The alarm hadn't gone off yet, but Aarav's eyes were already open. He didn't need a buzzer to start his day. His internal clock, fueled by years of routine and quiet observation, always woke him ten minutes early. The room was painted a soft blue, almost matching the morning sky. Posters of superheroes—Captain Valor, Phoenix Girl, and Titan Strike—covered most of the walls, their eyes forever locked in an eternal battle with unseen enemies.
Aarav sat up quietly, careful not to wake his parents. He folded his blanket neatly, stood, and shuffled to the bathroom. His movements were soft and precise—almost like muscle memory. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and changed into his school uniform without saying a word. He didn't need to. Silence was his language, and he spoke it fluently.
"Mumma, I'm ready," he said, barely above a whisper.
His mother turned from the stove, surprised but smiling. "Already? You're always early, my little superhero."
She placed two dosas and a dollop of chutney on his plate. Aarav sat and ate silently, staring at the swirling patterns in the chutney as if they held secret messages. His mind wandered, not to the math test today, but to something far more exciting: tomorrow was his birthday.
He didn't expect a big celebration. His parents always did something small—just the three of them, a cake, and a few gifts. But this year felt different. He didn't know why, but there was a quiet buzz inside him, as if something big was waiting just around the corner.
On the school bus, Aarav sat by the window, his usual spot. He pressed his forehead against the glass and let his imagination run wild. The road turned into a runway, the cars were enemy ships, and his school bus was a spaceship flying through meteor showers.
He raised his hand slightly, pretending to fire energy blasts at imaginary villains. In his mind, he was Captain Blaze—half-human, half-energy being—defender of the innocent and protector of peace.
"Hey, Aarav."
He blinked. The imaginary sky faded. Meera, the girl who sat two rows ahead, had turned around. Her eyes sparkled beneath her fringe, and her yellow ribbon danced as the bus bumped.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Aarav said quickly. "Just... thinking."
She smiled and turned back around. Aarav's ears felt warm. He looked away, pretending to be interested in the traffic outside. In truth, Meera was his favorite person in the real world. Not that he'd ever admit it.
At school, the hours ticked by like clock hands made of syrup. Math was dull, English was slower, and science—his favorite—was somehow still dragging. The only time he came alive was during art. He drew a new superhero: The Night Phantom, a shadowy figure who used silence as his power.
During lunch, Aarav found his usual spot under the neem tree, away from the noisy chaos of cricket and tag. He took out his notebook and continued drawing. He imagined Night Phantom slipping through cracks, disabling bombs, and stopping villains without a single word.
By the time school ended, he felt lighter. Drawing had helped. So had Meera's brief smile.
He walked home instead of taking the bus, enjoying the breeze and the crunch of gravel under his shoes. When he reached his gate, something caught his eye.
Balloons.
Tied to the gate.
He pushed open the door and froze.
"Surprise!" his parents shouted.
Streamers. Cake. Balloons. Even a Happy Birthday banner.
"But... it's tomorrow," he said, wide-eyed.
His mom ruffled his hair. "We couldn't wait. And tomorrow's a school day."
Aarav was overwhelmed. He wasn't used to surprises.
The cake had his name written in chocolate. His favorite food—paneer butter masala—was on the table. And the gifts—wrapped in superhero paper—were stacked neatly in a pyramid.
He opened the first few with careful hands. A sketchbook. A box of crayons. A superhero encyclopedia.
Then came the final box.
It was heavier. Bigger. Inside was something unexpected: a superhero costume. Red and black, with a lightning bolt symbol on the chest. Cape included.
"It's... just like Blaze's," Aarav whispered.
"We thought you'd like it," his dad said.
Aarav smiled more brightly than he had in weeks. He ran to his room, tried it on, and posed in front of the mirror. He felt... real. Not like a boy pretending. But like a boy remembering.
Later, as he lay in bed, the costume folded neatly on the chair, he noticed something else.
A small, cube-shaped gift.
He hadn't opened it.
He picked it up. It glowed faintly. Not like a battery light. Like something alive.
"Mumma?" he called. No answer.
He placed the cube back on the table.
He closed his eyes.
And the world began to change.