Mariam wasn't a concert person. Crowds? Meh. Loud music? Not unless she was the one in charge of the volume. Glitter and neon and people screaming just to scream? Absolutely not.

But tonight, standing in the packed auditorium, she didn't feel like storming off. Not with Max beside her.

Max was grinning so hard it was a wonder his face didn't split in two. Like a little kid seeing fireworks for the first time—or puppies. Or puppies setting off fireworks.

"Oh my gosh, look at the LED lights!" Max said, practically bouncing on his feet. "They're programmable—I think they're using real-time tracking for the spotlight sequences!"

Mariam raised an eyebrow at him, smirking."You got all that from two seconds of blinking lights?"

Max turned to her, sky-blue eyes wide and earnest. "Yeah! Isn't it awesome?" Absolutely not the reaction she'd expect from any other boys she knew.

She tucked her hands into her pockets, teasing. "Only you would nerd out over spotlights at a concert."

Max laughed, not even slightly embarrassed. "Lighting makes the mood! It's, like, everything!"

Mariam didn't care about the lights. But she did care about how animated Max looked explaining them to her.

There was something about Max that pulled you in, without even trying.

He wasn't trying to be impressive. He wasn't trying to be cool or smart or charming. He just was. Naturally enthusiastic. Thoughtful. Cute in the most devastatingly sincere way possible.

He talked a lot, but never over people. He noticed the little things others ignored. He held the door open for strangers, complimented random passersby without a second thought. And every single bit of it was genuine.

Mariam had grown up around boys who treated kindness like currency—used it to get something. She learned early on that it was better to avoid them: cold voice, sharp looks, rolled eyes. It kept them exactly where she wanted them. Far.

But Max, on the other hand, handed kindness out like free samples.

"You okay?" Max asked suddenly, noticing she'd gone quiet for some time now. "We're not too close to the speakers, right? You said you get headaches if it's too loud—should we move back?"

Mariam blinked, stunned.

He remembered that? She'd mentioned it passingly once, weeks ago, during the Halloween party.

"I'm good," she said, hiding the sudden rush of warmth under a shrug. "But thanks anyway, golden boy!"

Max beamed, looking absurdly proud of himself.

A moment later, the pre-show lights dimmed slightly. Max leaned in, excited. "I think they're starting!" Mariam nodded, barely hearing him over the swell of cheers.

As the opening beat hit the air and the crowd roared, Mariam turned to Max once more. He didn't notice. His gaze was locked on the stage, mouth parted in wonder.

Mariam smiled slyly to herself. Honestly speaking? Watching Max was way more entertaining than anything else.

*****

Mariam shifted slightly sometime later, pretending to scan the stage, but she was mostly soaking up the way Max lit up from the inside. How he made everything feel lighter. Easier.

On stage, Tyson was doing his usual thing: winking at the cameras, joking around, working the crowd like the pro he was. The audience ate it up, roaring with laughter and cheers.

Mariam rolled her eyes.

Classic Tyson. Always with the over-the-top charm and smug bravado. It was like he'd swallowed a spotlight and decided to live there permanently. And funnily, people let him do it again and again and again.

But then it happened.

A flash. A sound like metal snapping through the air.

Mariam's body reacted before her brain caught up. She saw it—a Beyblade, slicing toward the stage like a missile.

For a split second, the world froze.

Then Tyson moved.

Fast.

He caught it bare-handed, the impact making a sharp smack that echoed even over the music. Mariam flinched instinctively.

Everything ground to a halt. The music. The cheers. Even the lights stopped moving.

On stage, Cassie stood frozen, inches from where the blade would've hit her. Her fingers were clenched tightly around the mic.

Max had also gone still beside her. His usual bounce was gone. One foot shifted instinctively, like he was ready to sprint to the stage.

Tyson's laugh broke the silence, loud and slightly off-key.

It was a cover. Mariam could tell Tyson was just patching over the moment. And the crowd—eager not to ruin their night—bought it. Mostly.

But she wasn't fooled. Neither was Max. His hand had curled into her sleeve, holding on tighter than he realized.

Then came the voice.

"Tyson Tatsuya Granger!"

Two figures pushed forward from the crowd, smirks in place, eyes sharp and cold.

Not fans.

Challengers.

The reckless kind. The ones who didn't care who got caught in the crossfire.

"We challenge you—both of you!" one of them shouted, pointing straight at Max.

Max inhaled sharply, tense. But before he could so much as twitch, Mariam grabbed his hand firmly. She didn't say anything, but the message was clear. Stay.

She didn't know those guys, but she knew bad news when she saw it.

Tyson played it off brilliantly, tossing out jokes and cocky grins like candy. But Mariam caught the flash of anger under it. Cassie stood her ground, her face pale but steady.

