"Kai, don't forget to eat today," Asha said, pushing a small lunch box into my hands. Her voice had that playful tone she always used when she wanted me to feel guilty enough to listen to her.
I sighed, shaking my head. "I'm fine, Asha. You don't have to fuss over me."
She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at me. "You're the one skipping meals to study all the time. Someone has to fuss over you."
"I can take care of myself," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Oh really? You call skipping meals and barely sleeping 'taking care of yourself'?" She tilted her head, giving me that look. "You work three jobs, Kai. Let me help you for once. Please."
I looked down at her, her stubborn determination shining through. With a small laugh, I reached out to ruffle her hair like I used to when we were kids. "You're too much sometimes, you know that?"
"And you're too stubborn," she shot back, swatting my hand away. But her teasing faded, and her expression turned soft—worried. "Promise me, Kai. Don't burn yourself out. You're all I've got."
I hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of her words settle in my chest. "You're all I've got too, Asha. I'll always take care of you. That's a promise."
"Don't break it," she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.
I nodded, forcing a smile even as I felt the pressure pressing down on me. I patted her head gently, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. "I'll see you later, okay?"
As I stepped outside, the cool morning air hit me, and I let out a long breath. My life hadn't always been like this.
There was a time when things were... simpler. Easier.
My life used to be normal. Nothing special. I was just an ordinary guy—no big dreams, no big accomplishments. Just a quiet, simple life.
There was Mom, Dad, and my little sister, Asha. Our family wasn't rich, but we had enough. There were no big problems, no huge surprises—just the steady rhythm of everyday life.
I went to school, did okay in class, and spent my time like any other guy. I wasn't the smartest, but I wasn't the worst either. I didn't stand out, and honestly, I liked it that way. I was just... ordinary.
But everything changed the day my parents died.
I was 21. Asha was 20. We were adults, sure, but we weren't ready for what happened.
It started with a phone call.
I was sitting at the kitchen table that afternoon, scrolling through my phone. The sun was shining through the window, and everything felt so normal. Then the call came.
At first, I didn't even want to answer. I thought it was a spam number or someone trying to sell me something. But something told me to pick up.
The voice on the other end was calm. Too calm.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but your parents didn't make it. There was an accident."
The words didn't make sense at first. I remember sitting there, trying to understand what she was saying. My parents didn't make it? What did that even mean?
Her voice felt distant, like she was talking from somewhere far away. I could tell she was trying to be kind, but her words were cold, like she was reading from a script.
I just sat there, staring at nothing. The room felt too quiet, like the world had stopped moving.
When I finally hung up, I still couldn't process it. I tried to stand up, but my legs felt weak. My chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe.
That day changed everything.
After that, it was just me and Asha.
She was strong—way stronger than I was. When I couldn't hold myself together, she stepped up. She made the calls, signed the papers, handled everything.
She was my little sister, but in those first few weeks, it felt like she was the older one.
But Asha didn't deserve this.
She was supposed to go to college, make friends, and chase her dreams. She was so smart, so full of life. But now, all of that was slipping away.
And I couldn't let that happen.
I had to take care of her, no matter what.
The first few months were the hardest. The bills piled up fast—rent, food, tuition. I didn't know how I was going to pay for any of it.
So, I did the only thing I could. I got a job. Then another. Then another.
I worked mornings at a warehouse, unloading boxes until my arms felt like they'd fall off. In the afternoons, I cleaned offices, scrubbing floors and emptying trash bins.
At night, I waited tables at a diner, smiling through the exhaustion.
Sleep became a luxury I couldn't afford. Some nights, I didn't even make it to bed. I'd fall asleep at the kitchen table, my head resting on a stack of unpaid bills.
I told myself it was worth it. Every aching muscle, every missed meal, every sleepless night—it was all for Asha.
But the weight of it was crushing me.
One rare afternoon, I decided to take a break. It wasn't much, but I needed to breathe.
I walked to the manga café near the cherry blossom street. The wind carried the soft, sweet scent of the blossoms, and the pale pink petals danced in the air.
For a moment, I felt like I could forget everything.
