Chapter 27 – Rooftop Rules
School was, in most ways, still school.
The same corridors that always smelled faintly of cleaning spray and warm concrete; the same hurried footsteps between classes; the same careless noise of students talking about lunch, homework, and weekend plans as if tournaments and stadium lights did not exist somewhere outside their world. If anyone looked at Ryo a little longer than usual, it was the kind of glance that came from curiosity rather than fear a brief flicker of recognition that died the moment something more ordinary demanded attention.
Ryo preferred it that way.
He was slipping his shoes into his locker when Valt appeared at his shoulder with the sort of timing that suggested he had been waiting, bouncing on the balls of his feet, thinking of exactly what to say and deciding at the last second to say all of it at once.
"Okay," Valt began, breathless but bright, "first hi. Second are you coming up?"
Ryo blinked. "Up?"
Valt stared at him as if the roof were a universally accepted concept like gravity. "The roof. BeyClub. Shu's already there and Rantaro's there and Ken's there and" he paused, realizing he'd used up most of his air, "and it's nice up there. The wind's good."
"The wind," Ryo repeated.
Valt nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. The wind. It makes it feel… like a proper training montage."
"That's not a real reason," Ryo said.
Valt grinned. "It's a great reason."
Ryo should have refused on principle. He didn't, mostly because Valt had already started walking as though the answer had been decided. There was something strange about being pulled along by that kind of optimism; it was difficult to argue with someone who didn't seem to know what doubt felt like.
They climbed the stairwell, Valt talking the whole way.
"So BeyClub's not like, official," he explained, gesturing as if the word official were something sticky. "No teacher, no paperwork, no 'please sign here and promise not to launch Beyblades at the first-years.' It's just us. And if you come, then it's… also you."
Ryo watched him. "That's not how membership works."
Valt shrugged. "It is here."
At the top, Valt shoved the rooftop door open with his shoulder and stepped out into pale sunlight and brisk air. The roof was wider than it looked from below a stretch of concrete bordered by a fence, with the school's buildings and the city beyond laid out like a model. A few bags had been dropped near the wall, and a couple of bottle caps skittered across the ground when the wind picked up.
Shu sat near the fence with his launcher beside him, calm as ever, as though the roof were simply another room with better lighting. Rantaro was sprawled nearby, leaning back on his elbows with the relaxed confidence of someone who believed rules were optional. Ken sat a little apart, puppet perched on his hand, the puppet's round face turned toward the door as if it had been expecting them.
Ken's puppet lifted its tiny arm the moment Valt stepped out.
"Ohhh," the puppet announced in a surprisingly dramatic tone, "look who brought a celebrity."
Ryo stopped halfway through the doorway.
Valt wheeled around, offended. "He's not a celebrity!"
The puppet tilted its head. "Isn't he? Did he not just Burst Finish Shu Kurenai in front of half of Japan?"
Shu's eyes flicked up, expression mild. "It wasn't half."
Rantaro snorted, rolling to sit upright. "It was enough."
Valt waved his hands frantically as if he could physically push the conversation off the roof. "Stop stop saying it like that. You're going to make it weird."
Ken's puppet turned its painted eyes toward Valt. "You made it weird by saying 'training montage.'"
Rantaro laughed. "He did say that."
Valt groaned. "I was being motivational!"
The puppet leaned forward conspiratorially. "Motivation is when you don't trip over the word montage."
Ryo, despite himself, felt the corner of his mouth lift. It wasn't a smile exactly. But it was close enough that Valt noticed and brightened immediately as if he'd scored a point.
"See?" Valt declared. "He's fine."
Shu stood, adjusting his grip on his launcher. "We're doing launches," he said, in the same tone one might use to announce tea was ready. "Not matches."
Rantaro raised an eyebrow. "Why not matches?"
"Because," Shu replied calmly, "Valt turns matches into shouting contests."
Valt gasped, hand to his chest. "That is slander."
"It's accurate," Rantaro said cheerfully.
Ken's puppet nodded solemnly. "I have witnessed the shouting."
Valt made a helpless sound and looked at Ryo as if expecting him to defend his honour.
Ryo shrugged. "It does get loud."
Valt stared at him, betrayed. "You've never even been here before!"
Ryo glanced at the rooftop fence. "I can still tell."
That earned a laugh from Rantaro and a small, almost imperceptible softening around Shu's eyes.
Valt huffed but recovered quickly, because Valt always recovered quickly. He crouched near the centre of the roof and snapped his Bey onto his launcher with more enthusiasm than precision.
"Okay," he announced, voice rising, "welcome to BeyClub! Rule one: you launch with confidence. Rule two: you don't let Ken's puppets bully you."
Ken's puppet sat up straighter. "We prefer the term educate."
Rantaro pointed at the puppet. "It's bullying."
"It's character-building," the puppet insisted.
Shu stepped to the side, making space. "Launch," he said simply.
Valt didn't need to be told twice.
"Go, Valkyrie!"
His Bey hit the concrete and spun fast, bright and eager, wobbling slightly when the wind caught it and then correcting itself as if offended by the suggestion it might fall. Valt watched it with the same proud expression he wore whenever he did anything at all.
