Avu stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush shoved into his mouth, white foam dripping down his chin.
Messy hair.
Round face.
A body that clearly loved food more than exercise.
"Avu! You'll be late!" his mother called again.
"I'm brushing!" Avu replied, the words muffled.
He brushed faster, rinsed, and wiped his face before grabbing his school uniform.
The moment he pulled it on, the fabric stretched tightly across his stomach.
He frowned.
"Why does this thing feel smaller every year…?"
Dragging his bag behind him, Avu walked downstairs. The smell of fresh parathas filled the dining room. His mother sat him down immediately, feeding him with practiced hands.
"Eat properly," she said. "You'll need energy."
His father sat nearby, quietly flipping through the newspaper. The headlines were filled with familiar words—heroes, contracts, villains neutralized—printed so casually they felt unreal.
Avu barely glanced at them.
Those things belonged to another world.
A dangerous world.
Not his.
He finished his breakfast, grabbed his bag, and rushed out the door—completely unaware that fate had already noticed him.