They Think I'm God

The classroom clock ticked in agonizing monotony, each second stretching into an eternity for Goku Hiroshi. Biology, chemical formulas, the teacher's droning voice—it all melted into an indistinguishable gray blur. His mind, restless and focused, was elsewhere entirely."Hiroshi-san." The teacher's voice snapped him back to the here and now: "Perhaps you can enlighten the class on today's topic?"The snickers from his classmates were almost as predictable as the question. Goku scratched the back of his neck, feigning ignorance. "Umm…something about cells?" He mumbled the picture of the perfectly average student.The truth was, Goku didn't care about cells, school, or any of the normal preoccupations of a teenager. One singular obsession fueled him: strength. Pure, absolute, unbridled strength. This desire had driven him to the far corners of his neighborhood, seeking out increasingly dangerous challenges in those shadowed, forgotten spaces.Night was when he truly felt alive. The rhythmic thuds of his fists against rough skin, the guttural cries of those he faced, the sting of his own bruises—that was a language he understood. Tonight, if his intelligence was right, it would be a warehouse brawl against a biker gang notorious for their dirty tactics. No matter what, the playing field felt most even when he was at a disadvantage.For now, he was Goku Hiroshi: quiet, unassuming, a face lost in the crowd. But in the clandestine world of broken streetlights and echoing concrete, he was something else—something more....Lights. Blinding. Pain. A relentless pounding in his head.Was I not strong enough? The fleeting thought carried the bitter tang of regret before fading into darkness...."Ravi! Oh, my darling boy!"Silk sheets, an opulent room, and a tearful woman suffocating him in a hug. Ravi? His brow furrowed. Goku—that was him.The woman—his mother in this strange world, apparently—released him, and he scrambled back, taking in the foreign surroundings. His mind reeled. Was this a bizarre dream? A cruel twist of fate?His eyes scanned the room, landing on a mirror. The face that stared back was not his own. Younger, softer… the face of a child barely out of infancy.Fragments of memories seeped in, a torrent of a life he had never lived. Ravi Sharma. Magic. Reincarnation? The absurdity was almost laughable. But…"Absolute darkness…" Ravi whispered experimentally, focusing on a decorative vase. It shimmered, then vanished without a trace.A giddy feeling swelled in him. This body, this world—it was a whole new game board. His second chance to reach the heights his dedication had never quite unlocked. This time, limits wouldn't hold him back.5 Years Later"Young Master, your tutor awaits."Ravi slammed his spell tome shut. "Waste of time," he muttered, the pout a practiced act. The elderly tutor just sighed, a familiar symphony of exasperated resignation.Over the years, Ravi meticulously cultivated the illusion of a brilliant but difficult prodigy. Every act of rebellion, every 'childish' whim, was a calculated move. Books went unread only because their contents were already imprinted on his mind. He indulged in extravagant experiments, not out of childish curiosity but to map out the true extent of his considerable power.It was the ultimate disguise. Let everyone indulge in the eccentric genius while he built, in secret, what he truly craved.Tonight marked Operation 'Moonlight Bandit Massacre'. Three months of planning had gone into this. He cackled inwardly. Sure, it was a small-time gang, but the theatrics were essential!One well-placed fireball sent the thugs scattering, their shouts a symphony of panic."Fear my name, for I am absolute!" Ravi's voice, carefully pitched between intimidating and childish, echoed across the abandoned docks. His grand declaration was punctuated by an ostentatious wave of his hand (a carefully repurposed mop handle wrapped in tin foil). "The eternal moon descends upon the world! Our might is undeniable, our purpose—"The earth lurched under his feet. One moment he was proclaiming his shadowy dominance; the next he was sprawled across the damp asphalt, his'mighty staff' flung far from his grasp."Unyielding," he croaked out, finishing his speech as he struggled to his feet.He knew his face was a mask of utter humiliation, but the feel of raw power coursing through him negated any embarrassment. His first attempt at a secret organization was... less than dignified, to say the least. But it was a start—a glorious and utterly ridiculous start.Just as he'd always dreamed.