Shiva learned very early that being special was dangerous.
In a world where standing out invited questions—and questions invited trouble—it was safer to disappear into the crowd. So he did. Perfectly.
By day, Shiva was nothing more than an ordinary boy.
He walked to school with his hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded, uniform slightly faded from years of use. He sat near the window, never raising his hand, never answering unless forced to. His grades hovered safely around average—nothing impressive, nothing alarming.
Invisible. Just the way he liked it.
When school ended, he returned to the small apartment tucked between older concrete buildings. The place was cramped, quiet, and worn—but warm. The smell of rice lingered in the air, and the hum of the ceiling fan filled the silence.
"Shiva, wait!"
A familiar voice called out behind him.
He turned just in time to see Mahi running toward him, her schoolbag bouncing against her back, her hair tied up in a slightly messy ponytail.
"You forgot your lunch again!" she puffed, thrusting the box into his hands.
He sighed. "You didn't have to run, Onee-chan."
Mahi froze.
Then she narrowed her eyes. "Oi. I'm younger than you."
He smirked faintly. "Still. You act like my guardian."
"Hmph." She crossed her arms. "Someone has to. You're hopeless."
Despite her words, her eyes were warm. Mahi always noticed things—too observant for her age—but she never pressed him. Not about his silence. Not about the way his eyes sometimes looked… distant.
Night fell quietly.
By ten, the apartment was dark. Their parents were asleep. Mahi lay curled up on her futon, hugging her pillow, breathing softly.
That was when Shiva stood up.
He moved without sound, lifting a loose floor panel near the corner of the room. From beneath it, he pulled out an old laptop—scratched, cracked, and held together by tape and patience.
To anyone else, it was junk.
To Shiva, it was a weapon.
The screen flickered to life, its pale glow reflecting in his eyes. His posture changed. His breathing slowed. His fingers hovered over the keyboard—then moved.
Fast.
The ordinary boy vanished.
Code unfolded in his mind like a language he had always known. Firewalls meant nothing. Encryption was just a puzzle begging to be solved. He slipped into networks not by force, but by understanding them better than their creators.
He didn't brag.
He didn't leave signatures.
He didn't exist.
By night, Shiva became something else entirely.
A ghost in the system.
A shadow behind the screen.
A monster no one could see—yet.
He tested exploits he wrote himself. Improved them. Deleted them. Rewrote them cleaner. Smarter. Deadlier.
At 2:17 a.m., something changed.
A delay.
A resistance he hadn't anticipated.
Shiva's fingers stopped.
Someone had brushed against the edge of his presence—not him directly, but close enough to make his heart beat faster.
"…So they noticed," he murmured.
Not fear.
Excitement.
Behind him, Mahi shifted in her sleep and mumbled softly, "Shiva…"
He glanced back, his expression softening instantly.
For her sake…
For this quiet life…
He would stay hidden.
He closed the laptop and slid it back under the floor.
The world would learn his name someday.
Just not tonight.