Rantaro launched next, his Bey dropping with a steadier rhythm, less explosive, more controlled.
"See?" Rantaro said, smug. "No shouting necessary."
Valt opened his mouth.
Ken's puppet lifted its arm. "If you shout, you owe me lunch."
Valt closed his mouth again, looking deeply wounded by the injustice of puppet economics.
Ryo remained seated near the fence, Drago's case beside him, listening as the others talked about launches, about the wind, about whose Bey had started making a strange rattling sound last week and whether that meant it was "haunted." It was absurd. It was normal. It was, for the first time since Districts, strangely easy to breathe.
Valt eventually wandered over, dropping into a squat near Ryo as if they'd always been friends.
"So," Valt said, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret, "you don't have to do anything. But if you want to launch a few times… it's fun."
Ryo looked at him. "You're trying very hard not to sound like you're begging."
Valt's ears turned slightly red. "I'm not begging."
Ken's puppet, from across the roof, called out, "He's begging."
Valt flung an arm toward Ken. "Traitor!"
The puppet sighed dramatically. "I am a truth-teller in a world of delusion."
Ryo opened Drago's case.
If there was any moment for the roof to fall silent and become dramatic, it refused. Rantaro kept talking. Valt kept fidgeting. Ken's puppet hummed something that sounded suspiciously like a victory march.
Ryo locked Drago onto his launcher with a soft metallic click. No wings. No show. Just the familiar weight in his hand.
He launched.
Drago hit the concrete cleanly and began to spin with steady confidence, gold and red catching the sunlight, black accents cutting through the brightness like ink. It didn't roar; it didn't wobble. It simply existed in motion, smooth and controlled.
Valt leaned in, eyes wide. "Okay," he whispered, reverent. "That is still really cool."
Ryo watched the spin, adjusting his grip unconsciously as if he could feel the rotation through the launcher. He launched again slightly different angle, slightly different force and listened to the change in sound.
Shu observed quietly from a few steps away, not judging, just watching the details.
Rantaro pretended he wasn't impressed and failed.
Ken's puppet cleared its throat. "Please do not Burst Finish the roof."
Valt immediately brightened. "Is that even possible?"
"Valt," Shu said.
Valt threw his hands up. "I'm curious!"
They might have stayed like that for hours launching, joking, arguing over whether a 'perfect launch' was real or mythical if Shu's phone hadn't vibrated.
Shu glanced down at the screen.
The shift in his posture was subtle. His eyes narrowed by the tiniest fraction, and the air around him seemed to sharpen not because he was angry, but because something had snapped into focus.
Valt noticed immediately. "What is it?"
Shu didn't answer at first. He read the message again.
Then Valt's own phone buzzed.
Valt stared at it, and for a moment his grin vanished, replaced by pure surprise. "No way."
Rantaro leaned forward. "What?"
Valt looked up at Shu, voice suddenly lower, like he didn't trust himself not to shout. "Regionals."
Ken's puppet clapped its tiny hands once. "Ah," it said brightly, "the part where you both begin suffering for your dreams."
Valt pointed at it. "Hey!"
The puppet tilted its head. "Am I wrong?"
Shu slipped his phone back into his pocket, expression unreadable in that calm way he had when he was already thinking several steps ahead. "Invitations," he said. "Official."
Rantaro's eyes widened. "Already?"
Valt stared at his screen again, reading and rereading as if the words might change. "This is this is Shu, this is real."
"It's real," Shu confirmed.
Valt looked like he was about to burst with excitement and fear at the same time. "We're going to Regionals."
Rantaro whistled softly. "That escalated."
Ken's puppet leaned toward Ryo, voice cheerful. "Congratulations. Your friends are about to be exhausted."
Ryo blinked. "They look happy."
"Delusion," the puppet said promptly.
Valt snapped his head around. "I am not delusional!"
The puppet sighed. "Stage one: denial."
Rantaro laughed so hard he nearly dropped his launcher.
Shu, in the middle of the chaos, looked toward Ryo again, his gaze calm but direct. "You won't be competing there," he said, not as a reminder, just as a fact.
Ryo nodded. "I know."
Valt's excitement softened when he looked at Ryo, as if he'd remembered something and didn't know whether to say it. "But," Valt began, then stopped, then tried again, "you can still come up here."
Ryo stared at Drago, still spinning. The rotation was steady, the sound even. No strain. No hunger for more.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe I will."
Valt's grin returned at once. "Good!"
Ken's puppet raised its arm like it was making an announcement. "BeyClub attendance improves by thirty percent when joy is applied."
Valt blinked. "Is that a real statistic?"
"No," the puppet said happily. "But it feels correct."
The wind kicked up again, nudging a bottle cap across the rooftop. Rantaro chased it dramatically as if it were a runaway Bey. Valt began talking at full speed about training and snacks and whether Regionals would have "cooler stadium lighting." Shu listened with patient resignation.
Ryo watched them all of them and for the first time in days, the world didn't feel like a stadium or a screen or a replay.
It felt like a rooftop.
And it felt, in a quiet way, alive.