Inside the café, the warmth wrapped around me, and the quiet felt like a hug. I got a coffee, sat by the window, and picked up a manga I hadn't read in months.
As I turned the pages, I tried to lose myself in the story. But my mind kept wandering. The weight of everything I was carrying—the jobs, the bills, Asha's future—pulled me back.
The coffee went cold in my hands, and I stared out the window, watching the petals fall.
I thought about my parents, about the promise I made to Asha.
I promised I'd take care of her, that I'd never let her down.
But deep down, I wondered how long I could keep going.
And then I heard it.
A scream.
It sliced through the peaceful café like a knife, sharp and full of terror. My heart jumped into my throat.
I froze for a moment, gripping the coffee cup so tightly my knuckles turned white.
I dropped the manga, my mind racing. The scream came from outside. Someone needed help. My phone was in my pocket—I should've called 911, but I didn't even think about it.
I ran.
The streets were eerily quiet as I followed the sound. My legs felt heavy, but I pushed forward, the scream echoing in my ears.
It led me to an alley—dark, narrow, and suffocating.
That's when I saw him.
A man stood there, pinning a girl against the wall. His hand was around her throat, pressing hard as she struggled and gasped for air.
Her eyes were wide with fear, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to scream, but nothing came out.
For a second, I couldn't move.
My body felt like it was glued to the ground. My mind screamed at me to run, to get help, to do anything but step closer.
But I couldn't just stand there.
I spotted a metal rod lying on the ground. It was old and rusty, covered in dirt. I picked it up. It felt heavy in my hands, and my palms were already sweating.
"Hey!" I shouted, my voice shaking.
The man turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine. They were cold, empty, like he wasn't even human. He didn't look scared. If anything, he looked annoyed, like I was an inconvenience.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest.
I swung the rod with everything I had. The impact sent a shock up my arms, making my hands sting. He stumbled back, but not far enough.
He turned on me, moving faster than I expected. His fist slammed into my ribs, and the pain shot through me like fire.
I gasped, trying to keep my balance.
I swung again, harder this time, aiming for his head. The rod connected with a sickening thud, and he staggered back. But he didn't fall.
"Run!" I yelled at the girl.
For a moment, she just stood there, her eyes darting between me and him. Then she bolted, her footsteps fading quickly into the distance.
That should've been it. She was safe. It should've been over.
But he wasn't done with me.
He lunged at me, grabbing me by the collar and slamming me into the wall. My head hit the brick hard, and everything blurred for a moment.
His fist connected with my stomach, and I doubled over in pain, struggling to breathe. Another punch landed on my face, and I tasted blood.
The metal rod slipped from my hands, clattering to the ground.
I tried to reach for it, but he kicked it away, the sound echoing through the alley.
The hits kept coming. My ribs felt like they were breaking under the force of his punches. My arms were too weak to block him.
My vision started to blur, and I could feel blood dripping down my face.
I thought of Asha.
Her face flashed in my mind—her stubborn smile, her soft laugh, the way she always teased me about not taking care of myself.
You can't die, I told myself. Asha needs you.
I tried to fight back. I threw a weak punch, barely grazing his shoulder. He didn't even flinch.
He grabbed me by the shirt and threw me to the ground like I was nothing. Pain exploded in my back as I hit the pavement.
I reached out, my fingers brushing against his ankle. I grabbed on, holding tight with what little strength I had left.
"I won't let you hurt anyone else," I rasped, my voice barely audible.
He kicked me hard, his boot slamming into my chest. I heard a crack, and the pain was so sharp I couldn't even cry out.
The world around me was fading. My vision went dark at the edges, and everything felt distant, like I was underwater.
He raised his foot again, aiming for my head. I closed my eyes, bracing myself.
Asha's face came to me again, clearer this time. I saw her laughing at something silly, her eyes sparkling like they always did when she was happy.
I remembered the way she hugged me tight after our parents' funeral, telling me we'd get through it together.
I thought about the promise I made to her—that I'd always take care of her.
"I'm sorry, Asha," I whispered, my voice shaking.
The last thing I felt was the weight of his boot coming down. And then, there was nothing.
In that final moment, all I could think of was her.