Kai turned on Tyson the moment they were alone. "Are you so determined to be the person who loses his world champion title the fastest?" he thundered.

Everyone looked taken aback by this, but Tyson was never one to accept criticism quietly or without context. "Well, I was trying my best to make sure his attention stayed on me because I didn't want you to hurt yourself by pushing too hard!"

Kai scoffed. "I would have been fine!"  "Yeah, that's why you haven't bothered to practice with us, isn't it?" Tyson retorted, sarcasm dripping in his voice. The two were within punching distance now.

Kai clenched his fists, struggling to control his frustration. Things had never escalated to physical violence between them before, but it was clear Kai was at his wits' end.

Now seemed like the perfect time for someone to intervene. "Alright, guys, time out!" Max said, pushing them apart and stepping between them.

"How bad are they?" Max asked Kai.

"They were national champions for a time, so yes. They're bad. On top of that, this buffoon agreed to play on their home turf—a scrapyard. There's a reason they call themselves the Forged Furies. I haven't heard of a single match they've lost there."

"Well, then it's time to give them their first loss," Tyson replied nonchalantly.

"It's not that simple," Kai shot back. "Dragoon is an air-type bit-beast. You have a clear disadvantage against them!"

"That's never bothered me before, and I don't see why it should now," Tyson said, shrugging.

"Tyson, shut up before Kai bursts a blood vessel trying to restrain himself from hitting you," Ray intervened. "We all admire your optimism, really, but this isn't the time. You're being borderline reckless with that attitude."

"What do you expect me to do?" Tyson snapped. "I can't back out of a challenge without looking weak. I can't ask for time without looking weak. I can't refuse a venue without reason. And even if I'd known about this, I couldn't have asked for a change of venue without looking weak! Now I have less than an hour to prepare myself against a seasoned opponent I know nothing about. Forgive me if I'm overly optimistic—this optimism is all I have! Let me keep that, at least!"

The silence in the bey-arena was tense."So," Tyson finally said, forcing a grin and trying to channel his usual cheer, "is anyone interested in coming up with valuable information about my opponents now that we're done shouting at me?"

"I don't know much about their beyblading styles, but Adam's cunning," Cassie said, walking toward them from the stands. "He was captain of the baseball team last year, always changing tactics. Too dynamic—you can't guess his next move until it hits you. But he's prideful. He and his brother can't handle criticism; they blame everyone but themselves."

The group turned to her, surprised. Honestly, they'd forgotten she was there.

"What? I was in the cheerleading squad last year. I've seen all his matches," she grumbled.

"That's helpful," Tyson admitted.Ray added, "Adam talks a lot about honor, but the moment things start going south, he'll pull you down by any means possible." He glanced at Kai. "Didn't he get banned during the Hunger Games edition for being too aggressive?"

Tyson and Max exchanged confused looks. This was before their time, and moments like this reminded them of how versatile and strong Ray and Kai must have been to survive in the sport for years whem most people lasted only months.

Kai nodded. "Adam's bit-beast is Magnetorian. It's more aggressive than Adam himself. Most of its moves were banned for being too dangerous, but this isn't an official match—we can't be sure he won't use them."

"How was he defeated? Who beat him?" Max asked in awe.

"Jin of the Gale," Ray said, when Kai didn't answer. "He used a unique tactic. His beyblade wasn't tied to a single bit-beast but made up of fragments from multiple broken ones. It's not something you can replicate."

"So, I'm apparently going up against a psycho who's powerful in his element, has anger issues, and no accountability. Sounds impossible, but what else is new? Let's go. At the very least, I don't want to be late," Tyson said, packing his bag.

The rest of the group exchanged uneasy looks but didn't stop him. They were beginning to realize this was how Tyson coped—and decided to let him be.

*****

Now that she'd witnessed such an intense challenge, Cassie couldn't help but want to see how it turned out.

"Can I come with you guys?" she asked Kai, trying not to look too hopeful. It had only been a week since they got together, and she wasn't sure where the boundaries lay yet.

Kai paused, while Max and Ray exchanged glances. Whatever she'd been expecting, it definitely wasn't Tyson yelling across the room.

"Absolutely not!" he called out, marching toward them. Cassie crossed her arms, put off by the blunt refusal. "Why not?" she demanded, too stubborn to back down.

But Tyson wasn't looking at her, but glaring at Kai instead. "You want to bring her along after everything that's happened?" Tyson's voice was quiet but firm, his words heavy.

Kai's expression darkened at the mention of Hillary. "That was different," he muttered, looking away.

