The Beyblade OC Week

Cairo Yozora is a Beyblade Burst Turbo OC. He is a subordinate to Kristina Kuroda and a temporary BeyTrainer for BC Sol, even being enlisted as a trainer & rival among the Battleship Cruise. His beyblade is Vixen Icarus, a combination of a field fox & the tragic Greek mythological hero, and is attack & defense (iirc).

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I chose to use him for “today’s” prompt (yes I know I’m 4 days behind, college 💥), because I think using his established Icarus symbolism, in both his avatar and (you guys don’t know this yet) his lore, is fitting, since Icarus is often painted in warm colors, associated with melting wax wings and flying too close to our sun (which is an orange-yellow star). Furthermore, that’s why he has a sun/star earring and wing tattoos.

I also added Freddy of the Super Stars because that is Cairo’s bandmate in my (to be released) idol group fanon plot. Also, I personally associate Freddy with the color yellow because of the man he’s inspired by.

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Cairo is my favorite of all my ocs to ever exist, and I definitely do plan on releasing more content and art of him to tumblr one day, hopefully when I’m less busy. In the meantime, feel free to ask me about him!

Here are some fun facts:

He’s half-Argentinian and half-Japanese! And like Kris, he lives in Spain. This is because his parents wanted to meet half way when settling down.

He has a twin sister! She’s the extrovert between the two.

His sexuality is Achillean.

Tanya no longer has to lie about being sixteen. Her birthday has come and gone, and all she'd had to subsist on that day was restless orange sand and wavering dreams about that broad-shouldered man. The one whose suit was always perfect, his hair combed, his eyes sharp behind glasses with no prescription. Doji, she’d thought, turning her sand-coated back to the cliff. 

She’d met him in the same place she’d left him: Tanya, sixteen, with no past to speak of, who climbed a mountain to see what would happen, who witnessed from a great distance the landing helicopter, and the man inside, guarded by glass, sipping champagne. Who gazed from the peak of a mountain he’d not had to climb over a world that, surely, he must own. From his perch above the peak, he must see everything. From there, he’d chosen to look at her.

Who are you?

Tanya had been grimy and exhausted, her backpack torn and bloody, her clothes the same gravel-grey are her callused palms, rubbed with dirt as a chalk replacement. She’d tried not to sway in the thin night air, and pretended her breath wasn’t shallow and strained. Despite it, the man offered his attention for a precious instant. She offered hers in return. Tanya saw his pressed suit, his pleasant smile, tempered by cruelty. His shoulders were straight, his lines well-tailored, his temper already taunt. He could afford to lose his temper. He could afford to walk away. Who would he answer to, when he was so clearly above the indifferent world? 

He has the sort of freedom she covets. The sort of power. She will have it.

I am yours.

Their trump card paced the centre of the room, restless energy radiating from him with each turn. He would stop every few seconds like he meant to say something, then think better of it and move again, trainers squeaking softly against the floor.

Another minute ticked past.

He’s not going to show, Steph thought with dismay, glaring at the locker room door as if she could will it open through sheer irritation.

Patience, little one, Seraphina urged.

Steph tightened her grip on the blade. Easy for the bit-beast to say.

Four o’clock ticked by.

The handle turned.

Every head in the room lifted as the door opened.

Hiro stepped inside quietly and closed the door behind him.

No one said anything.

No one told him to leave either.

For a long second, he just stood there with his hand still resting on the handle, like he understood exactly how much ground there was between the door and the rest of the room and knew he had no right to cross it lightly.

Then he let go of the handle and took a step forward.

Addressing them as a team, Hiro said, “What’s done is done. I want to be your coach again.”

The words landed heavily in the silence.

Steph felt the room react before anyone moved. Max looked up sharply from Draciel. Becky slid one side of her headphones off her ear. Tyson stopped pacing. Even Kai lifted his gaze.

It was Ray who spoke first.

“You want to coach a bunch of has-beens?”

The challenge hung in the air.

Steph glanced at him in surprise. It was the kind of blunt, cutting comment she would have expected from Tyson, maybe Kai on a bad day — not Ray, who usually chose his words with care. But that was what made it hit harder. If even Ray was willing to say it out loud, then the wound in the room had gone deeper than any of them had admitted.

Hiro knew it too.

Steph saw it in the way his shoulders slumped, just slightly, accepting the accusation without resistance. With regret.

“No,” he said. “I want to coach the Bladebreakers.”

That shifted something.

Not enough to break the tension, but enough to change its shape. Steph saw Max’s expression soften at the edges. Becky lowered her headphones completely now, letting them rest around her neck. Tyson’s jaw stayed tight, but he hadn’t started pacing again.

Hiro stepped forward another pace.

“I’m not going to pretend I haven’t made mistakes,” he said. “I should have been honest with you all from the start, not just about BEGA, but about this tournament.”

No one interrupted him.

