The sun peeked shyly over the hazy horizon of Gujarat, casting long golden beams over the city of Vadodara. Aryan trudged along the narrow footpath beside the main road, backpack slung over one shoulder, earphones dangling from his neck. Monsoon puddles shimmered underfoot, and the cool breeze tousled his already messy hair.
The tattoo on his wrist still itched.
It hadn't left his mind since yesterday. A clock, etched in black ink as though drawn by an invisible hand, its hands frozen at exactly 11:11. Aryan had tried to scrub it off, but it remained. No pain. No memory of how it appeared. Just that sudden, piercing chill in the college corridor—and then this mark.
"Aryan, beta (son), you're going to be late again," came his mother's voice from the kitchen this morning.
"Coming, Papa (Dad) already left?" Aryan had replied, hastily brushing his teeth.
His mother had nodded, spooning masala onto a slice of bread. "Your Papa had an early meeting with the HOD. You know how these professors are."
Aryan's father, Professor Rajiv Sharma, taught history at the same college Aryan attended. A kind man, strict when needed, and a bit of a legend in his department. Students either feared him or idolized him. Aryan had grown used to being introduced as "Rajiv Sir's son," a title that came with equal parts prestige and pressure.
Today was like any other. Or so it seemed.
Aryan crossed the main street near the tea stall where his friends usually gathered. They weren't there yet, so he moved on. The tattoo itched again.
As he reached the bus stop, he saw a rickshaw swerve out of control.
A girl stood frozen in its path.
Time stopped.
Aryan didn't move, not out of fear, but because he couldn't. The world around him had slowed to a crawl. The rickshaw wheels spun in slow motion, water droplets suspended in mid-air. The tattoo on his wrist glowed faintly.
His breathing echoed in the silence. He could see the ripple of air as he exhaled.
Then, instinctively, he stepped forward. Each motion felt oddly smooth, like pushing through water.
He reached the girl, gently pulled her back.
And time snapped back into place.
The rickshaw screeched past them, missing her by inches. People screamed. The driver cursed. The girl looked around, confused, then stared at Aryan.
"H-how did you..."
Aryan blinked. "Are you okay?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes. I think you just saved my life."
He looked at his wrist. The tattoo was still glowing faintly, but then dimmed.
This wasn't normal. Not at all.
College passed in a blur.
His classes felt strange. Like his perception was too sharp. He could hear distant footsteps before anyone else. Predict movements. Sometimes, just for a second, everything would slow down again—then snap back.
At lunch, his friend Dev nudged him. "What's up, man? You're zoning out. Daydreaming about anime again?"
Aryan chuckled. "Yeah, maybe. It was a weird morning."
Dev grinned. "You always have weird mornings. You should write a manga about it."
Aryan smiled weakly, but his mind was elsewhere.
By the time classes ended, he had decided to visit the old temple on the outskirts of the city. He didn't know why. Just a pull. Something deep and strange, like a whisper in the back of his mind.
The temple stood quiet, half in ruins. Peacocks wandered lazily in the nearby fields. The place was ancient, older than the city around it. A banyan tree grew through its cracked roof, roots twisting over stone.
Aryan stood before the worn statue of a faceless deity.
"Why is this happening to me?" he murmured.
"Because you were chosen," came a voice.
Aryan spun around.
A man stood there. No older than forty. Dark skin, hair tied back, eyes like obsidian.
"Who are you?"
"A Watcher. I do not interfere. I only observe. Until now."
"Watcher?"
The man stepped closer. "You touched time, Aryan. And time touched back."
He held out his hand, revealing a fragment of something ancient. A piece of the same tattoo, etched into stone.
"This was not meant to awaken yet. But you triggered it."
Aryan swallowed. "Triggered what?"
"The Law. The Law of Time. One of Nine."
Aryan stepped back. "This is insane."
The Watcher sighed. "And yet, you already know it's true. You felt it."
Aryan looked down at his wrist.
"You have only seconds to choose. Accept it... or walk away."
"What happens if I accept?"
"You become a variable. A knot in time. A danger. And a possibility."
Aryan hesitated. His mind spun. His breath caught. He looked at the world around him—the rustling leaves, the distant thunderclouds, the fading sun.
He nodded.
Aryan also smiling inside as he just got to know that he has become something like main character of an anime . and watcher also did not tell him the drawbacks so their is no reason for him to back of from the power which has presented itself to him with this thought
He nodded.
The Watcher smiled. "Good. Then run."
"Run?"
The ground shook.
From the forest emerged something... not human. Shadowy, shifting, its limbs flickering like a broken video. Its face warped, mouth stretched open in a silent scream.
"What the hell is that?!"
"An Echo," the Watcher said calmly. "A being drawn to disturbances in time. And it's here for you."
Aryan turned to run.
Time warped around him again.
And the chase began.