Morning assembly.
The absolute worst place to exist when your senses have just been cranked up to an eleven.
Pavitr stood in the rigid lines of uniformed students, half-awake, mildly annoyed, and completely overwhelmed. Hundreds of voices overlapped in a deafening murmur. He could hear the principal clearing his throat at the podium, the scuff of a sneaker on the concrete fifty feet away, and the rapid heartbeat of a nervous junior three rows ahead.
It was normal. Too normal.
"…How is everyone acting like this is just a regular Monday?" he muttered under his breath.
The boy standing next to him leaned in without missing a beat.
"Because it is a regular Monday."
Pavitr turned his head.
That's when he saw him. Chandrakant Ingawale.
He was a slightly stocky kid with perpetually messy hair, oversized glasses that kept sliding down his nose, a half-tucked shirt, and a face that screamed terminal curiosity. He clutched a spiral notebook against his chest, even during the national anthem, looking like he expected a major scientific breakthrough to happen at any second.
"…You talk to yourself a lot, don't you?" Chandrakant whispered, adjusting his glasses.
Pavitr blinked, letting his enhanced eyes focus.
"…I used to. Now I just have very good reasons to."
Chandrakant narrowed his eyes, studying Pavitr like a biology specimen.
"…You get hit on the head or something?"
"…Something like that."
"Nice."
A beat of silence passed. Then, Chandrakant casually extended his free hand.
"Chandrakant Ingawale. Top three in class. Future theoretical physicist. Probably."
Pavitr stared at the offered hand for a second. Then, he shook it. His grip was firm, perfectly controlled.
"…Pavitr Prabhakar."
Chandrakant smirked. "Yeah, I know. You sit right behind me. You're the quiet guy."
Pavitr raised an eyebrow. The old Pavitr might have shrunk back. Sushil didn't.
"…Quiet?"
"Yeah. Like, background character quiet. The guy who dies first in a sci-fi movie to establish the stakes."
Pavitr sighed, a dry smile touching his lips.
"…Not anymore."
___________
First period. Advanced Mathematics.
The teacher, a stern man with chalk dust constantly on his sleeves, turned to the blackboard and began writing out a notoriously brutal calculus equation.
A collective groan rippled through the classroom.
Pavitr leaned his chin on his hand and looked at the board.
Then, something strange happened.
He didn't just look at the numbers; he felt them.
The equation stopped being a jumble of abstract symbols and suddenly snapped into a perfectly logical sequence. His brain shifted into a gear he didn't know existed. It was moving faster than his conscious thoughts. The variables aligned, the patterns locked together, and the solution illuminated in his mind like a neon sign.
"…Wait."
He blinked, straightening up in his wooden chair.
"…That's actually incredibly easy."
The teacher turned around, catching the faint whisper. His eyes locked onto Pavitr like a hawk.
"You think so, Prabhakar? Why don't you come up and solve it for us, then."
A few kids in the front row snickered.
"Sir, he'll pass out before he even picks up the chalk," a kid two desks over whispered loudly.
Pavitr didn't flinch. He stood up slowly, feeling the smooth, effortless power in his legs, and walked to the front of the room. He took the chalk from the teacher's hand.
For a fraction of a second, he hesitated.
Should I hold back?
Nah.
His hand moved. Fast. Precise. The chalk practically flew across the slate. He didn't pause to think or calculate; he just transcribed the perfect logic flowing through his newly enhanced brain. Step by step. Clean formatting. Flawless execution
.
He drew a box around the final answer, put the chalk down, and dusted his hands.
Dead silence.
The teacher stared at the board, his jaw slightly slack. He adjusted his spectacles, tracing the math over again in his head.
"…Correct."
The classroom froze.
Chandrakant's jaw literally dropped, his pen slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the floor.
"…EXCUSE ME?" Chandrakant blurted out.
Pavitr stared at his own hand, then back at the board. Even he was genuinely surprised. The old Pavitr was smart, sure. But Sushil's mature, analytical mind combined with the spider-enhanced intellect? It was a supercomputer.
"…I actually did that," Pavitr muttered to himself, a small grin breaking out.
Back at his desk, Chandrakant twisted around in his seat, leaning in aggressively close.
"WHAT was that?!" he hissed.
Pavitr whispered back, perfectly calm. "I have absolutely no idea."
