The moment he was born, he reached for something.
Not his mother's finger. Not the warmth of the doctor's gloves.
Just… upward.
Tiny, shaking hands reached for the ceiling as if the stars were waiting just beyond it.
His mother laughed, weak and breathless, still crying from the pain.His father leaned closer, whispering in awe.
"Look at his eyes…"
Karna's eyes weren't filled with confusion. They weren't blinking or wandering like most newborns.They were locked—focused—on something beyond the room.
Something no one else could see.
And on the hospital wall, as the sunset cast strange shadows through the blinds…the shape of a sword stretched across the ceiling tiles.
Karna stared at it.And didn't blink.
Four years later...
Karna sat on the creaking wooden floor of his small home, watching an old samurai movie with his parents on their ancient CRT TV.The image was blurry. The swordplay was simple. But Karna's heart was pounding.
He spoke his first clear sentence.
"I want to do that."
His parents chuckled—until they noticed his eyes didn't blink.His mom smiled, but her voice held unease.
"Karna… that's not just playing around."
His dad stayed silent.He stared into his son's unwavering gaze… and said nothing.
One year later...
Karna walked into class and sat down near the large window, zoning out almost immediately.His mind drifted to that same samurai film he'd watched a hundred times.
By the time he blinked, class had ended. His classmates filed out. The teacher followed.
Three kids approached him—one large and round, one tall and skinny, and another short and mean-faced in the middle.
The middle kid leaned in.
"You got that money you owe us?"His voice was as threatening as a five-year-old could manage.
Karna looked up and narrowed his eyes.His rage simmered beneath the surface.
These same kids had been hurling threats and insults at him for days.
Karna stood out in every room.His brown skin, long wavy hair, and piercing golden eyes made him look like he belonged in another world—one that no one dared to understand.His ragged, dirt-stained clothes didn't help either.
He sighed. "If you want money from me, try taking it. You and your friends could save yourselves a beating if you just minded your business. Say that dumb shit again, and we'll see how tough you really are."
Harsh words for a five-year-old—but far from unearned.
The middle kid grabbed Karna by the collar and yanked him out of his seat.The others flanked him, surrounding him in the aisle.
"Talk all that hot shit, and it won't get you anywhere," the kid sneered. "When someone asks for a favor, you should at least consider it."
Karna stood, adjusted his crooked shirt, and stepped forward—face to face with the ringleader.
"What? You gonna do something then, d—"
The kid never finished.
Karna's fist cracked his nose with terrifying speed.The shock gave him just enough time to shove the boy to the ground, snatch a pencil from the desk, and drive it into his shoulder.
The kid squealed like a pig, writhing.Karna mounted him and rained down punches, one after another—ignoring his cries of pain.
The other two scrambled to pull him off, but the desks boxed them in.All they could do was grab at him, clawing at his back. But Karna didn't stop.
His fists blurred. The boy beneath him was already bloodied and bruised.
Desperate, the fat kid yanked Karna backward and tried to choke him out from behind.Karna grabbed both his arms, pulled them apart, twisted—now facing his attackers.
He lunged at the fat kid——but a sharp blow slammed into his ribs. The tall kid tackled him from the side.
Karna hit the floor.This time, he was the one getting beaten—stomped and punched from all sides.
"You think you're tough?" the fat kid shouted between kicks."You sucker-punched our friend!"
"You'll never beat us in a fight, freak," the tall one spat."I don't even know why your broke-ass parents gave birth to a brown-skinned loser like you!"
That did it.
Karna's rage exploded.
He planted his feet, twisted his hips, and launched the skinny kid off of him.As the fat kid scrambled to grab him again, Karna rolled and stood—then unleashed a flurry of punches straight to his face.
The skinny one lunged again——but the classroom door burst open.
An administrator froze at the sight:One boy lying unconscious with a pencil in his shoulder.Two others bloodied and dazed.
And Karna—eyes wild, lip split, breathing hard—paused just long enough to make eye contact with the adult.
Then, he turned and landed one final hook to the fat kid's temple.He dropped like a stone.
Karna took one step toward the last kid—The administrator tackled him from behind.
"What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted. "Stop this right now!"
Karna didn't fight back.Not against a grown man.
He just stood there, panting.
Then turned to the skinny kid, who now looked like he might cry—
"Remember that when you wake up."
Later, in the principal's office, Karna sat with his head down.The old man lectured. He barely heard a word.
When his parents finally arrived, they scolded him.
He didn't cry.
He just stared at the floor and said,
"They hit me first. And I'll never let anybody get away with that… ever.They talked about you. Said things I couldn't ignore.They've been bullying me for weeks—and this principal didn't do a damn thing. But the moment I fight back, now I'm the one getting punished?"
His parents glared at the principal.
His dad didn't speak.His mother just hugged him—like she was trying to hold his soul in place.
That night, Karna found a broken broomstick in the alley.
He taped a handle to it. Went outside. And started swinging.
He swung until his hands bled.He swung until the streetlight flickered off.He swung until the sound became rhythm.
A heartbeat. His heartbeat.
And when he finally stopped, he whispered to no one—
"One day, I'll be stronger than everyone.Not just strong enough...The best.Then and only then will I be able to protect my family."