The alley had gone almost ghostly silent, with just that late-night Mumbai hum in the background, and rainwater hissing as it snuck off rooftops onto broken concrete. The kind of quiet that feels bigger than you, you know? Arjun Mehra hunched in against the wall, that little jade shard practically burning a hole in his hand—literally warm, pulsing, like the world had left a secret just for him. He cradled it, half-protective, half-in-awe. He'd been punched, kicked, maybe even called names more times than he could count, but right now, he felt almost… supercharged. Crazy, right?
Seriously, every limb felt battered, but also… switched on. He could practically hear his heartbeat crashing in his ears, from the nerves, the running, the wild thing that had just happened. Except now, not everything felt the same. His brain, usually a muddle after a fight, felt sharp as a goddamn razor. The moves, the footwork, the way he'd gotten through it all tonight? That was new. Not luck—he knew himself too well for that. He could flex his fingers, open and close his hands, and that jade shard hummed like a phone on silent, except the message was just for him: "Hey, you've leveled up!"
He smirked a little to himself, even as he leaned harder into the wet bricks. Maybe pain was the price of admission to whatever this new part of life was. Or maybe he was just… finally catching his break.
That's when the universe stopped playing fair—movement at the mouth of the alley. Not the thugs, thank God, but someone else, and instantly he clocked the silhouette. Riya. Only Riya could stand awkwardly in the rain but wear it like part of her outfit. Honestly, there she was, hair glued to her forehead, big worried eyes, and this energy about her—like she'd seen the worst and was daring it to try again.
She wasn't supposed to be here. She was his friend, his weirdly loyal neighbor, the one who always laughed at his dumb jokes even when she probably had better things to do. The one person who remembered his mom's birthday and gave him hell for skipping meals.
"Arjun!" Her voice zinged down the alley—a mix of panic, relief, and genuine care. There's something about having someone shout your name and mean it that hits different, trust me. She rushed over, doing that thing where she tried to take in every detail at once: muddy jeans, split lip, the shimmer of the jade fragment he was still cupping.
She went straight into interrogative mode. "What happened? Are you hurt?" And she even tried to brush the rain off his jacket, like that would magically fix bruised ribs (A for effort, Riya).
Arjun, master of pretending like he's got it all together (he absolutely did not), straightened his back and tried to sound casual. "Nah, I just tripped into some trouble," he lied, because what else do you say to your childhood BFF when you've accidentally gotten a supernatural upgrade from a piece of rock?
It wasn't enough for Riya though—she could always spot when he was hiding pain. She squinted at him, rolled her eyes a little, and moved closer. "Don't give me that. Look, you're kind of glowing and I don't think it's your skincare routine." She eyed the jade, then his busted face. "Something happened, and you need to not do the whole lone wolf act on me now."
There was something about her tone, gentle but steel underneath, that made him want to just… spill. Explain the whole bizarre system-thing, the sudden power, the fact that he'd nearly gotten his teeth punched in before life handed him a cosmic cheat code. But who'd believe that? Even Arjun's own brain was still running diagnostics.
He half-mumbled it away. "Just… a few jerks from the street. Nothing major."
Of course, she saw through that. Sometimes you wish the people who cared about you would let you off the hook, but honestly, you're lucky when they won't. She touched his arm, grounding, like, "Hey, you're still here. You're coming back to earth now."
She told him, "Arjun, I know why you do this—because you think if you don't haul the whole world on your shoulders it'll let Mom down. But you've got people. You've got me."
And look—it's cheesy, it's straight out of a Bollywood drama, but hearing that? It stuck. Warmed him in a way those city nights never did, not even when all you wanted was some basic human decency.
For a second, his armor cracked. "I know," he said, voice softer. "It's just… everything feels like it's on my shoulders sometimes. I want to be enough for Mom, for me, for… I don't know. Life."
Riya didn't let go of his gaze. "Well, newsflash: you're not alone, okay? Maybe quit auditioning to play Mumbai's latest tragedy."
The alley, once just trash and trouble, felt transformed—like maybe this was the moment things could get better, or at least… different. The city noise, the rain, the whole mess of his life—suddenly, it all felt manageable. Or manageable with someone on his side, at least.
After a bit of silence, Riya kind of shrugged, awkward in that way people are when they pretend not to care but are practically bursting. "Anyway, I'm not leaving till you tell me it's safe. I don't care how mad your mom gets if I'm late."
He grinned, gave her that look only childhood conspirators can share, and nodded, trying to hold on to some of that strength—the real thing and the system thing, mashed together.
The jade fragment pulsed again—almost like it was in on the moment. First quest: done. New skill glimmering just beneath his skin. But more important? Lil' old Riya standing there, proof you didn't have to fight the world alone, even when the odds were whacked.
"Riya…" He paused, a million things unsaid. "Thanks. Seriously."
She just smirked, flicking water from her fingers. "You'd do the same for me, dummy."
And the night stretched on, city lights smeared in the puddles, rain keeping time with their breathing. For once, Arjun didn't feel like just a pawn in someone else's story. The world wasn't any less weird, but now it had hope threaded through the chaos—someone willing to face the next storm with him.
Who knew what tomorrow would bring? Honestly, he was almost looking forward to finding out.