The Tokyo Mega-Mall's central atrium was an altar.
In the VIP dressing room situated high above the main stage, Zac the Sunrise was currently engaged in a fierce, uncompromising battle with a sequined lapel.
"More glitter on the left shoulder!" Zac commanded, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at his reflection in the brightly lit vanity mirror. "When the spotlight hits me from the eastern rig, I need the refraction to blind at least the first three rows! We are delivering a performance, not a rehearsal!"
Two frantic stylists rushed forward, pinning an extra layer of shimmering fabric to his pristine white coat.
His manager stood by the door, anxiously tapping a clipboard against his thigh. He had been sweating continuously since the emergency WBBA bulletin went out the previous day.
"Zac, I strongly advise we increase the security detail around the stage," the manager pleaded, his voice bordering on a whine. "Xander Shakadera's dojo was completely compromised. If this 'Anvil' kid shows up here, in front of five thousand screaming fans—"
"If he shows up here, he buys a ticket like everybody else!" Zac interrupted, spinning around and striking a flawless, dramatic pose. The rhinestones on his jacket caught the vanity lights, casting tiny rainbows across the walls. "Do you honestly believe some brooding guy from the islands can steal my stage? A stage is a domain of absolute light! Shadows do not survive in the sun, they evaporate!"
Zac picked up his golden microphone, twirling it effortlessly between his fingers. He gave his reflection one last, blindingly confident smile.
"Let the Anvil come," Zac declared, his aura flaring with a bright, undeniable energy. "I will gladly show him the difference between breaking rocks in the dirt and performing for the heavens."
---
Down in the central atrium, the heavens were currently producing a noise that violated several municipal decibel ordinances.
Ryu O'Hara stood exactly twenty feet from the main stage, surrounded by a sea of glowing pink light sticks, homemade banners, and approximately four thousand highly caffeinated teenagers.
He had his hands shoved deep into his black jacket pockets. His expression was a mask of absolute, profound detachment.
"I can't hear myself think!" Rantaro Kiyama screamed over the ambient roar of the crowd, pressing his hands against his ears. He was being slowly crushed between a sobbing fangirl and a large cardboard cutout of Zac's face. "Why did we agree to stand in the VIP section?! It's a warzone!"
"Because if we stand in the back, we can't challenge him!" Valt Aoi yelled back, entirely unbothered by the crushing crowd. In fact, Valt was holding a glowing pink light stick he had found on the floor, waving it around to the rhythm of the pre-show music. "Besides, this song is actually pretty catchy!"
Daigo adjusted his bandana, looking completely exhausted despite the fact that the show hadn't even started yet. "Valt, we aren't here for a concert. We're here to initiate a hostile takeover of the National bracket."
"We can do both!" Valt cheered.
Ken Midori was tucked behind Daigo, using his puppets as a physical barrier to keep people from stepping on his shoes. Keru, the blue puppet, was aggressively barking at anyone who pushed too close, while Besu, the brown puppet, was silently offering apologies to the terrified fans.
Ryu simply existed in the chaos. He didn't push back against the crowd, but he didn't yield to it, either. He had perfectly anchored his center of gravity. When the crowd surged forward, he simply absorbed the kinetic shift, causing a strange, unmoving bubble of personal space to form around him.
A teenage girl to his left, violently shaking a tambourine and screaming Zac's name, suddenly tripped over a discarded merchandising bag. She pitched forward, directly toward the solid concrete floor.
Ryu didn't look at her. He simply raised his left arm, catching her perfectly by the collar of her jacket mid-fall, arresting her momentum entirely. He set her upright in a single, fluid motion and dropped his arm back into his pocket.
"Your center of balance is severely compromised by your footwear," Ryu stated, glancing down at her heavy platform boots. "I advise a wider stance."
The girl blinked, staring at the silver-haired boy. Her face instantly flushed completely red. She let out a high-pitched squeak, clutched her tambourine to her chest, and fainted directly into the arms of her friends.
"Ryu, stop that," Rantaro groaned, finally managing to push his way to Ryu's side. "How are we even supposed to get you up there? Security is stacked three deep at the stairs."
Ryu looked past the screaming crowd to the brightly lit, empty stage. The standard WBBA stadium was positioned perfectly in the center, flanked by pyrotechnic rigs and massive speakers.