"Different?" Tyson snapped. "She got hurt because we were careless, because we thought it wouldn't be a big deal."

"Excuse me," Cassie interjected, not knowing what they were speaking about. "but I can take care of myself. I'm not some helpless—"

"This isn't about you," Tyson cut her off sharply. His eyes stayed on Kai though. "This is about Kai knowing better and apparently needing a reminder."

Kai exhaled slowly and stepped back. His jaw was tight, but he nodded. "You're right." Cassie stared at him, stunned. She hadn't expected him to back down. "Seriously? You're just going to let him tell me what to do?"

Kai avoided her gaze. "This isn't up for discussion. You're welcome to join practice sessions in school, but not outside, it gets complicated."

Cassie opened her mouth to argue, then stopped herself. She huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Good luck, Tyson." she said moodily, watching the four of them leave.

*****

They barely talked on their way to the scrapyard, the tension thick among them. Tyson, as usual, broke the silence by insisting they stop for ice cream before the match. Despite Ray's disapproving glares, everyone indulged, their nerves momentarily eased.

Arriving at the scrapyard with only minutes to spare, they were met with an unforgiving setting. The terrain was harsh—uneven ground littered with broken machinery, jagged metal shards, and discarded parts gleaming ominously under the fading sunlight.

Adam and his team waited in a small clearing near the makeshift arena. Adam's eyes gleamed with menace as he spotted Tyson. "Well, well. The World Champion graces us with his presence. I was beginning to think you'd bailed after realizing what you were up against."

Tyson just smirked, his confidence unwavering. "Bailed? You've got a wild imagination, Adam. Too bad it won't help you win this match."

Adam's smirk faltered slightly, his taunt falling flat. Tyson pressed on, brushing off the tension. "Let's get this over with. I've got better things to do after I send you packing."

The two teams gathered at the edge of the arena. Kai, standing closest to Tyson, leaned in and muttered, "Stay sharp. This place is rigged, and you know Adam's not above dirty tricks. Your only edge is knowing he'll cheat."

Tyson nodded subtly, stepping forward and locking eyes with Adam. Their launchers were raised.

"First blade to stop spinning loses," Adam said smugly.

"Fine by me," Tyson replied coolly.

"Three... two... one... Let it rip!"The beyblades launched into the arena with a crack of energy. Sparks flew as they collided mid-air before landing on the ground. Adam's Forge Breaker immediately claimed the center, its massive weight making it difficult to dislodge.

Tyson's Dragoon darted around the arena, its speed keeping it elusive. Tyson leaned forward, his focus razor-sharp. "Keep moving, Dragoon! Don't let him trap you!"

Adam sneered. "Running won't save you!" Forge Breaker surged forward, slamming into Dragoon with a force that sent it skidding across the arena. Tyson winced but quickly regained control.

The beyblades clashed repeatedly, metal grinding against metal, sending sparks flying. Both players gritted their teeth, refusing to give an inch.

"My mom always said," Max remarked amidst the match, "put two aggressive players in the arena, and you'll get a show to remember."

"The only downside," Kai added without looking away from the match, "is you won't know who'll win until the very last move."

Dragoon landed a clean hit, sending Forge Breaker wobbling. Tyson seized the opportunity. "Now, Dragoon! Spiral Dash!"

Dragoon accelerated, striking Forge Breaker hard and sending it into a pile of scrap metal. Adam's beyblade recovered quickly, but its spin had slowed.

Adam's demeanor cracked as he growled, "You think that's enough to beat me? Let's turn up the heat! Magnetron, arise!"

The air in the scrapyard crackled as Magnetron materialized, a hulking metallic beast wreathed in dark, magnetic energy. Tyson's eyes widened as Magnetron roared, sending waves of magnetic force rippling across the arena.

Metal shards littering the scrapyard were drawn toward Forge Breaker, forming a shield that amplified its attacks. Adam smirked, his confidence restored. "Let's see you deal with this!"

Forge Breaker, now bolstered by Magnetron's power, launched a devastating series of attacks. The two blades were playing a dangerous game of tag. Dragoon was sent flying into the arena's edge. Tyson staggered, gripping his side briefly before straightening. "Hang in there, Dragoon!"

Ray frowned. "This is getting out of hand." "Something's not right," Kai said calmly. " It looks like Tyson's baiting him into something."

Tyson wiped the sweat from his brow, masking the tremor in his hand. Adam laughed darkly. "Face it, Tyson. You're outmatched. Give up before you embarrass yourself."