"You just solved a theorem that the toppers spend hours crying over! In thirty seconds!"
"…Really?"
"YES, REALLY!"
Pavitr leaned back in his chair, tuning out the teacher's lecture.
Okay… time to update the list:
* Spider powers (Agility, sticking to walls, danger sense). ✔️
* Reincarnated body (That happens to be broke). ✔️
* Super-genius intellect. ❗
He exhaled a long, slow breath.
"…This system upgrade is insane."
Second period. Physics.
It was even worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. Before the teacher even finished explaining the principles of kinetic friction, Pavitr had already extrapolated the concept.
He didn't just understand the formula; he saw its flaws. He saw how he could improve it. His mind started auto-connecting ideas, weaving them together like a web.
"Actually, if you apply the formula factoring in localized atmospheric drag—" he started murmuring to himself.
He quickly bit his tongue.
…Okay, dial it back. You're drawing too much aggro.
Chandrakant, who hadn't taken his eyes off him since Math, narrowed his gaze.
"You're thinking again."
"…Yeah."
"That is a very dangerous sign."
Lunch break.
Naturally, Pavitr bypassed the crowded cafeteria and headed straight for the school rooftop. It was quieter. The air was cleaner.
He sat on the concrete ledge, dangling his legs over the drop, casually eating a dry chapati.
Chandrakant sat a few feet away, clutching his lunchbox, still eyeing Pavitr with heavy suspicion.
"You're a completely different person today."
Pavitr took a bite, his expression unreadable.
"People change, Chiku."
"Not overnight like a corrupted software update."
"…Maybe I finally installed the premium version."
Chandrakant squinted, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"…You're hiding something."
Pavitr looked out over the sprawling skyline of Mumbai. "Or maybe I just finally decided to start using my brain."
"Rude."
Sixth period. Physical Training (PT).
The afternoon sun baked the dusty school grounds. Most kids were half-heartedly jogging or sitting in the shade, trying to survive the Mumbai heat.
Pavitr was sitting on the bleachers, tying his shoelaces and marveling at the fact that his knees didn't ache anymore, when he heard the commotion.
More specifically, he felt it. A dull, irritating buzz at the base of his skull. It wasn't mortal danger, just… impending trouble.
He looked up.
About thirty yards away, near the equipment shed, a group of six boys had formed a tight circle. In the center was Chandrakant, his glasses already knocked askew, clutching his notebook to his chest like a shield.
Standing over him was Kailash.
Everyone knew Kailash. He was built like a junior heavyweight, wore expensive sneakers against the dress code, and—most importantly—was the nephew of the school's director. He operated with absolute impunity.
Kailash shoved Chandrakant hard in the chest. The smaller boy stumbled backward into the dirt. The five goons flanking Kailash snickered.
"I asked to see the physics notes, Chiku," Kailash sneered, stepping forward. "I didn't ask for a lecture on why I should have written them myself."
Chandrakant scrambled to adjust his glasses.
"They… they aren't just notes, Kailash. I need them for the upcoming—"
Kailash kicked dirt directly into Chandrakant's face. "Did I ask what you need them for?"
The surrounding students watched, paralyzed. No one intervened. Not against the director's nephew.
Pavitr exhaled a slow, heavy sigh.
Sushil would have ignored it. It wasn't his problem. But something in this new, enhanced biology—and maybe something deep down in Pavitr's soul—refused to look away.
He stood up.
He didn't run. He just walked. But his strides ate up the distance with terrifying speed.
Just as Kailash reached down to snatch the notebook, a hand clamped onto his wrist.
It wasn't a hard grip, but it was completely, immovably solid. Like iron clamping around bone.
Kailash stopped, his eyes darting up in shock.
"I think he said he needs them," Pavitr said. His voice was deadpan, completely devoid of the panic or adrenaline usually present in a high school confrontation.
Silence rippled across the dusty field.
Kailash yanked his arm back, his face flushing red.
"Prabhakar? The hell are you doing? Get lost before I break your jaw."
Chandrakant looked up from the dirt, his eyes wide with terror. "Pavitr, don't. Just go!"
"Five seconds, Prabhakar," Kailash growled, cracking his knuckles. His five goons immediately stepped forward, boxing Pavitr in.
Pavitr stood completely relaxed. Inside, however, his brain was going into overdrive. His Spider-Sense was mapping out the threat.