"Zac accepts a single challenger from the audience during every performance," Ryu said, his voice cutting cleanly through the noise without requiring him to shout. "It is a scheduled segment to demonstrate his accessibility."
"Yeah, but he always picks someone easy! A plant, or a kid who barely knows how to hold a launcher!" Rantaro argued. "He's not going to point at the guy who just put Xander in the dirt!"
"He will point at me," Ryu replied evenly.
Daigo leaned in. "How can you be sure?"
"Because he is an entertainer," Ryu explained, his pink and grey eyes locking onto the ceiling catwalks. "An entertainer requires validation. They feed on energy, volume, and attention. To an ego of that magnitude, apathy is a vacuum. It is a fundamental insult to their craft."
Ryu pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. "I will not cheer. I will not hold a light stick. I will project an absolute, undeniable absence of interest. He will not be able to tolerate it."
Before Rantaro could question the logic, the lights in the mega-mall suddenly plunged into total darkness.
The crowd went completely feral. The screaming reached a pitch that Ryu concluded could likely shatter cheap glass.
A single, blinding golden spotlight snapped on, illuminating the highest catwalk near the glass ceiling of the atrium.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Did you miss the daylight?!"
Zac the Sunrise leaped from the catwalk.
The crowd shrieked in terror and delight as he plummeted toward the stage. At the last possible second, a thin, near-invisible wire caught his harness, swinging him in a flawless, sweeping arc over the audience. He showered the crowd in a handful of golden glitter before dropping perfectly onto the center of the stage, landing in a deep, dramatic bow.
Indoor fireworks erupted from the edges of the stage in a synchronized blast of heat and light.
Zac threw his white cape over his shoulder and raised his golden microphone. "Because the Sun... has officially risen!"
The heavy bass of an upbeat pop track shook the floorboards. Zac launched into a highly choreographed musical number. He spun, he jumped, he threw flawless winks at the camera drones buzzing around the stage. He was entirely in his element, a master of controlling the tempo of thousands of people.
Valt was completely mesmerized, jumping up and down with the music. Rantaro had given up and was simply tapping his foot. Daigo watched with a critical eye, while Ken's puppets surprisingly seemed to know the choreography, mimicking Zac's dance moves flawlessly.
Ryu stood completely still.
He didn't tap his foot. He didn't nod his head. He watched Zac's footwork, noting how the idol incorporated his launch stance into his dance routine to disguise his athletic baseline. It was an efficient use of muscle memory, disguised as art. But it was just a performance. It lacked the heavy, pressure of a real battle.
After five minutes of non-stop vocal and physical exertion, the music swelled to a massive crescendo. Zac struck a final, breathtaking pose, one hand pointing toward the ceiling, the other resting on his hip.
The music cut. The fireworks popped one last time.
The crowd chanted his name so loudly the floor vibrated. *"Zac! Zac! Zac!"*
Zac breathed heavily, a sparkling smile plastered across his face. He walked to the edge of the stage, looking out over the sea of glowing pink lights.
"Thank you, Tokyo!" Zac called out, his voice echoing perfectly through the high-end acoustic setup. "Your energy is blinding! But you know, dancing is only half of the show. I think it's time to turn up the heat!"
The crowd screamed in agreement.
"Who here," Zac dramatically swept his arm across the front rows, "wants to step into the light? Who wants to challenge the Sun in a battle?!"
A forest of arms shot into the air. People were jumping on each other's shoulders, waving posters, crying, and begging to be picked.
Zac paced the edge of the stage, tapping his chin in mock deliberation. His bright blue eyes scanned the frantic audience. He loved this part. Finding the perfect fan to bring up, someone who would be so star-struck they could barely pull their ripcord, ensuring a dazzling, flawless victory for his brand.
He looked past the front row. He scanned the second.
Then, his eyes caught a dead zone.
Right in the middle of the third row, surrounded by a chaotic, moving mass of screaming fans, there was a void.
It was a boy in a black jacket. He wasn't jumping. He wasn't screaming. His arms were crossed over his chest. He had striking platinum-silver hair, and his eyes , one pale pink, one slate grey—were staring directly at Zac.
