The crashing waves of the Shirasagijo private estate were violent, slamming against the jagged coastal rocks with enough force to send salt spray high into the morning air.
Lui sat on the edge of a concrete retaining wall, one leg dangling over the sheer drop to the water below. He wasn't wearing his usual feather boa, just a loose, dark blue training shirt that caught the ocean breeze.
In his right hand, he continuously tossed Lost Longinus into the air, catching it perfectly by the jagged metal dragon heads every time it fell.
*Clink. Clink. Clink.*
His blue eyes were distant, completely detached from the roaring ocean in front of him. He was replaying the Grand Final in his head. Over and over.
He had lost. He had thrown everything he had at Ryu , pushed the White Tyrant's raw power to its absolute breaking point, and it still hadn't been enough. He had failed to burst the Anvil.
But as Longinus landed in his palm again, Lui didn't scowl. His thumb brushed over a deep, fresh scratch on the metal.
It had been the best match of his entire life.
For the first time, Lui hadn't been fighting a brick wall. He had been fighting a monster. He remembered the look on Ryu O'Hara's face when the dark violet Bey completely shed its white armor. It was a look of pure, unadulterated bliss. Ryu had tasted the absolute peak of the stadium, and Lui knew exactly what that meant.
Ryu wasn't satisfied. He was addicted now. He was going to take that shattered Beyblade and forge it into something infinitely worse.
Lui gripped Longinus tightly. The blue layer seemed to pulse with a faint, eager glow. It was time to move forward. The National Tournament was a stepping stone, the world stage was where the real hunt would begin.
Suddenly, the rhythmic sound of the ocean faded, replaced by an uninvited, hazy image in the back of his mind.
It was an old memory, fractured and out of focus. He saw the dim lighting of an airport terminal. He saw the back of someone walking away from him, luggage rolling quietly against the tile floor.
He couldn't see the face, but a soft, hesitant voice echoed clearly in his head.
"Will you... ever look back?"
Lui's hand clamped down hard on Longinus, the metal points digging painfully into his palm. The memory vanished as quickly as it had surfaced, shoved forcefully back into whatever locked box he kept it in.
His face remained completely, rigidly neutral. He didn't blink. He didn't sigh.
Lui slipped Longinus into his pocket. He stood up from the concrete wall, turning his back on his massive outdoor training stadium. He didn't grab his launcher. Instead, he walked down a narrow, overgrown dirt path that led away from the main estate, heading toward a secluded, forgotten corner of the island that nobody else knew about.
---
Thousands of miles away, in the deep, sun-dappled forests of Spain.
*Crack.*
The sound was sharp .
Free De La Hoya stood in the center of a perfectly sterile, brightly lit room. He wasn't in the forest anymore. The air conditioning hummed aggressively.
He looked at the wall across from him. His golden Beyblade, Fafnir, was physically embedded in the concrete, its spin completely dead. It had just been violently swatted out of the air like a fly.
Free slowly turned his head.
Ryu O'Hara stood on the opposite side of the stadium. The silver-haired boy looked exactly as he had three years ago. He wore a crisp, dark shirt. His posture was perfectly upright. But his eyes—one pink, one grey—were entirely hollow. There was no anger, no thrill, no excitement. It was just a vast, crushing emptiness.
Ryu looked at the golden Beyblade stuck in the wall, then back at Free.
"Is this it?" Ryu asked. The deadpan voice carried no insult, which somehow made it infinitely worse. It was just genuine disappointment.
.
.
.
.
Free's eyes snapped open.
He sat up quickly, his breathing shallow and rapid. He pushed his messy blonde hair out of his face, blinking against the morning sunlight streaming through his bedroom window.
"That dream again," Free murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. His skin was slick with cold sweat.
He swung his legs out of bed, grabbing his trademark yellow tank top. He didn't linger in his room at the BC Sol headquarters. He needed the fresh air.
Ten minutes later, Free was standing in a small clearing deep in the woods, surrounded by mossy logs and the quiet rustle of the trees. A small deer watched him from the brush, entirely unafraid.
Free pulled a string from his pocket. He threaded it through his launcher, locking Drain Fafnir into place.
He hadn't been able to shake the feeling since he watched the WBBA broadcast a week ago. Seeing Ryu O'Hara step into a public stadium had been jarring. That guy never fought on television. But there he was, standing under the stadium lights, completely dismantling the Japanese league.
But it wasn't the victories that bothered Free. It was the look in Ryu's eyes during that final match.
The hollow emptiness from three years ago was gone. Ryu had looked alive. He looked hungry.
Free gripped his launcher. His knuckles turned white. He remembered the feeling of absolute helplessness from that day on the island. He remembered walking away, realizing that being a prodigy meant absolutely nothing if you ran into a force of nature.
"You stepped out of the dark," Free whispered to the empty forest, his usually lazy, half-lidded eyes narrowing into a sharp, golden glare.
He pulled the string. Fafnir launched with a flawless, heavy hum, carving a perfect circle into a worn-out tree stump.
