By the time school ended, the sky above Mumbai had shifted from burning white to a muddy orange. Clouds drifted like heavy bruises, holding in the day's heat. The air smelled of hot concrete and something metallic—rain threatening, not promising.
Students poured out through the gates in loud waves. Shoes slapped against pavement, parents shouted names, rickshaws honked in desperate Morse code. Uniforms fluttered in the afternoon breeze like battle flags carrying the day's stories.
Arjun moved slowly, slipping past the noise with practiced invisibility. His ribs pulsed with every breath, but it wasn't only pain—there was a strange rhythm to it, like his heartbeat had learned a second beat today.
Every few steps, he felt eyes on him.
A group of boys whispered near the canteen:"That's the guy who elbowed Samar.""He didn't elbow, he… slipped? I don't know.""But Samar didn't hit him back.""Yeah… that's the weird part."
A girl tying her hair commented softly to her friend:"His eyes looked different today. Grey but… sharper."
Two seniors leaned against the wall, watching him walk by. One smirked, nudging the other."Dead man walking.""He should change schools before Samar gets bored."
Even younger students stared. Not mocking. Just curious. Like they'd discovered a new animal in a familiar zoo.
Arjun ignored it all.
Or tried to.
A flicker of blue appeared at the corner of his vision—just a thin outline, not a full box.
[Minor Trait Synchronization: 5%]
He blinked.And it was gone.
The sidewalks outside the school buzzed with life. Vendors selling vada pav shouted. The air smelled of frying oil. A group of taxi drivers argued over fares. A street dog slept under a scooter. The world didn't pause just because your life did.
Rahul jogged up beside him, gym bag bouncing against his hip.
"Still coming today?" he asked.
Arjun nodded. "I'll try."
Rahul's hazel eyes scanned him. "Don't push your ribs, Vale."
Arjun gave a small smile. "I've handled worse."
Rahul snorted. "You say that a lot for someone who looks like a stiff breeze could break him."
Before Arjun could respond, a motorcycle roared past. Samar on the back seat of a friend's bike. His short, styled hair caught the sunlight; his uniform still perfect at the end of the day. He didn't laugh with the others. Didn't shout.
He just turned his head.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Samar's face didn't show anger.Or annoyance.Or recognition.
Just that same unsettling curiosity.
The bike disappeared into traffic.
Rahul shook his head. "He's watching you way too closely. That's not good."
Arjun felt his chest tighten—not fear, but a pressure that wrapped around his lungs like a hand.
"I know."
When he reached home, the building felt smaller than usual. Old paint flaked down the stairwell like dandruff, mixing with the scent of turmeric and kerosene from neighbors' kitchens. A kid's bicycle lay abandoned near the lift. Someone upstairs was arguing—voices sharp and tired.
Arjun unlocked the door quietly.
The house was dim, a single tube light flickering overhead. His mother sat by the small table sorting vegetables, wearing a faded blue kurti. Her hair was tied in a messy bun; fine strands framed her worried face. When the door opened, she looked up quickly.
Her eyes widened.
"Arjun… what happened?"
Her gaze darted to the bruise on his ribs where the fabric of his shirt clung tightly. Her fingers trembled before she hid them in her dupatta.
"Nothing," he said softly.
She stood up, walked to him, and gently lifted his shirt just enough to see the marks—darkening purples and reds blooming across his skin like storms.
She inhaled sharply. "This isn't nothing."
Arjun looked away. His mother's eyes always made him feel ten again.
She cupped his face gently. Her hands were warm from working. "Arjun… you can't keep living like this."
He swallowed. "I'm trying."
A silence stretched—a tight string between them.
Then she whispered, "Your eyes look different today."
His breath caught.
"What do you mean?"
She studied him quietly. "They're the same color… but they're not the same. It's like you're seeing the world more clearly."
The System's flicker returned in the corner of his vision.
[Trait Awareness: 12%]
He inhaled slowly."Maybe I'm just tired."
She didn't push him. She never did. She simply brushed a thumb across his cheek and said, "Please… don't get hurt more than life already hurts you."
He nodded.
That was all he could promise.
Later, he sat at his desk repairing a cracked phone for extra money. His fingers were steady despite the day. As he worked, the tube light buzzed softly above. Outside, kids shouted in the alley. Someone played old Bollywood music on a tinny speaker. The city lived in layers of sound.
And then—
A cold shiver crawled up his spine.
Not fear.Instinct.
He turned his head toward the window.
A shadow moved on the rooftop opposite his building.
Tall.Still.Watching.
Long hair tied back.A faint glint where the moonlight hit an eye.
Rudra.
Arjun didn't move.Didn't breathe.
The figure said nothing, did nothing—just observed.
Arjun blinked—
—and Rudra was gone.
The system flickered again. Stronger.
[New Passive Detected: Situational Awareness Lv.0]Progress: 1%
His hand tightened around the screwdriver.
Something inside him was waking faster than he could understand.
Something his life had prepared him for without warning.
Something dangerous.
But for the first time, danger didn't feel one-sided.
It felt shared.
It felt mutual.
It felt possible.