Kai unclipped his launcher from his belt and slipped it into a deep pocket on the side of his pants. He took the Phoenix from his palm and placed it carefully into a small, square case that hung on the right side of his belt. It clicked shut, securing the Beyblade inside.
He looked across the now-empty stadium floor at Kenta. The boy was still on his knees, head bowed, staring at his Sagittario clenched tightly in both hands. He looked completely defeated.
Kai walked over. The sound of his footsteps on the concrete echoed in the quiet hall. He stopped in front of Kenta.
"Kenta," he said.
Kenta didn't look up.
"I enjoyed this match," Kai continued, his voice level. "Don't be so down. You played very well. I'm actually still a little shocked by that move with your tip. That was really a good move."
He said this not just because Kenta's dispirited face made him feel a bit sorry for the kid. He meant it. For the first time since he started using the Phoenix, a match had actually been interesting. All his other wins had been a single, overwhelming strike. Boring. But this… Kenta had surprised him. He'd forced Kai to think, to react, to trust in the Phoenix's power in a new way. He'd learned something today: in a real battle, anything can happen until the very last second. You could never get too comfortable.
Slowly, Kenta's head came up. His eyes were a bit red, but he was listening. He heard the words, and they didn't sound like empty winner's praise. They sounded genuine. Something in his chest, a tight, defeated knot, began to loosen. He took a deep, shaky breath and, using one hand to push off his knee, stood up.
He managed a small smile.He hesitated for a second, then stuck out his right hand, the one not holding Sagittario. It was a gesture of respect. A sportsman's handshake.
"Thanks, Kai," Kenta said, his voice a little rough.
Kai looked at the offered hand. After a brief pause, he reached out and shook it. Kenta's grip was firm.
Then, Kenta let go and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a small, sleek, black device. It was a BeyReader, the tool all official Bladers used to keep track of their Bey Points. Seeing it, Kai's first instinct was to wave it off. He didn't really care about the points from a tiny local tournament. But it was the rule. When you lost a ranked match, you transferred points to the winner. It was how the system worked.
Might as well get it over with, he thought. It's probably only a handful anyway.
He reached to his own belt and unclipped his BeyReader, a similar device in a dark grey color. He switched it on. The screen glowed.
"Okay," Kenta said, trying to sound businesslike despite his disappointment. He held his device out.
They touched the two BeyReaders together, screen to screen. A soft electronic chirp sounded. On Kenta's screen, a number flashed: his total Bey Points. The number decreased by 100. On Kai's screen, his total—which had been a big, fat zero—flashed and updated, now reading '100 BP'.
A hundred Bey Points.
The transaction done, they both put their readers away. The stadium was utterly empty now. The cheering crowds were gone, off to get dinner or talk about the shocking final match. The commentator had packed up his microphone and left. The lights over the main stands were even being switched off, leaving their corner of the hall in a sort of gloomy half-light.
Without a word, they both turned and started walking towards the main exit, their footsteps the only sound. They pushed through the heavy double doors and out into the wider hallway that led to the street. The air was cooler here, and quiet.
As they walked slowly down the corridor, Kenta finally spoke, his curiosity pushing
past his loss.
"So… you live here in this town?" he asked, glancing at Kai. "I mean,this is the first time I've ever seen you in a tournament. Or anywhere."
Kai glanced down. Kenta was a good head shorter than him, looking up with a mix of curiosity and leftover disappointment. Kai gave a small, casual shrug.
"Yes," he said. "It's just because of some family business stuff. And, I guess, studying. I have never participated in any tournament before."
He was lying, and he knew it. The truth was, before his memories came back two days ago, he was just a sad, quiet kid. His parents died two years ago, and he had closed himself off from everyone. He'd pass the time alone, spinning his old, normal Beyblade by himself, not talking to anyone. He hadn't joined tournaments because he hadn't cared about anything. After awakening his past life, that old sadness was still there, but it was buried under a new, much older layer of understanding. His personality became calm, detached, more mature than any other thirteen-year-old. He didn't see the point in explaining any of that. A simple lie was easier.
"Oh," Kenta replied, seeming to accept the answer. They kept walking in silence until they reached the main entrance doors.
Evening light, golden and warm, streamed in through the glass doors. Kenta stopped, turning to face Kai fully. The sadness was still there, but it was being pushed out by something else. His eyes were sharp now, filled with a new determination and a direct challenge.
"I'm going to get stronger, Kai," Kenta said, his voice firm. "A lot stronger. And I'm going to challenge you again. My Sagittario and I… we'll find a way to beat you next time we meet."
A faint, real smile touched Kai's lips this time. He liked that fire. He gave a small, single nod. "I'll be waiting."
With that, Kenta nodded back, turned, and pushed through the doors. He headed out into the setting sun, his green hair bright in the orange light. Kai watched him go for a moment, the silhouette of the kid getting smaller down the street. Then, he stepped outside himself.
