The street was too quiet.
That was the first thing Rag noticed. One moment they were talking about Bansi Sir's latest screaming session—Mukund doing an impression that actually made Ruchi laugh—and the next, the sounds of the city just... stopped.
No cars. No people. No birds.
Just silence.
Rag slowed down. "Do you feel that?"
Mukund stopped too. Adjusted his glasses. "Something's wrong."
Ruchi grabbed both their arms. "Let's go back. Let's just—"
"Hey, kids. Going somewhere?"
The voice came from the shadows.
A figure unfolded from a corner—large, round, moving like a blob of darkness given form. Behind him, four others emerged from doorways and alleys. Seniors. Fifth years, by the look of them.
Cigarettes glowed in the dark. Smoke curled upward.
Are Gurukul students even allowed to smoke? Rag's mind raced. Definitely not.
The big one waddled forward. The streetlight hit his face.
Mohit.
The Rakshak group leader.
"Well, well, well." Mohit's voice was oily. Pleased. "If it isn't the little first-years."
Rag's voice cracked. "Mo... Mohit bhaiya?"
The fat rhino laughed. His goons joined in. The sound echoed off the empty walls.
A knife slipped from Mohit's pocket. He twirled it lazily.
"You see, kids, this is our area. Our street. To pass through, you gotta pay." He grinned. "Cash. Or entertainment."
He pointed.
Rag looked.
A boy—their age, completely naked except for boxers—was slithering on the ground. Acting like a snake. A senior crouched nearby, pretending to blow a pungi, making ridiculous noises. Another senior—a girl—was recording on her phone, howling with laughter.
Ruchi covered her eyes immediately. "Oh god..."
Rag's stomach turned.
He recognized the boy. Ekansh. His classmate. From Anusandhana. Smart kid. No combat powers at all. Just brains.
They're humiliating him. For fun.
Mukund's face went red.
Not embarrassed red.
Angry red.
Before anyone could stop him, he marched forward and punched Mohit in the stomach.
Right in the chubby belly.
BOING.
Mukund bounced off like a rubber ball hitting a wall. He flew backward, hit a trash can—THUMP—and landed inside it, a banana peel sliding onto his head.
The goons erupted.
"THE SKINNY KID THOUGHT HE COULD PUNCH ME!" Mohit wheezed, laughing so hard his whole body shook. "DID YOU SEE THAT? HE BOUNCED!"
Rag saw red.
Fire exploded from his hands—not controlled, not aimed, just rage. It spread up his arms, across his shoulders, covering his whole body in flames.
He screamed and charged.
Leaped at Mohit—
Mohit sidestepped.
Rag flew past him, straight into the guy pretending to play pungi. They crashed in a heap. The pungi-guy yelled. Rag's flames died instantly, leaving him dazed on the ground.
Mohit was still laughing. "These first-years can't even PUNCH!"
He gestured lazily at one of his goons—a guy still squatting near the wall, cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Vab. Show them what a REAL punch looks like."
Vab dropped his cigarette. Stood up. Walked over to Rag, who was still trying to get up.
Grabbed him by the collar.
POW.
Rag flew backward. Skidded across the ground. His nose was bleeding. His head was spinning. He couldn't—
"RAG!"
Ruchi tried to run to him—
A hand grabbed her hair. Yanked her back.
A girl senior—thin, sharp features, tattoo on her face, grinning—pulled Ruchi close. "Where do you think you're going, flower girl?"
"Ow—let me GO!"
"Aww, did I hurt you?" The girl's other hand held a marker. She uncapped it with her teeth. "Your face is so pretty. It makes me want to... draw on it."
Ruchi struggled. The girl's grip was iron.
She pressed the marker to Ruchi's cheek. Drew.
A shit. Complete with squiggly lines.
She burst out laughing. "OH MY GOD—" She turned to show the others. "LOOK AT HER FACE!"
The goons howled.
Mohit wiped tears from his eyes. "You know, the tiny principal said—" he mimicked a high voice, "'Ohhh, there are so many Tier 1 in first year! They'll be a great class!'" He dropped the act, laughing harder. "There ARE no Tier 1! They're all JOKERS!"
More laughter.
Then—
Silence.
Not the quiet of an empty street.
The quiet of fear.
Every single goon froze. Cigarettes were dropped. Stomped out. Hidden.
Mohit grabbed all the smokes, ran to a dustbin, threw them in, and SAT on it.
Mohit's eyes went wide.
A motorcycle engine growled.
Red and black. Sleek. Deadly.
Trayaksh.
He pulled up, killed the engine, and just... looked.
At Mohit. Sitting on a dustbin. Awkward smile frozen on his face.
At Mukund. Sticking out of another trash can. Banana peel on his head.
At the girl. Still holding Ruchi's cheek. Marker in hand. Shit-drawing on full display.
At the goons. Squatting around a half-naked boy. Ekansh, curled up, trying to disappear.
At Rag. On the ground. Holding his bleeding nose. Trying to stand.
Trayaksh's face was unreadable.
"What," he said quietly, "the hell is going on here?"
Silence.
Mohit's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"Umm... uh... hey Trayaksh! You usually don't take this street, so we thought—"
Trayaksh walked past him.
Straight to the girl holding Ruchi.
He looked at her.
She let go instantly.
Trayaksh reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to Ruchi without a word.
"Eww." His nose wrinkled slightly.
Ruchi wiped her face, furious. "Bhaiya look.....She drew POOP on my beautiful face!"
"I wasn't saying eww about the poop." Trayaksh glanced at the drawing. "I was saying eww about the art. Looks like a five-year-old drew it."
No one laughed.
He walked over to Rag. Offered a hand. Pulled him up.
