Devavrata remained at the riverbank.
Arms folded.
Expression firm.
"I will wait here," he had said.
Varun hesitated. "We'll come back soon."
Devavrata nodded once.
He watched them go.
Watched them cross the invisible boundary in the dust.
The river moved beside him, indifferent.
He skipped a stone.
Three times.
Then silence returned.
Time passed.
Longer than he expected.
The sun climbed higher.
He tried skipping again.
Two times.
He crouched. Stood. Sat.
Still no sign of them.
His jaw tightened.
"They must be wasting time," he muttered.
Finally, annoyance — or perhaps something else — pushed him to his feet.
He followed the path.
Not quickly.
Not slowly.
Just enough to maintain dignity.
He heard them before he saw them.
Laughter.
Loud.
Unrestrained.
He stepped past the last row of trees and stopped.
Under the golden laburnum blossoms, chaos reigned.
Children he knew.
Children he did not.
All mixed.
No lines.
No distance.
Some were standing in a circle, throwing their hands forward and shouting—
"Stone! Leaf! Stick!"
Others were crouched, furiously drawing grids in the dirt, arguing over lines and diagonals.
A few younger ones were chasing each other in uneven loops, playing tag.
Dust clung to ankles.
Flower petals stuck to hair.
Devavrata blinked.
They looked…
Normal.
No one was recoiling.
No one looked tainted.
Varun spotted him first.
"Devavrata!"
Heads turned.
Devavrata instinctively straightened.
Varun ran toward him.
"Come," he said, slightly breathless. "You have to try this game."
Devavrata hesitated.
His eyes flicked across the clearing.
He recognized the man — Anand — sitting against the tree trunk, watching, smiling faintly but not interfering.
No one looked corrupted.
No thunder split the sky.
No divine punishment descended.
Just children.
Playing.
Varun grabbed his wrist. "Come."
The hesitation lasted only a second longer.
Then Devavrata stepped forward.
"What is this?" he asked stiffly.
"Stone–Leaf–Stick," Varun declared proudly.
Devavrata frowned. "What are the rules?"
Varun demonstrated quickly.
"Stone breaks stick. Stick cuts leaf. Leaf covers stone."
Devavrata processed it.
Simple.
Too simple.
They played.
First round.
Devavrata chose stone.
Varun chose stick.
Stone wins.
Second round.
Leaf.
Stone.
Leaf wins.
A small spark lit behind Devavrata's eyes.
He adapted quickly.
Watched patterns.
Noticed hesitation in others' hands.
He began winning.
Again.
And again.
Soon a small crowd gathered.
"He keeps winning!"
"He's cheating!"
"I'm not cheating," Devavrata snapped — though a hint of satisfaction crept into his voice.
Across the clearing, Balu noticed.
Balu — who had long considered himself undefeated champion of Stone-Leaf-Stick.
He marched forward.
"Play me."
Devavrata turned.
A silent challenge passed between them.
They crouched in the dust.
Circle widening around them.
"Stone—Leaf—Stick!"
Stone vs. leaf.
Devavrata wins.
Murmurs.
Again.
Stick vs. leaf.
Balu wins.
The rhythm intensified.
Their hands struck forward in sync.
"Stone! Leaf! Stick!"
Dust rose.
Petals fell.
Children shouted counts.
Five rounds.
Ten rounds.
They adjusted. Adapted. Countered.
Devavrata stopped thinking about where he was.
Balu stopped thinking about who he was playing.
It became strategy.
Timing.
Psychology.
They began reading each other's shoulders, their wrists, their breathing.
Anand watched quietly.
He did not interrupt.
This was not his moment.
It was theirs.
Round after round.
Neither yielding dominance for long.
Finally—
Both threw stone.
They stared at each other.
Then, unexpectedly—
They both laughed.
Not politely.
Not cautiously.
But freely.
"Again!" Balu demanded.
Devavrata nodded.
This time when their hands collided, their shoulders brushed.
Neither pulled away.
Around them, children from both sides were shouting strategies, arguing about fairness, forming teams for later rounds.
No one stepped back.
No one recoiled.
Under the laburnum tree, the invisible line did not exist.
Later, as the sun leaned westward, Devavrata stood slightly apart.
Breathing hard.
Sweat at his temples.
Balu walked up beside him.
"You almost beat me," Balu said.
Devavrata smirked faintly. "Almost?"
Balu grinned. "Next time."
Devavrata nodded.
Next time.
The words felt strange.
Comfortable.
Across the clearing, petals fell without discrimination.
The same air filled every chest.
And no one, in that moment, thought about who was supposed to stand where.
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