The presence inside Nidhogg hummed warmly in his pocket.
Ryu let out a slow, quiet breath. He reached forward, grabbed the edge of the crudely drawn poster, and pressed a piece of duct tape firmly over a loose corner, securing it to the board.
"Your adhesive application was failing," Ryu noted.
Valt's eyes widened. "Does that mean...?"
"No," Ryu cut him off instantly. "I am not joining your team. I have already initiated a separate protocol to secure my entry into the National bracket."
Rantaro raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what separate protocol? The rules say you need a team."
"The rules are a suggestion if you apply enough blunt force," Ryu replied evenly. He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. "I am going to locate Zac the Sunrise and Xander Shakadera. I am going to break their Beys. The WBBA will adjust the rules accordingly."
The entire BeyClub stared at him. The bustling noise of the Tokyo street seemed to fade away.
"You're... you're going to hunt the Supreme Four?" Daigo asked, his usually calm voice cracking slightly.
"Just the two of them for now," Ryu clarified. "Kurenai and Shirasagijo have requested to be saved for the final bracket."
Valt's jaw dropped. He looked at Ryu as if the silver-haired boy had just casually announced he was going to walk to the moon.
Then, Valt burst into a massive, echoing laugh.
"That is the coolest thing I've ever heard!" Valt yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "You're going to fight Xander?! He's huge! He laughs like a giant! You have to let us come with you!"
"Absolutely not," Ryu said immediately, taking a step backward. "This is a solo operation. Your presence will introduce unnecessary volume."
"Too late! We're coming!" Rantaro grinned, entirely abandoning the poster. He slapped Ryu on the shoulder. "If you're going to crash the Supreme Four's private training camps, we are not missing the show. Besides, Xander runs a martial arts dojo in the mountains. You'll get lost without a guide."
Ryu looked at Rantaro. Then he looked at Valt, who was already marching in place, completely fired up. He looked at Ken and Daigo, who had both abandoned their recruiting duties and were clearly entirely invested in this new plan.
Ryu calculated the energy required to physically outrun them. It was high. Valt possessed an unnatural level of stamina when properly motivated.
Ryu closed his eyes. He let out a long, very tired sigh.
"The structural integrity of my quiet afternoon has completely collapsed," Ryu muttered.
"Awesome!" Valt cheered, grabbing Ryu's arm again. "Next stop, Xander's dojo! We're going to the mountains!"
Ryu opened his eyes, allowing himself to be dragged down the street. He didn't fight it. He just adjusted his stride to maintain his balance.
He had intended to hunt the Supreme Four as a solitary . Instead, he was bringing a marching band. Things were entirely out of his control.
But as the BeyClub laughed and argued around him, Ryu felt the familiar, cold weight of Nidhogg in his pocket.
*Let them watch,* Ryu thought, his pink and grey eyes sharpening as he looked ahead toward the train station.
.....
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