Daksh, that was the name written on his uni jersey. His words reverberating through my mind.
My watch kept beeping. Hector's name flashing across the cracked display.
I answered.
"Vai? VAI! Where the hell are you?"
"Merchant district. Near the old drainage ramps."
"Stay there. Don't move."
The call cut.
Phantom appeared from between dumpsters, tail high, completely unbothered by the three groaning bikers scattered around me. She headbutted my knee like I hadn't just gotten my ass saved and my worldview destroyed.
"You didn't stay," I muttered.
She blinked. Supremely unconcerned.
Seven minutes later, Hector's boots hit the alley at a dead run. His cybernetic arm caught the light—chrome and carbon fiber—as he vaulted a trash heap and closed the distance in three enhanced strides.
He saw me covered in blood from the impact with the bike. I wasn't brutally wounded, but my injuries were bad enough to keep me at rest for a few days.
"Shit—Vai—" His hands were on me immediately, human and synthetic both checking for damage. "What happened?"
"Bikers. Stole a purse. I chased them."
His cybernetic hand froze mid-scan. "You what?"
"I chased them. Got the purse back."
"You chased—" He looked at the three unconscious bikers. Back at me. "On foot? You chased enhanced bikers on foot?"
"Someone else finished it. Trainee named Daksh."
"I don't care who—" He pulled out a med-scanner. It beeped angry red. "Cracked rib. Severe bruising. Mana exhaustion—Vai, your channels are shredded. What were you thinking?"
"There was a woman—"
"I don't give a fuck about the woman!" The shout echoed off alley walls. Hector never shouted. "You could've died. These guys are enhanced. Neural mods, synthetic muscle, the works. You're running on flesh and fucking stupidity."
"I caught them."
"You got lucky!" He stood, pacing. His cybernetic hand kept flexing—stress tic. "Lucky that this Daksh guy showed up. Lucky they didn't break your spine. Lucky you're not in a medical facility right now with permanent mana channel damage."
"But I'm not."
"But you COULD'VE BEEN." He spun on me. "Vai, you're my responsibility. You think I can just—you live with me. I'm supposed to keep you safe. And you go chasing criminals through vertical districts like you've got a death wish?"
I said nothing. Let him burn through it.
He helped me stand. The walk back was silent except for Phantom's occasional meow and my barely suppressed grunts of pain.
Back at the apartment, Hector sat me on the couch, pulled out medical supplies. Worked in silence—synthetic skin patches, bone-knit gel, his cybernetic hand impossibly gentle despite his anger.
"Your mana channels are trashed," he said finally. "Week, maybe two before they're functional again."
"Worth it."
His jaw tightened. "Don't."
"I got the purse back. Stopped them. That matters."
"What matters is you nearly got yourself killed for—" He cut himself off. Breathed. "Fuck. Look. I get it. You wanted to help. That's good. That's who you are. But there's helping and there's suicide, and tonight you crossed that line."
I watched him work. Watched his cybernetic hand calibrate pressure, adjust grip, move with precision I'd never achieve naturally.
"Hector, I want to become a guardian."
His hands stopped.
"What?"
"I want to become a guardian."
He stared at me. Then laughed—harsh, disbelieving. "You're concussed. That's the only explanation."
"I'm serious."
"No. No, you're delirious from mana exhaustion and blood loss." He went back to the patches. "We'll talk when you're healed."
"I'm talking now."
"Then stop." His voice carried an edge I rarely heard. "Stop talking before you say something we both regret."
"I'm not going to regret this."
"VAI." He stood abruptly. "You can't become a guardian. You know this. We've been through this. Your incompatibility—"
"I don't care about my incompatibility."
"Well I DO!" The shout came from somewhere deep. Somewhere that sounded like fear. "I care that you're talking about throwing yourself at something designed to break you. I care that you're sitting there, covered in blood, talking about chasing an impossible dream like it's reasonable."
"It's not impossible—"
"Yes it is!" He grabbed my shoulders—gently, but firm. "Listen to me. Really listen. To even APPLY for guardian academy, you need to pass seven out of ten entrance tests. SEVEN. You automatically fail the compatibility test. That's not negotiable. That's not something you can work around. Which means you have to pass seven out of the remaining nine tests."
"So I'll pass seven—"
"You can't fail ANY of them, Vai! Not one! Combat assessment, tactical analysis, mana control, enhanced endurance, neural response time, spatial awareness, threat evaluation, equipment synchronization, team coordination—you have to be PERFECT in seven of those. One mistake, one bad day, one test that doesn't suit your strengths, and you're done."
"Then I'll be perfect."
"You can't BE perfect!" His voice cracked. "Nobody's perfect. Even the best candidates fail two, three tests and still get in because they ACE the compatibility screening. But you? You've got zero margin for error. ZERO."
