Chapter 3 – A Heavy Burden
Ashura stumbled back into the shop, clothes torn, blood trailing down his arm. The package was still in his grasp, though now marked with scratches from the fight.
Master Iroh looked up from the counter — and his face darkened immediately.
Iroh: "What happened?"
Ashura dropped the package on the table with a grunt.
Ashura: "Trouble. Five men — maybe more. They were waiting for me. But…"
He hesitated, his hand brushing against the bandages on his left arm. That strange pulse still lingered beneath the skin, faint but undeniable.
Ashura (thinking): Do I tell him? Would he even believe me?
Iroh unwrapped the package carefully, his old hands steady but his eyes sharp. Inside was not gold, not drugs, not the usual filth of the Black Market. Instead, a fragment of stone glimmered faintly, etched with patterns that seemed to shift in the candlelight.
Iroh's eyes widened. For the first time, Ashura saw fear etched across the old man's face.
Iroh (whispering): "Impossible…"
Ashura: "What? You know what this is?"
Iroh shut the box quickly, his voice low.
Iroh: "This… is no ordinary relic. Whoever sent men after you knew exactly what they wanted."
Ashura's frustration boiled over.
Ashura: "Then explain it! What the hell is it? Because it nearly got me killed out there."
Iroh's gaze lingered on him, searching, almost as if measuring something. Finally, he muttered:
Iroh: "If it chose you… then fate has begun its game again."
The words meant nothing to Ashura — yet they cut deep.
Before he could demand more answers, the shop's door creaked open. Shoto, his younger brother, peeked inside with wide eyes.
Shoto: "Big brother! You're hurt!"
Ashura tried to smile, waving it off.
Ashura: "It's nothing, kid. Just scratches."
But when Shoto hugged him, pressing against his battered ribs, Ashura winced hard enough to draw tears from his brother.
Iroh stepped forward, his voice stern but softer than usual.
Iroh: "You need rest. That wound is not simple… and neither is what lies ahead."
Ashura leaned back against the wall, his thoughts racing. Every fight, every struggle had always been about money, survival. But now? With Danzi's words still echoing in his head, and Iroh's cryptic fear, he felt the weight of something much larger pressing down on him.
The package wasn't just trouble.
It was destiny.