This is connected to a series of HCs, but in short, I like this idea of Neoborg as a paramilitary force, so these are some uniforms Yuriy would wear. From tactical uniforms, uniforms for meetings with government entities, long-term missions, etc.
I simply started thinking about the fact that Yuriy might be the kind of person who’s somewhat lost when it comes to social cues, and that this probably has to do with where and how he grew up. Additionally, that led me to realize that Kai was raised in the same environment, but “escaped” much earlier and had far more contact with the outside world than Yuriy did — and that this is reflected in their personalities in a way I found genuinely fascinating. It’s a chain of thoughts that put me in a trance and almost made me skip lunch.
That said:
Headcanon about Tala Valkov/Yuriy Ivanov being terrible at social interactions: a comparison between Ivanov and Hiwatari — that nobody asked for
(A bit YuKa if you really squint)
I’m also taking into account some aspects of Takao Aoki’s Novel.
Starting from the beginning…
I imagine Yuriy as someone who was shaped almost entirely inside the Balkov Abbey. Like everyone in that place, he was raised to be obedient and efficient. And he was — he didn’t become a leader by accident. Whether that was due to merit or how much he yielded and how deeply Biovolt got into his head is debatable. Following some events from Takao Aoki’s Novel, he enters the Abbey “voluntarily,” but out of desperation, not ambition.
The Abbey was his last refuge (and, at the time, Boris’s as well). It was shelter from cold and hunger, from violence and parental abandonment. He chooses the promise of a home, food, and belonging. I can see Yuriy growing up believing that the world is a closed, hierarchical system — that’s the worldview he develops: there will always be someone at the top. There is someone who gives orders and someone who follows them. Those who survive are the ones who understand the rules and make themselves useful.
But how did his life change once he joined the organization?
This is where the headcanon begins: Yuriy certainly spent a long time within closed walls, almost entirely cut off from the outside world, practically breathing routine. He saw almost always the same rooms, the same people, the same uniforms, the same sounds of his own footsteps and those around him. There were some gradual changes, but they were minimal. This formed very rigid patterns in his mind, a scope of predictability — but at the same time, it took something away from him: childhood wonder and, consequently, the ability to deal with the most mundane things.
The first thing I think of is that Yuriy is dense, rigid. He lives and breathes for the Organization and believes he has enough for his purposes. Well — he doesn’t.
When the Neoborg is finally allowed out of institutional confinement, away from the intensive training for the world championship, Yuriy keeps his cold façade but is completely lost:
He realizes he doesn’t know how to deal with ordinary people: if he needs to resolve any situation for his team at headquarters or similar places, he doesn’t know how to handle being treated as incapable (it’s much like how some adults treat a child — and that’s not something he’s used to). He remains serious all the time, and all the adults around him can only find it adorable;
How he reacts to other children behaving in the outside world, and to noises beyond the beydish: screams, crying, laughter, general disorganization. He wouldn’t just not know how to behave around an unguarded child — he would automatically worry about them. By reflex, he’d expect them to be corrected or even punished, but that never happens;
He isn’t familiar with the concept of ordinary food (diners, markets, food “without a purpose”). He eats quickly, even when there’s no urgency. He distrusts things given for free, even discounts. Pleasure is not a criterion; food is efficiency. This is a trait that takes a long time to change, and he can remember his mind going completely blank when asked about his favorite food or personal preferences.
In public spaces, he always keeps his back to a wall. He calculates exit routes automatically. He analyzes people and is unsettled when they get distracted or trip. The outside world always puts him on extreme alert — at first, he finds it worse than being inside the labs, because the environment is unpredictable and his memories of the outside world are vague at best.
With objects like mugs, towels, soft clothes, he tends to test their durability, stitching, and weight. Use will always matter more than comfort or appearance. On top of that, he’s far more used to receiving clothes/uniforms than choosing them.
Free time is another issue. It makes him restless. Before he can even become idle, he creates training routines, maintenance tasks — he looks for anything to fill that void, because he was raised to be this way: productive, with no room for distractions.
In the present, even after the fall of the Abbey, Yuriy internalizes the oppressor:
Within the Neoborg, even as an entity far removed from Biovolt’s chains, Ivanov still thinks in terms of efficiency, control, and sacrifice. He struggles to believe in “free” choices or affection without cost.
Even after years, this doesn’t disappear.
He still has serious trouble understanding social norms:
He thanks people mechanically;
He doesn’t understand when someone is offended by his coldness;
He doesn’t perceive implicit emotional expectations;
Emotional subtext goes unnoticed — if something isn’t said explicitly, he doesn’t assume it (he’s probably missed a few flirtations here).
