The eerie silence that bathed the hallway certainly didn’t help his nerves. He knew exactly where Jane’s room was, his memory immaculate, yet he couldn’t help but take a few wrong turns along the way. He was scared, he admitted it. So very scared.

He had fought beasts twice his level, ones that even exceeded his Grade. He had had an arm savagely ripped off combat and slain a man that had threatened to render humanity extinct. His power was above most on this planet, even while he was weakened drastically, yet here he was. Scared of meeting with his own sister.

Brock let a breath pass through his lips, weary.

It had been a few days before Jane had left for Tokyo to pursue her training in martial arts. He… had been jealous of her, of the purpose she felt and the things she could do. But most of all, he was jealous of her getting all their mother’s attention. She was her star child, the one she was most proud of and the one that was going to do the greatest things.

And he was just the son she had in the background.

Looking back now, even though it was almost a year ago, Brock wanted to vomit at how childish and self-centred he was back then. He had said some things… well, he said some things he wished he could take back and acted in ways that made him squirm in annoyance. Sighing, he turned around and slowly retraced his steps.

For more than the usual reasons, he was truly glad Jane was alive, and he was overjoyed that he had managed to save her. Losing his own sister was one thing – the fight aside – but losing her without being able to apologise for how he acted…

It would mean for her to die without an apology, and for him to live with the guilt of that. For her to perish without reconcile. He turned into a familiar hallway. A doctor exited a room and nodded his way respectfully.

Heya Jane. I’m… uh… sorry. After several seconds, Brock snorted. That was terrible.

Contrary to what one would expect, thinking up what he was going to say when he apologised to his sister was a rather cringy and difficult affair. It wasn’t like he could offer to make it up to her, since he had no material possessions, though he supposed he could take her somewhere. In the end, he ran his fingers through his hair and stifled a groan.

Apologising was hard. Killing stuff was so much easier.

Finally, as he stepped up to the door that hid Jane behind it, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was no sudden revelation, or off feeling. No, the nerves just caught up to him. He growled lowly and forced himself to reach for the door handle. With a creak, it turned downward and the door itself slowly inched ope-

“…Brock…?”

Immediately, before the door was even halfway opened, he froze. The sorrow, the fear, the hope. He could feel a rampant maelstrom of desperate emotions in the familiar voice that called out to him. It carried disbelief, yet also hope so delicate it bordered on delusion. Brock sucked in a quick breath and continued walking inside.

Once hidden by the door was the form of Carrie, who was sitting in the chair beside the bed. Her aura was strong and solid, and that was enough for Brock to tell she was doing fine. Her eyes flicked up and met his own, and she gave him a warm smile. He noticed one of her hands were rubbing Jane’s arm, as if to console her.

The other woman, his sister, was shaking with effort. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the blindfold – the last time he’d seen them, he’d been sixteen – but from the redness of her face and the way her lip quivered, he could tell she was holding back tears. He knew she could see the expression on his face, however, and he smiled at her.

“Yeah,” He began to walk forward, and tears began to flow out from under her blindfold, “It’s me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

His sister bit her lip as her body racked with her stifled sobs, tears streaming down either cheek and dripping onto her shoulders. The sight made Brock’s gut hurt as he witness how vulnerable his sister was. She had always been such a strong woman, someone he could look up to and trust no matter what. Yet now, she was a human being, not the woman he had idolised as a kid.

To her side, Carrie stood up and gave her friend one last consoling pat on the shoulder. She spoke as he headed for the door, her voice portraying a mix of compassion and somewhat slurred speech. Clearly, she had been drinking, “Well. I… I think I’m gonna leave you two to chat. Bye bye, Block…”

…Block?

He nodded her way, managing to cover up a weary sigh, and watched her leave the room. The door closed behind her loudly, and he turned his attention back to his sister, “How’re you doing? Are your injuries any better?”

A long silence followed his words, and idly, he noticed Jane was yet to say anything, only stifle tears. Then finally, she laughed. It was a quiet and weak sound, clearly one meant to alleviate the emotions she felt. Then, afterwards, she spoke, “You… have no idea how much I cried for you…”

Brock felt his next words get caught in his throat. Her voice was so… heartbroken. After a short silence, she continued, “I thought you were dead. We all did. I… I…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Brock moved in and wrapped his arms around his sister, and he felt her face fall into his shoulder. Quickly, his clothes became damp, “It’s alright now. I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m here to stay this time.”

“…I’m so… glad… your alive…” her speech was somewhat hard to patch together through the racking sobs that she could no longer hold back, but Brock managed, and he began to rub her back softly.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

It continued like this for a good five minutes, just him trying his best to ease his sibling’s wounded heart. She could see he was here, see that he was alive, but all those months of believing he was gone wouldn’t just disappear just like that. All the emotions came back, and they needed release.

Eventually though, she settled down and wiped away the tears on her cheeks. Her blindfold glistened with moisture, but he knew she’d outright refuse to remove it while others were around. Occasionally, her chest still twitched as she stifled a second coming of her sobs, but she seemed to have gotten the bulk of her emotions out.

As they broke the embrace, Brock noticed a shaky smile had taken root on his sister’s face. It was a stunning thing, one that showcased her perfect teeth and could brighten any room, and he was so glad she hadn’t lost that smile. As long as she could smile like that, he knew his sister would be ok.

She laughed lightly.

“Sorry… about that,” she reached behind her head and scratched her scalp, “I… haven’t cried like that in… what… happened to your arm?”

He was rather amazed at how quickly her heartfelt explanation trailed off into astonishment as her eyes wandered to the missing limb in question, but he waved his stump around, nonetheless. Her eyebrows rose with worry and carefully, she reached out to touch it. Brock shrugged, “Got eaten by a hungry bird child. It’s a long story.”

