2.1 The Decade of Preparation
The years between ten and fifteen were, for Aarav 'Ronin' Sharma, a blur of quadratic equations, puberty, and an unrelenting, secret training regime. The pressure to activate his Saiyan bloodline grew with every news headline he read about burgeoning global conflict. He was racing a clock labeled "Iron Man 2008."
By the time he entered high school, Aarav was no longer the skinny kid who wrestled a stick from a bully. He was deceptively lean, corded with dense muscle that made him look like a talented athlete, not a superhuman-in-training. He clocked eight miles before school every morning, running with ankle and wrist weights that grew heavier every six months.
His internalized knowledge of Goku's training taught him the value of increasing the difficulty of mundane tasks. He would move furniture, carry heavy grocery bags, and do hundreds of push-ups using only his fingertips—all while maintaining the perfect, fluid movements of the Turtle School.
The pain was constant, a fiery ache he learned to embrace. He often sparred with his older sister, Anya, in their backyard, though he had to hold back ninety-nine percent of his true speed and power. Anya, now a stunning, popular high school junior, was a black belt in Karate—a talent Ronin constantly fed by offering subtle, perfectly timed corrections from his martial arts database.
"You're leaning into that reverse punch, Di," Aarav would advise, ducking under her quick strike. "Keep your hips level, generate power from the heel."
"You're impossible, Ronin," she'd groan, wiping sweat from her brow. "How do you always know exactly how to counter? You've never taken a proper class."
"Manga logic, Di. I see the attack, I run the data, I find the counter," he'd shrug, employing his favorite cover story: "Obsessive nerd simulation."
Anya would just shake her head, a soft, loving smile on her face. Their bond was ironclad. She was his anchor to this medium-sized, beautiful family life, and he loved watching her grow into the fierce, intelligent woman she was becoming.
2.2 Queens' Most Wanted and the Spider's Friend
His romantic destiny, meanwhile, was unfolding in the busy halls of Midtown School of Science and Technology (MSST).
Felicia Hardy was a sophomore when Aarav entered as a freshman. She was, as always, an alluring chaos magnet. Her platinum-blonde hair was often tied back, but her eyes, wide and perpetually amused, missed nothing.
Felicia wasn't a hero yet, but she was a budding professional in her chosen field: thievery with style.
Aarav often found himself doing "study sessions" with her, which usually meant helping her hack school security systems for benign purposes, like changing her homeroom teacher or boosting her history grade.
"You're a genius, Ronin," Felicia purred one day in the mostly empty library, her breath close to his ear as he bypassed a complex fire-wall on her laptop. "You're too good to waste your talents on algebra. You should be helping me liberate artifacts from the Metropolitan Museum."
"And face the wrath of my mother? No thanks," Aarav replied, trying to keep his focus on the code and not on the alluring scent of her expensive perfume. "Besides, I don't steal. I acquire."
"A semantic difference," she scoffed. "And what about the adrenaline rush? Don't tell me you don't crave a little danger, Sharma."
Aarav gave her a knowing look. "I get plenty of danger in my head, Hardy. And I prefer my danger to not end with an NYPD escort home."
Meanwhile, Gwen Stacy was the quiet, cerebral force in his life. They shared AP Physics and Advanced Calculus, bonding over their mutual exasperation with the rest of the class. Gwen had a sharp, witty mind that mirrored his own, and her ambition was fierce—she wanted to be a geneticist.
Gwen was often stressed, juggling school, a part-time job, and the worry of her father, Captain Stacy.
"My dad was out until 4 AM chasing some lowlife tonight," Gwen sighed, nervously chewing on the end of her pen during a study break. "I hate it. He should be safer."
"Your dad is a good man, Gwen," Aarav said gently, offering her a mango lassi he had snagged from his fridge. "He does necessary work. That's why we need people like him."
He and Gwen had a quiet, intellectual chemistry. With Felicia, it was a thrilling, dangerous spark. With Gwen, it was a warm, comfortable glow. Both girls were crucial anchors in his new, double life.
2.3 The Night of the Crimson Blade
Aarav's power level, while still frustratingly below the threshold for Super Saiyan, was rising. He could run a sub-five-minute mile without breaking a sweat, and his movements in sparring were reaching a level of true martial mastery. It was time for a forced push.
The opportunity came during a sudden, violent heatwave that hit Queens in the summer before his sophomore year.
A local gang, known for running protection rackets and petty violence, had decided to terrorize the businesses in Jackson Heights. They had started small, vandalism and threats, but tonight, it escalated.
A group of six gang members, armed with bats, chains, and one terrifyingly large knife, were ransacking his father's spice warehouse.
Aarav, alerted by his hyper-aware Saiyan senses—a dull ache in his temples that he was learning to interpret as low-level danger—snuck out of his window.
He arrived at the warehouse just as they were preparing to smash a crucial shipment of rare saffron.
This is it. High stakes. Life and death are not present, but significant harm to my family is.
Aarav knew he couldn't use anything overtly supernatural. But the Gate of Babylon was ready for the next level of common weapon.
He faced the gang, standing silhouetted against the streetlights. "Leave the goods and walk away."
The leader, a hulking man with a gold tooth and a scarred face, laughed, brandishing his knife. "Look what the wind blew in, boys. A little brown knight."
As the leader lunged, Aarav didn't wait. He reached for the Gate.
Level 2 Unlock: High-Quality Historical Weapons.
This time, the manifestation was quicker, more fluid. In a flicker, a weapon materialized in his grip. It wasn't a mythological sword, but a historical masterpiece of common warfare: a perfectly weighted, razor-sharp Kukri knife—the curved, lethal blade favored by Nepalese Gurkhas.
The knife was beautiful, its balance impeccable. It wasn't merely a piece of metal; it was the ultimate expression of its type.
Aarav, channeling the efficient, lethal precision of the Crane School techniques he knew, moved.
He didn't aim to kill. He aimed to disable and disarm.
The fight was over in forty-five seconds. He dodged the initial lunge, using the Kukri's curved point to deflect the gold-toothed leader's knife and send it skittering across the floor. He used the staff-training muscle memory to sweep the legs of two others with the flat of the blade. He then used the pommel to deliver quick, non-lethal strikes to the solar plexus and wrists of the remaining three, forcing them to drop their weapons and gasp for air.
When the sirens wailed in the distance, Aarav was gone, leaving six beaten, disarmed thugs and an untouched shipment of spices.
He sprinted home, slipped back through his window, and sat on his bed, his heart pounding a furious, exhilarating rhythm. The Kukri had dissolved as he jumped the final fence, but the scent of ozone and steel remained.
System Notification: Major Act of Heroism (Defending Family Property/Community Safety) achieved.
Gate of Babylon: Access Level 3 Unlocked. Rare Historical Artifacts and Basic Magical Tools now available.
A wave of strange, almost electric energy washed over him. The Gate was expanding. He could now reach beyond mere perfect weapons and grasp objects with a faint, inherent power.
Aarav smiled, tasting the metallic tang of adrenaline and the fresh possibilities.
Good. The training is working. The world is getting closer. And I'm ready to move the goalposts again.
He looked out the window at the distant, sparkling lights of Manhattan, where a genius, billionaire playboy was oblivious to the latent Saiyan training in Queens.
He had three years until Iron Man—three years to push past the limits of human strength and shatter the wall blocking his Super Saiyan transformation.
He had much, much more work to do.