The evening air was cool and fresh on his face. He touched the square case on his belt. He could feel it, a steady, warm pulse coming from the Phoenix inside. It was a comforting feeling.
A hundred Bey Points. It was a first, tiny step on the long road to the top. He looked in the direction Kenta had gone, but his own mind was on the plot he remembered. If Kenta had won this tournament, he would have been hunted. The Face Hunters, a gang that stole Bey Points from weak-looking winners, would have jumped him. And that's when the protagonist, Gingka, would have appeared out of nowhere to save him.
But Kai hadn't lost. He'd won. And he was walking home alone, with a hundred new points on his reader. I'm not Kenta, he thought. He didn't need a protagonist to save him. If the Face Hunters came looking for him, they'd be in for a very nasty surprise. He was more than enough to handle a bunch of thugs.
Instead of taking the main, well-lit road home, Kai turned down a narrower side street, then into an even darker alley that served as a shortcut. The sounds of the main town faded quickly. The alley was lined with trash cans and the backs of shops, lit only by a few distant, flickering streetlights.
He had only walked about fifty feet in when the feeling hit him. A prickle on the back of his neck. The sound of a second, then a third set of footsteps, trying to match his pace but not quite in sync. He was being followed. He didn't speed up or look back. He just kept walking, his steps steady, leading them deeper into the alley where the shadows were thickest.
Finally, the alley opened into a small, dirty courtyard used for dumpsters. It was a dead end.
Kai stopped walking.
The rough voice cut through the quiet of the alley. "Alright, that's far enough, champ."
Kai slowed turned around.Three figures stepped out from behind a large dumpster, blocking the way he'd come. They were older, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with the mean, bored look of guys who picked on people smaller than them.
The one in the middle was the biggest. He was tall and heavily muscular,with a chest that strained against his shirt. But what really caught the eye was his hair: a wild mane of bright purple, styled into jagged, triangular spikes that stuck out in all directions. A smirk was plastered on his face.
Kai recognized him instantly. Benkei. In his memories of the show, this guy was the loud-mouthed lackey, the so-called 'most loyal dog' of Kyoya. In the future, Benkei would become a decent blader, a loyal right-hand man. But right now, he was just a thug in a tracksuit. It didn't matter to Kai. They were here to steal his points. And if they came to take something, he believed in giving a proper return gift.
"Saw you win today," Benkei said, taking a few heavy steps forward, his buddies fanning out beside him. "Pretty slick for a newbie. That means you just got a nice little pile of Bey Points. Hand over your BeyReader. Make it easy, and we won't bust up your fancy new Bey."
Kai looked at them, and a small, cold smile touched his lips. It was almost funny at their simple thinking. See a winner, corner him, take his stuff. He decided to ask, just to be absolutely clear. "You steal points from kids who just won their first tournament," he stated, his voice flat and without emotion.
Benkei puffed out his chest, loving the sound of his own justification. "We call it a redistribution of resources," he said, his grin widening. "Now, hand it over."
Kai didn't reach for the reader in his pocket. Instead, his hand went to the square case on his belt. He thumbed the latch open with a quiet click and took out the Dark Phoenix. The deep crimson and black metal seemed to swallow the weak yellow light from the lone streetlamp above, looking more like a shadow than a toy.
The three gang members stared for a second, then burst out laughing. It was a harsh, mocking sound in the quiet alley. "What, you wanna battle?" one of the sidekicks sneered. "Three against one? You're dumber than you look."
Kai slid the Phoenix onto his launcher. The fit was perfect. He didn't get into some flashy battle pose. He just stood there, relaxed but ready. "One is enough for you three idiots," he said, his voice still quiet but now cutting through their laughter.
Benkei's smirk vanished. His face flushed with anger under the purple spikes. "You dare to call me—the most feared gang member in this city—an idiot?" he growled, his voice getting louder. "Good. Good! There's really someone who needs a good beating. After I defeat you, I'll give you a physical lesson you won't forget!"
The two guys on the side exchanged a nasty look. They knew when Benkei got this angry, he didn't stop at just winning a Beybattle. He'd grab the kid and shake him until his teeth rattled.
Kai didn't say another word. Talking was over. Now it was the Phoenix's turn to speak. He shifted his weight, sliding his right foot back slightly for stability. He took a deep breath, and his voice, when it came, was a sharp command that echoed off the brick walls.
"LET IT RIP!"
He pulled the ripcord with a fast, strong snap. The launcher whirred, and the Phoenix shot out like a black and red star, a streak of dark fire against the grimy alley. It hit the uneven concrete with a fierce, anchoring screech, its spin immediately settling into that low, powerful, and unnerving hum.
"Get him!" Benkei bellowed, enraged.
"LET IT RIP!" all three yelled at once, their voices sloppy and uncoordinated.
Three Beys shot into the cramped space—a generic blue attack type, a grey balance type, and a red defense type. They zoomed toward the solitary Phoenix, trying to surround it from different angles.
"Go, Bull!" Benkei roared.
