The tournament day had finally come.
The day I had been preparing for. The day I could finally prove myself.
I woke up at 4 AM. As usual. Did some stretching. Took a cold shower. The water was freezing, but I didn't flinch. I had trained for this.
To freshen up my mind and reduce my stress and anxiety, I decided to go to the nearby famous Shiva Mandir.
The hostel hall and the streets were still empty this time of morning. The world was quiet. Just me and the fading stars.
I removed my sneakers outside. Grabbed a lota, filled it with water, and walked toward the Shivaling.
There I saw Trayaksh bhaiya already inside.
He was sitting there, legs crossed before the Shiva Lingam. His rudraksha mala was wrapped around his bicep, not his neck—tight, like a warrior's band. His eyes were closed. His lips moved in silent prayer.
I stood at the entrance, watching.
He opened his eyes. Reached into a small pouch. Took out wood ash—vibhuti—and rubbed it across his forehead, across his third eye. Three horizontal lines. The mark of Shiva. Just like the one on his headband.
Then he did something I didn't expect.
He took out a small blade. Cut his palm. Just a quick slice. Blood welled up, dark against his skin.
He let the blood drip onto the Shiva Lingam.
Red spread slowly through the white milk already flowing across the stone.
The scent of incense filled the temple. Bells echoed softly somewhere outside.
Trayaksh bhaiya didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
His eyes stayed fixed on the Lingam as if he were speaking to something beyond words.
A chill ran down my spine.
His face was serious. He didn't seem to feel pain. He just sat there, watching the blood mix with the offerings, his face calm.
"Why are you standing there? Come and join me," Trayaksh bhaiya said while rubbing the mixture across the Shivalinga.
I froze for a moment. Then I realized—right, he can sense my Prana from miles away.
I entered the room awkwardly with an awkward smile and sat down beside him.
He grabbed a kalash of water and was about to pour it. Then he signaled me with his head to place my hands on the kalash too.
I did.
He poured the water. It washed over the Shivaling, over the blood, over the milk—cleansing, blessing, flowing.
Then he applied vibhuti on my forehead. Three lines. Just like his.
We stood up. Bowed for the last time. Walked out.
Outside, while we were wearing our shoes, my mind was still stuck on the blood.
Why? Why would anyone offer blood?
Trayaksh spoke without looking at me.
"Are you still thinking about the blood offering?"
His voice was cold. Not angry. Just... honest.
I nodded silently.
He tied his shoelaces. Stood up.
"My nanu taught me this ritual. To do before going into something big."
I remembered his backstory. The Asura king. His mother Diti. The grandfather who believed in him.
"You were pretty close with your nanu?"
He nodded. "Mhm."
He didn't say anything else. Didn't need to.
"Okay. Let's go to the Balaji Stadium."
He started walking.
I nodded and caught up to him.
The sun was rising behind us.
We reached the entrance of the Balaji Stadium.
I stopped walking.
The stadium was massive. Tall stone walls rose toward the sky, carved with ancient scenes—YODHAs fighting Asuras, gods granting boons, warriors falling and rising again. Flags of every Gurukul group fluttered from the rooftop, snapping in the morning wind.
And the crowd.
So many people. Students from every year. Families sitting in the stands, waving banners with their children's names. Vendors selling snacks and drinks and tiny toy weapons that shot sparks when you swung them.
The decorations were everywhere. Marigold garlands hung from every railing. Colorful rangoli patterns decorated the entrance floor. Music played somewhere—drums and flutes, the kind you hear at festivals.
It looked nothing like a battle.
It looked like a celebration.
Trayaksh bhaiya rubbed my head.
"First time?" he asked.
I nodded. Couldn't find my voice.
"It feels like a festival," I said finally.
"That's the point." He looked out at the crowd. "The tournament isn't just about fighting. It's about reminding everyone why YODHAs exist. About celebrating the ones who protect them."
He pointed toward the center of the stadium. "Look."
I followed his finger.
The arena was huge. A massive circular field of packed earth, surrounded by tiered seating that rose high into the air. In the very center, a raised platform—the main battleground.
And around it, floating screens showing the tournament bracket. Names. Faces. Match times.
I saw my name.
Raghav vs. Purv. First round. Third match.
My stomach turned.
"You'll be fine," Trayaksh said.
I looked at him. "How do you know?"
He smiled. Not his usual smile. Something smaller. Softer.
"Remember the last night training."
We were still at the entrance gate. Above us, a massive carving of Hanuman ji stood guard—chest torn open, Lord Ram revealed inside. The morning light caught the stone, making it glow.
Then we heard a voice.
"Hello, Trayaksh."
I recognized that voice.
"Long time no see."
I turned around.
It was none other than—
Ayansh.
My brother.
He stood there, taller than I remembered. His red hair—the same shade as mine—was longer now. His eyes were the same sharp brown, framed by rectangular glasses, but there was something new in them. Something heavier.
He wore the uniform of the leader of the Agni group. One of the five YODHA groups that protected the nation. Not armor. Not ceremonial robes. Just simple clothes, well-fitted, practical. But the badge on his chest marked him as someone important.
Someone who had earned his place.
He wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at Trayaksh.
Trayaksh didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, his face unreadable.