Security swept in quickly, dragging the challengers away.

The crowd cheered, laughing it off. Thinking it was a scripted stunt.

Max let out a slow breath and looked at her. His face was serious in a way she wasn't used to seeing.

"That wasn't random," he said quietly. "No," Mariam agreed, her voice just as low. "It wasn't."

Max hesitated, looking torn. "Stay here. I'll go check in on Tyson. And Cassie. I'll be back. Promise," he told her earnestly, voice soft but sure.

Before she could argue, he slipped into the crowd, disappearing quickly.

As the next song started and Royson took the stage, Mariam barely heard the music.

All she could think about was Max—his usual sweetness tucked away, replaced by something steadier.

He might've been the softest person she knew. But when it mattered, Max Tate could be strong too.

*****

The crowd roared as the stage lights flared to life, having forgotten the beyblade stunt. Royson was getting ready to perform, his crew making final checks on the sound system.

The moment they were out of the crowd's view, Tyson spun toward Cassie. "You okay?"

Cassie exhaled slowly. "Yeah. That just... that happened really fast."

Tyson's jaw tightened, his anger from earlier simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah. That thing almost took your head off." His gaze flickered to her hands, still gripping the mic tightly. "You sure you're good?"

She nodded, but then her eyes dropped to his hand. "Tyson, your palm—"

"Ah, this? It's nothing." He shoved his hand in his pocket, ignoring the sting. "Just a scratch. It takes more than that to slow me down."

Before Cassie could argue, Max and Ray came in running.

"What the heck was that?" Ray asked, eyes scanning the stage like he expected another attack.

"New challengers." Tyson sighed, rolling his neck. "Guess they weren't interested in waiting."

Max frowned. "Attacking you in the middle of a fundraiser? That's bold."

Tyson clapped a hand on Max's shoulder. "And tasteless. They'll be winning no admirers from their stunt there, though I suppose I made it all look scripted, so maybe they'll be fine. Anyway, come with me. They challenged both of us."

Max's brows furrowed, but he nodded. "Yeah. Let's go see what they want."

Tyson turned to Ray then, the question evident in his eyes. "Where's Kai?" Ray hesitated. "I... don't know. He left sometime ago."

Tyson raised an eyebrow, but didn't press. Kai not being around when something serious went down? That wasn't like him at all. But then again, who'd have expected a pair of beybladers challenging him in the middle of a school event?

But there was no time to think about it.

Cassie, still way paler than usual, looked like she wanted to stop them, but decided otherwise. "Just... be careful guys." She quietly added, still looking rather pale.

Tyson smirked slightly then, trying to ease the tension. "Please Cassie, it's me. I don't do careful, but I do win."

Max rolled his eyes. "That's not reassuring at all, Ty."

Tyson just grinned and clapped him on the back. "Then let's go make sure our guests outside don't get any more bright ideas."

*****

The night air was crisp, but the tension outside the concert was thick and suffocating. Three volunteers stood guard, warily watching over the bladers from a distance. The two challengers stood chatting, waiting as Tyson and the others approached.

The shorter one, the same guy who had launched the Beyblade at Cassie, smirked as if he hadn't just nearly taken out an innocent person. "Took you long enough, Champ!" He called out smugly.

Tyson didn't break stride. He didn't slow down. He didn't even give a warning.

Crack!

His fist connected with the guy's jaw, sending him stumbling back into his partner. The impact was brutal, the sound echoing in the tight space. The guy grunted, hand flying to his face, stunned.

Volunteers gasped in surprise. They had been expecting the two bladers to cause trouble. None of them had anticipated sweet, jolly Tyson to be the one to escalate things.

But then again, they'd seen Tyson stand up to Rob a few days ago. Maybe this wasn't that out of character after all.

"What the—?" his partner shouted, stepping forward, fists clenched. Tyson didn't even look at him. His voice was firm, unshakable.

"Next time, you aim at me." His eyes stayed locked onto the guy he had just hit. "Not innocent bystanders. You got that?"

The blader straightened up, eyes flashing with anger. "Tch, what's wrong Champ? Can't handle a little surprise?" He spat.

Max tensed at his side, ready to pull Tyson back if things got ugly. But Tyson exhaled slowly, shaking out his fist like that punch had barely fazed him.

"Nah, if you'd aimed at me, I would've at least respected you a little." His gaze hardened then. "But you went after someone who wasn't even in the fight. That makes you a coward."

The taller blader scoffed, still trying to act non-challent. "So what, you're to back out over that?" His voice was taunting. "I thought you were the great Tyson Granger, the Two-time World Champion. Scared you'll lose your title?" He jeered.