"I can do it."
"No, you can't!" He let go, stepped back. "And I'm saying that because I love you, you stubborn idiot. Because you're like my little brother and I can't—I can't watch you destroy yourself chasing something that's designed to keep you out."
"That trainee tonight. Daksh. He did it."
"Daksh—" Hector stopped. "What about him?"
"He doesn't use enhancements. Refused cybernetics. Fights with pure mana. If he can do it—"
"He's probably a prodigy!" Hector's frustration bled into his voice. "Some once-in-a-generation talent who makes impossible look easy. You can't compare yourself to—"
"Why not?"
"Because you'll break!" The words came out raw. "Because I've watched you fail that compatibility test six times. Six times I've seen that look on your face when the scanner lights up red. Six times I've watched you pretend it doesn't hurt. And now you want to put yourself through that again? Through worse? Through tests designed to crush people who have every advantage you don't?"
"Yes."
"Why?" He sounded desperate now. "Why put yourself through that?"
"Because I'm tired of pretending it's okay." The words came easier than expected. "I'm tired of accepting that I can't. I'm tired of building my life around what I'm not allowed to want."
"Vai—"
"He called me a coward, Hector. That Daksh guy. Called me a coward for using my incompatibility as an excuse. And he was right."
"He doesn't know you—"
"He was RIGHT." I stood, ignoring how my body screamed. "I've been hiding behind this condition like it's a shield. Like it absolves me from even trying. But tonight I chased down enhanced bikers using nothing but raw mana and spite. I kept up. I didn't quit. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I was actually doing something instead of just existing."
Hector's expression was doing complicated things. "That's adrenaline talking. That's the high of survival. It's not reality."
"Then I want more of that high."
"You want more of nearly dying?"
"I want more of mattering!"
The words hung in the air between us.
"You matter," Hector said quietly. "You matter to me. To your parents. To everyone who knows you. You don't need to be a guardian to matter."
"But I need to try. Even if I fail. Especially if I fail. Because at least then I'll know I gave everything instead of giving up before I started."
Hector was quiet for a long moment. Then: "No."
"No?"
"No. I'm not supporting this. I'm not helping you train. I'm not watching you break yourself apart chasing something that's going to reject you anyway." His voice was firm now. Decided. "You're injured. You're exhausted. And you're talking nonsense because some asshole trainee made you feel bad about yourself."
"That's not—"
"Yes it is. And when you're healed, when your head's clear, you'll see that I'm right." He moved to the kitchen, started feeding Phantom. Conversation over. "Get some sleep. We'll talk when you're not concussed."
"Hector—"
"Sleep, Vai. We're done talking about this shit tonight."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to push. But my body was shutting down, mana exhaustion finally catching up. I made it to my room, collapsed on the bed.
Through the wall, I heard Hector moving around. Heard him curse softly. Heard the familiar hum of his comm device activating.
Then silence.
Hector stared at his holoscreen, the search results glowing in the dark apartment.
He'd looked up Daksh. Just to see. Just to know what kind of asshole felt entitled to call Vai a coward.
The results made his stomach sink.
Daksh Kumar. First-year student, Neo-Valdris Guardian Academy. Ranked 9th in freshman class. 2nd strongest in combat assessments among first-years.
The next part made it worse:
Notable: Refused all cybernetic enhancement grants. Fights using pure mana manipulation. Current record: 47 wins, 0 losses in training matches.
There was footage. Hector watched it despite himself.
Daksh moved like violence given form. No cybernetics. No neural interfaces. Just raw mana control so precise it looked like art. He dismantled opponents with enhancements like they were children. Made impossible seem casual.
Hector closed the file.
This didn't change anything. Daksh was a prodigy—the kind of natural talent that appeared once a decade, maybe less. The kind who made impossible look easy because for them, it wasn't impossible.
Vai wasn't that. Vai was kind, determined, brave in stupid ways. But he wasn't a once-in-a-generation combat prodigy. He was a kid who'd been dealt a bad hand and was too stubborn to fold.
And if he tried to follow Daksh's path—if he threw himself at those entrance tests with zero margin for error—it would destroy him.
The compatibility test alone had crushed Vai's spirit six times already. What would seven perfect scores on tests designed for enhanced candidates do to him when he inevitably fell short?
No.
Better Vai hate him now for saying no than watch him break later trying to prove something to a stranger who didn't care.
Hector closed his eyes, listening to the city hum outside. Listening to Vai's breathing through the wall—uneven, pained, but steady.
Tomorrow they'd talk. Tomorrow Vai would be clearer, calmer. Tomorrow this insane idea would fade like mana burn—painful but temporary.
It had to.
Because Hector couldn't watch someone he cared about like a little brother destroy himself.
Even if it meant becoming the villain in Vai's story.
Even if it meant saying no.