When it comes to kindness and hospitality, it throws him off:
He immediately feels indebted and tries to “pay it back” quickly;
He has asked for the price and didn’t understand how that could be rude (but he keeps gifts with extreme care, sometimes never using them so they won’t wear out).
In social settings overall, he’s polite (sometimes not so much), but above all, rigid. Yuriy learned the world like a technical manual. On top of that, he has a tendency to be so dense that he unsettles even his teammates, especially Boris and Ivan. This leads to some hilarious — and slightly concerning — situations.
Kai Hiwatari in the equation:
Unlike Yuriy, Kai is taken to the Abbey by his own grandfather. He doesn’t choose anything — he is chosen as a resource. It’s an intimate betrayal, not an institutional one. And that’s devastating on a different level.
Kai grows up with more existential beliefs:
Blood ties are the first thing he learns — they don’t mean protection;
Declared love does not prevent violence;
Family can be the greatest predator (and here I’m assuming the anime version of Kai, who didn’t know / didn’t have contact with his parents).
Control is something he vehemently rejects — not just physical pain, but the idea of being owned, used, or redefined. He takes autonomy as an absolute value. He doesn’t accept guardianship, doesn’t accept “it’s for your own good”; any attempt at control is a trigger (see his reaction when Mr. D offers Kai a spot on the Bladebreakers team…).
He uses silence as resistance, learning not to react — not merely out of coldness, but because reaction feeds the executioner. This becomes a fracture in his very foundation:
“If my own blood did this, no one is trustworthy.”
That belief only strengthens once he learns that a family can be loving (see Tyson and his grandfather), but that realization also brings confusion and frustration.
So it’s not surprising that he’s extremely reserved. He’s probably incapable of asking for help without feeling threatened and is extremely careful with bonds (I can only think of Kai’s face when Max first reached out his hand, lmao).
On the other hand, by fleeing the Abbey — even in the way it happened — Kai learned a great deal from the world. He likely has a traveler’s side, not on Rei’s level, but enough that he understands far better how to deal with people than Yuriy did as a child (he simply ignores most of that implicit nonsense).
When they start working together for the first time, Kai is probably stunned by Ivanov’s lack of tact — which must have earned a few looks from the others like, “yeah, that’s just how he is.” There was definitely a lot of headache involved, many moments where Kai pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from losing it and takes over certain tasks to avoid catastrophic events and the loss of one or two sponsors.
(“Seriously, how did you get this far with this shi-- behavior?!”)
At some point, Kai just understands that Yuriy was raised differently — he infers that from the place where he himself was raised, even if he doesn’t remember much of it. Deep down, he genuinely tries to be understanding, but he’s not very good at it, so he just shows how it’s done bluntly and expects Yuriy to copy it. There are arguments along the way, and some wounds get reopened from time to time — because they’re just teenagers in the end and don’t know how to deal with differences.
In moments where the two have to truly deal with each other, I can imagine that:
Yuriy may see Kai as ungrateful or reckless.
Kai may see Yuriy as complicit or complacent.
Ironically, I don’t really see them as rivals, but as sharing a kind of grief.
This behavior is certainly more pronounced toward the general public, ordinary people. There are few moments when they step out of that shell — either when they find a space where they can be themselves (by which I mean freedom and intimacy), or moments when they let some level of excitement slip through, such as bey battles or whatever risky nonsense they decide to try.
In summary, I’d say both are pragmatic, but Yuriy had to break through the social rigidity caused by an oppressive environment. Kai, on the other hand, always had a rebellious streak and, despite always being alone, had contact with a greater diversity of people earlier on — but his way of interacting turned into caution disguised as distrust.
HC/UA Post-Canon Neoborg No One Asked For: The Origin
After the collapse involving the remnants of Biovolt, the Neoborg wasn’t simply shut down.
It was reinvented.
In light of the latest events in the last championship — especially battles involving bit-beasts that were more wild and unstable — the BBA began to notice something very serious:
Bit-beasts were not just “the strength of sporting spirit.”
They had real physical impact.
To make matters worse, not everyone could see them, but anyone could be affected by the consequences.
Explosions, discharges, structural damage, energy fluctuations. All of these began appearing in international reports without any acceptable explanation. Several authorities started classifying these phenomena as “technical anomalies” or “electrical failures,” but internally they knew they had no technology capable of dealing with it.
At the same time, the Russian government inherited the ruins of Biovolt. Among those ruins were:
Abandoned laboratories with remnants of bit-beast technology;
Files on experiments and affiliated cells;
Facilities that couldn’t simply be shut down, because things inside them were still alive or active.
