The loud bang of a car horn jolted Kairo awake.
He groaned lightly, body sluggish as if pulled from deep underwater sleep. Stretching his arms over his head, he felt the strange tug of resistance. His feet found nothing at the end of the bed—no frame, no wall. Blinking away the blur of sleep, he sat up slowly.
Something felt... off.
Not wrong, but different.
He rubbed his eyes, flexed his fingers. The movements were his, but somehow smoother. Cleaner. His senses sharpened—he could hear the faint dripping of a leaking faucet two rooms away, smell the faintest remnants of yesterday's incense.
Kairo frowned.
Still groggy, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and touched the ground. The floor felt cold, but he noticed the difference immediately. His legs felt longer, leaner. The bones didn't ache like usual. He stood slowly, balancing carefully like he was inside a new frame. Awkward. Slightly alien.
He shuffled to the washroom, feeling each movement as if testing a suit he wasn't used to wearing yet. His hands reached for the sink. Cool porcelain. The reflection above it flickered into focus.
He froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
The man in the mirror stared back at him with eyes he recognized—his—but everything else was subtly improved. The jaw was sharper. Cheekbones more defined. Skin clearer. Hair darker and fuller. Not a complete transformation, but enough that it startled him.
"What the..."
Kairo leaned in closer. Turned his face left, then right. Touched his cheek. His features hadn't changed into someone else entirely, but the proportions were almost unnaturally symmetrical. His old face was still there—beneath the enhancements. The sort of change people might attribute to lighting, better health, or a skincare routine. But he knew the truth.
This wasn't gradual. This was overnight.
His eyes trailed downward. His shoulders were broader. Chest firmer. Abdomen more toned, muscles better defined. He pulled his shirt slightly—his old clothes felt tighter around the arms and back.
"No way this is from sleeping."
He swallowed and glanced again at his reflection.
He didn't look unrecognizable, but the difference would catch attention. Friends, family, coworkers—they'd notice. Maybe not immediately, but over time.
He'd need to mask it.
Kairo went to his wardrobe, pulled out a loose hoodie, layered a coat over it, selected the baggiest jeans he owned, and wrapped a scarf around his neck. A face mask and a cap completed the look.
"If anyone asks, exercise and diet," he mumbled. "Miracle supplements. Stress. Anything."
A deep, low rumble in his stomach reminded him of something else.
Right. Biological needs.
He headed back into the bathroom and shut the door. The sudden boost in metabolism must've accelerated a lot of internal processes—he could feel the urgency to flush out whatever his body no longer needed.
After almost 45 minutes—shower, cleanup, and bodily relief—Kairo finally emerged, towel around his shoulders, a fresh set of clothes loosely hanging on his now subtly restructured frame.
He felt lighter.
His senses, even more dialed in than before, picked up faint sounds from the street below: a food cart vendor yelling orders, someone dropping a metal tray, a dog barking four blocks away. The light filtering through the window felt warmer, more nuanced in color.
He made his way to his desk, flipped open his laptop, and began his morning routine—though everything felt different now. Each motion seemed to glide. Every sense fed more data than he was used to.
Kairo pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling observations:
Fluctuating numbers over people's heads — correlated with mood/state?
Aura color — emotional spectrum?
Threads — still exploring, some connect to known people, others unknown
Memory residue from objects — impressions vary in strength
Future glimpses — currently < 2 seconds max, high load mentally
Alternate futures — possible paths visible during brief time-freeze windows
Body adapting — senses, reflexes, physical changes
Need for masking changes — blend in, avoid suspicion
He chewed the end of the pen thoughtfully.
His plan was simple: stick to small victories. Low-risk opportunities to test the limits of his abilities. Use the threads more intentionally. See where they led. Which stories they hinted at.
He had to build momentum. Get eyes off him by feeding the system the kind of stories they wanted. Useful secrets. Controlled bursts of truth.
He checked news feeds, message boards, social media timelines. A celebrity scandal. A college bribery ring. Rumors of a government cover-up. Corporate takeovers. He bookmarked them all.
Then, just as he was about to shut the lid, something else caught his eye.
A small headline.
Buried low on the feed.
Unassuming. Unshared. Unnoticed.
But something about it pulled at him.
The threads on the screen shimmered faintly, as if vibrating in anticipation.
Kairo leaned in.
His eyes scanned the title, then flicked over the first few lines.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"This... this could work," he murmured. "This might just be it."
He sat back, fingers already hovering over the keyboard.
Something big was waiting behind that headline.
And he had every intention of finding it.