UNIVERSITY ARC
I walked into class like a criminal sneaking into court.
Head low. Eyes on the floor. Heartbeat in overdrive.
My friends marched ahead, totally unaware of the apocalypse unfolding. Suresh was talking about the breakfast we had eaten in the morning again. Ramu was arguing over someone borrowing his pen and never returning it. Keshava was busy trying to remember if we even had a lecture today.
Me?
I was preparing myself, you know…right? Yeah, I think so.
I slipped into the classroom and peeked around like a spy entering enemy territory.
And there she was. Front row. Sitting calmly. Hair tied neatly. Taking notes.
Was this a trap? Had she assassinated the real lecturer and taken his form?
And just then—the moment of dread. The lecturer came inside and looked up towards the first bench. "Ah, a new face. You must be... the transfer student?"
Raksha stood up with perfect posture. "Yes, sir. My name is Rakshitha. Just joined yesterday."
The lecturer smiled. "Good. Welcome to the class. Everyone, be friendly. Help her settle in."
The class nodded.
Then someone whispered, "She's so calm. Kinda mysterious, right?"
"Yeah," another muttered. "Like a cool Cinderella character."
My face turned grey. They were falling into her trap.
And then... Raksha turned slightly, looked directly at me, and smiled. Not an evil grin. Not a crazy smirk. Just a soft, innocent smile.
The kind that says, "I know all your secrets, and I might bake you cookies or break your kneecaps, depending on my mood."
I froze. Smiled awkwardly. Outside waved and died inside.
What the hell is she planning now?
I quietly took a seat behind her. As I opened my notebook, Ramu leaned in and whispered, "Hey, isn't she that girl from yesterday?"
I choked on air. "Which girl?"
"You know, the one who was standing at the administration block? I never seen a beauty like her before? Wait, did I see her before?"
"Never seen her in your life," I said so fast that my tongue nearly caught fire.
Ramu leaned in from the other side, smirking. "Then why does she keep glancing back at me? Like she knows me."
Fool! She was seeing me, not you! You didn't exactly know about her. Don't you hear the phrase 'don't judge a book by its cover'?
"I think, maybe." I answered.
Keshava whispered, "Ramu, once see her eyes. I think she was pissed off. If she asks to borrow your pen, just give it. Don't resist. I don't have a death wish. We want to see tomorrow."
Ramu laughed. I buried my face in my hands.
Why did I think this would go any other way?
…..
I watched her closely, half expecting her to flip someone across a bench for chewing gum too loudly.
Instead… she raised her hand politely. And asked a question. A real academic question.
"Sir, could you please repeat that once more? Why did we discuss the memory here?"
What the hell was happening?!
The class was silent. Everyone seemed slightly confused by her presence, but no one had died yet. That was a good thing, really.
The lecturer nodded, impressed. "Good question. Yes, pay attention, everyone."
My jaw nearly hit the desk.
Was this... was this a setup? A long con? Was she trying to lull them into a false sense of safety before she unleashed her true self?
And just like that... the class carried on. Peacefully. Almost too peacefully.
But I knew the truth. The devil had a roll number now.
– – – –
As days passed, I didn't know when I started to study about her. Because it should be necessary to understand at least basic knowledge about my companion. And then I found that her skills were related to an ancient martial art.
In this world, mastering such ancient martial arts is no small feat.
They say those who walk that path face trials worse than nightmares. Bones shatter, Muscles tear and Spirits break. Most people quit halfway, drained of hope and strength. But Raksha? She didn't just endure it—she conquered it. And ofcourse she mastered it.
As far as I know, she may have probably broken a few instructors along the way too.
I found myself watching her sometimes—not because I wanted to, but because I had to. She was everywhere. In the library, flipping through machine learning, coding and also even artificial intelligence books like they were comic strips. In class, answering questions even our toppers couldn't decode. And somehow, through it all, she still managed to keep an eye on me.
It was maddening. And worse? People loved her.
The same classmates who once laughed at me were now whispering things like:
"She's so humble for someone that brilliant…"
"Did you see how she helped the junior with his assignment?"