The problem was that the government couldn’t contain these outbreaks on its own. Conventional teams were ineffective — how do you fight something that few can see? Russia needed specialists, and the BBA needed a way to protect the world from collateral damage that was becoming more and more frequent.
Mr Dickenson came to the conclusion no one wanted to admit:
“If Biovolt created monsters, we need those who grew up inside it to contain them.”
He realized that Neoborg already had real experience with bit-beasts, sacred and synthetic alike. Its veterans (Kai, Yuriy, Bryan, Sergei, and Ivan) were among the few individuals with enough connection and perception to deal with them, and dissolving the team — considering the threat of closure due to lack of funding and sponsors, and the fact that Neoborg itself was already resigned to retirement — would be wasting the only group with practical knowledge of threats of that nature.
It was Mr. Dickenson who proposed the solution: to turn the old elitist Biovolt center into a public sports institute, while its underground section would be maintained as a special containment force.
In discreet conversations with Russian officials, he argued that:
Neoborg would gain legitimacy and international security;
Russia would have internal control and protection to deal with the dangers it had “inherited.”
To complete it, Mr. Dickenson was driven by a personal and ethical motivation:
He had already seen bit-beasts nearly destroy arenas, cities, and even young athletes. He knew that if there wasn't a group prepared to handle this, the next incident could be fatal — and with no witnesses capable of explaining what happened.
HC/UA Post-Canon Neoborg That No One Asked For - The Neoborg as a Reformed Institution
Officially — to the public, to the BBA, and to any curious journalist — Neoborg has become a sort of Russian technical-sports institute. A place where talented teenagers go to train, study beyblade technology, learn discipline, conditioning, spin science, and all those noble-sounding things on paper.
It’s pretty, it’s clean, it’s legalized, and it carries the fancy name of Neoborg Institute of Sports Science and Combat Technologies.
That’s the storefront.
Behind it lies the true heart of Neoborg — something almost no one knows about, except the government, the BBA, and a few security groups: a highly specialized paramilitary force, prepared to deal with threats that can’t appear on the news.
The Civil Layer - the façade
This part functions like an elite school mixed with a training center. It’s where you’d see young athletes training with coaches; laboratories developing blades and experimental parts; teachers instructing in mechanics, physics, tactics, first aid; genuinely normal environments (dorms, cafeteria, courts, workshops). Sometimes core team members (Yuriy & co.) show up and take part in joint activities.
The official goal is to train excellent players, engineers, and competitors. And yes, this actually happens — most of the current junior teams compete for slots in local or world championships, even for bench positions on the main team. The organization already has plans to develop its successor lineup. Many young people in the “civil layer,” however, never discover what exists beyond the corridors marked with security doors.
Up to this point, everything looks normal, even inspiring.
The Hidden Layer - the real Neoborg
This layer is used by the Russian government and by multilateral agreements as a rapid-response unit for high-risk situations. This includes:
Incidents involving experimental technology;
Creatures or “corrupted ferals” born from Biovolt-era experiments;
Biotechnological threats;
Disappearances linked to the corporation’s former structures;
Structural failures in secret facilities;
Recon missions regarding unmapped sites or semi-independent cells still active.
Therefore, Neoborg became a mix of elite training center, advanced laboratory, and special team deployed into missions no one is allowed to know exist.
Only veterans enter this layer: the very few who are psychologically and physically capable of handling it, and of carrying the emotional weight of knowing what really happened in Biovolt’s past. Some may have had direct contact with Biovolt, others not.
Neoborg was rebuilt in a deliberately strategic way: officially, it operates under the solid and respectable international cover provided by the BBA, while the Russian government serves as its political sponsor, ensuring the necessary layers of secrecy for its operations. Regional security units also play their silent part by choosing not to see what shouldn’t be seen. And through its sports façade — with young people coming and going, constant tournaments, and a steady flow of seemingly harmless activity — the institution preserves a sense of impeccable legitimacy, raising no suspicion.
In summary, the vibe is this:
Post-canon Neoborg is an institution with two lives:
Upstairs: students training, coaches correcting, labs full of revolutionary pieces.
Underground: teams preparing for operations no one should know still exist, risk reports, corridors hiding the kind of secret that always comes back to haunt someone.
And everyone is overworked, lmao ✨✨
It’s an environment full of memories — painful ones — and at the same time something entirely new that everyone is, somehow, trying to make work. So there are many trial-and-error situations involved.
Extra:
Institutions like Neoborg can also receive support from other BBA Global branches, such as the BBA Research Center in the US and other affiliated facilities around the world (which involves a lot of bureaucracy and political headaches, but it’s possible). Often, however, it is said that cooperation and data sharing is for the purpose of improving aspects of sports, the Russian government keeps the elite cell highly secretive.
