The morning breeze was crisp as Vishwa stood at the old farmhouse's doorway. Inside, Maari, the old lady, lay coughing weakly on her bed. Her face, usually full of gentle smiles, was now pale with fever. She kept glancing anxiously at the bundles of goods stacked by the door.
"I should be there... at the market," she murmured, trying to push herself upright.
Vishwa stepped forward. "Please, Maari. Rest. Let me handle it."
Before Maari could protest, Hitami rushed in, her small hands tugging at her grandmother's blanket. "Grandmother! Let me go! I can sell everything! Please, just trust me!"
Maari's expression softened, but worry clouded her eyes. "I can't send you alone, child. It's not safe."
"You won't have to," Vishwa said firmly. "I'll go with her. I'll protect her."
After a long pause, Maari gave a tired nod. "Be careful... Both of you."
"We will!" Hitami grinned, already bouncing with excitement.
By late morning, the bazaar was alive with color and noise. Merchants shouted their wares, musicians played flutes and drums, and the air was thick with the scents of spices and fresh bread.
Hitami and Vishwa set up their little stand near a fountain. Hitami's bright smile and cheerful voice quickly drew customers. Vishwa mostly stood behind her, helping pack goods into cloth bags and handling payments.
As the crowd thinned a bit, Hitami tugged on his sleeve. "Vishwa! Look!"
Across the street was a small stall covered in flower hairbands, colorful and delicate.
"Can we... Can we buy one? Just one? As a memory for today?" she asked, her big hopeful eyes shining.
Vishwa chuckled. "Of course."
She picked out a simple yet beautiful hairband decorated with tiny pink and white blossoms. He handed a few coins to the smiling old vendor, and Hitami immediately placed the hairband on her head, twirling around with joy.
"How do I look?" she asked proudly.
"Like a princess of South Crest," Vishwa said warmly.
By late afternoon, their stand was nearly empty. They had sold most of their goods and earned a neat little pouch of coins.
"We did it, Vishwa!" Hitami cheered, clapping her hands. "Grandmother will be so happy!"
Vishwa smiled but kept glancing at the sky. The sun was dipping lower. "Let's head back quickly. It'll be dark soon."
They packed up and started down the long path home, the fields stretching out on either side. The road grew quieter, and the chill of the evening air crept in.
Vishwa's instincts prickled. Something's wrong. It's too quiet.
Before he could react, three figures stepped out from behind the trees, blocking their way. Ragged clothes, wild eyes, and the cold glint of a knife.
"Hand over the pouch," growled the leader.
Vishwa immediately moved in front of Hitami, shielding her.
"Stay behind me," he murmured.
One of the thieves lunged first, swinging a club. Vishwa dodged easily, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it, sending him crashing to the dirt.
The second rushed forward, fists raised. Vishwa ducked low and swept his leg out in a fast circle, knocking him down too.
"They're slow… careless," Vishwa thought. "But they're desperate. That makes them unpredictable."
Then he saw the third thief slipping past him, straight toward Hitami.
"Hitami, run!" Vishwa shouted.
She tried to dodge, but the man slashed at her with the knife. A red line appeared on her arm, and she gasped in pain, stumbling back.
Seeing the blood on her skin unleashed something fierce in Vishwa. Rage and guilt exploded inside him.
With a roar, he charged forward, leaping into a spinning kick. His foot slammed into the thief's chest with bone-jarring force, sending the man flying several feet away. The other two, seeing their comrade defeated so swiftly, scrambled up and fled into the trees.
Vishwa dropped to Hitami's side immediately.
"Let me see," he said, voice tight with worry.
The wound was shallow, but bleeding. He tore a piece from his cloak and wrapped her arm gently.
"I'm so sorry, Hitami. I should have stopped them sooner."
Hitami shook her head, trying to be brave. "You saved me, Vishwa. I'm okay."
Vishwa gave a bitter smile. "You're strong, little one."
He glanced toward the darkening road. We need to get home fast... And Maari must not know about this. It would crush her.
He crouched lower to Hitami. "Listen carefully. We won't tell Grandmother about the thieves."
"But... my arm..." Hitami whispered.
"We'll say you scraped it while carrying the cart. She's already sick. If she finds out what happened, she'll blame herself and get worse. Can you keep our secret?"
Hitami hesitated, then nodded firmly. "I promise."
"Good," Vishwa said, relieved.
They resumed their journey home, walking faster now. The fields, once bathed in sunlight, were now dark and quiet under the first glimmers of starlight.
Every few steps, Vishwa checked over his shoulder, his body tense, ready for another attack—but none came. Only the soft chirp of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl accompanied them.
Hitami leaned heavily against the cart, her small frame tired but determined. Vishwa walked beside her silently, his mind racing.
"Today was a test," he thought. "And I almost failed her. I need to become stronger. For her... for them... and for myself."
Finally, the familiar shapes of the farmhouse and its little garden came into view. Warm yellow light flickered through the windows.
As they approached, Vishwa turned to Hitami. "Remember... be strong."
Hitami nodded, wiping her face and straightening the flower hairband still resting on her head.
Together, they pushed open the gate and entered, carrying not just the day's earnings, but a heavy secret they vowed to protect—for the sake of the one person who had given them both a home.