Ayansh stepped forward. His expression shifted—from cold to warm, from formal to familiar.
"It's been a while," he said. "You've grown."
Trayaksh's jaw tightened. Then relaxed.
"You too, bhaiya."
Bhaiya.
Trayaksh called my brother bhaiya.
Ayansh smiled. Then his eyes moved.
To me.
"Rag."
My name. Just my name.
I couldn't speak. My throat was closed. My hands were shaking.
He took a step toward me. Then another.
"You've grown too."
I didn't know what to say. What was I supposed to say to the brother I'd been compared to my whole life? The one who was S+ rank? The one who had trained Trayaksh? The one who was so far ahead that I could barely see him?
He didn't wait for me to answer.
He pulled me into a hug.
Quick. Firm. Warm.
Then he stepped back.
"Your first tournament," he said. "I wanted to be here."
I finally found my voice. "You... you came for this?"
"I came for you." He paused. "And of course, I'll be giving you points as a leader of the Agni group."
Trayaksh watched us. His face was calm, but his eyes—his eyes were soft.
Ayansh turned to him.
"Take care of him out there."
"I will," Trayaksh said.
Ayansh nodded. Then he looked at me again.
"Win, little brother."
He walked toward the VIP entrance. Didn't look back.
I stood there, staring at the space where he'd been.
Trayaksh put a hand on my shoulder.
"You okay?"
I took a breath.
"Yeah," I said. "I think I am."
Then we heard another voice from behind.
"Rag beta... wait!"
I turned around.
It was none other than Mummy.
"Beta, how are you? Have you eaten well? You didn't have any problem in the hostel?" She touched my face with both hands.
"Mummy, stop it." I mumbled, removing her hand from my head.
Trayaksh bhaiya was controlling his laugh. Barely.
"I'm fine, Mom. Trayaksh bhaiya took really good care of me."
My mom took a deep breath and smiled a little. Then she reached into her purse and took out something small.
"Before going to the tournament, eat this. Dahi shakar."
She opened a small container and scooped up a bit of the yogurt and sugar mixture with a spoon.
"Mom—"
Ghop.
She shoved the spoon into my mouth before I could finish.
Trayaksh bhaiya couldn't control it anymore. He burst out laughing.
He opened his mouth to say something—
Ghop.
Mom shoved some dahi shakar into his mouth too.
"You both do well in the tournament, okay?" She said, smiling, then turned and walked through the audience door.
I and Trayaksh bhaiya made eye contact.
Then we both swallowed the dahi shakar in our mouths.
There was still time before the tournament started. I walked around a little, trying to calm my nerves. From the outside, I looked chill. But inside? Inside, I was surrounded by self-doubt.
Then I saw Ruchi and Mukund at a distance.
Somehow, just seeing them made the pressure in my chest ease a little.
I pushed through the crowd and headed toward them.
"Hey guys," I said with a little joy in my voice.
"Hey, Rag. What's up?" Mukund said.
Just seeing both of their faces, I felt like they also felt relieved when they saw me.
"So, ready for the tournament?" I said, raising my fist in the air.
"Yup."
"Always."
Mukund and Ruchi said it together. We gave each other a fist bump.
Then we looked around at our surroundings.
People were getting out of the way. Not just stepping aside—moving like they were making a path for someone. Like someone big was coming.
Expensive cars rolled in. BMV—Badrinath Motor Vehicles. Kudi. Roz Royals. Their polished surfaces gleamed under the morning sun. Servants jumped out, spreading long red velvet carpets across the ground.
I thought maybe it was for the YODHA leader.
But I was wrong.
From the first car, an old man stepped out. He wore a red velvet coat that sparkled with golden embroidery. His cane had a diamond on the handle. His mustache was perfectly trimmed. He looked like he owned the world.
From the cars behind him, two boys stepped out. Both wearing expensive coats. One looked like a fifth year—tall, confident, scanning the crowd like he was better than everyone.
The second one was our classmate.
Kev.
More cars kept coming. More rich people stepped out. Businessmen. Politicians. Families who had never held a weapon but had more money than most YODHAs would see in a lifetime.
"Wohhh... who are these?" I mumbled.
"These are the most famous businessmen and their children," Ruchi said.
We looked behind.
It was just a namkeen seller. He didn't look old—maybe third year or second year. His stall was small. He was wearing just a simple shirt, stained with oil and spices. He was arranging packets of snacks, not even looking at the crowd.
Just a boy, selling namkeen, trying to make a living.
Mukund followed my gaze. "What?"
"Nothing," I said. "Just... look at them." I pointed at the businessmen, the velvet carpets, the sparkling coats. "And look at him."
Ruchi crossed her arms. "The tournament isn't just for YODHAs. Rich people come to watch. To be seen. To show off."
"By the way, who are you?" Mukund asked out of curiosity.
The namkeen seller looked up. Wiped his hands on his shirt.
"Oh, I'm Advait. Third year student."
What?
He also studies at the Gurukul? Then why is he selling namkeen from a small stall?
Advait looked at the sky. The sun was higher now.
"Aren't you guys getting late? I think it's time for the tournament."
For a second, all three of us froze.
Then—
BOOOOOOM.
A massive drum echoed across the entire stadium.
too be continued.....