There were three universal truths in Gokul.
The sun would rise.
The cows would complain.
And butter would never be safe.
Krishna sat atop a wooden beam inside Nanda's house, legs swinging freely, flute resting against his shoulder. Below him, Yashoda stood with her hands on her hips, staring at an empty pot like it had personally betrayed her.
"Explain," she said calmly.
Krishna blinked innocently.
"Explain… what?"
"The pot," Yashoda replied.
"What pot?"
"The one that was full of butter five minutes ago."
Krishna tilted his head, thoughtful. "Ah. That pot."
"Yes. That pot."
Krishna smiled. "I believe it has fulfilled its purpose."
Yashoda closed her eyes.
Somewhere deep within Krishna's awareness, the system chimed.
«Observation:
Maternal Authority Level Rising.
Recommendation:
Feign Innocence or Retreat Strategically.»
Krishna chose neither.
"Mother," he said sincerely, "butter exists to be shared."
Yashoda opened her eyes slowly. "You shared it with yourself."
"And with the monkeys."
As if summoned by the statement, a monkey dropped from the rafters, butter smeared across its face, and saluted Krishna before fleeing.
Yashoda pointed. "See?"
Krishna nodded solemnly. "See? Community outreach."
The system paused.
«Note:
Moral Justification Creative.
Score: 7/10.»
Yashoda grabbed the rope.
Krishna's smile froze.
"Oh," he said. "That escalated quickly."
Moments later, he was tied to the mortar—comfortably, carefully, and with far more affection than punishment deserved.
Yashoda sighed. "Maybe this will teach you some restraint."
Krishna looked at the rope, then at her.
"Mother," he said gently, "you know this won't hold me."
She smiled tiredly. "I know. But sometimes a mother just needs to try."
Krishna softened.
The system chimed again, quieter.
«Constraint Analysis:
Physical Binding Ineffective.
Emotional Binding: Absolute.»
Krishna did not break the rope.
Instead, he waited.
Radha appeared moments later, carrying a basket of flowers. She took one look at Krishna, tied to the mortar, and burst into laughter.
"You finally got caught."
Krishna grinned. "I surrendered."
"To butter?"
"To affection."
Radha stepped closer, eyes sparkling. "Should I untie you?"
Krishna leaned forward conspiratorially. "Only if you want to be blamed."
Radha laughed again. "I'll wait."
As if destiny itself enjoyed irony, the mortar shifted.
Slowly.
Inexorably.
The rope tightened—not around Krishna, but around fate.
The system chimed sharply.
«Warning:
Environmental Structure Undergoing Mythic Deviation.»
Krishna sighed. "Ah. That."
The mortar rolled.
The trees—tall, ancient, cursed—stood directly in its path.
Krishna glanced at them, awareness unfolding outward. He could feel the imbalance inside them—souls trapped, punishment long overstayed.
"This isn't about butter," he murmured.
Radha felt it too. "Krishna…?"
The mortar struck.
The trees cracked.
Light burst outward—not destructive, but liberating.
Two radiant beings emerged, bowing deeply.
"Thank you," they said in unison.
Krishna nodded. "Next time, choose humility earlier."
They vanished.
The village gathered in stunned silence.
Yashoda stared at the shattered trees, then at the rope—still intact, still tied.
Krishna looked up at her.
"…So," he ventured, "are we still discussing the butter?"
Yashoda laughed helplessly and pulled him into her arms.
"I don't know what you are," she whispered, "but you are my son."
The system chimed softly.
«Status Confirmed:
Divinity Acknowledged.
Maternal Claim Unchallenged.»
Later that evening, Krishna sat with Radha beneath the stars.
"You could have broken the rope," she said quietly.
"Yes."
"But you didn't."
Krishna smiled. "Power doesn't need to announce itself."
Radha leaned against him. "I like that about you."
Krishna's awareness stretched outward—to kingdoms, to hearts, to lines of dharma gently vibrating.
Everything was calm.
For now.
The system chimed one last time.
«Arc Status:
Childhood Phase Stabilized.
Next Phase Approaching:
World Awareness Expansion.»
Krishna picked up his flute.
And played.
--chapter 22 ended--