Author's note: Hey guys, I just felt like a adding this chapter in between to show the effect of adult mind on him. His advantage helping him get one over his peers.

-Karate class-

After the awkward moment with instructor Max, he swiftly transitioned the class to the next phase: sparring. To my surprise, I was paired with Tim, an 8-year-old long-term student of his. Tim, a African descent dressed on white karate attire.

The pairing up initially made me feel that was being petty. But looking at his serious face made me think again.

"The spar will begin on my go."

From his perspective, my actions might have appeared childish which he seems to look aside maturely like most adults, even though I knew I am not like every other child. It was yet another hypothesis to test on this emotional savagery of childhood even for the reincarnated kids.

As we began the spar, I went ahead in excitement using the trained form for punches and kicks. Though he adeptly guarded against my punches and kicks, utilizing quick movements to dodge some of my attacks. It was clear that for the other 6-year-olds in the class this might be advanced combats, because children tend to avoid pain.

Tim with his more experience and me, whose case doesn't need to be explained are a stark contrast in this regard.

However, my inexperience became apparent as soon as Tim started fighting back. He gave one punch suddenly which I managed to block due to the practiced defence form.

Thinking lightly of these childish spars, I continued feeling excited until he countered my punch with a swift blow to my stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of my 6-year-old body, causing me to collapse in pain.

I felt Max rush over to check on me, his concern evident. Making me curse my lack of control over my childish body.

Despite the pain, flashes of the future I in store for a me flooded my mind. I knew I had to push through and continue fighting. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stand up, determined to improve my resilience. Because if I can't sustain myself from this, any magic duel might as well kill me. With a shout of self-motivation, I declared, "I can continue."

As the spar resumed, fuelled by sheer grit and stubbornness, my adult mind in a child's body propelled me forward. Despite my lack of skill and strength, I refused to back down. Instead, I relied on brute force, absorbing Tim's hits and kicks with determination.

With each blow, I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain, my resolve much stronger just based on my adult mind. Tim, initially filled with energy, began to show signs of exhaustion as I continued pigheadedly. His attacks became weaker, his movements sluggish.

Seizing the opportunity, I pressed on with all my anger. With every ounce of strength in my tiny body, I unleashed a flurry of punches, driving Tim back until he stumbled to the ground. With him pinned beneath me, I continued to rain down blows, my fists connecting with his body again and again.

Finally, unable to withstand the onslaught any longer, Tim slammed his hand on the ground, signalling his surrender. As the realization of victory washed over me, I staggered to my feet, my chest heaving with exhaustion as my lungs fought to fill my body with air.

In the end, I emerged victorious, not through prowess or technique, but through sheer stubbornness. While it may have been embarrassing for an adult to lose, I consoled myself with the fact that my body was that of a 6-year-old, fragile yet hopeful fortified with magical growth.

As I reflected on the spar, I knew that with time, I would hone my skills and strengthen my body.

-A few years later, Arjun is 11 now. -

The Prasad family sat together in the bustling arena, eagerly watching the finals of London's under 12 Karate competition. Amidst the excitement of the crowd, they engaged in animated discussion about their prodigious son, Arjun.

"He's truly remarkable, isn't he?" remarked Padma, her eyes shining with pride as she watched her son spar on the mat. "Top of his class, mature beyond his years, and now excelling in Karate. We're so blessed."

Eshwar, the elder brother, nodded in agreement remembering the injuries from Karate sports. "Yeah, he's something else. Most kids his age would've given up from pain, but not Arjun. He just brushed it off and kept going."

Venkat, the patriarch of the family, couldn't hide his grin. "Stubbornness runs in the family, doesn't it? But it's that determination that sets him apart. He's a fighter, just like his old man."

As they watched Arjun deliver a series of precise punches and kicks, Padma couldn't help but recall the first day he came home from Karate practice. "I'll never forget the look on his face when he walked through that door, bruised and exhausted. But he refused to quit."

Venkat nodded, his gaze never leaving his son. "He's not just physically strong, though. He's smart, too. Remember when he won that chess competition? He's got brains and brawn, our Arjun."

"Yes, but he doesn't much of his thoughts with us. It's just I feel he is too perfect sometimes if it wasn't his disorganised room that seems to become a mess in a single blink of eye."

The talks of family stopped as the crowd changed their tunes.

"Daddy, look at that so cool."

"Wow."

"Incredible."

"WOOO"

As they cheered for Arjun under the cheers of the crowd, witnessing him deliver a stunning spinning overhead kick to his opponent, the Prasad family cheers were heard all over the stadium.

-11-year-old Arjun-

Standing on the dias, holding the winner's cup high above my head, I felt a surge of exhilaration wash over me. The cheers of the crowd echoed around the arena, filling me with a sense of accomplishment unlike any other.

As I descended from the dias, making my way towards my family and friends gathered in the stands, I was greeted with a chorus of congratulations.

"Congrats, Arjun," my mother exclaimed, her eyes shining with pride.

"Well done, my boy," my father chimed in, his voice filled with admiration.

"Good job, buddy," my brother added, his voice hoarse from cheering.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at their words of praise. Beside them stood my instructor, Max, who had been there every step of the way.

"I always knew you could do it," Max joked, a playful glint in his eye. "You were mature for a kid, too stubborn for your own good. But you had a fucking painful punch."

I laughed at his joke, thanking him. I inwardly felt he will never stop mentioning it at this rate.