Kai
Kai Hiwatari.
Always, always, it was Kai. If it was anyone else, it was merely a poor imitation, and tended to fail badly. There was a good reason why Max went straight to Kai when his friends were trapped in Gideon's headquarters. His team knew he could get them out of any scrape, even if that "scrape" was as deep as a canyon.
In a word – stubborn. Far too stubborn for his own good. That was how he did it. Did everything. It wasn't even a case of "if at first you don't succeed". It was "You Succeed". That was it. That was all that registered in Kai's world.
Having probably the least conventional childhood of all of them, Kai had learned to only ever rely on himself. Team was not a concept he understood, not until... well, just not. Leadership and authority, though, he most certainly understood, and that concept he followed all his life.
In his own mind, and of his own mind, he was king. All-knowing, all-powerful, leader and lord; he was the logical choice to run things. It was how he had been brought up. You wouldn't question a king, would you? Then why question him? The problem was that most of the time, the others just mistook rightful pride for arrogance and lordly silence for selfish refusal to share. Hmph.
When he finally realised that they didn't see him as a prince, but as a human being, he was insulted for quite some time. Even wearing clothes of almost entirely royal purple hadn't changed their view. So he'd decided to shut them out until they respected him as the one who flew higher than they, switching to the team that deferred to him even though he was both younger and physically smaller than any of them. The Blitzkrieg Boys knew who he was.
At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. It certainly got him where he wanted – facing the World Champion in the finals.
Tyson.
Always, always it was Tyson. After all, that had been the driving force in his life – be the best, be the only best. "You Succeed." If he was the best, then he was King.
Rather than admit that someone else could possibly be better than him, he said he would leave blading forever, the one thing that he loved, the one thing in life that actually still held some pleasure for him. He'd done it several times, and every time he'd been drawn back to the sport, had gone beyond his own barriers and even subjected himself to the tutelage of others in order to reach that first-place pedestal, simply because he could quite tear himself away from that hope that one day he might beat that stubborn upstart. He was Kai, and he was the best. Except that Tyson was.
In the end, that fight was all he was, and that was all that registered in Kai's world.