His sister’s raised brows was all he needed to know that his long story wasn’t all that long anyway, and he spent the next hour catching her up on his life these past few months. He didn’t leave out a single detail.

Brock pouted as a small smile worked its way across his sister’s face afterwards, “…You died to a magpie?”

He clicked his tongue and leaned back in the chair he had long taken a seat in, “I basically came back from death, and that’s what you’re focusing on?”

She chuckled softly. From his memory, he knew she never fully committed to a laugh, and always like to keep it short, “What about James? Mum? Have you found them? Are they ok?”

Brock let her earlier slight slide and nodded slowly. For some reason, his chest began to hurt deep within, “James is doing fine. He’s back in Al-“

He halted in his speech as he was abruptly met by a fit of uncontrollable coughing. Brock doubled over and his body convulsed with the motions of each hack. He covered his mouth with his hand as the taste of iron filled his mouth.

“Brock?! Are you ok?!” He felt Jane’s hand fall on his shoulder, and he shook it off as his coughing settled down.

Still hunched over, he slowly removed his hand, revealing a glob of fresh blood pooled in his palm. Brock grimaced and hurriedly wiped it on the side of his thigh, away from where Jane could see. Afterwards, he wiped his mouth on the inside of his jacket and once more faced his sister.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

She didn’t seem to buy it, “Brock. I can smell blood.”

His brows furrowed, and he sniffed experimentally. You can?

“I just bit my lip while I was talking. It’s nothing mate.” After a few seconds, she nodded, seeming to let the matter go, even if she didn’t believe what he had said. “Anyways, James is doing well back in Alice Springs, and mum… well…”

Jane understood his hesitance, “You haven’t seen her?”

Brock shook his head in defeat. Fortunately, as they conversed more on the matter, Jane revealed that she had sent shadow scouts to scour the continent months ago for their family. Granted, she admitted that they hadn’t found anything yet, and had only searched what they predicted to be a quarter of the mainland, but it still instilled a newfound hope in Brock.

Looking by himself would be a maddening affair, but if there was an entire army already doing it, then the search would go so much quicker. If not for the fact Jane had told him to rest and leave it all to her, then he would have tried to join their search party immediately. But, alas, she was right. He needed a rest. From everything.

The combat, the death, the injuries that just kept seeming to stack up. He wondered if any of the scouts had been to Hawaii before.

He had also asked Jane to tell her scouts to expand the search for one Emma Hoffman too. That ritualist in Adelaide had said that they were in the same location, though there was no guarantee that they would remain together. If not for the fact Fon seemed rather adamant in keeping her own parents names a secret, he would have requested for them to be looked for as well.

It was good, being able to talk to his sister again, after all this time. While he may have carried the guilt of their fight while she was in Tokyo, he had also missed her dearly. He’d been too afraid to just call her, and whether she was too busy, or just as afraid as he was, she hadn’t bothered to call him either.

Hours passed by as they spoke, and eventually, the topic of her supposed ‘boyfriend’ came up, much to Brock’s dismay. On the contrary, however, much to his joy, that numbnut was not her boyfriend, or even someone she was interested in, but a man who had taken quite a liking to her. Well, from how she had described him, obsession was the more fitting word.

Brock had to admit, the guy was rather handsome, but if he kept bothering his big sister, he’d find that a fist could change one’s emotions quite well.

Word of her feats soon worked its way into their conversation, and he was pleasantly surprised to know that Jane had been responsible for the death of a Tyrant already, having hunted it with a ‘death’ squad. It was quite a relief to know he wasn’t the only person that could deal with the Tyrants.

In fact, with the appearance of Minerva, it became apparent to him that he wasn’t truly the strongest person on the planet, even before his pathways were ravaged. Sure, if you looked at his status screen, he was number one, regardless of his current weakening, but he lacked in other things.

He was well aware that almost any of the warriors living in the city could outperform him in hand-to-hand combat, and if they had matching stats to his own, he would get utterly shit on. Other people just had good power match ups against his own, and some were just plain old powerhouses. Like Minerva.

He did wonder why they had needed him to save Jane if they had Minerva on their side, but according to his sister, she and her weren’t exactly on good terms. Like at all. Her and Hiroto were old friends from pre-System earth – the former being a previous student - and that was why she was here in the first place, but she had never particularly liked the idea of Jane taking over the Dojo in place of the current Patriarch.

Apparently, the woman believed she herself was more than qualified, especially since she had known Hiroto for over 20 years, despite the fact she looked to be only in her early thirties. Apparently, she was actually well into her fifties. There were rumours circulating of her having reached E Grade in her race, and Brock thought it was the only explanation.

That aside, Minerva had simply refused to save Jane by making herself ‘missing in action’ for the duration of her capture. Brock felt his rage bubble up when Jane had told him what she had been told by someone else, and for a moment, he genuinely wanted to kill the woman for letting this happen to his sister. The second he got his full strength back, he was whopping the shit out of her.

“Oh, and Jane.”

As he entertained the image of him ruthlessly defeating that bitch, his original goal for coming here abruptly pulsed in his mind, as though some outside influence was telling him to stay on track. He bit back a sigh and forced himself to continue speaking, “I’m… sorry. For what I said when you left for Tokyo.”

A look of incomprehension crossed Jane’s face, and a seed of dread bloomed in Brock’s gut. What happens if she didn’t accept it? What if she was furious that it had taken him so long to apologise? What if she disowns him as her broth-

“Oh, I completely forgot about that. It’s alright.”

Brock deadpanned.