Warmth. Light. The scent of something comforting.
Sahil stirred beneath soft bedsheets as footsteps echoed faintly through the apartment. The world no longer felt distant or digital — it was alive. The wooden floor creaked under subtle movement, the breeze tapped gently at the window, and across the hall came the clink of a spoon in a ceramic mug.
Then, a warm voice floated from the kitchen:
"Sahil, sweetheart? Breakfast's ready!"
His eyes blinked open, adjusting slowly to the morning light.
He wasn't in limbo anymore.
The ceiling above him was painted sky blue with faint cloud decals and a few glow-in-the-dark stars still clinging to the surface. A bold Captain America poster hung proudly on one wall — shield raised, stance heroic, the iconic pre-Avengers design from a time when heroism was black-and-white.
The room was small but full of stories. There were math puzzles in one corner, stacks of children's books on a shelf, and the partially disassembled remains of a toy robot on his desk. Nearby sat an open notebook with scribbled multiplication tables and a doodle of a rocket ship.
Sahil sat up, his five-year-old body unfamiliar — smaller, lighter, softer. His limbs were untrained, his hands smooth. But his mind? Awake. Focused. A man's thoughts in a child's form.
And then, as though summoned by his intent, the silent interface appeared before his inner vision:
> [TEMPLATE ASSIMILATION CONSOLE – ONLINE]
> Identity: Sahil Hamato
Year: 2008
Age: 5
Location: Brooklyn, New York
> Father: Kenji Hamato – High School Chemistry Teacher
Mother: Ananya Hamato – High School Mathematics Teacher
> Templates Selected:
🗡 Snake Eyes – 0%
• Martial Arts – LOCKED
• Stealth/Infiltration – LOCKED
• Weapon Mastery – LOCKED
🧠 Baxter Stockman – 0%
• Robotics – LOCKED
• Programming – LOCKED
• Genetic Engineering – LOCKED
Progress unlocked through:
→ Physical Conditioning
→ Tactical Experience
→ Academic Study
Sahil took a breath and quietly rose from his bed, padding across the cool wooden floor toward the door. His sharp eyes scanned the familiar layout of the apartment: two modest bedrooms, a compact living room, a tight kitchen filled with warmth, and a narrow hallway where the light always flickered. Their 2BHK unit in Brooklyn wasn't luxurious — but it was home.
Born in 2003. The same year Bruce Banner had his accident. Now it's 2008 — five years later. Stark's about to build the Mark I. The age of heroes is just beginning. And I've been dropped right into it.
He grinned faintly to himself.
No fancy powers. No alien blood. Just two peak human templates. One from a silent warrior. One from a brilliant outcast. And I intend to master them both.
In ten years, I'll unlock everything. One through sweat. The other through study. I'll do one in silence. The other in the spotlight.
And when I complete Baxter's knowledge… my parents will be proud. Indian and Japanese cultures — both treasure education, discipline, mastery. They've passed that into me. They just don't know what I'll become yet.
The kitchen smelled of buttered toast and warm spice. The morning news murmured softly from a small TV perched on the counter, reporting something about funding cuts to city schools. The kettle hissed, releasing a puff of steam.
His mother, Ananya, stood at the stove, pouring tea into three mugs. She wore jeans and a faded Brooklyn High hoodie. Her hair was tied up in a practical bun, and she moved with a mathematician's clarity — precise, balanced, confident.
At the dining table, his father, Kenji, already sat with his mug in hand and a half-folded newspaper beside his plate. His sweater vest, shirt, and chemistry-themed tie were impeccable. There was an easy stillness to him, a quiet method to everything he did.
They both looked up as Sahil entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Ananya said with a smile. "Still dreaming about space?"
Kenji raised his mug with a chuckle. "Or building another time machine out of Legos?"
Sahil gave the innocent smile of a clever child. "Nope. Just dreaming of pancakes."
They laughed at his cheeky joke just another kid to them.
Sahil climbed into his seat and took his mug.
Tea.
His mother's brew was strong, fragrant with cardamom and ginger — classic Indian chai, sweet and bold. His father's cup held light green tea, brewed to calming perfection — soft, earthy, clean. The contrast reflected their roots. Their cultures. Their histories.
Tea. A simple drink. But for them, it was ritual — a shared moment from two different worlds. India and Japan. Spice and subtlety. Fire and stillness.
And me? I'm the bridge. One foot in both. A warrior in the shadows. A mind in the lab. They don't know it yet… but they raised someone extraordinary.
I'll carry both traditions forward. And I'll make them proud.
He took a sip, warmth blooming in his chest, and smiled to himself. Small, steady. Quietly confident.
Let them think I'm just a curious kid. A good student. A bit nerdy, a bit strange.
They'll never see me coming.