The Principal's cabin was quiet, except for the relentless ticking of the clock.

  It was enough to get on the most patient person's nerves.

  Sunlight poured in the room through the huge glass windows behind the main desk.

  Vijay stood still. Two days had passed since the incident with Tarun.

  Two people sat in front of Vijay, the light from behind making them appear like huge silhouettes.

  One of the silhouettes, Principal Mehra spoke, "We heard about what you did. This is beyond—"

  But the Principal stopped, eyes shifting right beside him.

  The other person took off his sunglasses, which was a sufficient warning.

  He was Vikrant Chauhan, Vijay's father.

  The trustee of Silver Oak Academy.

  Owner of BLC— BlackLine Command, the biggest bodyguard agency in India.

  His shoulders were broad, with a stoic face that didn't even flinch. Late 40s and striking grey eyes. His tan skin was marked by a deep scar on his right eye.

  His navy coloured suit was perfectly ironed and tightly stuck to his body. His silver watch glinted with arrogance, and the shoes were polished to a point they reflect light.

  And when he spoke, the room paused. "You are the heir to my agency. So you should stop acting like a damn child and grow up."

  "But I don't want to, dad. I have my—"

  "Meeting is over."

  Vikrant didn't even bother to look up.

  He handed a suspension letter to the teacher— the one who brought Vijay and saw everything.

  "Good that you kept it internal."

  Vijay turned to leave, pressing his 'BLC' tattoo, as if he wanted to scrape it off.

  He hated his father.

  More than one-third of the school's male students were waiting outside.

  That was Vijay's gang— The Eternal Order.

  Vijay stood tall in front of all of them.

  No one dared to whisper when Vijay began to speak.

  "We need to show Tarun Singh his place. We strike before Summer break."

  The gang grinned. Those instructions were enough for them to prepare.

  They disappeared in the crowd like shadows.

  But Manav wasn't among them. He was at the soda shop.

  ——————————————

  The soda shop was run by an old man, late 60s, hunched over the rusted counter. He only had a few strands of grey hair left on his scalp.

  Manav ran towards him with full confidence. "Hey! Where's my second soda? I already paid for it."

  "What? Did you really—" The man was startled at the sudden demand.

  "I paid for two. You gave me only one and told me to take another later. It's been 2 days since then!"

  "I don't remember any—" The man said, scratching his head.

  "You were on the phone the whole time! Ask this kid— even he saw everything."

  He grabbed a random student passing by as a fake witness.

  The child stuttered, but Manav's glare was enough to fix him. He slowly began speaking.

  "Y-yes… he paid for two sodas."

  "I don't have any proof for—"

  "See, two people are telling the same story!"

  Manav began shouting, which almost created a scene there. The old man sighed as he gave up on this argument.

  He quietly handed him another bottle. But Manav wasn't done yet.

  "Four more. For Vijay sir and the guys."

  The man protested, "For free? I really can't—"

  "Do you want your retirement party to turn into a funeral, old fool?" Manav leaned in, his voice got low— cold and deliberate.

  The old man couldn't speak anymore. He just followed Manav's orders.

  Manav picked up five bottles and strutted off like a big hero, tossing one to the student like a payment for his silence.

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  The student who helped Manav drifted into the crowd gathered around the notice board.

  The mid-term results were just released.

  ——————————————

  Only one student wasn't a part of the chaos— Rishabh Tiwari.

  He sat in his class, fingers tapping on the desk, calculating all the possible outcomes of the results.

  "Vivek and Ronak… definitely the last ten. Tarun would be somewhere in the middle. Yug too. And I'll top, as always."

  He ran to the board— not out of anxiety, but curiosity. He only wanted to confirm if his predictions were right.

  And it turned out to be exactly what he thought.

  Rishabh's name shone on top of all.

  The students around him glared like he didn't belong to this world. Some even began to throw crumpled paper at him.

  Then came the usual mocking.

  "Look at that weirdo," one of the students shouted, "I bet he sleeps hugging his books."

  "Or maybe he got the papers for some money. He can't be that smart." Another one added.

  Everyone in the corridor laughed, but Rishabh wasn't listening to them.

  His eyes were stuck on a single body approaching the board— Yug Verma.

  Yug's body was sore. The torn uniform clung to the bruises all over him. He limped with every step he took. His breath was heavy.

  He was moments away from collapsing, struggling to even stand upright.

  "Hey, Yug." Rishabh spoke in a tensed voice, "Did someone do something to you. Did they—?"

  "No. I've been training. Four days straight."

  This was totally something new.

  Rishabh was deeply concerned for his friend. He blinked. "But look at your body, it's fully—"

  "I'm perfectly fine." Yug cut him off, "I need to use the washroom."

  "You're breaking yourself for nothing. We'll still be the same. So stop torturing yourself like others do to us!"

  But Yug didn't turn back. His steps kept marching forward.

  Rishabh watched Yug vanish into the crowd. Something about him… didn't sit right.

  ——————————————

  Yug stared at himself in the washroom mirror. Steam rose from the rusted pipe below.

  The mirror was cracked, just like Yug himself.