Then he walked toward Mohit.
Mohit's heart pounded. His eyes squeezed shut. This is it. This is where he kills me.
He waited for the punch.
Opened his eyes.
Trayaksh was helping Mukund out of the trash can.
Mohit blinked.
"Boss..." one of his goons whispered. "What's happening?"
"SHUT UP FOR A SECOND!" Mohit hissed while looking him.
Mohit turned. Trayanksh was in front of him.
Mohit's breath caught.
Trayaksh stood there. Dark face. Hard eyes.
Opened his mouth.
"Now tell me what the hell was going on here. And why are you sitting on a dustbin?" He sniffed. "And what's that—"
Mohit RAN.
Not walked. Not jogged. Ran.
His goons stared for half a second—then scattered. Vanished into alleys and doorways like roaches when the lights come on.
The girl with the marker was gone before anyone could blink.
Trayaksh watched them flee. Sighed.
"These Rakshak group people are weird."
He turned.
Ekansh was still on the ground, trying to cover himself, tears streaming down his face.
Trayaksh walked over. Picked up his glasses. Held out a hand. Smiled.
Ekansh took it. Trayaksh pulled him up.
Ekansh grabbed his clothes from the ground. Looked at Trayaksh. Tears still flowing.
Then he RAN.
Trayaksh watched him go. "You forgot your backpack—"
Ekansh spun, snatched the backpack from Trayaksh's offered hand, and sprinted away.
"—and your clothes..." Trayaksh sighed. "He's gone. Great."
He turned to Rag, Mukund, and Ruchi.
"Can anyone tell me what's going on?"
They looked at each other.
Rag's nose was still bleeding. Mukund had banana in his hair. Ruchi's cheek had a half-wiped poop drawing.
Where do they even START?
The rhino ran.
Ran like his life depended on it. Ran like the devil himself was chasing him. Ran until his lungs burned and his legs screamed and he couldn't run anymore.
The girl caught up to him near a crumbling wall.
"Why did you put the cigarettes in the dustbin FIRST?" She grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "Shouldn't you have hidden the kids first? Smoking gets us suspended—but bullying could get us JAILED!"
Mohit bent over, gasping for air. Waved a hand.
"Shut up, smarty-head." He wheezed. "I know that too. But if he saw us bullying... he might just beat us up. If he saw us SMOKING..." He swallowed. "He'd KILL us."
"Hun.... but why..?"
The girl stared at him.
Then both of them looked back toward the street.
Toward Trayaksh.
The park was almost dark.
Streetlights flickered overhead. Swings creaked gently in the evening breeze. It should have been peaceful.
Rag, Mukund, and Ruchi sat on the swings, not swinging. Just... sitting. Processing.
Trayaksh was laughing.
Actually laughing. Bent over, hands on knees, laughing like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
"What—" he gasped, "—did you SAY to him? 'MO—HIT—BHAI—YA?'" He mimicked Rag's cracked voice perfectly. "His FACE! I wish I'd recorded it!"
Rag stared at him.
What IS this guy? Teachers respect him. Seniors trust him. Bullies are TERRIFIED of him. His team members love him. Other 4th years HATE him.
And now he's laughing like a maniac in a dark park.
Trayaksh straightened up. Wiped a tear from his eye. The laughter faded.
Mukund and Ruchi watched him, silent.
Rag took a breath.
"Trayaksh bhaiya."
Trayaksh tilted his head.
"Teachers talk to you with respect. Seniors trust you. Those bullies pissed themselves when they saw you." Rag's voice was steady now. "What—"
"Oh boy." Trayaksh held up a hand. "So many questions. Is this an interview?" A small smile. "Okay. One by one. Please."
Rag looked at him.
Direct.
"Who are you?"
Trayaksh's smile didn't fade. But something in his eyes shifted.
"First..." He stepped closer. "Your introduction. I didn't hear it this morning. I had to leave, remember? I'm free now."
Rag took a deep breath.
"I'm Rag. Fire user." He paused. "My goal is to surpass my father and my brother."
Silence.
Trayaksh's expression didn't change. But something in the air did.
"By father... you mean Viraj?" Quiet. "And brother means Ayansh?"
Rag's mind raced.
How does he KNOW? Only Guru Dhyan figured it out. No one else—
"You're probably wondering how I know about your father and brother." Trayaksh's voice was soft.
Everyone's mouth dropped open.
Trayaksh stepped forward.
Stood directly in front of them.
"I am Trayaksh. Fourth year. S+ rank YODHA."
His hand reached up. Touched the headwrap—the tripundra he always wore.
And he removed it.
The third eye was right there.
Center of his forehead. Closed. Like a sleeping beast.
Then it opened.
Black. Pure black. The iris turned red—blood red—and it stared.
Straight at Rag.
Through Rag.
Into Rag's soul.
"I have the power," Trayaksh said quietly, "to copy any power."
His black eye didn't blink.
"Anukarana..."
A mantra. Sanskrit. Ancient.
His hands burst into flames.
Not normal flames—familiar flames. Rag's flames. The same color. The same heat. The same feeling.
Trayaksh swept his hand through the air. Flames followed. Traced a shape. A bow—a bow made entirely of fire, just like—
He pulled the string.
An arrow materialized. Flames. Perfect. Deadly.
Rag couldn't breathe.
That was his brother's technique. Ayansh's famous move. The fire bow. No one else could do it. No one.
And Trayaksh just... did it.
Like it was nothing.
Like he'd always known how.
Rag was mesmerized.
The flames. The bow. The arrow. The power.
It felt like his brother was standing there.
But—
He glanced at Mukund.
Mukund's face was pale. White as paper. His eyes were wide—not with awe.
With fear.
too be continued....