[Main POV]
There I was, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor in the lotus position, still as a tiny living statue. From the outside, the sight must've looked odd—maybe even adorable. Just a four-year-old kid, small and chubby, sitting perfectly still in deep meditation—something you don't see often at that age. But there was something far from ordinary about me. Something that shattered any illusion of normalcy:
I was entirely green.
My skin had a soft, light-green tone, like fresh spring leaves, while my hair—thick, messy curls—was a deep, emerald green that shimmered in the sunlight, as if it held some ancient secret. My eyes, with their red irises, completed the strange but oddly mesmerizing picture.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I focused on what really mattered at that moment: putting into practice everything I'd learned from watching Martian Manhunter in DC animations and comics. My parents were nearby, watching closely—probably expecting me to fail. Not because they didn't believe in me, but so they'd have a reason to step in and help. They were always ready to catch me if things spiraled out of control.
After what felt like an eternity of diving deep into myself, channeling every ounce of concentration a child could possibly summon, things started to fall into place. Ever since I'd awakened from that grueling torture—that raw, bestial pain that seemed to rewire my very being—there had been this strange sensation flowing through me like a silent current. At first, I thought it was all in my head, just the lingering shock of what had happened.
But now, sitting there in perfect silence, my breathing light, my eyes shut... I knew: it was real.
I shut out the world. The room disappeared. My parents faded. Sound ceased to exist.
There was only me, my thoughts, and this force pulsing within.
I meditated—not like a seasoned monk, but like a child trying to make sense of his own body, his own self. I mentally scanned every inch of my being, from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. And that's when I felt it. That sensation wasn't just some vague impression. It was a presence—subtle, steady, alive.
The deeper I slipped into that state, the more something inside me began to stir. It was like a hidden gear, tucked away in the back of my mind, finally turned for the first time. A mental "click."
An awakening.
And then... everything changed.
I felt every cell in my body come alive, pulsating with energy. It was strange—strange and fascinating. I began to perceive every particle that made me up, like I was seeing myself from the inside for the very first time.
It was like I'd flipped some kind of switch that let me feel what the Martian Manhunter must feel. I could sense my heartbeat—each and every beat. I felt blood rushing through my veins, air flowing through my lungs… everything.
The flood of sensations was overwhelming—almost too much to process—but at the same time, I felt whole. Complete. Like I'd rediscovered a part of myself that had always been hidden.
I stayed in that position for what felt like hours, trying to adjust to the sheer intensity of being so completely aware of my body. I could tell time was passing, but I couldn't move. If I did, I was sure I'd lose control of it all.
I'd shut off my hearing, kept my eyes closed, and simply watched—mentally—the flow of my blood, the activity of my organs. I could even see my immune system fighting off a few stray viruses.
After what must have been about ten hours of deep immersion in this hyper-aware state, I finally opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was a harsh light shining straight at me. That's when I realized I wasn't sitting on the floor anymore—I was lying in a bed.
And not my own bed.
I looked around.
The room was all white, sterile… definitely a hospital.
I turned my head and saw my parents. They looked anxious, worn down—but the moment they saw me awake, their faces lit up with relief and joy, like a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders.
The sight cut right through me.
I'd scared them—again.
All that time, I'd been so focused inward that I'd completely disconnected from the world around me. I hadn't heard or felt anything they'd said or done.
They must've been through hell.
And I felt awful for it.
I was just about to apologize when my mom rushed to my side and pulled me into a tight hug.
"Please, Isaac, can you stop scaring us like that?" she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Your dad and I tried talking to you for hours. We ended up having to call the family doctor, who insisted we take you to the hospital right away."
I listened carefully, realizing just how much I'd worried her.
"I promise I won't scare you like that again, Mom," I said sincerely. "I was so caught up trying to understand my power that I ended up losing track of everything else. I didn't mean to put you through that."
After apologizing, I lay there for a few more moments, then said:
"I think I've figured out how my power works… I want to show you."
My parents hesitated. The day had already been stressful enough, and they were clearly nervous something might go wrong. Still, despite their reservations, they agreed to let me try.
I focused on the cells in my body and willed them to obey. The process was slow at first, but gradually, they responded. The matter in my hand began to condense, growing denser. Some parts even overlapped, layering like armor.
I could feel my hand growing heavier, sturdier. I was still slow at it, but with practice, I knew I could become incredibly strong.
Still lying in bed, I raised my arm and punched the iron stool next to the hospital bed—a tough piece of furniture, but it buckled under the force of my blow.
My mom, clearly curious, asked:
"Is your Quirk super strength?"
I smiled. She was way off—completely.
My Quirk was so much more than that.
"No, Mom," I said with a confident grin.
She looked surprised, her eyes full of questions.
So I explained:
"Actually… you're not entirely wrong. My body has evolved a lot. I can run faster, I'm tougher, and yeah, I'm way stronger now. But my power… it's more like yours, Mom. Just a little different. And I think I inherited Dad's Quirk too."
Her eyes widened—surprise and excitement danced across her face. She looked genuinely happy to hear I had so much potential.
I continued, preparing to explain a bit more:
"I can control the matter in my body. That's what makes my Quirk different from yours, Mom. I'm not sure exactly what kind of 'matter' you manipulate, but since you do, too, I figure we're dealing with the same thing.
Only, unlike you, I can't control other matter—just the matter that makes up my body."
I did my best to explain everything clearly. My dad was listening carefully, and so was Mom—both visibly fascinated.
To show them, I used my power to stretch my fingers.
They looked even more stunned.
After a few seconds, I returned my fingers to normal, and seeing the gleam in my mom's eyes, I added:
"I still don't fully understand how Dad's powers work, but I think… I can use them too."
Saying that, I looked over at a pen that had been on the stool I smashed earlier. It was now lying on the floor.
I focused on it—gathering all my strength to make it move.
After a few seconds, something amazing happened—even to me:
The pen started to tremble.
I concentrated harder.
It began to lift, slowly, hovering just a few inches off the ground, and I guided it through the air…
Right into my hand.
My dad, watching it all with his one good eye, broke into a wide, proud smile.
"That's my boy," he said. "You're going to be a great hero."
To be continued…
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[A/N] If you've read this far, thank you! And since I'm terrible at handling compliments, please, insult me instead!