Morning in Metal City wasn't quiet.
The streets echoed with the clash of Beyblades, neon advertisements blinking tournaments no one could ignore, and Bladers shouting challenges like their lives depended on it. But tucked away in a forgotten arcade, far from the noise, the only sound was a ripcord slicing through air.
Aarav stood alone, launching his Phoenix with mechanical precision. His hands moved in clean, efficient motions. No wasted energy. No dramatics. Phoenix glided across the cracked stadium floor, absorbing every uneven groove like it was part of its design.
He crouched at the edge, eyes locked on the rotation. He wasn't here to impress anyone. To him, a battle started here — in the silence, in the rhythm. Every shift in Phoenix's spin told him a story.
"Battles don't start with shouting," he muttered. "They start here."
His focus was broken by a familiar voice.
"Hey! There he is! Told you he's real!"
Aarav stood up, dusting his gloves casually.
Kenta Yumiya's green hair stood out like a flare. His wide-eyed excitement was impossible to ignore as he jogged toward Aarav, followed by two kids carrying launchers. Kenta's energy was practically bouncing off the walls.
"I heard someone's been practicing alone here every morning. You're him, right?" Kenta grinned.
Aarav's tone was casual, not cold. "You can use the stadium if you want. I'm done."
Kenta waved his hands frantically. "No, wait! I want to see you battle!"
Before Aarav could reply, a mocking voice echoed through the arcade.
"Tch. What's so special about a loner spinning tops in a dead arcade?"
A taller boy stepped forward, arms crossed, a smug grin on his face. His slicked-back hair gleamed under the dim lights, and his launcher hung low on his belt, more for show than for battle.
"You must be the guy everyone's whispering about. Big deal. Bet you don't even have a real opponent."
Aarav's gaze met his. Calm. Steady.
"If you want to battle, launch."
The air in the arcade shifted. No shouting. No hype. Just a challenge delivered as flat as stone.
The cocky Blader laughed, arms spread wide. "Fine. Let's show these kids what a real battle looks like."
Kenta stepped back, excitement bubbling in his voice. "This is gonna be good!"
Aarav moved to the launch deck, loading Phoenix into his launcher with practiced ease. No theatrics. His opponent, meanwhile, made a show of flexing his arms, spinning his launcher for flair.
Aarav's left hand gripped the launcher handle firmly. His right hand fed the ripcord through, testing its tension. His body lowered into a balanced stance, shoulders relaxed, but his gaze sharpened—locked onto the stadium floor.
He wasn't thinking about the opponent. Only the rhythm.
The cocky Blader raised his launcher high, shouting, "Three, two, one—Let it rip!"
Aarav didn't shout.
He pulled the ripcord with a clean, sharp motion.
Phoenix shot out in a perfect arc, spinning onto the stadium with controlled grace. Its crimson wings shimmered under the flickering arcade lights, leaving faint embers in its trail. It didn't dash or wobble. It glided, owning the stadium's rhythm.
The opponent's Beyblade slammed down aggressively, bouncing once before hurtling toward Phoenix with reckless speed.
The first clash sent a dull vibration through the cracked stadium floor.
But Phoenix didn't falter.
It absorbed the hit, adjusted its angle, and continued spinning without losing rhythm. Aarav's eyes never left the rotation.
"Tch, don't get cocky!" the opponent sneered.
He sent his Beyblade into a series of wild, aggressive assaults, battering Phoenix from every direction. The impacts were loud, designed to overwhelm.
Phoenix kept spinning, shifting subtly, never matching the opponent's chaotic pace. The crowd watched, puzzled. To them, it didn't even look like Aarav was fighting back. But with every lunge, the opponent's Beyblade returned wobblier, its rhythm breaking.
Aarav's fingers tightened around the launcher. His wrist turned slightly.
The next clash came.
Phoenix shifted its rotation angle mid-contact, redirecting the opponent's attack to the side. The wild Beyblade staggered, wobbling off-balance. It tried to recover but collapsed onto its side with a sharp, metallic scrape.
Silence.
No burst finish. No explosion. Just a clean, undeniable toppling.
The cocky Blader stared at his defeated Beyblade, stunned. The small crowd murmured, unsure what had just happened.
Kenta's face lit up. "That was… amazing."
Aarav crouched, picking up Phoenix with the same calm care as before. He didn't celebrate. He didn't gloat. He simply said, "Battles aren't about shouting. It's about not losing spin."
He strapped his launcher back onto his waist and walked away.
But behind him, the whispers had started.
"The silent guy… he didn't even attack."
"Did you see how his Beyblade moved?"
"He made that loudmouth fall without even flinching."
Kenta's grin widened as he watched Aarav's figure disappear into the shadowed exit.
Metal City had found its next rumor.
And Aarav had taken his first step.
Without a single shout.