  Patches of purple all over him. Scratches clawed across his chest— nothing but pain.

  He touched his shirtless body, expecting muscle. But what he got was just disappointment.

  His ribs were still evident.

  "All this training for nothing?" He wondered, clenching his trembling hand into a fist.

  He tried to find even the slightest spark in himself, but he only saw a ghost of what he wished to be.

  And all of a sudden—

  CRACK!

  An empty soda bottle hit Yug's head from behind. Manav entered the washroom.

  "Oops. I thought it was a trash can. Turns out it is living trash."

  He opened another soda bottle and began gulping it.

  Yug began picking up his shirt, but a sharp kick landed right on his wrist.

  "Oh don't wear it. Let the world see how desperation looks like."

  Yug just wanted to get out of the mess now. "Please just leave me—"

  But Manav wasn't there to joke.

  Another vicious kick flew at Yug's guts— but Yug grabbed it, locked around Manav's shin.

  Manav flinched, but strength was clearly on his side. He ripped his leg free and sent Yug crashing right on the stained marble floor.

  "You're just a punching bag trying to be a boxer."

  Manav laughed at Yug's failed efforts as he turned to leave, throwing another bottle.

  "Keep trying… it's fun to watch."

  ——————————————

  The school gym was modest and old— rust engulfed the rods and dumbbells.

  The clinking of metal was louder than the music in the background. The air smelled like sweat.

  Tarun was one of the rare ones who was regular to this isolated area, completely focused on only the weights.

  But there was someone broken walking between all those motivational posters.

  Yug Verma was waiting. Again.

  He had been trying for five days straight, but missed a chance to meet Tarun every time.

  Until now.

  Yug had lost all his patience. He had only one option now. He barged inside the gym, crossing all the metallic grunts and clangs echoing.

  Eyes turned.

  Multiple seniors looked at him in confusion. Some giggled while some curled their dumbbells, unbothered.

  "He'll fall if he picks up the lightest weight," Some laughed, "He can't even be spare weights for us!" The laughs increased in volume.

  But Yug didn't care. He walked straight to his goal, Tarun— his body was shining with sweat, veins popping out from the forearm and his hair tied back.

  He didn't have time to look at Yug, but knew he was there. He was lifting the heaviest weights available at the place.

  "Should I kick him out, boss?" A guy asked Tarun.

  But Tarun's eyes were enough to give away the answer. The guy moved away to work out.

  "Tarun, I want to—"

  "Meet me after my session." That's all Tarun spoke throughout one hour.

  Yug didn't argue. He just walked out and decided that this time, he'll really wait.

  ——————————————

  An hour later, Tarun walked out, untying his hair and wiping his face. His shirt stuck to his torso in the quiet corridor.

  But when he opened the door, he tripped.

  His legs hit something soft, but human. He looked down. Yug was sitting right there.

  Half-asleep but completely determined. His body was a mess and his face was cupped in his hands.

  But the moment he felt the presence, his eyes opened instantly. And he didn't waste time— to start begging to Tarun.

  Yug was on his knees, grabbing Tarun's feet like he saw a saint in front of him.

  "Please train me."

  "You again?" Tarun sighed at the bruised classmate, "You know I could just deny."

  "Then, I'll come again. I'll be here till you finally accept to train me."

  Tarun's voice dropped, as if he was about to say something important. "Can you smell my new deodorant? It cost me two hundred rupees!"

  "I'm serious, man."

  Tarun tilted his head with the same clueless and naive eyes he carried. "I really thought it worked. I smelled like iron."

  "Can we do this later? Please."

  "But I had saved money to buy this—" Tarun wore the same goofy, yet innocent smile on his face.

  "I don't care about your damn deoderant. I want to get rid of the way I've been. I want to be strong."

  And for the first time, something deep sparked in those eyes of Tarun. For a second, he saw a different person instead of Yug— someone from years ago.

  "Why don't you go to your family and live a normal and peaceful life." Tarun was still smiling ever so slightly.

  "My mom is ill. I haven't seen my dad. Heck, before I was five… it's all blank in my head."

  Yug's voice began to fade as words came out with difficulty.

  "No one remembers how many times they peed your pants when they were five, goofball!" Tarun began raging like a kid fighting for the TV remote, "And that too, in detail!"

  A moment of awkward silence.

  "You're not ready."

  "I will be. For sure."

  Tarun dropped his bag. "I thought you couldn't speak. But you give pretty good dramatic speeches."

  Yug leaned in closer. His face was changing into a smile, like he knew the answer would be 'yes".

  "Can I answer after I eat my pineapple pizza and have the energy drink?"

  "No. I beg you."

  "Please." He looked up a Yug with eyes too fragile even for a sixteen year old.

  But Yug grabbed his leg even tightly, with a grip that even shocked Tarun for a bit.

  "You're weak."

  "I will be stronger." Yug's eyes were burning with a resolve to be better.

  Tarun knew it was serious now. His smile disappeared. And then, he exhaled with a low voice.

  His mouth slowly opened to speak something—

  "So here's the thing. I will…"