Eli figured it out fast - Hawkins kept going, even when folks got spooked.
The hunt for Will Byers dragged on, one slow beat at a time - like pressing a wound just to feel the ache again. Signs popped up more each morning, taped crooked on old utility poles. Dusty flashlights turned up in sheds where stuff sat forgotten since forever. Grown-ups whispered now, because it felt like the whole place was listening… and maybe getting darker.
With Eli, life started following a pattern.
School. Moving on foot. Looking around. Staying put for now.
And in between - work.
That day began right after Hopper mentioned sticking to the old routine.
Eli opened his eyes right before the beep - his frame creaky like it had never been since he got here. No wounds or breaks. Just… something different. His limbs nudging him, saying hey, we're still here.
He stayed put for a sec, eyes on the spinning blades above, catching how the walls creaked now and then.
After that, he stood up.
A system message didn't show up. Just nothing came through. Not even a clear instruction. No tidy set of goals either.
That's why he built one himself.
He tugged the hoodie over his head, grabbed his sneakers, then headed out back without making noise. Wet grass clung to his socks - dawn's chill creeping up from below. Paused a moment before settling into stance, just like Hopper taught.
Shoulder-width.
Knees bent.
Hands up.
He took air in through his nose, then let it go via his mouth.
After that, he began to walk.
At first, it was slow. He shifted his weight around. Then twisted his hips slowly. Moved through the basic steps Hopper made him repeat - step, slide, back again. Again and again. If he wobbled, he adjusted right away. Breathing too fast? Paused. Got it under control next.
After ten minutes, his lower legs felt like fire.
By twenty, his hoodie felt wet from sweat even though it was chilly.
By age thirty, his arms would tremble if he kept his stance high for more than a few seconds.
He didn't stop.
Not since he was powerful. But because he wasn't.
Once his legs quit working, he dropped onto the grass, gasping hard, eyes locked on his palms. His hands looked flushed, shaking just a bit.
No shine. Just emptiness where digits should rise.
Just effort.
Inside him, something clicked - though it wasn't joy. Closer to balance. As if his muscles got real info at last, not just lies.
Over morning food, Marcy saw something.
You running? she said while pushing a dish his way.
"Something like that."
She looked at the light streaks of grime on his arms, noticed how he shifted his back like it ached. "Take it easy," she said
"I won't."
It wasn't a pledge - more like saying what I meant to do.
Hopper never showed up after dark.
So Eli trained regardless.
Push-ups in his room till his arms gave out. Then sit-ups, feet jammed under the bed edge. Wall sits next - legs burning like fire. Rest breaks? He drilled stances, throwing soft punches into air, smooth and precise, caring more about lines than force.
He heard Hopper's words echo inside his mind.
Strength doesn't help when your footing's wrong.
He kept his footing steady.
The system didn't make a sound.
But something changed.
Not a big change. Not something Eli could spot right away and shout "that's it." More like his body bounced back quicker the following afternoon. Like his step hit exactly where he meant, not just close. Almost as if his breath didn't snag when stress crept up.
Small things.
Earned things.
By Friday, the kids began gathering post-class - no words needed.
Sometimes they'd look around. Other times, they'd stroll slowly, wheels trailing next to their hands, chatting about random stuff - never touching on what was actually on their minds.
Dustin showed up with snacks that time - swiped from home, he said like it meant something. Lucas had a compass, kept going on about needing it. One day Mike carried in Will's worn-out jacket, never explained what gave.
Eli brought himself.
He kept his eyes open but didn't show it. Stared at the edge of the woods. Paid attention to people walking past, vehicles creeping along, others speeding through without braking.
One time, a dog shot out from the bushes, yapping loud - Mike jolted up, nearly toppling over.
Eli moved before he could reflect.
Step backward. Raise your arms. Keep balance even.
The dog froze, puzzled - silence hit hard where chaos should've been.
Lucas noticed.
You do this often, he mentioned after, once they'd slipped off by themselves. The... prepared bit
Eli shrugged. "Habit."
"From where?"
Eli thought about fibbing. But changed his mind. "Hopper."
Lucas took it in, head bobbing bit by bit. "Yeah, fits."
No more questions.
That evening, Eli stayed extra time to train - instead of heading home right away.
It's not about the dog at all.
Because he acted before hesitating.
The first actual challenge showed up three days after that.
It wasn't some made-up monster from a show.
It was nothing out of this world, really.
There stood Troy Walsh.
They bumped into him along with his buddies close to the schoolyard fence late that day, their bikes scattered across the dirt like someone tossed them there. When Troy spotted Mike, his face suddenly brightened.
"Well, if it isn't the funeral club," Troy sneered. "Still playing search-and-rescue?"
Mike froze up. Then Lucas moved ahead. Meanwhile, Dustin started to speak.
Eli moved sideways by just a bit.
Not forward.
Sideways.
He ended up next to both Dustin and Troy's buddy, but it felt natural, not forced.
Troy glanced his way. "What's this guy's name?"
"Not important," Mike said.
"Oh, it matters," Troy said. "Everyone matters when they're being idiots together."
He moved a bit nearer.
Eli sensed it - a deep, gut-level pull. His arms lifted slightly, poised but calm. One foot shifted on the ground, settling into place.
No System alert.
He just wasn't into it.
Troy shoved Mike.
Easy stuff. Not more than needed.
Mike tripped - yet stayed upright.
Then Eli shifted.
Slow. No sparkle.
He moved forward, turned slightly, then raised his arm - not to hit, but to stop Troy's push, guiding it sideways instead. It wasn't flashy, just quick and smooth.
It caught Troy off guard more than it bothered him.
"What the - "
"Don't," Eli said.
He spoke steady.
Troy looked his way, thoughts shifting. Yet Eli stood firm, breath calm, gaze locked straight ahead.
For a moment, it seemed as if even the breeze held its breath.
Then Troy scoffed. "Whatever. Not worth it."
He stepped away, tossing a final jab behind him while leaving.
The kids froze, totally quiet, completely shocked.
Dustin broke it first. "Okay, so… when were you gonna mention you know how to do that?"
"I didn't do anything," Eli said.
"You absolutely did something," Lucas said.
Mike stared his way, a strange look in his eyes. "Appreciate it."
Eli gave a quick nod. For him, that settled it.
That evening, his fingers trembled after walking through the door.
Not from fear.
From the aftermath.
He hit the floor of his room, cranking out push-ups till his arms screamed from burn and gave way to total wipeout. Lying there afterward, eyes glued to the ceiling, that's when the System finally woke up.
Not with words.
With confirmation.
A hint of looseness in his shoulders - yet tension stayed coiled underneath. Readiness crept in, slow but steady, like roots taking hold.
No message appeared.
But Eli understood.
Hopper showed up the following night.
Eli kept quiet about Troy.
Hopper had no use for that.
You've been busy, Hopper said, glancing his way after a few minutes - yeah, it shows
Eli nodded.
Hopper tossed over a rolled towel. "Use this," he said, "to cover your palms."
"For what?"
Hopper smirked faintly. "You're ready to hit something that hits back. Light. Controlled."
They moved at a crawl. Every single time - just slow. Hopper fixed his posture, gave a light tap on the ribs if the defense slipped, called for a restart whenever things got messy.
Once done, Eli's arms were heavy as stone.
Yet as he climbed into bed that evening, a sense of tininess didn't come over him.
He felt earned.