Chapter Text
In the days after his father disappeared, Hyoma found himself wandering the outskirts of Koma Village, away from the pitying eyes of the other residents. Honestly, by that point, his father had already made a habit of being away for days on end, something the other villagers found distasteful but Hyoma had long since grown used to. He’d walk until their worried whispers faded behind him, and then he’d finally feel the vise in his chest loosen, ribs expanding as they let him take a full breath. He’d sit with his feet in the river and feel the water wash over them, let the sediment dig into his palms, see the sun crawl across the sky. When it sank behind the mountains, he’d curl up in a tree and let his eyes shut, the sounds of nature around him lulling him to sleep, where Gingka would find him hours later.
He’d push Hyoma gently, waking him up, and sit beside him, asking about the sights he’d seen today. And then Gingka would coax him into coming home before it truly got dark. Hand in hand they’d walk, grubby dirt stained fingers naming the evening stars as they appeared. Ryo would wait on the horizon and Gingka would cry out “Dad!” when he came into view and Hyoma would smile (Gingka never treated him like he was fragile, never became one of his horrible, tight-lipped and sickeningly sympathetic neighbors, and truthfully when Ryo scooped them both into the air and lovingly chastised them about the hour, Hyoma saw more of a father in him than he ever had in his own).
Because the truth was, the guardians of Koma Village always met this type of fate. Such was the nature of guarding the Beyblade Village itself. Dead or disappeared, Hyoma told himself he should be grateful that nothing befell his father in front of him.
—
He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but Hyoma felt more stares on him than usual that morning. People stopped speaking as he drew near to the village well to draw water for the day– why are all adults so bad at keeping secrets?, he always wondered. They smiled tersely at him, and a few asked him if he was well and eating (He was. No matter how awkwardly the other villagers behaved around him, the residents of Koma Village could not let a child go hungry).
He tried to tune it out as best as he could, but chopped snippets of conversation still drifted around him.
“They couldn’t find him?”
“...left Rock Aries by the riverside…”
“The cliffs around here… keep others out but…”
“Matter of time, I always said…”
“ –Odd kid. A loner, if I’d ever seen one.”
“Hush. The poor thing, first his mother…”
The wooden bucket hit the ground with a sharp crash as Hyoma clapped his hands over his ears, drawing a short gasp of surprise from those nearby. He took off running to the edge of the woods as fast as his little legs could carry him.
—
Hyoma might still have been a child, but he wasn’t stupid. He heard the rumour mill loud and clear: his father wasn’t coming back, but for some reason everyone insisted on acting like he didn't know, dancing around the fact that he’d been left in Hokuto’s care for over a week now– longer than he’d ever been left alone before. His father’s absences had increased in both duration and frequency over time, and Hyoma had long since braced himself for the inevitability of them one day becoming permanent.
And now, Rock Aries by the riverside …, he’d overheard. That was all the confirmation he needed. That bey was as much the village guardian as its blader was. His father would never separate from it by choice, would never be so careless as to abandon it where it could easily be swept into the sea.
Hyoma pushed through the underbrush with a new fervor, putting distance between himself and the town. Birds startled and squawked indignantly as he disturbed them, and he could see critters of the forest floor scuttling away. He didn’t care, only listened to the racing of his heart in time with his footsteps.
Still, the thought repeated incessantly in his head. His father wasn’t coming back. Did it matter to him? His father didn’t meet him at the end of a long day, shining in the evening like Ryo does when Gingka brings Hyoma home. His father never scooped him up, never tossed him into the air, never taught him about the stars. It was Gingka who named the constellations for him.
“There’s Pegasus!” he’d said, “Dad showed me.” Hyoma remembered. Ryo’s Storm Pegasus was legendary even then.
“And there,” Gingka had continued, “is Aries. It’ll be easier to see next month.”
“Where?”
Gingka took his hand and traced the path. It was a small thing, humble next to Pegasus, but he too felt like he’d grown wings with the way his heart soared.
“Woah,” was all he could say, but he was no longer looking at the sky .
A warning hiss brought him out of the past. He saw nothing at first, but then wondered how he missed the brightly colored scales in the grass. His heart leapt to his throat– he didn’t dare move, not until minutes later when the snake had safely slithered away.
One more step and I’d be dead, he thought. Palms clammy and shaking, he continued through the woods, slower now, gaze skimming the ground beneath him.
—
The clearing he found that day was unlike any he’d ever seen.
