One month passed.
Aaron's body settled. The thirst did not return. His skin stopped shedding. The blood core in his stomach pulsed quietly, a small hard knot that no longer caused pain. He felt normal again. Or as normal as someone like him could feel.
He trained every night. Push-ups. Stances. The old forms from his past life. His new body responded faster now. Stronger. The changes had given him gifts.
He woke each morning before dawn. The curtains stayed closed. Sunlight was still a problem, but not like before. He could stand indirect light. A cloudy day was manageable. Direct sun still burned, but not instantly. He could endure a few seconds before his skin reddened.
His hearing had changed the most.
He could hear Mr. Aldridge's heartbeat from across the house. The hum of electrical wires in the walls. Birds on the roof three floors up. At first it was overwhelming. He learned to filter it. Focus on what mattered. Ignore the rest.
The regeneration was discovered by accident.
---
His mother came to his room one evening. Routine check. She had done them every few days since the transformation. Blood pressure. Reflexes. A vitamin injection to help with the lingering fatigue.
"Arm," she said.
Aaron extended his left arm. She swabbed the skin. The needle went in. Small pinch. She pressed the plunger, withdrew the needle, and reached for a cotton ball.
Then she stopped.
The puncture wound was closing. Not slowly. Fast. The tiny dot of blood shrank. The skin pulled together. Within three seconds, there was no mark at all.
Her hand froze. The cotton ball hovered in the air.
"Aaron."
"I saw it."
"Do it again."
She looked at him. He looked at her. She did not ask permission. She took his hand, found a small scar on his knuckle from a childhood fall, and pressed her thumb against it. The scar was old. White. Faded.
As they watched, the scar lightened further. Then vanished.
His mother put down the syringe. Her face was pale.
"This is not normal healing. This is regeneration. Complete cellular renewal."
"Is that bad?"
"It is dangerous. If anyone finds out, they will want to study you. Not doctors. Governments. Laboratories. You would disappear."
Aaron sat up. "Then we tell no one."
"No one," she agreed. "Not the butler. Not the school. This stays in this house."
She touched his face. Her hand was warm. "My son has become something rare. I will protect you. But you must be careful."
"I will."
---
The next morning, Aaron stood in front of his mirror.
One month ago, he had been a normal fifteen-year-old. Thin. Average height. Nothing remarkable.
Now he was different.
His shoulders had broadened. His chest was thicker. His arms had muscle definition that belonged on a college athlete. The blood core pulsed energy through his body, and his body had responded by growing.
He put on his school uniform. It fit. Barely. He would need new clothes soon.
Mr. Aldridge drove him to school. The butler said nothing about the changes. He had learned not to ask questions.
The car stopped outside East Side High. Aaron stepped out. The sun was behind clouds. Mild sting on his face. Manageable.
He walked through the front doors.
---
The hallway went quiet.
Students turned. Stared. Whispers spread like ripples.
"Who is that?"
"Is that Aaron Gill?"
"No way."
"He was gone for a month and came back like that?"
Aaron walked past them. His hearing caught every whisper. He did not react.
He entered the classroom. Mrs. Hart, the homeroom teacher, looked up from her attendance sheet. Her mouth opened slightly.
"Aaron? Is that you?"
"Yes."
"You look... well. Very well. Take your seat."
He walked to his usual desk near the window. Sat down. The students around him kept staring.
Marcus and Kyle were not there. Still recovering. Or perhaps transferred. He did not ask.
The classroom door opened again.
Mrs. Hart clapped her hands. "Everyone, before we begin, we have a new student joining us today. Please welcome Bruce Wayne."
A boy walked into the room.
He was tall. Dark hair. Blue eyes. His clothes were expensive but simple. He moved with a stillness that Aaron recognized immediately. Not normal teenage awkwardness. Control. Training.
Bruce Wayne's eyes swept the room. They passed over Aaron. Paused. Held for one second longer than necessary.
Then Bruce smiled. It was polite. Practiced. It did not reach his eyes.
"Hello. I'm Bruce. It's nice to meet you all."
He took the empty seat two rows ahead of Aaron.