Daksha walked away from Asura in silence.
The night was cold, but not colder than the weight in his chest.
"You were there when I needed someone, Asura... You stood beside me. But I wasn't there when you needed me the most."
He clenched his fists as old memories rose from the dark corners of his mind—memories he had buried for years.
---
He was just a boy back then. Back when life was simpler. Back when Asikini still smiled at him every morning.
She lived in the house next to his. They were born in the same week, played in the same fields, and laughed under the same moonlight. For Daksha, Asikini was more than a friend. She was the light he always ran to.
He never told her he loved her. But she knew.
And then... everything changed.
That day.
They were walking near the edge of the village, joking about something stupid, when the sky darkened.
The Kara Army attacked without warning.
Screams. Fire. Blades in the wind.
Daksha tried to protect her, but he was just a boy. A child of Naagvanshya—his blood strong, but his body not yet ready.
They came for him. His blood, his soul.
They cut off his arm. Then his leg.
He remembered the pain. Not just of the blade—but of watching his house burn, his parents screaming inside.
He and Asikini escaped somehow. He didn't remember how. He only remembered the smell of blood, and her hand holding his.
When the fire stopped, his home was gone. His family gone. His childhood, gone.
---
After that, he vanished from the village.
He never showed himself again.
But he kept watching. From the shadows. From rooftops. From forests.
He watched Asikini grow up. Laugh. Wait. Cry. Then... move on.
She thought Daksha had died.
One day, a new man came to live beside her house. A kind-faced stranger.
They started meeting every day.
Daksha saw them together from a distance. Smiling. Walking, just like he once did with her.
He thought it was over. That maybe it was never meant to be.
And then, it happened again.
A robber attacked the two of them—just like the Kara Army had attacked long ago.
Daksha froze. His body still broken. One arm. One leg.
He wanted to run. To scream. To save her.
But he couldn't.
And then—someone placed a hand on his shoulder.
A voice, calm and steady:
"If you love someone… you protect them. No matter the cost."
It was Asura.
Together, they rushed into the fight. Two strangers against a blade. Daksha fought with everything he had. Even with one hand and one leg—he didn't stop.
They saved Asikini that day. Both of them.
And someone else was watching.
Master Gharvek.
He saw them fight. Saw their pain. Saw something in them that no one else could see.
From that day, the two boys trained together. Bled together. Grew stronger—under Gharvek's teachings.
From that day, they were not just fighters.
They were brothers.
---