The anime bred on the TV, colors fshing, heroes screaming about dreams and friendship at full volume.

  Eira sat next to me, still in that baggy bck T-shirt and shorts I had emergency-bought for her, cross-legged, her posture straight and alert even during downtime.

  Me? I was trying — trying — to focus on the screen.

  But my traitor eyes kept drifting.

  It wasn’t even on purpose, I swear.The T-shirt was just a little too tight across her chest whenever she leaned forward slightly.Stretching across her body, pulling the soft fabric tight, outlining shapes my virgin brain wasn’t remotely ready to process.

  Nipples.

  Boobs.

  Holy. Shit.

  I snapped my gaze back to the screen, trying to think of anything else — anime battles, boxing drills, taxes — anything but what was sitting right next to me.

  I could feel my face burning.Sweat beaded at the back of my neck.

  Control yourself, Karan, I screamed internally.Remember Bajrang Bali. Think pure thoughts.

  I risked one tiny side gnce — just one.

  Bad decision.

  Because at that exact moment, Eira turned her head — and caught me staring.

  She didn’t even blink.Just stared straight into my soul with those cold, sharp silver eyes.

  I panicked hard.

  Whipping my head away like I’d been caught stealing from a temple donation box, I coughed violently, waving my hands in the air.

  "YOU NEED UNDERGARMENTS!" I blurted out.

  Dead silence.

  Even the anime screaming on the TV seemed to pause for dramatic effect.

  Eira tilted her head slowly. "Under... garments?"

  I wanted the Earth to crack open and swallow me whole.

  "Yeah! Yeah!" I croaked. "You know! Bras! Panties! Uh... protective battle gear for... delicate regions!"

  Eira frowned, processing.

  "You require armor... for these parts?" she asked, gncing down at herself.

  I nearly passed out.

  "Not armor armor!" I squeaked. "Just... support! Modesty! It's a normal thing! Human thing! Women's thing! Very important!"

  She nodded thoughtfully, still completely unfazed.

  Meanwhile, I was dying by the second.

  "We should... uh... go buy some for you," I mumbled, feeling my ears turn radioactive. "Since... y'know... you don't have any... and... sizing and stuff..."

  Eira raised an eyebrow. "Sizing?"

  Oh sweet merciful Hanumanji save me.

  "I... I don’t know your size," I admitted helplessly. "Bras have sizes. Like numbers and letters. I don’t know them. I’m not... I’m not a bra expert!"

  If she found my complete mental colpse amusing, she didn’t show it.

  Instead, she simply stood up, ready as ever.

  "Then we must acquire this gear," she said, like she was preparing for a raid.

  I swallowed hard."Right. Sure. Let's do that. Great idea. Wonderful."

  Five minutes ter, we were putting on shoes and helmets.Well, I was putting on a helmet — I didn’t even have a second one.

  But rules were made to be broken, right?

  I kicked my trusty old Splendor awake — the old warrior that had been with me since college.

  Still gave 70 km per liter. Still ran smoother than my life.

  Eira perched carefully behind me, unfamiliar with the bike.When I started moving, she instinctively grabbed my shoulders — and holy shit, I almost drove into a tree.

  "Steady," she said calmly.

  "Steady, right," I wheezed, trying to concentrate on not dying.

  We zipped through Sector 44, heading toward Sector 45 — where the slightly fancier dies' garment shops were.

  The wind rushed past us, ruffling her braid and my unwashed hair.Eira kept looking around — soaking in everything — the cars, the dogs, the street vendors yelling about golgappas.

  Her first real adventure on Earth.

  And meanwhile, my brain was melting because her hands were still lightly holding my shoulders and I could feel every point of contact like fire.

  Focus, Karan. Don’t crash. Or die. Or confess your sins.

  We pulled up outside a mid-sized shop — a bright pink sign reading "Madhu Garments: Ladies Wear Specialists."

  I killed the engine and kicked down the stand.

  Eira hopped off lightly, staring at the shop with the same wary intensity she probably gave enemy fortresses.

  I took a deep breath.

  "Alright," I said. "This is it. Be cool. Be normal."

  She nodded seriously.

  We stepped inside.

  Instantly, every single pair of eyes turned toward us.

  The salesgirls.The few aunties browsing bras.Even a random uncle buying something for his wife.

  Everyone.

  Because Eira — with her perfect skin, strange aura, and model-level beauty — looked like she had walked straight out of a magazine.

  And me?

  Well, I looked like... me.Average. Shortish. Tired. Wearing a cracked anime T-shirt.

  I heard whispers.

  "Foreigner, maybe?""So beautiful!""Boyfriend gta hai.""Sharma ji ki beti ne toh kuch nahi kaha tha aise cheezon ka..."

  I wanted to crawl under the counter and die.

  But Eira stood tall, unbothered, scanning the shop like a battlefield.

  I shuffled over to the counter where a middle-aged dy stood behind piles of bras.

  "Hi," I said weakly. "Uh. We need... uh... stuff."

  The dy raised her eyebrows.

  Eira stepped forward, cool and composed.

  "I require undergarments," she said clearly.

  The shopkeeper blinked once, then smiled tightly."Yes, beta. What size?"

  I looked helplessly at Eira’s chest, then back at the dy, mortified.

  "I... don't know," I admitted. "She's new. Here. From... very far away."

  The shopkeeper gave me a look that screamed "Men are hopeless" and waved us toward the fitting area.

  "You try," she told Eira kindly. "I'll bring options."

  Eira disappeared behind the little curtain, obediently following Earth customs.

  Meanwhile, I stood awkwardly in the middle of aisles full of bras, panties, shapewear, sports bras, cy things, cotton things, things with enough wires to build a satellite.

  I had never felt more out of pce in my entire life.

  Also — holy crap, bras were expensive.

  One set was ?1500+.Another fancy one ?2500.Panties? ?500 for a single piece of cloth!

  My sary did not budget for interdimensional elf lingerie shopping.

  I mentally apologized to my bank account and tried not to faint.

  After a while, Eira came out, holding a few sets approved by the shopkeeper — simple, pin cotton ones — no ce, no frills.

  Thank god.

  We paid.I gave the salesdy a sheepish "Thank you for not judging me too hard" smile.

  And we escaped into the afternoon sun, shopping bag swinging from my wrist.

  The ride back home was quieter.

  Eira leaned back slightly, head tilted toward the sky, letting the breeze ruffle her hair.

  I could tell — even without her saying a word — that she was happy.Not the battle-ready assassin.Not the cold outsider.

  Just... a girl discovering the world.

  We pulled into the parking lot, kicking up a little dust cloud.

  She dismounted gracefully, clutching the bag carefully.

  "That was... an experience," she said.

  I ughed, unclipping my helmet. "Welcome to Earth. We embarrass ourselves to survive."

  She smiled — a real, wide smile this time.

  And something in my chest tightened painfully.

  Maybe — just maybe —this wasn’t just survival anymore.

  Maybe it was the start of something way bigger than either of us realized.