There was no awe in those eyes. There was no excitement. There was only a profound, almost clinical observation.
Zac's sparkling smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
*Who is that?* Zac thought, his ego immediately bristling. *Is he not entertained? Is the lighting not catching my sequins properly? How can anyone stand in my presence and look so... bored?*
Zac stopped pacing. He stared at the silver-haired boy. The boy stared back, entirely unblinking.
It was an affront to everything Zac stood for. It was a challenge thrown directly at his pride. He couldn't just ignore it. If there was a single shadow in his audience, it was his duty as the Sun to burn it away.
"You there!"
Zac pointed his golden microphone directly at Ryu.
The spotlight operator, following Zac's cue, instantly slammed a heavy beam of white light directly onto the third row.
The crowd parted around Ryu like the Red Sea, leaving him standing entirely alone in a circle of empty space, bathed in the blinding light.
"Yes, you! The quiet one in the black jacket!" Zac announced, his voice booming over the speakers. "You look like you need a little excitement in your life! Why don't you come up here and feel the heat of the stage?!"
Rantaro's jaw hit the floor. He looked at Ryu, then up at Zac. "No way. It actually worked."
Valt grabbed Ryu by the shoulders, shaking him violently. "He picked you! Go! Go crush him!"
"Release my jacket, Valt," Ryu said calmly, brushing the boy's hands away.
Ryu stepped forward. The crowd was entirely silent now, watching the strange, unbothered boy walk toward the stage. The heavy security guards in black suits moved to intercept him at the stairs, holding up their hands.
"Hold on, kid. We need to check your gear," the lead guard grunted.
"Let him through!" Zac commanded from the stage, waving his hand dismissively. "The Sun welcomes all challengers! Come up, my quiet friend! Step into the radiance!"
The guards stepped aside.
Ryu walked up the metal stairs. His footsteps were light, entirely silent against the grating. He stepped onto the polished surface of the main stage, walking past the pyrotechnic rigs without giving them a second glance.
He stopped directly across the plastic stadium from Zac.
The height difference wasn't as severe as with Xander, but Zac still held a commanding, theatrical presence. Zac flashed his million-dollar smile, leaning forward over the stadium.
"Welcome to the main event!" Zac said, his voice dripping with charisma. "I must admit, you are the most composed fan I've ever brought up here. Tell the audience your name!"
Zac held the golden microphone out toward Ryu.
Ryu didn't lean into the mic. He didn't look at the crowd. He looked directly into Zac's eyes.
"I am not a fan," Ryu stated, his voice completely flat, lacking any amplification, but carrying enough weight to make Zac pause.
Ryu reached down to his belt. He didn't pull out a standard plastic string launcher. He unholstered the heavy, custom-machined aluminum grip. The metal caught the harsh stage lights, gleaming with a cold, industrial efficiency.
He pulled Eclipse Nidhogg from his pocket and locked it onto the prongs with a sharp, echoing *click*.
Zac's eyes dropped to the heavy launcher. He recognized it instantly from the emergency WBBA bulletin. The silver hair. The mismatched eyes. The dark violet Beyblade.
The smile vanished entirely from Zac the Sunrise's face. The pop star persona melted away in a split second, replaced by the cold, calculating glare of a Supreme Four pillar.
"You," Zac breathed, pulling his microphone away.
"You requested a challenge," Ryu said, dropping his right foot back and lowering his center of gravity into his newly refined, aggressive stance. He gripped the heavy metal launcher with both hands, aiming it directly at the stadium.
The audience was entirely confused by the sudden drop in temperature. The music was gone. The cheering had stopped. It no longer felt like a concert.
It felt like an execution.
Zac quickly recovered, forcing a sharp, dangerous smirk back onto his face. He pulled his own launcher and locked his golden Bey, Zillion Zeus, into place.
"I see," Zac said, his voice losing its melodic lilt, dropping into a highly competitive edge. "The Anvil decided to crash the stage. I hope you brought your sunglasses, shadow. Because the Sun is about to blind you."
Ryu stood perfectly still, his pink and grey eyes locked onto the golden Bey. He felt the heavy, violent pulse of Nidhogg vibrating through the metal grip.
"A star is just a ball of burning gas," Ryu replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Eventually, it burns out."