Chapter 9 — Rain Over the Arena
Rain fell on the day the regional tournament began.
Not a storm—just a steady, soaking downpour that turned the pavement dark and reflective, like the world was holding up a mirror.
Valt Aoi didn't care.
He was vibrating with excitement, launcher clenched tight, eyes wide as he stared at the massive stadium ahead.
"This is it!" he shouted. "Regionals!"
Rantaro pumped a fist. "Let's show them what Straw Street can do!"
Behind them, Shu Kurenai walked calmly, hands in his pockets, expression composed.
But his eyes kept drifting upward.
To the clouds.
The regional tournament was bigger than anything Valt had faced before.
Stronger launches.Sharper techniques.Bladers who didn't smile when they battled.
Each match stretched him further.
He lost early rounds.He won by accident.He won by instinct.He barely won at all.
And every time Valtryek burst or staggered, Valt picked it up with the same belief as always.
"We'll fix it," he said, smiling. "Right?"
That belief carried him forward.
It also broke him down.
Valt learned quickly that strength came in many forms.
There was a blader who overwhelmed him with raw power, forcing Valt to rethink how he launched.Another who outmaneuvered him completely, teaching him that speed without awareness meant nothing.One who fought patiently, waiting for Valt to defeat himself.
Each loss stung.
Each lesson stayed.
His horizon widened—not just of Beyblade, but of the world surrounding it.
From the highest walkway, half-hidden by shadow and rain, Ryuga watched.
He didn't stand with the crowds.
Didn't sit in the VIP seats.
He leaned against a concrete pillar, coat damp at the edges, Storm Dragoon humming faintly at his side.
Valt Aoi was clumsy.
Unrefined.
Too trusting.
Ryuga saw it immediately.
And yet—
"He's moving forward," Ryuga murmured.
Storm Dragon stirred, attentive.
Ryuga's gaze shifted.
To Shu.
Shu advanced cleanly through the bracket.
Too cleanly.
Each launch was flawless. Each movement restrained to perfection. He adapted instantly to every opponent, sealing victories without unnecessary force.
The crowd called it beautiful.
Ryuga called it dangerous.
Shu's control wasn't effortless anymore.
It was forced.
Between matches, Shu's fingers twitched. His breathing slowed deliberately. He recalculated even when there was nothing left to calculate.
The cage was tightening.
And Ryuga knew exactly what happened when control became absolute.
At the summit of the tournament ladder—
Lui Shirosagi waited.
He did not struggle.
He devoured.
Opponents fell in brutal, decisive clashes, Longinus tearing through stadiums with contemptuous ease. The rain seemed to recoil from him, as if even the weather knew better than to linger.
Lui stood alone at the top, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Waiting.
For someone worth breaking.
He felt it again—faint, distant, unmistakable.
A storm, watching him back.
Lui smiled.
The other Supreme Four observed from their own vantage points.
No interference.No commentary.
Just judgment.
The regionals were a proving ground—not just for Valt, but for the next generation as a whole.
And one boy, loud and reckless, kept surviving longer than expected.
Valt pushed through round after round.
He lost balance.He adjusted.He trusted too much—and learned when not to.
Each battle carved something into him.
Not discipline like Shu's.Not dominance like Lui's.
Something else.
Momentum.
As rain continued to fall, Ryuga finally turned away.
Valt wasn't ready.
Shu was cracking.
Lui was waiting.
And Ryuga—
Ryuga was content to remain in the dark a little longer.
"The challenge is coming," he said softly.
The storm answered.
High above the arena, thunder rolled—far off, restrained, but inevitable.
The regional tournament continued under gray skies.
And none of them realized yet—
This wasn't the storm.
This was only the rain that came before it.