The ground in front of him was riddled with cracks and fissures, dropping off suddenly into a massive concavity. Hyoma peered over the edge into the deep half-sphere, shielding his eyes against the glow coming from inside. It was ethereal, almost, some shining window to a brighter world, beckoning him forward. He answered it, leaning forward to investigate the pit, heartaches of the day temporarily forgotten in his curiosity.
The sandy earth gave way to shimmering jade glass, hard and smooth and cool despite the midday sun. He ran his hand along the unbroken surface. How could something like this exist in the middle of the woods? Did anyone else know? They must not, or surely he’d have heard about it. He fished his beyblade out of his pocket, a small, training thing, so old he could no longer see the inscription on the face bolt to give it a name. He launched it quietly, afraid to break the serenity of the place.
The beyblade sped violently across glass. It spiraled around the perimeter and began slipping towards the center– Hyoma could hardly control the trajectory. No matter how he focused, it was mere moments before the bey flew out of the stadium entirely, landing in the brush on the other side. His shoulders sank as he trudged around the stadium to get it.
Hyoma squared his shoulders and launched his bey again. Again it slipped violently out of control. Again he retrieved it. This time, though, he launched it onto the hard earth beside the stadium.
Odd, he thought. Outside the stadium, I’m in perfect control.
He guided the bey into the stadium, and on contact, it began to slide– that was when it clicked. Hyoma knelt down and skimmed his fingertips over the surface again, then dragged his bey along it.
It’s frictionless. I wonder… How can I make Aries grip the surface?
But night was drawing near, and he was far away from his usual haunts. There would be no Gingka to coax him home today. With a final glance back, Hyoma picked up his training bey and dragged his feet the whole way back to Koma Village. Perhaps if he was lucky, he could slip home with only the shadows to see.
—
He’d managed to dodge the other villagers for a few days, returning as late as he dared and setting off for his sanctuary in the early morning. He brought odds and ends from around the house to see what would best adhere to the glass stadium. The plastic performance tip of his training bey, of course, was out of the question– he learned quickly that the scattered metal ones he found in his father’s repair kit were also of no use. Other early risers would sometimes see him stumbling to the woods, his water pail overflowing with scrap material– glass, rubber bands, even old toys he’d disassembled for parts.
On the fourth day, however, Hokuto cornered him at his threshold before he could escape to his clearing. It was his own fault; he’d neglected his laundry for the last week and lost precious time scouring the house for anything that didn’t smell.
“Hyoma, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Despite his size, Hokuto always commanded a sort of grandfatherly authority in the village. Perhaps it was the way he spoke slowly, careful not to waste his words.
“Not now, Hokuto, this is important.” Hyoma pushed past the dog, but Hokuto stubbornly stood his ground.
“Hyoma, I’ve been needing to tell you this for days now. You must listen to me.”
Hyoma could hear his pulse in his ears. Again he tried to step around Hokuto but this time the dog held firm.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Hyoma snapped. “Get out of my way.”
“It’s about your father–”
“I know! I don’t care!” With that, he grabbed his pail and took off towards the trees, nimble now; his feet had memorized the path to the glass stadium in his daily journeys.
He sank to his knees when he reached the solitude of the clearing, chest heaving from exertion. Biting his tongue, he tried to breathe out the tension building inside him. There was no one to hear him sob, but he was still quiet, his grief only betrayed by the way his body shook.
It’s nothing I don’t know. It’s nothing I don’t know. It’s nothing I don’t know. It’s nothing…
“Hyoma.”
His spine jolted straight, his composure snapping back into place. Gingka stepped out from beside a tree. He put his hands up as though trying to soothe a wild animal.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said quickly.
“What are you doing here?” Hyoma stood and brushed the dirt from his trousers. They were too small now, and his skinny ankles were scraped where the sand abraded them.
“I followed you– don’t look at me like that, it’s not what you think!- I just,” Gingka sputtered, “I haven’t been able to find you for a while, so I got worried.” He scratched his head nervously, seemingly unsure of what to do with his hands (a habit that, in hindsight, he never did kick). Hyoma said nothing; he just crossed his arms defensively over his chest, still feeling his heart jackhammering against his ribs. Gingka’s eyes slid away, taking in the clearing instead.
“So… what’s this?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t be like that, Hyoma.” Gingka knelt beside the glass stadium, running his fingers along the edge where it met the sand. “It’s beautiful. Looks like a perfect place for a battle!”