Tyson's gaze sharpened. "Not a chance." Dragoon's aura flared brightly as Tyson and his bit-beast roared together. "Let's turn this around! Galaxy Tempest!"

Dragoon spiraled forward, unleashing a powerful vortex. The energy tore through Magnetron's magnetic barrier and slammed into Forge Breaker, leaving it wobbling precariously.

Adam's eyes widened in panic. "Magnetron, unleash Mega Surge!"

Magnetron roared, raining metal shards down on Dragoon and Tyson. Tyson winced as a few hit him, but he didn't falter. "Dragoon, let's end this fair and square! Galaxy Storm!"

Dragoon erupted in a dazzling display of energy, breaking through Magnetron's onslaught. The final hit sent Forge Breaker spinning wildly before coming to a complete stop.

The scrapyard fell silent. Tyson stood tall, his knuckles white against his launcher. He quickly pocketed Dragoon, hiding the faint tremble in his fingers.

Max cheered, leaping into the air before hugging Tyson from behind. Tyson winced slightly but smiled. He saw Ray and Kai visibly relax, even though they don't actually tell anything. Adam stared at Forge Breaker, his fists clenched in frustration.

Tyson turned to face Adam then, his grin triumphant. He would have gone ahead and given him a handshake, but Adam hadn't played it fair. He didn't deserve a parting handshake. "That's what happens when you rely on dirty tricks instead of skill." He called out instead, turning away. The rest of them followed closely behind.

Max glanced at Tyson as soon as they were out. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Tyson flashed him a grin. "I'm fine. It was just a warm-up. Let's head back to the dojo." he suggested.

But, unbeknownst to all of them, Tyson had started baring the weight of the battle in silence, even in victory. 

*****

Tyson wished he could get home faster. Keeping up the facade was getting harder by the minute. He laughed at something Max said, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was.

The pain that had started as a dull ache in his back had now grown unbearable, spreading like fire with every movement. His wrist wasn't any better—each slight shift sent sharp stabs of agony shooting through it, nearly bringing tears to his eyes.

Ray was talking about the highlights of the battle, praising him here and there, but the words barely registered. Tyson just nodded along and forced a grin whenever it seemed appropriate.

Finally, they reached the dojo. "All right, guys. I'll see you tomorrow!" he said, waving at them before quickly turning away. He stepped inside, closed the door, and let his mask crumble.

"Tyson, is that you? Come here; dinner's getting ready," Grandpa called out from the kitchen. Tyson grit his teeth. One more performance, he told himself. "Yeah, Grandpa. Sorry I'm late! We all stayed back at school for a bit. I've already eaten, so I'll just head to bed now."

"All right then. Good night, son!" Grandpa replied, his tone warm and unsuspecting.

Tyson exhaled shakily and made his way up the stairs, each step more painful than the last. Once in his room, he sank to the floor, hugging himself tightly as he tried to calm his trembling body.

After a few moments, he shrugged off his jacket, revealing his bloodstained white uniform shirt. The red patches on his back and left arm made his stomach twist. He gingerly peeled the shirt off, wincing as the fabric stuck to the wounds. His reflection in the mirror horrified him—cuts crisscrossed his left arm, while deep, angry bruises painted his back.

"No wonder it's been hurting this much," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained. Moving cautiously, he rummaged through his wardrobe until he found a dusty roll of bandages stuffed in a corner.

With trembling hands, he began wrapping his arm first. His wrist screamed in protest, and the pressure from the bandage only made it worse. He bit down hard on his lip to stay silent, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. Tears blurred his vision, but he kept going, determined to push through the pain.

When he moved on to his back, it became nearly impossible. Awkwardly twisting, he struggled to wind the bandage around himself. Each stretch sent sharp jolts through his torso, draining what little energy he had left.

The bandage slipped from his grasp, rolling under a chair. Tyson leaned over to retrieve it, but his wrist gave way, sending him crashing to the floor. His back hit the wooden planks with a loud thud, and white-hot pain erupted across his body.

A muffled cry escaped his lips. Curled up on the cold floor, he clutched his side, his body trembling uncontrollably. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. He buried his face in his knees, his quiet sobs the only sound in the still room.

I've pushed myself too far this time, he thought bitterly. The day's events played in his mind—the battle, the relentless need to prove himself, the pressure to play fare no matter what the opponent does. It was suffocating.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, mind and body heavy with exhaustion . At some point, sleep claimed him , restless and cold , as the night deepened .

*****

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