: Gurukul Days
When Fire Met Water**
20 Years Earlier
Agni's wooden practice sword split the training dummy clean in half. Splinters flew, catching the morning sun as they scattered across the damp grass. He didn't smile. He simply adjusted his stance for the next dummy.
Sweat traced clean lines through the dust on his bare chest. His breaths were even, measured. In, out. Strike, reset. A perfect, disciplined rhythm.
The other boys gave him space. They always did.
A flash of white shot across the edge of the training field—a rabbit, panicked. Then came the laughter.
Agni didn't look up. Distractions were for the weak.
The laughter grew louder, accompanied by frantic, slapping footsteps. Someone was running full-tilt, barefoot, chasing the rabbit right into Agni's practice zone.
Agni pivoted, his practice sword already mid-swing for a lateral strike.
He saw blue robes first. Then a mop of dark, unruly hair. Wide, laughing blue eyes that met his for a single, frozen heartbeat.
Crash.
The boy collided with him. They went down in a tangle of limbs, red and blue silk mixing with mud and grass. Agni's sword flew from his hand. The air left his lungs in a whoosh.
For a moment, there was only stunned silence, broken by the rabbit's frantic scratching as it escaped into the bushes.
Then, laughter. Bright, unfiltered, and coming from right beneath him.
Agni blinked, pushing himself up on his elbows. He was practically lying on top of the stranger. The boy's face was inches from his, muddy, and grinning like he'd just won a prize.
"Oops."
Agni scrambled back as if burned. His skin felt too hot, too tight. The grass where the boy had lain was already drying, steam rising faintly from the crushed blades.
"Are you blind?" Agni snapped, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. He gestured to the broken dummies, the marked practice area. "Sword training. In progress."
The boy sat up, not bothering to brush the mud off his cheek. He just… looked at Agni. His gaze traveled from Agni's furrowed brow down to his clenched fists, then back up. The smile didn't fade; it just changed. Became more curious.
"I saw the swords," the boy said, his voice lighter than Agni expected. "I was aiming for the rabbit. He's faster than he looks." He pushed himself to his feet in one fluid motion and offered Agni a mud-streaked hand. "I'm Neer."
Agni ignored the hand and stood on his own. The heat in his cheeks had nothing to do with his fire. "You're disruptive. Leave."
Neer's hand dropped, but his smile turned challenging. He tilted his head. "You didn't tell me your name, oh disciplined one."
"Agniveer." The name was a dismissal.
"Agniveer," Neer repeated, rolling the name on his tongue like he was tasting it. "Fire-Warrior. Fitting." He took a step closer, and Agni fought the instinct to step back. Neer's eyes dropped to Agni's chest, where a faint, angry red mark was blooming from their collision. "Hurt you, did I?"
"No."
"Liar." Neer said it softly, almost kindly. Then he laughed again, the sound loosening something tight in the air. "Your fire's pretty, Agni. But it's awfully jumpy. Maybe you should meditate more."
Before Agni could form a retort, Neer had already turned, waving a hand over his shoulder without looking back. "See you around, Fire-Warrior. Try not to scorch the whole forest!"
Agni stood there, fists clenched, watching the blue robes disappear into the bamboo groves. The mud on his own clothes was already cracking and flaking off, dried by his unnatural heat.
The training field was quiet again. But it felt different. The silence wasn't peaceful anymore; it was waiting.
---
Three Days Later - The Meditation Hall
Agni sat in the front row, spine straight, eyes closed. He focused on his breath. In. Out. The flicker of the diya flame behind his eyelids. The scent of sandalwood and old wood.
A faint rustle came from two rows back.
Then a muffled snort.
Agni's eye twitched. He kept them closed.
Another rustle. A whispered, poorly imitated gruff voice: "Om… focus, children… om…" More stifled giggles.
Agni's eyes snapped open. He didn't turn. He just stared straight ahead at the serene face of the stone deity. But his jaw was tight.
The whispering stopped for a whole minute. Then came the sound of someone very slowly, very deliberately, tearing a page from a palm-leaf manuscript.
Riiiiip.
The Guru's chanting faltered. The hall fell into a dead, horrified silence.
Slowly, Agni turned his head.
Neer met his gaze, holding the torn piece of leaf between two fingers. His expression was the picture of angelic innocence. His blue eyes, however, sparkled with pure, undiluted mischief.
The message was clear: Look at me.
Agni looked away first, his ears burning. He heard Neer's soft, triumphant exhale.
---
That Night - The Courtyard Well
Agni went to draw water long after the evening bells, when he knew he'd be alone. The moon was high, painting the stone courtyard in silver and shadow.
He lowered the bucket, the rope rough against his palms. The well was deep. It took time for the splash to echo back up.
"Can't sleep either?"
Agni flinched, almost losing his grip on the rope. Neer leaned against the archway leading to the dormitories, a shadow against the darker stone. He held two ripe mangoes.
"I'm getting water," Agni stated, turning back to the well.
"I can see that." Neer pushed off the wall and walked over. He placed one mango on the edge of the well. "Here. Stole them from the kitchen garden. Sweeter than the ones they serve at lunch."
Agni ignored the fruit, hauling the heavy bucket up. "Stealing is against—"
"—the rules, yes, I know." Neer picked up his mango and took a loud, juicy bite. Juice dribbled down his chin. He didn't wipe it away. "You know, for a fire spirit, you're terribly afraid of getting burned."
"I'm not afraid of anything."
"Prove it." Neer held out the other mango. "Eat the stolen fruit."
Agni stared at the offered mango. At Neer's hand, steady and sure. At his face, lit by moonlight, challenging and open all at once.
The bucket of water sat between them, its surface perfectly still, reflecting the moon.
Agni's hand moved before his mind could protest. He took the mango. His fingers didn't brush Neer's, but he felt the near-miss like a static shock.
He bit into it. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, sharp and perfect.
Neer's grin was blinding. He didn't say "I told you so." He just took another bite of his own mango and looked up at the stars.
They stood there in silence for a long moment. Not friends. Not enemies. Just two boys, eating stolen fruit in the moonlight, the only sound the dripping water from the well bucket and the distant call of a night bird.
Agni finished his mango and tossed the seed into the bushes. "I'm going back."
"Me too." Neer fell into step beside him as they walked toward the dormitories. Not too close, but closer than anyone else ever walked.
At the fork where their paths diverged—Agni to the senior disciples' quarters, Neer to the junior—Neer stopped.
"Goodnight, Agni," he said, and for once, there was no mockery in his voice. Just… acknowledgement.
Agni nodded, once. A sharp, stiff motion.
He walked to his room, the ghost of mango sweetness still on his lips. That night, for the first time, he didn't dream of roaring flames.
He dreamed of quiet rain, and the sound of laughter just out of sight.
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END OF CHAPTER 2
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