Despite himself, Hyoma felt his lips twitch in fondness. Gingka would probably battle in a mixing bowl if it had the space. He met his friend’s eyes, and Gingka smiled back; it’d be so easy to slip into the escapism he’d found with the hidden stadium, but still Hyoma hesitated, the events of the morning a heavy fog in his mind.
“I don’t know if this is a good time.”
“You don’t have to talk,” Gingka said, and held his training Pegasus to his heart. “Whatever’s going on in there, leave it all out in battle.”
“Alright,” Hyoma replied, shoulders relaxing. He fiddled with the performance tip of his bey, and discreetly slipped on the new one he’d been making– a crude, rubber thing. He hadn’t had a chance to test it out yet, but he could never say no when Gingka was looking at that, eyes burning and ready to fight. “But I won’t let you win.” He readied his launcher.
“That’s the spirit!”
—
The battle did not take long. Gingka’s will was a force, but even his budding blader’s spirit could not contend with the simple rules of physics. The glass stadium caused his training Pegasus to veer wildly out of control, and even without much aggression, Hyoma won easily.
“No way!” Gingka cried out, his bey landing at his feet. “It’s a fluke. I’ll win this time!”
Hyoma laughed, a dry sound. “If you insist.”
Again, they readied their launchers, shouting together, “Go shoot!”
This time, Gingka didn’t waste time meandering around the stadium. He immediately charged at Hyoma’s bey in the center, focusing all his energy into the blow. Hyoma smiled, and wordlessly dodged left.
“Pegasus!” Gingka cried as he struggled to avoid a stadium-out. It took all of his willpower to change course– Hyoma could see sweat beading on his brow from the effort. With ease, he sent his bey behind Gingka’s, chasing down Pegasus. The traction of his new performance tip let him navigate the stadium as precisely as on land, but it was heavy and unstable– he knew his stamina wouldn’t hold out for as long as usual. So let’s end it now, he thought.
“Go now!” He suddenly cried out. His bey dashed towards the old Pegasus. He might not have had the same attack power as Gingka did, but he knew this terrain– this stadium was his home turf, and he navigated it better than anyone. He clashed head on with Pegasus, and it only took a few hits to knock it off balance.
“One last time!” Hyoma shouted, and with a final clash, Gingka’s bey careened off course, flying out and landing decidedly outside the stadium.
“Pegasus!” Gingka cried out, running to scoop up his bey. Hyoma called his back to his hand, grabbing it from the air with a satisfied grin. I did it, he thought to himself. I really did it.
“That was incredible, Hyoma!” Gingka was saying, practically jumping from the rush of battle. “How do you have so much control? Pegasus felt so out of control, like– like trying to hold on to a wild horse!”
Hyoma just shrugged his shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to keep battling me to figure out how I do it.”
“You can bet on it!” He collapsed by the edge of the stadium with a huff, legs dangling inside. Hyoma took a seat beside him. “But not today,” Gingka continued. “I’m all battled out.”
“That’s not a real phrase.”
“Who cares. I’m battled out,” he repeated emphatically. Hyoma socked him playfully on the shoulder in response. “Hey!” he protested, but he was laughing.
“I can’t believe you’re tired already.”
“I can’t believe you aren’t,” Gingka countered. “Usually you’d be curled up in a tree somewhere napping at this time. I would’ve brought lunch if I knew we’d be out this long.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving. Should we head back?"
Hyoma smiled mischievously. “I’ve got a better idea. Come with me.” I’m not ready to go back. Not yet. He took Gingka’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “This way.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see!” He took off running, pausing only to grab his bucket.
—
Thirty minutes later saw the two boys ankle deep in the nearby river, pants clumsily rolled up to their knobby knees. The cool water was pleasant against the midday heat, and the sun reflected off its surface, glinting in their eyes.
“The water’s a little deeper this time of day, so don’t go too far in,” Hyoma said. “Stay by me, and it’ll be alright.”
“There! I see something!” Gingka said, pointing at a dark shape wriggling beneath the surface. In a flash, Hyoma plunged his hands into the depths and snatched up the fish, holding it up proudly.
“Just like that,” he said. He trudged back to the shore, placing it with the other he’d caught. “Now you grab the next one.”
