The fluorescent lights of the office finally dimmed as Axamu Riya, 24 years old, trudged out of the building with his bag slung lazily over his shoulder. Another day, another stack of pointless paperwork. The streets outside buzzed faintly with the evening rush, but he barely paid attention. His mind was already fixed on one thing: finally getting home.
When he pushed open the door to his small apartment, the silence welcomed him like an old friend. Tossing his bag onto the floor, he collapsed on the bed, pulling out his phone. A thumb scroll here, a swipe there—just the usual routine of checking messages, skimming memes, and browsing social media.
That was when an ad caught his eye.
"Beyblade X – The New Generation Begins!"
A vibrant anime trailer filled his screen. Bursting colors, fierce battles, and spinning blades clashing with sparks of energy. Axamu blinked, surprised.
Beyblade, huh… He couldn't help but smile faintly. Back when he was a kid, he and his friends had battled with cheap plastic launchers and metal-tipped blades in makeshift arenas. It was never about winning—just spinning, laughing, and yelling "Let it rip!" like the anime characters they admired.
Nostalgia tugged at his chest. "Man, those were the days…" he muttered.
The rhythmic hum of the trailer's background music lulled him, his eyelids growing heavier. His phone slipped slightly from his hand as the screen light blurred in his vision. The last thing he saw was the shining logo of Beyblade X, spinning endlessly.
And then—darkness.
…
When Axamu opened his eyes again, his entire body jolted.
He wasn't in bed anymore.
Neon lights flickered overhead. Cars honked, people shouted, and he stood frozen in the middle of a crowded street.
"Huh—?!" His breath caught. The air felt sharper, unfamiliar. The towering buildings around him weren't the same as his neighborhood.
This wasn't home.
It was the beginning of something else.