Free wasn't the same bored kid from three years ago. If Ryu O'Hara wanted to cross the ocean and claim the world stage, he was going to have to go through Fafnir first. And Free promised himself, watching the golden Bey spin, that he wouldn't be the one to break this time.
---
The main training hall of BC Sol was loud, chaotic, and packed to the brim.
The annual tryouts for the world-renowned Spanish team always drew a massive crowd of hopeful rookies. Trad Vasquez, the strict head analyst, stood near the center stadium with his clipboard, barking orders to keep the line moving. Kristina Kuroda, the team owner, watched from the balcony with a hopeful smile.
Sitting directly on the edge of the center stadium, looking like he would rather be literally anywhere else, was Free De La Hoya.
"Next," Trad called out.
A nervous-looking teenager stepped up to the basin, locking his Bey into a launcher. "I'm going to give it my all, Free!"
Free didn't stand up. He didn't even grab his launcher from his belt. He just held Fafnir in his right hand.
"Three, two, one, go shoot!" the rookie yelled, ripping his cord.
As the opponent's Bey hit the stadium, Free simply flicked his wrist. He hand-spun Fafnir directly into the basin.
The rookie gasped. "A hand spin?! You aren't even taking me seriously!"
"It's enough," Free mumbled, resting his chin on his hand.
The opponent's Bey rushed in, striking Fafnir. But the golden Beyblade didn't bounce away. The rubber on its outer layer caught the opposing spin, absorbing the impact and literally stealing the energy. Within ten seconds, Fafnir was spinning rapidly, while the rookie's Bey wobbled and completely died in the center.
"Spin Finish. Free wins," Trad said flatly, marking his clipboard. The veterans of BC Sol just smirked. They were completely used to Free humiliating the tryouts.
"Next," Trad sighed.
"That's me!"
A boy in a red jacket bounded up the stairs, completely failing to contain his excitement. Valt Aoi practically skidded to a halt in front of the stadium, pulling out a brand-new, heavily upgraded blue Beyblade. The polycarbonate wings of God Valkyrie gleamed under the gym lights.
Free blinked, his lazy eyes focusing on the newcomer.
He recognized the kid instantly. He had watched the broadcast. This was the boy who had pushed Ryu O'Hara to a simultaneous burst. Free had analyzed that match a dozen times. Ryu had been completely unstable, fighting against his own control, but a tie against the Anvil was still a tie. No rookie had ever managed it.
Valt locked Valkyrie onto his launcher, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I flew a really long way for this! Let's have a great match!"
Free didn't pick up his Bey immediately. He looked at Valt, tilting his head slightly.
"Do you know Ryu O'Hara?" Free asked. His voice was quiet, lacking any particular inflection, but the specific name caused a sudden hush to fall over the older BC Sol members who knew the rumors of the underground circuit.
Valt's eyes lit up like fireworks.
"Ryu?! Yeah, of course I know him!" Valt grinned, entirely oblivious to the heavy weight of the question. "He's awesome! He actually taught me how to fix my launch angle at the local park. He acts really quiet and grumpy all the time, but he's actually a really nice guy!"
Free stared at Valt.
*Nice guy.* *Taught him his launch angle.* The image of the hollow-eyed monster who had shattered Fafnir three years ago did not align with the person Valt was currently describing. But the sheer honesty radiating from Valt was undeniable. Ryu had changed. He had formed a connection with this loud, energetic rookie.
Free looked down at Fafnir resting in the stadium. He reached over and picked it up.
He didn't hold it ready for a hand spin.
Instead, Free stood up from the edge of the stadium. He reached down to his waist and unclipped his heavy string launcher.
Trad's eyes widened, his pen freezing over the clipboard. Up on the balcony, Kristina gasped slightly.
Free never used a launcher against rookies. It was an unspoken rule. If Free De La Hoya pulled his launcher, it meant he recognized you as a genuine threat.
Free locked Fafnir onto the prongs. The golden Bey clicked into place. He looked across the stadium at Valt, his lazy demeanor sharpening into something focused, and incredibly dangerous.
"I see," Free said quietly, dropping his left foot back into a proper launch stance. "Then I won't hold back."
Valt didn't shrink under the sudden pressure. He didn't realize the massive honor he had just been handed. He just saw a strong opponent getting serious, and his brown eyes burned with pure, unadulterated excitement.
"Awesome!" Valt cheered, dropping into his own stance.
The World League tryouts had officially started, and the shadow of the Anvil was already stretching across the stage.
.....
Hey!!! How's it going , with this we have officially started the season 2 and i got some serious plans for this so i will clear some important things :
1. From here onwards the Canon might change which you will notice soon so be prepared for the introduction of some new oc's .
2. I don't wanna focus only on battles but also on individual characters , so expect a lot of new drama .
3. I wanna take this fanfic to that direction which the original burst failed , like them butchering the goats( shu , lui , free) and making them stepping stones for others, which ain't gonna happen here.
Overall it's gonna be pretty huge ride so prepare your seatbelts , and man what can i say a massive thanks for all the support you guys have shown to which i can only try to not dissapoint you all!!!
So let it rip!!!!