Perfect — that's a powerful emotional turning point for Yas
Yash lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The sound of rain still echoed faintly in his mind, replaying that brutal night over and over — the screams, the thunder, the crushing defeat. He hadn't slept at all. His eyes were sunken, his thoughts heavy. Every time he blinked, he saw the image of his father's photo beside his desk — the quiet face that had once inspired him to be strong.
He sat up slowly, his muscles aching, his body sore from the fight. His mother's voice came from the kitchen, soft yet worried.
"Yash, breakfast is ready!"
But he didn't answer. He just stared at his school uniform hanging on the chair. After a moment, he grabbed it silently, put it on, and stepped out. His mother called out again, this time louder — but he didn't hear her, or maybe he didn't want to.
The world outside was quiet. The morning sun was hidden behind gray clouds. The air smelled faintly of rain and dust. As he walked toward school, his footsteps felt heavier than ever, each one echoing the weight of his defeat.
When Yash reached the school grounds, laughter and chatter filled the courtyard. Students walked past him, whispering, glancing at the bruises on his face, the tired look in his eyes. But he didn't care.
His gaze locked on one boy — the same one who had betrayed him. The boy who had said on the phone that Joker Beetle wouldn't show up. The boy who'd abandoned him when the fight began.
Yash's hands tightened into fists. He walked straight toward him.
The boy noticed him and took a step back, his smirk fading. Before he could speak, Yash landed a solid punch right across his face. The courtyard went silent. The boy stumbled, holding his cheek, eyes wide with shock.
Everyone froze.
Yash reached for the back of his neck and tore off his Joker Beetle jacket — the same one that once made him feel invincible. He threw it on the ground in front of the crowd.
"I'm done," Yash said coldly. "I'm leaving Joker Beetle… forever."
And just like that, he turned away.
No one said a word. Even the wind seemed to stop for a moment.
As he walked away, he whispered to himself,
"That's enough. I can't fight anymore."
He didn't go to class. He didn't talk to anyone. He just walked straight out of the school gate, the faint murmurs of shocked students fading behind him.
he started walking on road heading towards his home, the sadness on his face was heavier than ever. He looked lost — like someone who'd been fighting his whole life but didn't even know why anymore.
He was halfway up the road to his house when a familiar voice called out.
"Oye, oye! Why so hurry, huh?"
Yash turned and saw Zenro walking toward him, hands in pockets, a playful grin on his bruised face.
"I know," Zenro said. "We lost that fight. Big time. But hey — I know a place. A place that helps you clear your head. Relax a little. Come on, let's go there."
Yash frowned. "Not interested."
But Zenro just smirked and grabbed his wrist. "You're coming, whether you like it or not."
Yash pulled his hand back. His voice cracked — anger mixed with confusion.
"Why do you even care about me, huh? I sent people to beat you! I bullied your friends! I made your life hell! So why… why are you helping me?"
For a moment, Zenro said nothing. The teasing smile faded. His tone grew calm — almost distant.
"Why not?" he said simply.
Yash blinked. "What…?"
Zenro looked at the ground, then at Yash.
"Because helping people who've lost their way — that's my destiny. You think I've always been like this? I was worse than you once. Arrogant. Cruel. I thought power meant everything. But people change, Yash. Everyone does."
He started walking again, his back turned. "And you… you've got potential. You just don't see it yet."
Yash stood still, watching him. Something about Zenro's words hit deep — maybe because no one had ever said them to him before.
Zenro turned his head slightly. "If you want to come, follow me. If not… stay here and drown in your guilt."
Yash hesitated for a few seconds, then quietly started following him.
They walked for almost an hour, through winding roads and forest paths, until they reached a small mountain. At the top stood an ancient temple — weathered, silent, surrounded by mist. A stone dragon statue sat at its center, moss covering its wings.
"This is the Dragon Temple," Zenro said softly. "Legend says a dragon spirit lives here. I come here when I need to think. When I need to remember who I am."
Yash looked around. The air felt strangely calm — sacred, almost.
Zenro knelt before the dragon statue and pressed his hands together.
"Come on," he said. "Pray with me."
Yash hesitated for a moment, then joined him. Both closed their eyes. The sound of the wind through the trees, the faint scent of incense, and the quiet hum of the mountains surrounded them. For the first time in a long while, Yash's heart felt lighter.
After a few minutes, Zenro opened his eyes and smiled. "How do you feel?"
Yash looked up at the dragon statue. "Good… really good. It's strange. I haven't felt peace like this in years."
Zenro stood, stretching his arms. "So, what's your next move?"
Yash looked toward the sky, where the clouds were finally breaking apart and sunlight was starting to shine through.
"I don't know yet," he said softly. "But I have a lot to do… a lot to change."
Zenro nodded. "Then start with that. One step at a time."
As the two of them stood there, the wind carried away the last traces of rain. The defeated boy who once led Joker Beetle was gone — and in his place stood someone searching for a new purpose.
The journey wasn't over. It was only beginning.
To be continued