Gingka wasn’t listening. Something had caught his eye beneath the currents, and he dove forward, reaching for it with both hands. Hyoma waited for him to pop right back up above the surface, but a heartbeat went by, then another and another and instinctively he knew Gingka had been between the water for too long to just catch a fish.
“Gingka!” Hyoma called, clambering against the flow, towards where Gingka had gone under. His shirt was quickly soaked and he tore it off, then dove into the water, swimming faster than he could run. His hand closed around Gingka's arm– his heart lurched as it slipped from his grasp but he grabbed at him again, tighter this time–, and wrenched him backwards where the waters were shallower. He fell backwards with the effort, Gingka tumbling down beside him. “Gingka!” he gasped again. “Gingka, are you okay?”
“I almost had it! Why did you pull me back?” Gingka tried to go back, but Hyoma held firm. “It’s gone now. I was so close to catching the fish, it was huge, you should have seen it...”
Hyoma could hardly hear him over his pulse thundering in his ears, mixing with the roar of the river, drowning out everything around him. Clammy fingers turned white, refusing to relinquish their grip on his friend’s arm, as though they had a mind of their own. He’s alright. He’s just fine, he thought, but a louder fear sounded in his head, Gingka could have died. He could’ve drowned and it’d be my fault.
“I told you to stay back!” Hyoma finally shouted at him, startling Gingka into silence. “I told you to stay with me!” His hands were shaking now– no, he was shaking. Cold wind hit his bare skin, that’s it, that was the reason…
“Hyoma?” He wrapped his arms around his friend, tentative, unsure at first, then pulled him close. “I’m right here. I’m sorry.”
“I-I told you the current is stronger far-farther out.” His teeth were chattering now. He buried his head in Gingka’s equally sodden chest, feeling the quick tap-tap-tap of his heart beginning to slow.
“I”m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
A shuddering, snotty inhale. “I told you to stay with me,” he said again, quieter this time.
Gingka pulled back then and brushed the wet hair out of Hyoma’s face. “I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.”
“Promise me.”
He stood, pulling Hyoma to his feet and with his arm around his friend’s bare shoulders, they went back to dry ground.
“I promise. You’re shaking– c’mon let’s start a fire and get you warmed up.”
—
Gingka was an awful cook, so Hyoma roasted the fish he’d caught while Gingka set his shirt to dry by the fire, pulling his off as well. They splayed their legs out by the heat of the flames and munched on the fish in silence. Hyoma watched the smoke rise up into the blue sky. The minutes slinked by, dread creeping over him steadily as the shadows around them lengthened. I don’t want to go back.
When they could delay it no longer, the boys tossed dirt over the embers and gathered their things. Hyoma could still hear the gushing water behind them, roaring louder now in the evening. Gingka slung his arm around his shoulder and they made their way back to the village in silence.
Hokuto stood with Ryo to meet them. Hyoma tensed, ready to bolt home and shut the doors behind him. The familiar mantra started up in his head. It’s nothing I don’t already know. It’s nothing…
Hokuto opened his mouth to speak, but Ryo put a hand on his head, mouthing something Hyoma could not hear. The old dog turned and left in a huff. Gingka did not run towards Ryo, did not let go of Hyoma, even as he shrank back, afraid of what was coming.
Ryo was gentle. Ryo took each of their hands and they walked home together. He asked them softly about their day, and Hyoma let Gingka do the talking, about their morning battle that seemed so far away now, and the sodden afternoon fishing in the river. He carefully neglected to mention the danger he’d found himself in, how Hyoma had pulled him from the rushing current.
His father paused and looked pensively upwards. “The stadium was green, you say? Like glass?”
“Yeah! Hyoma found it a few days ago.”
“It must be the Green Hades.”
“The Green Hades?” Hyoma finally asked, curiosity winning over his sullen mood. Ryo smiled at him.
“Long before any bladers ever came to Koma Village, a star fell from the sky and landed in the woods near here. It landed with such impact, the rock around it melted and turned to glass. The older villagers called it the Green Hades.”
“Woah,” the boys said in unison, looking up to Ryo with wide eyes; they relished these snippets of village lore that only he and Hokuto still seemed privy to.
“Yes. Though I imagine it’s been some time since anyone has last gone to battle in it.” Ryo’s smile slips halfway before saying the next part. “Your father and I used to be fond of battling there, Hyoma.”