"Wow, she's the full package!"
Full package, huh? Yeah. Sure. If your package includes a hidden arsenal and enough strength to crack open a concrete wall with a yawn.
I, however, knew the truth.
I had seen her wield a blade sharp enough to split air. I'd seen the way her eyes shifted when she sensed danger—a predator behind a porcelain mask.
But no one else noticed. To them, Raksha was a miracle. A role model. Maybe even a secret crush.
To me? She was a walking paradox. A lethal guardian who made threatening people look like a hobby, but who also threw tantrums when she didn't get ketchup with her fries.
God, how did my life become this strange?
It didn't help that my friends had started to notice something.
"Dude," Ramu whispered one day during lunch, "don't you think it's weird how she always ends up in the same place as us?"
"She's just a friendly topper," I replied, sweating bullets.
"She was at the bus stop this morning."
"She's early to class." I replied.
"She was in the library yesterday."
"She studies hard."
"She helped Suresh with his water bottle cap!"
"Okay, that was excessive," I admitted.
Even Suresh nodded. "She didn't help. She just opened it without looking… one hand… while typing an assignment."
I chuckled nervously. "Strong wrists?"
"Dude! Seriously. She broke the cap."
I gulped.
They didn't suspect anything. Not yet. But I had to be careful. Raksha was blending in too well. It was only a matter of time before people started asking questions.
And deep down, another question crept into my mind…
Why is she trying so hard to be seen as normal?
She didn't need to impress anyone. She could've stayed invisible, just like before. But now—now she was making a place for herself here. Creating ties. Smiling. Laughing.
It scared me more than anything. Because if Raksha—the girl who could end lives in seconds—was trying to belong here…
What did that mean for us? Was she going to stay longer than planned?
Was she protecting me…
Or preparing me?
.
.
.
.
– – – –
The weeks passed. And with each one, Raksha's glow only grew brighter.
Even Deepika—who'd sooner bite her tongue than praise another girl—couldn't stop talking about her. And Rahul? That traitor was practically drooling.
"She's not just beautiful," he said dreamily once, "she has this… depth."
I almost spat my drink. Depth? What did that even mean? Had she hypnotized him too?
It irritated me to no end. What was so special about her? Why did everyone treat her like some untouchable goddess?
It was infuriating. Disgusting. Absolutely—
Okay… maybe… just maybe… a tiny part of me was jealous.
Not jealous of the attention, of course. I'm not that shallow. It was her perfection that got under my skin.
She balanced her academics like a pro. Always had her notes ready. Always had the right answers. People were asking her for help. Even some professors started giving her that special nod—the kind you only get when you're climbing the top ranks.
And then came the first-year finals.
That dreaded season of no sleep, overcooked Maggi, and whispered prayers.
We studied like maniacs. My friends turned into zombies. I did my usual: studied just enough to top, just enough to prove a point.
And Raksha?
She disappeared into her books. She didn't talk much that week. Didn't joke. Didn't tease. She just studied.
And something about that silence felt different. Like she wasn't trying to win.
– – – –
A few days later…
The results were out.
As expected, my name was at the top. But right beneath mine—just half a mark lower—was hers.
Raksha.
My heart stopped for a second. Not from fear. Not from disbelief. But from a strange… confusion.
She'd nearly tied with me. The same girl who could probably kill a man with a pen… was now a bookworm.
Was it possible? Was she really this smart? No. She was more than that.
I didn't understand it until I saw her face. She wasn't flaunting her score. She wasn't walking around like a queen. No.
She was standing quietly near the notice board, staring at her name with trembling hands.
There was something in her eyes—something raw and achingly human. Not pride. Not arrogance.
Joy.
Her eyes sparkled—not with ego, but I feel or sense. It's like the kind of happiness that only comes from healing an old wound.
Then I realised, she didn't need swords to win battles. Her mind was just as powerful.
And for the first time… I felt small. Because I had misjudged her.
She wasn't just my protector. She wasn't just the mysterious girl with deadly skills. She was capable. She was brilliant. And she was here—for more than just me.