Setting: Post-quadstrike, Adult Bladers Era
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The sun over Barcelona shone with a golden grace, bathing the BC Sol headquarters in a warm radiance. Birds sang across the terracotta rooftops, and the sea air carried a soft tang that danced through the open windows. Inside the grand training arena of BC Sol, the rhythmic clash of spinning tops echoed like thunder—a symphony of steel and spirit.
Valt Aoi stood at the center of it all, commanding the room with his mere presence.
Gone was the hyperactive boy with reckless energy. In his place was a man of grace and power—taller, lean with an athletic build, sharp jawline dusted with the faintest stubble, and striking blue eyes that held both fire and wisdom. His tousled navy-blue hair brushed the collar of his sleek BC Sol jacket, and his voice carried a calm authority that could silence a room or rouse a storm.
The Legend Of Legends.
The current Beyblade World Champion.
Captain of Spain's finest—BC Sol.
After overseeing a grueling mock match between two promising rookies, Valt stepped off the stadium with a proud but humble smile. A sheen of sweat clung to his skin, but he barely noticed it. The younger bladers rushed to him with questions and admiration, all of which he welcomed with patience and an easygoing grin. His kindness hadn't dulled—it had refined with age.
Just as Valt was offering a few strategic tips to a nervous new recruit, the doors to the arena opened, and a familiar figure in a crisp white suit stepped in—Kristin Castillo, the owner and founder of BC Sol.
"Valt," she called with her usual composed tone, her platinum hair cascading down her shoulders. "Do you have a minute?"
He turned and nodded immediately. "Of course."
"Come to my office," she said. "We have some important matters to discuss. It's regarding a trip. To America."
---
Kristin's office smelled of leather and citrus polish, a sharp contrast to the earthy scent of the training room. Sunlight streamed in through wide windows, revealing framed photographs of BC Sol's proudest moments—many of which featured a beaming younger Valt, grinning with friends who had long since gone their separate ways.
Valt sank into the seat across from her desk, pushing a few strands of damp hair from his forehead. "So… what's up?"
Kristin slid a sleek tablet toward him and tapped the screen. "WBBA has requested your presence in America. It's for a series of high-level meetings involving Beyblade regulation reforms, international event planning, and several new initiatives being launched next season."
Valt raised an eyebrow, scanning the digital documents. "This is pretty heavy stuff…"
"It is," she nodded. "And they specifically requested the presence of the World Champion. Not just because of your title, but your influence. You're a symbol of what Beyblade stands for."
He blinked, slightly overwhelmed but honored. "That's… wow. Okay. When would we leave?"
Kristin smiled. "Three days from now. We'll travel together. WBBA's arranged accommodation and a transport escort. You'll need to be there for at least a week. Some of the meetings will be long, and they won't all be glamorous, but your input will carry a lot of weight."
Valt leaned back in the chair, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome face. "America, huh…"
Kristin folded her hands. "You'll be the face of the new generation's future. It's not just about battling anymore, Valt. It's about shaping the world that comes after the stadium."
That hit him. Not in a burdensome way—but in the way responsibility often did: like standing at the peak of a mountain and seeing how far you've come.
"…Alright," he said with a soft laugh. "Let's go build the future, then."
---
3 days later:-
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The private jet touched down on the glowing tarmac of Los Angeles International Airport just as the horizon bathed in a lavender sunset. Paparazzi and media personnel were already stationed near the VIP exit, the word of the World Champion's arrival having spread like wildfire before the wheels even grazed the ground.
The moment Valt Aoi stepped off the plane, the atmosphere ignited.
Flashes erupted like fireworks as cameras clicked furiously. Reporters shouted his name from behind barricades, security barely managing to contain the crowd.
"There he is! It's Valt Aoi!"
"World Champion! Valt, over here!"
"Valt! Welcome to America! How does it feel?"
"Are you here for an exhibition match or something big?"
Dressed in a tailored navy-blue jacket with a crisp white collar and a black turtleneck beneath, Valt looked every bit the icon he'd grown to become—poised, calm, breathtaking. His striking features and elegant gait made the cameras fall even harder for him. Still, he offered them a humble smile and a wave, ever the charming and grounded champion.
Kristin, walking beside him in a sleek silver suit and sunglasses, leaned toward him. "Told you they'd be waiting."
"I didn't think this much," Valt muttered, embarrassed as someone actually tried to toss a bouquet at his feet.
Kristin chuckled. "Well, this is America. And you're Valt Aoi. Welcome to stardom 2.0."
---
At The Hotel:
The grandest hotel in downtown Los Angeles had rolled out the literal red carpet. With an entire floor reserved for the WBBA delegates, Valt was swiftly guided into his penthouse suite. Everything screamed luxury—from the velvet furniture and panoramic skyline views, to the gold-accented fixtures and the welcome package with imported chocolate and wine.
Kristin flopped onto a couch and exhaled. "You know, the last time I had this treatment, I was being scouted by the European Council."
Valt, still taking in the sweeping view of the city lights from the window, grinned. "It's… overwhelming."
She gave him a knowing look. "You'll get used to it. Rest up. Tomorrow we have orientation at the WBBA HQ."
---
Meanwhile, across town — WBBA America Branch:
Inside the glossy, high-tech headquarters of the Raging Bulls, two bladers stood frozen before a large screen in the lounge area.
"…That's—! No way…" Fubuki Sumiya gasped, clutching the edge of the counter.
Lane Valhalla's eyes widened, a rare flicker of human shock crossing his normally impassive face. "Valt?"
The television blared on:
> "The World Champion Valt Aoi, known as the 'Legend of Legends,' has landed in Los Angeles ahead of what the WBBA confirms to be a high-profile meeting regarding the sport's future. Fans gathered at the airport in overwhelming numbers as Aoi was escorted into the heart of the city alongside BC Sol founder Kristin Castillo…"
"Did Shu-sensei know?" Fubuki asked, voice hushed.
Lane shook his head, already turning. "He's gonna want to see this."
---
Moments later — Shu Kurenai's Office:
The door to the Raging Bulls manager's office burst open, startling Shu Kurenai, who was typing away on his tablet with silent focus. He looked up, dark blood red eyes narrowing sharply.
"Lane? Fubuki? What's the rush—"
Lane didn't say a word. He simply held up his phone, streaming the news.
Shu's gaze dropped to the screen. His breath caught.
There he was.
Valt Aoi. His valt.
Tall. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Too pretty. Smiling. In America.
In his fucking country.
Shu's eyes followed every movement on screen—the way Valt laughed, the elegance in his stride, the media's utter obsession. The world seemed to revolve around him, just as it always had. Just as Shu always had.
Fubuki tilted his head. "You didn't… know?"
Shu didn't answer immediately. He was quiet. Too quiet. His hand slowly lowered to the table, the device dimming in his palm.
"I didn't," he said, voice barely audible.
Fubuki's face fell. "But… he's here. You two are close, aren't you?"
Shu didn't respond. But shu's eye's twitched in anger. *Close? CLOSE?? He's my everything. MY Valt.*
Something in his chest twisted—a sharp, suffocating pang. Valt hadn't called. Hadn't messaged. Hadn't even mentioned his arrival. And yet… he was here. In his country. With his manager? With the world watching.
Suddenly the office felt cold. The walls, too quiet. The polished wood of the desk blurred slightly as emotions swelled behind Shu's sharp eyes—frustration, sadness, longing, a bitter sting of heartbreak.
He didn't know what hurt more:
That Valt didn't tell him.
Or that Shu had no idea where they stood anymore.
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