Tyson let out a low chuckle—sharp, confident, almost arrogant, shaking his head. The two challengers stiffened, looking unsure for the first time since their appearance.

"Scared? That too me? Please!" Tyson took a step closer, hands still in his pockets. "If I was scared, I wouldn't have bothered to come out here. If I didn't think I could break you into pieces in the bey-dish, I wouldn't be wasting my time even talking to you."

The shorter blader clenched his jaw, his pride wounded. "Then cut the crap and battle us now—"

"No."

The finality in Tyson's voice made them both pause in surprise. From what the world had heard and seen of Tyson until then, they had been expecting him to be impulsive. Jump into things without thinking it through.

But Tyson continued, "If you can't tell, I'm busy." He gestured back toward the concert. "Hosting an event. You do realize I can have a life outside of Beyblading, right?"

His voice was casual, but it was clear as to who was in control of the conversation here. "So here's how this is gonna go." Tyson continued. "Tomorrow, 4 pm. Stadium behind this school. News will spread by then. I want a crowd when we take you two down effortlessly."

Max tugged at Tyson's arm, no wonder worried how this will affect their reputation as the World Champions. It was an unspoken rule that they weren't supposed to refuse or postpone challenges, or risk being seen as weak. "Tyson, maybe we should—"

"No, Max." Tyson cut him off, his voice firm, but gentle. "They disrespected us. They attacked us in the middle of a damn fundraiser. They don't even realise how much damage they could have caused if I hadn't caught that blade."

He turned to the bladers then. "Cassie, my co-host, could have been seriously hurt. The auditorium is filled to the brim. What were we to do had the crowd panicked? Started a stampede?"

His index pressed into the shorter blader's chest in accusation. "You don't get to sneak attack and walk away like you own the place. You messed up your chance. Now we handle this my way or no way."

A moment of silence ensued.

The challengers glared, but they didn't argue. For the first time, they seemed a bit ashamed of what they had done.

Tyson turned his back on them without hesitation, walking away. "We're done here."

*****

The arena wasn't anything official—just a deep, rust-stained pit surrounded by drunk men, bettors, and thrill seekers who screamed over each other, eyes sharp for violence. Above it all, the heavy stench of sweat and metal clung to the air.

The bey-dish at the center was battered and cracked. Scattered gravel and jagged edges turned it into a death trap for any blade that wasn't ready.

Bets flew in fast.
"Ten grand Dranzer chips first!"
"Fifteen on Hulk cheating first!"
"Five minutes till Dranzer's crushed!"
"I got 20k on Redeye winning blind!"

Redeye.

They still called him that.
Two years away, and the name still snapped through the pit, electrifying the atmosphere.

Kai adjusted his gloves, the blindfold tied tight across his eyes. Dranzer's launcher was strapped to his wrist, heavy and familiar. His body moved without thinking—every step, every breath more instinctive to him now.

But unlike before, he wasn't here for the thrill today. He wasn't here to prove a point to himself either.

Hillary's panic and Ray's frustration flashed in front of his eyes, but they didn't matter right now. Nothing mattered.

Kai shoved it all into a locked box and threw away the key. He'd deal with it later.

No distractions. No mercy.

The crowd was split—some cheered his name, others jeered, certain the 6'5" wall of muscle he was facing, known only as Hulk,would end his unchallenged winning streak of four years.

The rules were simple.Last bey standing wins.

No interference. No limits. No mercy.

But Kai had agreed to something extra.Three minutes—no dodging, no attacking. Blindfolded.

The ramen shopkeeper leaned in from the top rail, cigarette in between his fingers.

"Begin."

The entire arena thundered. "3, 2, 1...Let it rip!"

*****

Tyson had hurried back to the green room afterwards, leaving Max and Ray behind.

The first show was halfway through and he and Cassie had to go on stage in the next ten minutes. He wanted to check up on her before they went up.

The air outside still buzzed with the heat of the confrontation. Ray let out a slow breath. "I've never seen Tyson like that before."

Max ran a hand through his hair,still in disbelief. "Me neither."

They were used to Tyson being cocky and impulsive. But what they'd witnessed wasn't just confidence.It was command.

If Kai was a snowstorm—quiet, lethal and relentless—then Tyson had been wildfire today. Spontaneous, all-consuming and unstoppable.And those bladers definitely didn't know what they were getting into.

*****

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A/N: So, how's it, guys? What do you think of Tyson's quick thinking? I loved writing the whole wildfire thing, what did you guys think of it? 

I increased the word count a bit, nearly 2.5 now! 

Vote and comment, I love talking with you guys. And if you're good enough, maybe I'll give you guys a big of spoilers too😋

Happy reading guys!