Arjun sits on the gate's side, concrete rough under his legs, dust coating his worn shoes. Two weeks he's come early, lingering to dodge Raghav and his crew, slipping into class late when the halls clear. The gateguard, uncle to all, leans nearby, his grin warm in the morning heat. "Hello, uncle," Arjun says, voice soft, shaky. "How you doing?"
"Ya, I'm fine," the guard replies, eyes crinkling. Two weeks ago, he asked why Arjun waits; now he knows—Arjun's tense glances say enough. Arjun nods, a small smile breaking through, and the guard presses on. "So, how's the study going?"
"I'm studying well," Arjun says, his smile faint but real. He pushes through, holding onto hope.
"You should study hard," the guard says, voice stern. "In times like this, you gotta work, make something—" His words cut off as Tanvi's bike skids up, wheel bumping the gate. "Sorry!" she calls, her voice bright, hair loose in the wind.
Arjun glances at her, then back to the guard, who's smirking. "Don't tell me you're waiting for her," the guard teases. "Thought you're a nice boy."
Arjun's cheeks burn. "No, uncle," he says, sharp. "My mom's working hard. I don't have time for love. I need to study, help her." He grabs his bag, flashes a big smile—brighter than he feels—and says, "Bye, uncle." He heads off, heart thudding, slipping into class late, head down to avoid eyes.
Tanvi pedals to class, barely glancing at Arjun. She used to be curious, watching him sit like a shadow. Now she knows—his name, why he's late every day. He's dodging bullies, Raghav most of all. He should fight back, she thinks, pity sharp in her chest. What's the point of hiding? But it's not her fight, and she moves on.
Arjun's day drags, fear a tight knot. He slides into class late, keeps to corners, the teacher's nod his only shield. When the final bell rings, he joins Ms. Kapoor, her presence a brief safety. They walk to the bus, her steps calm, his tense. The sky's dark, rain heavy in the air, and Arjun's skin prickles—someone's watching. He doesn't see three figures—Raghav, Naveen, Sohail—trailing them, shadows in the dusk.
At his stop, Arjun steps off. "Bye," he calls to Ms. Kapoor, the bus rumbling away. He doesn't notice three shapes follow, slipping into the alley's gloom. The air's thick, rain's threat close. His kitties—tabby and black—greet him, purring, weaving around his legs. He kneels, crumbling biscuits, his smile soft, a flicker of peace.
A voice slices through, cold and cruel. "Oh, I thought this kitty died that day. Still acting like a hero, huh?" Arjun's heart lurches. He turns—Raghav, leaning at the alley's entrance, his grin sharp. Naveen and Sohail block the way. Arjun steps up, legs trembling. "What're you doing here?"
Raghav's laugh is venom. "Oh, I'm following you," he says, voice low, frayed with rage. Two weeks he's been blocked, unable to hit Arjun. Now he's free, itching to break him. "You're real good at hiding." The tabby munches biscuits, unaware. Raghav snatches it, grip tight. The kitty scratches, claws flashing, but it's trapped.
Arjun's blood boils, fear spiking. Raghav killed their mother, crushed her in this alley—he won't let these kitties die too. No running this time. "What do you want? Get out, or I'll definitely complain tomorrow!" He grabs the kitty, yanking it from Raghav's hands, its fur warm against his chest. The other kitty bolts, gone in the dark.
Raghav's eyes blaze. "Is that so?" His fist swings, a brutal punch to Arjun's mouth. Pain erupts, and Arjun's down, nose gushing blood, the sting hot and sharp. He curls around the kitty, shielding it, heart pounding with fear for its life. Raghav reaches, but Arjun's arms lock tight. "Leave it!" he chokes, blood dripping. "Why're you doing this?"
Raghav snarls, "'Cause you keep running." His boot flies, a hard kick to Arjun's side. Pain explodes, the kitty yowling, grazed but spared—Arjun's body takes the blow. He holds tighter, blood and dust mixing, his heart screaming: Not them.
Arjun's chest heaves, the kitty's warmth against him. Holding it's too dangerous—Raghav's rage won't stop. He loosens his grip, urging the kitty to run. "Go," he whispers, voice raw. Before it can bolt, Naveen's boot slams into it, a heavy kick. The kitty flies, landing limp in the corner, motionless. Arjun's eyes widen, horror choking him. "Hey, what did you do?" he shouts at Naveen, scrambling to crawl toward the kitty, blood trailing on the ground.
Another kick comes—Raghav's, sharp to Arjun's stomach. He collapses, gasping, pain searing through him. Raghav strides to the kitty, crouching. "It's the same kitty, right? Oh, you really are a hero." His voice drips with mockery. "What can I do? It's already dead. Oops, sorry." He grins, standing, and walks back to Arjun, who's struggling to sit up.
Raghav looms over him, voice cold. "This is why you shouldn't have run away." He starts kicking, boots thudding into Arjun's ribs. Arjun curls in, pain swallowing him, the kitty's limp form burning in his mind. It's dead. His thoughts spiral, grief and despair crashing. Why's this happening to me? Why are they hurting me? What's wrong with me? Tears stream down his face, mixing with blood, the question echoing: Why? Why?
As Raghav's boot lands again, Arjun closes his eyes, pain a roaring tide. In that darkness, something shifts—a presence surges into him, sharp and vast. The Dragonlord, dying in another universe, eyes shut as life faded, now opens them in Arjun's body. The pain dulls, like a storm retreating, and he blinks, vision clearing. This isn't his body—too small, too frail, bloodied on an alley floor. Raghav's leg swings, Naveen and Sohail watch, but the Dragonlord's mind reels: Another universe. Another soul.
A voice screams in his head, raw and broken: Why am I weak like that? It's Arjun, the body's true owner, still there, his despair a piercing cry. The Dragonlord answers, cold and clear, a voice like iron in Arjun's mind: Because you're weak—not just in mind, but in the open. Arjun hears it, sharp as glass, not his own thoughts. His eyes snap open, Raghav's kick landing, but the pain feels distant, a strange fire growing in his chest, caught between grief and a power he doesn't understand.