The Phoenix didn't wait. It didn't give them time to set up or plan. The moment the last Bey landed, it moved.
It wasn't like before in the stadium. This was faster, meaner. It became a blur of black and crimson, a streak of light so fast that the actual shape of the Bey was impossible to see. You only saw the after-image, a dark red trail cutting through the dim light.
CRACK!
It hit the blue attack type first. The sound was the sharp, snapping sound of metal breaking. The blue Bey; it shattered into three pieces that flew in different directions, skittering across the ground.
The grey balance type tried to brace, to hold its ground. The Phoenix changed direction in an instant, dipping low and then slamming upward into its underside. The grey Bey was lifted clean off the ground, thrown straight up into the air about six feet, before dropping like a rock and bouncing twice, motionless.
The orange defense type, seeing what happened to its friends, tried to flee, skittering toward the alley wall. It was pointless. The Phoenix shot after it, crossing the distance in a blink, and delivered a final, contemptuous side-smack. The orange Bey was launched sideways, smacking hard against the brick wall with a thick thud before falling into a puddle, dead still.
From launch to finish, it took about four seconds.
The low hum of the Phoenix was now the only sound. It slowed its spin and then, with a graceful hop, flew back across the alley, landing neatly in Kai's raised palm. He closed his fingers around it. It was hot, almost too hot to hold, pulsing with energy.
He looked at Benkei.
The big guy was frozen. His mouth was hanging open. His confident sneer was gone, replaced by utter confusion that was quickly melting into fear. A thick bead of sweat rolled down his temple from under his purple spikes. His hands were shaking. In fact, his whole body was trembling slightly.
The two sidekicks didn't hesitate. They stared at their destroyed Beys, then at Kai's calm face, then at Benkei's stunned expression. Without a word to each other, they turned and ran, their footsteps slapping loudly in a panicked retreat until the sound faded away around the corner.
Kai took a step forward. Benkei flinched.
"So," Kai said, his voice dangerously soft. He tilted his head. "Who was the one going to take my points? And who," he continued, taking another slow step, "was going to teach me a physical lesson?"
Benkei couldn't speak. He tried, but his throat just dry and tight. All the tough-guy act from before was completely gone. He felt like a balloon that had been popped. All that was left was the cold, sick feeling of realizing he'd messed with someone he shouldn't have. His mind flashed to his leader, Kyoya. Kyoya would be so angry about this. He'd be furious that Benkei had lost.
Benkei's eyes darted away from Kai, searching the wet ground. There, in a dirty puddle, was his red Beyblade. He lurched forward,toward the Bey. He splashed through the puddle, water soaking his knees, and grabbed it. His big fingers were clumsy, almost dropping the metal piece twice before he finally closed his fist around it.
He scrambled backwards, putting more distance between himself and Kai. He pointed a finger at Kai, but his hand was shaking so badly the gesture was useless.
"Y-you… you little brat," he stammered. The words were supposed to be a threat, but they came out thin and wobbly. He was just trying to say anything to make this less humiliating. "Just you wait! I'm gonna tell Kyoya about this! Let's see how you like it when Kyoya comes for you! He'll… he'll destroy you!"
Then he turned and ran.He ran like something was chasing him, his heavy shoes slapping against the wet pavement. He ran with everything he had in him, his big body clumsy with fear. He ran so fast and was so terrified that he lost control of his bladder. A dark, wet patch spread quickly on the front of his pants. It was the final, undeniable proof of how completely Kai had broken him. The bully who loved to make others feel small was now just a big, scared, humiliated kid running home.
Kai watched him go. He stood still until the sound and the sight of the bigger boy were completely gone. For a second, the alley was dead silent again, just the distant sound of a car somewhere.
Then Kai laughed. It started as a low huff of air, almost disbelief. But it grew. It turned into a real chuckle, deep and loud, bouncing off the brick walls around him. He shook his head, a wide, sharp grin on his face.
He raised his voice, aiming it at the empty corner where Benkei had disappeared. He wanted his words to chase after the coward.
"Alright!" he called out, his tone clear and full of mockery. "Go tell your dog leader that I'm ready! Tell him I, Kai, am waiting whenever he decides to crawl out of his doghouse!"
His challenge hung in the damp air. There was no answer, of course. Just the echo of his own voice.
The smile slowly faded from Kai's face, leaving his usual cool expression. He looked down at the Beyblade in his hand, the Phoenix. The metal was still warm from the battle, humming with a faint, leftover energy. He turned it over in his palm once, then slipped it smoothly back into its hard plastic case. He snapped the latch shut. The click was a solid, final sound.
He took a deep breath, the smell of wet garbage and concrete filling his nose. He adjusted the belt of his pants, which had gotten a little twisted during the fight, and straightened his jacket. With one last glance around the messy alley—at the puddles, the trash cans, the spot where Benkei had fallen—he turned and walked in the opposite direction.
He headed toward the other end of the alley, where the streetlights from the main road were starting to glow in the early evening.