The first morning at the academy came with the shrill blare of a whistle at 5:00 AM sharp. Aryan was already awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed, his breathing steady as he centered himself. Vikram groaned, rolling out of his bunk with a muttered curse.
"You're already up?" Vikram rubbed his eyes, squinting at Aryan. "You're not human."
Aryan smirked. "Just used to early mornings."
The trainees assembled on the training grounds, the cool dawn air biting at their skin. Trainer Priya Mehra stood at the front, her arms crossed and a stopwatch dangling from her fingers. "Morning drills," she barked. "Five kilometers. Go."
The group took off, the rhythmic pounding of feet filling the air. Aryan hung back, deliberately pacing himself to avoid standing out. Smith jogged beside him, his breathing even but his face flushed. "You're holding back," Smith muttered. "I can tell."
"So are you," Aryan shot back, glancing at the others. Meera was already pulling ahead, her stride confident and effortless. Aditya wasn't far behind, his eyes flicking toward Aryan every few seconds, as if sizing him up.
By the time they finished, Aryan and Smith were in the middle of the pack, their performance unremarkable—on purpose. Trainer Priya's sharp eyes lingered on them for a moment, but she said nothing.
The day unfolded in a blur of lectures and practical training. In the classroom, Professor Ajay Patil dived into the intricacies of criminal law, his voice commanding attention. Aryan took meticulous notes, his mind racing to absorb every detail. Smith, seated beside him, doodled in the margins of his notebook, though Aryan noticed he was still paying attention.
During a break, Priya Deshmukh approached them, her smile warm. "Aryan, Smith! I was hoping I'd see you here."
"Priya!" Smith grinned, standing to greet her. "You made it too. How's it going?"
"Busy," she said, her eyes sparkling. "But I'm loving it. You two holding up?"
"So far, so good," Aryan replied. "Though I have a feeling the real challenges haven't even started."
Priya nodded, her expression turning serious. "They haven't. But if anyone can handle it, it's you two."
The afternoon brought tactical training with Major Rajeev Malhotra. The gruff instructor wasted no time putting them through their paces, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "Focus! Precision! This isn't a game!"
Aryan and Smith moved through the drills with practiced ease, their movements fluid but deliberately restrained. Still, it was impossible to completely hide their enhanced reflexes. Aditya watched them closely, his jaw tightening.
By evening, the trainees were exhausted, their bodies aching but their spirits high. As they gathered in the mess hall, the conversations were lively, the camaraderie growing stronger with each passing hour. Aryan sat with Smith, Vikram, and Priya, the four of them laughing over shared stories of the day's challenges.
But beneath the surface, Aryan could feel the weight of expectation—and the subtle tension of competition. Aditya's gaze lingered on him from across the room, unspoken rivalry simmering in the air. Aryan met his eyes briefly, then turned back to his friends, his expression calm but his mind already calculating the days ahead.
Aryan leaned against the wall of the dormitory hallway, the phone pressed to his ear. The faint hum of the evening crickets outside seeped through the windows, a quiet backdrop to his conversation. His grandfather's voice crackled through the line, warm and steady.
"First day done, eh? How was it?" His grandfather's tone carried a mix of curiosity and pride.
"Intense," Aryan admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But good. The training's tough, but I'm keeping up. Smith's here too. We're in this together."
"That's good to hear. And your... abilities? No issues?"
Aryan glanced down the hallway, ensuring no one was within earshot. "No one's noticed. I'm being careful. It's harder than I thought, though, holding back."
"Patience, Aryan. You'll find your rhythm. Just remember why you're there."
"I know." Aryan's voice softened. "How's Amma? And Aditi?"
"Your mother's fine. Worried, but fine. Aditi's been asking about you nonstop. She's proud of her big brother."
A smile tugged at Aryan's lips. "Tell her I'll call her soon. And tell Amma not to worry. I'm doing this for all of us."
"I will. Take care, Aryan. And remember—strength isn't just in the body. It's in the mind and the heart."
"I'll remember. Goodnight, Grandpa."
He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket, the weight of his grandfather's words settling over him. Back in the dorm, Vikram was already sprawled on his bunk, flipping through a textbook. Smith sat cross-legged on the floor, stretching his arms with a groan.
"Family check-in?" Smith asked, tilting his head.
"Yeah. Just letting them know I survived day one."
"Survived? Barely," Vikram chimed in, not looking up from his book. "Wait till tomorrow. Rumor has it Major Rajeev's got something special planned for us."
"Great," Smith muttered, flopping onto his back. "Can't wait."
Aryan chuckled, climbing into his bunk. He lay back, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of the ceiling fan lulling him into a sense of calm. The day's exhaustion crept into his limbs, but his mind remained alert, replaying the events of the day. The drills, the lectures, the subtle tension with Aditya—it was all part of the journey.
He closed his eyes, the image of his father's badge flashing in his mind. "I'll make you proud," he whispered to the darkness, before sleep finally claimed him.