Little Sun and the Lullaby of Fireflies

March 1993

Queens, New York

Infanthood was a haze of naps, mushy peas, and mortifying diaper changes. Arlan Harper—formerly Arlan Hartono—waged war against his new body's limitations. By six months, he wrestled his tiny vocal cords into submission.

"M… Mama."

Wulan dropped her risoles pastry mid-roll, flour-dusted hands flying to her mouth. "Daniel! Did you—?"

Daniel Harper nearly toppled the camcorder. "Say it again, champ!"

"Bah," Arlan deadpanned, then burst into giggles at their crestfallen faces. 'Step one: Establish myself as a precocious genius. Step two: Never let them suspect I'm a 30-year-old weeb in a onesie.'

October 17, 1996

Queens Hospital

Four-year-old Arlan pressed against the nursery glass, heart pounding. The nurse placed the squalling pink bundle in his arms. Kirana's tiny fist gripped his finger like a lifeline.

'You're real,' he marveled. Past life memories surged—lonely nights in a Jakarta orphanage, classmates mocking his patched uniform. Now, this squishy creature with Mama's nose would never know that hunger.

"Kiki-chan," he cooed, inventing the nickname on the spot. Kirana gurgled, milk-drunk and cross-eyed.

Daniel chuckled, adjusting Arlan's hold. "Careful, champ. She's not a toy."

'Says you. This is the sister simulator I never had.'

Age 6: The Great Power Quest

Arlan's batik-patterned bedsheet became his training ground. Crisscross-legged, he meditated, chasing the "chakra coils" he'd read about in smuggled Shonen Jump issues.

'Focus… inner energy…'

Nothing but toddler leg cramps.

Next attempt: Dragon Ball's ki. He kamehameha'd a teddy bear. It toppled.

"Coincidence!" Kirana declared, parroting their father. At two, she'd appointed herself his "lab partner," mostly to steal his snacks.

"Silence, mortal," Arlan hissed, blindfolding himself for One Piece's Observation Haki. Hours passed. He caught Kirana swiping his risoles once—but that was the mayo smell, not mystic senses.

"Genius is 1% inspiration, 97% perspiration, and 2% bullsh*t," he grumbled, quoting his past life's overworked self.

Age 8: The Firefly Epiphany

"Bintang kecil, di langit yang tinggi…" Wulan's voice curled through the pine trees as the Harper family camped by Lake George. Kirana snoozed in her lap, sticky with s'mores.

Fireflies glimmered like distant Nen orbs. Arlan stared at his palm, recalling Hunter x Hunter's basics. 'Ten to contain aura. Zetsu to hide it. What if it's all in the visualization?'

Weeks of failed attempts followed. Then, one midnight, while drafting blueprints for a water-purification patent (his future company's first project), he absentmindedly channeled focus into his pen. The tip glowed faintly.

'Nen! It's real?!'

Bang! Ink exploded, splattering his Tony the Tiger poster.

"Arlan?!" Daniel thundered upstairs.

"S-science experiment!" he squeaked, scrubbing furiously. 'Okay, no unsupervised Hatsu…'

Dual Lives

By day: "Big Brother Al" built blanket forts and taught Kirana Cublak-Cublak Suweng (a Javanese clapping game Wulan translated as "Hidden Little Bell"). By night: He scribbled Nen theories in cipher, jumping at every creak.

"Why's your journal look like robot barf?" Kirana asked once, swinging upside-down off his bunk bed.

"Advanced calculus. You'll understand when you're seven."

She stuck out her sambal-smeared tongue. Revenge came next morning—his PB&J sandwich packed with enough chili paste to melt titanium.

"Cah Guwendeng!" he wheezed, chugging milk.

"What's that mean?"

"...'You're Mommy's angel.' Now eat your carrots."

December 1999

The TV blared news of Howard Stark's fatal car accident. Arlan froze, spoonful of soto ayam halfway to his mouth.

'Stark… Iron Man… MCU. Oh. Oh s*.'*

Memories detonated—Chitauri, Thanos, the Snap. His family's dusted faces flashed behind his eyelids.

'No. Not them. Never them.'

That night, he stood in the backyard, trembling hands outstretched. Fireflies swirled around him as he pushed Ren to its limits. One landed on his palm, glowing gold before zipping away—a tiny comet.

'I'll turn this spark into a supernova.'

Somewhere in Sokovia, a scarlet-haired girl stirred in her sleep, dreams bleeding crimson and gold.