The classroom lights buzzed faintly above, barely louder than the soft scratching of pencils and the whispers of students passing notes when the teacher wasn't looking. But Alex didn't hear any of it. He sat motionless at his desk, his brown fingers laced together, chin resting on them, eyes drifting aimlessly out the window toward the dark gray sky.
Seven years.
Seven years since he first opened his eyes in a crib and realized this wasn't his world anymore. Seven years of pretending to be a child while his soul, his thoughts, his memories—all of it—remained chained to a past life where he died too young and had barely begun to live.
Now, he was seven years old again, living in Gotham City.
Of all the places in fiction I could've been thrown into… it had to be this pit.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
Gotham was as miserable as its legends foretold. A city that never slept, but never dreamed either. The sun barely lasted more than a few hours, always swallowed by an unnatural darkness as if even the sky was ashamed of this place. The buildings were stacked like forgotten memories, cracked and crumbling at the corners. Every few hours, sirens screamed through the streets—another robbery, another shooting, another tragedy in a city that breathed pain like air.
And as if fate couldn't be crueler…
His father was a Gotham Police Officer.
Of course.
Of all the civilians to get reborn to, it had to be someone right in the heart of danger. The department required officers to live close to precincts for response time, which meant their family home was planted right in the center of the chaos.
Every night, Alex would lay awake and listen to the sirens cry like mourning ghosts, and he'd think, One day, my dad might not come back.And Gotham… Gotham wouldn't blink.
Still, the city did its part to repay its defenders.
Children of officers were allowed into the most elite schools—clean buildings, rich kids, the best teachers. A "reward" for the families most likely to be targeted. An attempt at balance in a place where justice was more myth than law.
The bell rang, cutting his thoughts short. The hum of the classroom exploded into chatter and movement.
"Alex!" a girl's voice called out.
He didn't flinch. He'd felt them approaching long before he saw them.
Six girls. All smiling, all giggling, all hoping to walk with him to gym class. Their faces innocent, their eyes filled with curiosity.
But Alex simply gave them a slow blink and a tired smile. "No thanks," he said, calm and detached.
They looked a little disappointed, but still waved sweetly and walked off.
He exhaled again.
Even in this body… I'm still not like Rudeus Greyrat.
He scoffed at the comparison. Reincarnators like that—pervy, selfish, lacking discipline. He wasn't like them. He refused to be. He had morals. Standards. A sense of self that wouldn't disappear just because the body was younger.
Still, their interest wasn't surprising.
Earlier, he'd looked into the mirror and seen a stranger.
Or maybe… a version of himself he never imagined.
His skin was light brown, glowing faintly under the bathroom lights—smooth, youthful, not a blemish in sight. Curly hair curled tightly across his head, lined up clean with a medium taper. But it was his eyes that disturbed him the most.
One was deep black. The other… crimson red with a slit-like pupil. Feral. Wild. Alien.
He stared into those mismatched eyes and understood something: he didn't just stand out. He didn't belong.
Still, there were worse problems than being too attractive or different-looking in Gotham.
He left the bathroom, head low, steps casual—only to be spotted immediately.
"Alex!" the gym teacher barked, waving him over. "Let's go!"
Alex sighed internally. Outside on the track, kids were lining up for something. He almost turned back to sneak away, but he already knew that wouldn't work.
Reluctantly, he joined the others.
"Today's race," the teacher shouted, "is for one thing: whoever wins gets a full week off homework."
That lit the crowd on fire. Shouts of excitement, kids hopping up and down in anticipation.
All except Alex.
I was a scholar in my last life, he thought, his face blank. Homework doesn't scare me.
But he knew if he didn't try, the gym teacher would probably single him out and make him run again. Might as well get this over with.
He stood at the starting line with the others.
He hadn't trained once in these seven years.
Not because he couldn't—but because there hadn't been any danger.
No demons. No villains. No alien invasions. Just school, homework, and the occasional criminal sirens wailing in the background of his life. And laziness… laziness crept in when the world stopped threatening you.
He always used to wonder how those other isekai protagonists had such motivation. Constantly training, pushing, crying, fighting, bleeding.
He understood now.
They had something to fear. I didn't. I got comfortable.
But that comfort was about to run out.
The whistle blew.
Everyone shot forward.
Alex… walked.
Then jogged.
Then ran.
And then—without meaning to—he passed them all.
Like it was nothing.
One second he was in last place. Then, like wind twisting between trees, he moved past every runner. Not even trying.
His legs didn't burn. His lungs didn't scream. His heart didn't pound.
It wasn't fair.
Alex had always been ten times stronger than anyone around him.
And now it showed.
He crossed the finish line. First. Alone.
The teacher cheered. Some of the other students groaned.
Then it started.
The girls returned—twice as many this time—grabbing his arms, complimenting his hair, his eyes, his speed.
He gently peeled them off, shaking his head. "Nah… I'm not the type to hang around."
They giggled, still trying to talk to him.
From behind them came a group of boys, clearly annoyed.
"You think you're cool just 'cause you're fast?"
Alex barely glanced back. "I think I'm leaving."
One of them shoved him. Another grabbed his shirt. A third raised his fist.
The moment the punch came, Alex's body moved on its own.
He ducked. Slid. Grabbed the punch mid-air. Twisted.
The boy screamed and dropped.
The others rushed.
But it didn't matter.
Even lazy. Even untrained. Alex wasn't normal.
He handled them in seconds. No bruises. Just bruised pride.
The teacher didn't even scold him. Just shook his head and sent the boys away.
After school, Alex walked to the bus stop alone.
His mom was a nurse. And in Gotham, that meant her shift never ended on time. Hospitals here never slept.
The streets were quieter than usual. The kind of quiet that meant something was wrong.
As he neared a corner near the bus stop, his vision suddenly blurred—then—
Hands. Rough. Strong. Pulling him.
He was yanked from the sidewalk, thrown like trash into a nearby alley.
His back hit brick. His head spun. His chest ached.
What—
A shadow stepped forward.
A man.
Black tank top. Pants sagging. Eyes… hungry.
Lust.
No words needed. The intent was written across his body.
Alex's heart dropped into his stomach.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain.
He wasn't trained. He didn't know how to fight. But he refused—refused—to be a victim.
He raised his fists.
"I don't care what you think this is," Alex said through clenched teeth. "But I'm not the one."
The man chuckled darkly and pulled a knife.
He licked his lips, voice low. "You're cute. Don't scream. It'll be over quick."
Alex's muscles tensed.
For the first time since his reincarnation…
He was afraid.
But fear… is not the end.
The man lunged.
(Keep in mind his powers still ain't awakened his strength is just due to reincarnation so basically just a little extra boost for him to be a lot stronger than your average spiderman so his spider strength isn't here yet so he is still a normal as of right know.)