Chapter 1 – The Journey Begins (Part 2)
The city swallowed them whole as the car entered its heart. The traffic thickened, horns blared from every direction, and vendors lined the roads, calling out to strangers. For Raghav Chauhan, the sight was overwhelming—his wide eyes followed every billboard, every glass tower, every crowded street. Arjun Rathore, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease, one hand on the wheel, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Soon, the gates of State University came into view. They were tall, iron-wrought, with the institution's emblem set in the middle—an ancient-looking design that gave the place a sense of dignity. A line of cars, bikes, and buses poured through the entrance. Students dragged suitcases, parents hovered protectively, and seniors lounged near the gates, shouting directions or just enjoying the chaos of a new semester.
Arjun parked the car under a tree near the entrance. He stepped out, stretching his arms, while Raghav scrambled after him, adjusting the straps of his backpack.
"So this is it," Arjun said, looking up at the wide avenue stretching inside the campus. "Our battlefield."
"Battlefield?" Raghav raised a brow.
Arjun grinned. "Every place is a battlefield, Raghu. Just depends on what you're fighting for."
Raghav shook his head, half-smiling, and followed him. Together, they joined the stream of freshers moving toward a registration desk set up in the main hall.
The campus was massive—red-bricked buildings with wide windows, sprawling lawns where groups of students were already gathering, and a central clock tower that rose proudly above it all. The air buzzed with excitement, nerves, and chatter.
Inside the hall, long tables had been arranged in rows. Volunteers in university t-shirts guided students, checking admission letters and handing out forms. The line snaked endlessly. Arjun and Raghav found their spot near the back.
"Looks like this will take hours," Raghav muttered.
"Patience, brother," Arjun replied, sliding his hands into his pockets. "You'll survive."
As they inched forward, Raghav craned his neck, taking in the sheer number of students around them. "So many faces… how are we supposed to know who's real and who's fake here?"
Arjun smirked. "You don't need to know everyone. Just enough to know who stands with you—and who stands against you."
Raghav gave him a side glance. "You make it sound like war already."
"It always is," Arjun said casually, though his tone carried no heaviness. To him, the idea of conflict was natural, not frightening.
By the time they reached the desk, the sun had climbed high outside. A bored-looking volunteer took their admission slips, glanced at them, then typed something into the computer. Moments later, laminated ID cards slid across the desk.
"Arjun Rathore. Raghav Chauhan," the volunteer read out, handing them over. "Welcome to State University. Your hostel allotment slips are at the next counter."
Arjun picked up his ID, turning it over in his hand. The photograph was stiff, taken weeks ago during admissions. Still, holding the card felt significant. It was proof—they had crossed the threshold.
"Not bad," Raghav said, examining his own card. "Feels… official."
Arjun slipped his into his wallet with a shrug. "It's just plastic. What matters is what we make of the years behind it."
They moved to the next counter, where a middle-aged clerk with glasses perched on his nose scanned their details. He handed each of them a sheet of paper.
"Hostel Block C, Room 204 for Rathore. Hostel Block C, Room 205 for Chauhan," he said briskly.
Raghav looked disappointed. "Separate rooms?"
The clerk raised an eyebrow, already calling the next student forward. "Next!"
Arjun patted Raghav's shoulder. "Don't sulk, Raghu. Rooms are next to each other. You'll probably see my face more than you want to."
That earned him a reluctant grin. "True."
They left the hall, stepping back into the buzzing campus. Students were scattered everywhere—some exploring, some hauling luggage, some nervously calling home. Arjun inhaled deeply, taking it all in.
"This place…" he murmured, almost to himself. "It feels alive."
Raghav, dragging his suitcase, gave him a puzzled look. "Alive?"
Arjun just smiled. "You'll see."