Six targets. No weapons. High aggression, low skill. Threat level: Negligible.
The real problem wasn't surviving. The problem was not killing them. He had the proportionate strength of a spider. If he punched a normal teenager with full force, he would shatter their skull. He had to dial it all the way down to a two out of ten.
…Okay. Let's figure out the controls on this new body.
"One," Kailash counted, stepping into Pavitr's personal space.
"Just skip to it," Pavitr interrupted.
Kailash roared and threw a heavy right hook.
To Pavitr, it looked like the boy was moving underwater. He watched the fist approach, calculated its trajectory, and simply tilted his head two inches to the left. The punch sailed harmlessly past his ear.
Kailash stumbled forward from his own momentum. Pavitr casually stuck his foot out. Kailash tripped and ate a faceful of dirt.
"Get him!" one of the goons yelled.
Two boys rushed him at once. Pavitr stepped back, misjudging his own newly minted speed. He moved too fast, nearly tripping over his own feet. He caught his balance just in time to see a fist flying at his face.
He caught the fist in his palm. Don't squeeze, he ordered himself. He twisted the boy's arm behind his back—a little too hard, judging by the yelp of pain—and shoved him into the second attacker.
Both went down in a tangled heap.
The remaining three hesitated.
Pavitr took a breath, trying to steady the sensory overload. The sun was too bright, their shouts were too loud, and his own heartbeat was thrumming in his ears. He was clumsy, holding back 90% of his strength, but it didn't matter.
The third goon charged. Pavitr sidestepped, grabbing the boy by the belt and collar, and effortlessly hoisted him into the air before tossing him into a nearby pile of gym mats.
Kailash scrambled to his feet, furious, his nose bleeding. He charged blindly, head down like a bull.
Pavitr didn't even shift his stance. He waited until Kailash was an inch away, then simply pressed two fingers against Kailash's chest and pushed.
The directed kinetic force sent Kailash sliding backward through the dust, landing hard on his backside, completely winded.
The dust settled.
Pavitr stood in the center of the groaning boys, breathing evenly. He hadn't even broken a sweat.
The entire PT field was dead silent.
Pavitr turned around and extended a hand to Chandrakant.
Chandrakant stared at the hand like it was made of fire. He looked at the groaning goons, then up at Pavitr's entirely calm face. Slowly, he took the hand. Pavitr pulled him up effortlessly.
The whispers started.
A crowd had formed. Some girls in the front row were whispering behind their hands, looking at Pavitr with a sudden, intense curiosity. The boys who usually mocked him stared with undisguised fear. A few of the younger kids looked at him with pure, unadulterated awe. Admiration, disgust, fear, and maybe a little bit of schoolyard crush all mixed into the heavy air.
Kailash, clutching his chest, glared at Pavitr with venom. "You're dead, Prabhakar. You hear me? My uncle will have you expelled!"
Pavitr looked at him, his expression completely blank. "Tell your uncle to fix the basketball hoops while you're at it."
He turned his back on them and walked away, picking up Chandrakant's notebook from the dirt and handing it to him.
Chandrakant walked silently beside him toward the school building. They made it all the way to the water fountains before Chandrakant finally spoke.
"…You're insane."
"I'm just doing my cardio."
Chandrakant stopped. He looked at Pavitr, his hyper-analytical mind racing. The fear was there, sure. But overriding it was something else. A profound, unshakeable loyalty. Pavitr had just painted a massive target on his own back against the most powerful kid in school, just to save his notes.
"…I don't know what happened to you, Pavitr," Chandrakant said quietly, adjusting his glasses. "…But thank you."
Pavitr offered a small, genuine smile. "Don't mention it, Chiku."
The final bell screamed through the loudspeakers.
Students flooded the courtyard below, eager to escape. Pavitr lingered near the second-floor railing, leaning his forearms against the concrete as he looked out at the sprawling city of Mumbai. The smog, the towering glass, the endless labyrinth of streets.
It was overwhelming. But for the first time since waking up in this body, he didn't feel lost. He had protected someone. He had tested the waters.
He felt… ready.
"…Quiet student by day," he murmured to himself, looking down at his open palms. He flexed his fingers, feeling the immense, coiled power waiting just beneath his skin.
"…Spider by night."
A genuine grin formed, carrying a hint of Sushil's dark humor and Pavitr's new destiny.
"…Okay. This might actually be fun."