“Reforming the team was never about winning a championship title,” he continued. “Maybe it was the right thing to keep that from you when you were kids, but you’re adults now, and you deserve honesty. You deserve a choice.”

Steph watched his gaze move across all of them, deliberate and steady, lingering nowhere and everywhere at once. There was no strategist in him now, no careful manipulation, no attempt to steer their reactions before they had them. Just Hiro, stripped of excuses.

“I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake here. If the Bladesharks and the JBO succeed, the entire future of the WBBA is in jeopardy.”

The words sank into the room with a weight none of them could ignore.

“I told you I wanted to help you put an end to the Bladesharks once and for all, and that hasn’t changed,” Hiro said. “But you and I all know it’s so much bigger than that now.”

Steph felt Seraphina’s presence stir against her thoughts, warm and approving. Hiro was finally saying it plainly.

Becky’s voice broke the quiet.

“So why did you leave?”

There was no accusation in it. Just a clean, direct question, asked with the same blunt clarity Becky brought to everything when she wanted the truth and nothing else.

Hiro met her gaze.

“I thought it was the best thing for the team,” he admitted. “I wasn’t honest with you, and it was putting the team at odds. You weren’t fighting because you didn’t trust each other — you were fighting because I hadn’t given you a reason to trust in the team.”

Steph felt that one land.

Max looked down at Draciel in his hands, thoughtful now rather than tense. Ray’s brow furrowed slightly, but not in anger. In reflection. Becky’s posture eased, just a fraction.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness for my mistakes,” Hiro went on. “And walking out on you was a mistake I’ve made more times than I should have.” His voice dipped lower, steadier for the admission. “But I’d like to be your coach again, if you’ll still have me.”

The silence that followed was different from the one before.

Less brittle. Less defensive. The room was listening now.

Steph glanced at her teammates. Max was quiet, contemplating Hiro’s words with the earnest seriousness he wore whenever something mattered to him more than he knew how to say. Ray’s expression had softened, the challenge from earlier giving way to contemplation. Becky’s glance shifted from Kai, to Hiro, and back to Kai again, assessing, calculating, weighing whether this was real.

Kai, after a long second, lowered his chin in a nod — slight, but intentional.

Then he asked, “What about Barthez?”

Hiro gave a small shrug, not dismissive, just honest. “Barthez’s involvement complicates things,” he admitted. “It raises the stakes. This isn’t just about becoming a championship team again, it’s about becoming a team that can defend the integrity of the sport.” His gaze swept the room once more. “I know that together, we can do that. Right?”

This time the answer came not in words, but in the shift of bodies and expressions around the room.

Ray nodded first, small but honest. Becky followed with a shrug that said she was in whether she liked how they got here or not. Max muttered a barely audible, “Of course,” under his breath. Kai’s nod this time was unmistakable.

And Tyson—

He’s not convinced, Seraphina observed, her impatience unmistakable.

But Steph saw the shift in Tyson’s stance, the softening in his expression. Not enough to call it acceptance. Not yet. But the anger wasn’t leading anymore. Beneath it was hurt, and beneath that, something more fragile still — the part of Tyson that had wanted Hiro to come back and hated him for being the reason he had to want it.

Hiro sensed it too, doubling down.

“I made you all a promise,” he said. “And I’m sticking with you.”

Now there was nowhere left for either of them to hide.

Hiro turned to face Tyson fully.

The room seemed to narrow around the two brothers. Steph watched the change in Hiro then — all the careful composure still there, but with something rawer under it now. He was not speaking to his captain. Not even to his best blader. He was speaking to Tyson.

Hiro’s voice was softer when he said, “What do you say, Tyson?”

Tyson held his gaze for a long moment.

Steph could almost see the argument playing out behind his eyes. All the old hurt. All the anger. All the times Hiro had made choices for him and expected him to understand later. But there was relief there too, buried deep and impossible to miss once she saw it. Relief that Hiro had come back. Relief that he was finally saying the things Tyson had needed to hear all along.

Tyson scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and let out a breath.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we practiced first.”

For half a heartbeat, nobody moved.

Then Hiro grinned.

“Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear.”

The tension in the room cracked all at once.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hiro asked, the first real spark of his old energy returning to his voice. “Let’s get out there.”

Max leaped to his feet first with a whoop of relief, almost knocking Becky over in his enthusiasm. She grinned and shoved him back with her shoulder, muttering something under her breath that made Ray snort softly as he stood. Kai pushed off the wall and reached for his blade without a word. Tyson rolled his shoulders once, the weight in him lighter now, and bent to grab Dragoon.

Single file, they left the locker room, the heavy silence finally replaced by movement, purpose, and the low murmur of a team pulling itself back together.

Steph hung behind, giving Seraphina’s blade a relieved squeeze.

Hiro lingered too, just long enough for their eyes to meet.

She offered him a small smile. “Good job, Coach.”

Something eased in his face at the title. Gratitude, quiet and immediate.

His answering smile was tired but real.