The lump instantly reappeared in his throat and Hyoma dropped Ryo’s hand, looking away. He sat on the ground and began pulling at the grass. Ryo hesitated, then knelt down beside him. Gingka lingered a few steps back, hesitant. And when Ryo opened his mouth, Hyoma braced himself for the words he’d been running from all day.
But all Ryo said was “Would you care to join us for dinner?”
It should’ve been a relief. Ryo was imparting mercy upon him. He was letting him run, hide, evade a little longer but the tension in his chest was threatening to collapse his ribs. It bubbled out of his mouth; he lashed out, spitting cruelty, the same as he had that morning with Hokuto.
“Don’t feel bad for me! I know Dad isn’t coming home!” He ripped a fistful of grass from the ground and threw it in Ryo’s face. He didn’t so much as waver, but Hyoma saw Gingka flinch behind him. “Everyone thinks I don’t know. They think I’m stupid, like I can’t see. I know he’s gone. I need everyone to just stop treating me like I’m some freak.”
“Hyoma, no one thinks–” Gingka began, but he was quickly cut off.
“I see people whisper around me. They stop talking when I come by. It’s not like anything changed! When Mom died I lost any chance of Dad caring for me!” Tears were streaming down his face now. When did they form? He didn’t know. “He was always out protecting the village. Not me. Never me. So I don’t care that he’s gone. I don’t!”
Ryo took his tantrum in stoic silence. At the end of it, he didn’t say anything, just opened his arms in invitation. Hyoma stubbornly stood for a moment, but then glanced at Gingka. His best friend lifted his chin in encouragement and Hyoma crumbled. He ran into Ryo’s embrace.
—
Ryo let him spend the night. When Hyoma tired himself out, he picked him up in his arms and they walked back to his home. Dinner passed in a blur and he hardly remembered curling up in the spare bed before he was already awake the next day, sunlight streaming in. Again, Ryo was there, sitting at the foot of his bed, waiting for him to wake.
“Good morning, Mr. Hagane,” he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“You know I’ve always said Ryo is fine,” the man laughed. His expression quickly became somber, though, and he cast his eyes downward. “Hyoma, I–” he cleared his throat before trying again “–your father always said you should have this. I wanted to return it to you last night, but it didn’t feel like the right time. Hokuto will never forgive me if I wait any longer, though.” He held his palm out to Hyoma.
In the center was Rock Aries. His father’s bey. The bey that had helped guard Koma Village for decades.
Hyoma couldn’t speak, couldn’t move to take it.
“It’s for me?” He finally said.
“It’s for you.” Ryo took his hand, so small in his, and pressed Aries into his palm. The pink energy ring glistened in the morning light. He could feel the spirit of Aries within– stubborn, headstrong– not unlike his dad. Slowly, he let his fingers curl around the bey, holding it close to him, and scooted over to lean against Ryo.
“It’s real then,” Hyoma said quietly. “Does this… does this mean I have to become the guardian of the village?”
Ryo chuckled. “No. Not if you don’t want to. Your dad and I… Well, we always agreed I’d take up the role if anything happened to him. You’re young, Hyoma. It’s not for you to worry about right now.”
Hyoma smiled at Ryo then, gap-toothed and uneven where they were falling out and growing in, and Ryo lifted a heavy hand to his head and ruffled his hair.
“Wake up now, sleepyhead. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
Almost on cue, Gingka called out from the other room. “Dad! What’s for breakfast!”
—
The days passed similarly, despite Rock Aries now sitting heavy in Hyoma’s hands, a ghost of his father following him around. Ryo still checked in on him time and again, but largely left both him and his son up to their own devices. Hyoma retreated into the quiet of the surrounding wilderness, Gingka inevitably found him (by now, he knew all his hiding spots, and it became changed from a game of if he’d be found to when), and they would battle– every day, they’d find a stadium, sometimes one of the popular ones in the village, sometimes the more secluded ones that were a good half day’s walk away. But always, always, the Green Hades was Hyoma’s favorite.
He’d learned to navigate the slippery surface without the crutch of his clumsily made performance tip. It was tricky, sure, but Aries was far more refined than his training bey was, and he found himself always looking for ways to play the stadium to his advantage. He found Aries was ill suited to attacking head on (nor was this strategy ever quite his style). Sometimes Hokuto would stop by his home and see him tinkering late into the night with the parts his father had left behind.
The evening would always see them with Ryo on the horizon to welcome them home. Gingka would yell “Dad!” and dash into his waiting arms; after a while, Hyoma began to do the same.