Kansas weather was like a moody child.
Bright sunshine in the morning, yet by evening the sky had once again darkened just like the night before.
Heavy clouds devoured the last traces of sunset.
Before long, rain began drumming against the roof, each drop like a pebble hurled from the heavens, rattling nerves with its relentless patter.
By the window, Locke stood with the phone in hand.
"Locke, the storm came too suddenly—we're stuck in town. The roads are a mess, we probably can't make it back tonight. I'll have to trouble you with Clark again," Martha's apologetic voice came through the line.
"Oh, Martha! Look what I just found here—it's free shampoo!"
Jonathan's smaller voice echoed faintly in the background.
Locke couldn't help but chuckle. Then, warmly, he said:
"Come now, no need to be so polite between us."
"Clark has always been treated the same as Dio here, hasn't he? Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."
"Then it's me who's being too formal," Martha laughed softly on the other end. "Once we're back, let us treat your family to a proper dinner to thank you."
"Alright, I'll hold you to that," Locke replied half-jokingly, then hung up.
But—
When he turned toward the dining table, the sight before him made him pinch the bridge of his nose.
Dio was glaring daggers at the enormous venison leg on Clark's plate, ruby-red eyes practically blazing. Even his golden bangs seemed to quiver with suppressed anger.
Clark, for his part, was completely oblivious. He was still bent over, devouring the meat, cheeks puffed like a hamster's, lips smeared with glossy sauce.
For a boy who usually filled up on plain staples, this was a feast of rare luxury.
"Dio," Locke sighed, "your venison is right there. Why keep staring at Clark's?"
Dio snapped his head around. His expression switched instantly from furious to pitifully aggrieved.
"Dad, his is a venison leg!"
Locke glanced at the plates. True enough, Clark's piece—his special reward—was massive, nearly dominating the table.
Dio's portion, though still generous, looked meager in comparison.
"You talked to strangers without permission today," Locke reminded him with a chuckle. "And you snuck off to drive the tractor again. This is punishment."
"Besides, even if I gave you a whole leg, you couldn't finish it."
"I…" Dio's little face collapsed in despair. He muttered, "But Clark drove too…"
"At least Clark didn't drive into a mud pit—while happily munching on blueberry pie," Locke arched a brow.
Struck speechless, Dio could only stab his fork into his venison shoulder, prodding at it as though it were Clark's head.
"Half full," Clark sighed contentedly, lifting his face from the half-eaten leg.
He needed a break—his cheeks were sore from chewing.
"Hm?" Clark glanced at Dio, who was skewering his meat but not eating. Blue eyes blinked in concern. "Dio, why aren't you eating? Are you feeling sick?"
"Hmph." Dio turned away with a cold snort. "None of your business, idiot."
Clark scratched his head, completely at a loss as to how he'd upset his brother this time.
Still, after a moment's hesitation, he cut off a generous chunk of his venison leg and held it out toward Dio.
"Here—want to try mine? It's really good!"
Dio froze. He stared at the glistening piece of meat, then looked up at Clark's earnest blue eyes. For once, he didn't know what to say.
Finally, he snatched the meat with a reluctant forkful, muttering under his breath:
"…Stupid."
!?
Locke's expression shifted at once, sharp eyes catching this rare and precious moment.
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. Without a word, he turned to the kitchen and brought out a tray of freshly baked blueberry pie.
The rich sweetness of baked fruit instantly filled the room, drawing both boys' attention at once.
"Alright, after the venison, we've got dessert," Locke said with a smile, setting the blueberry pie down in the center of the table. "But this time, no fighting. Half each."
Dio and Clark nodded eagerly, both reaching out with impatient hands, ready to shovel the treat into their mouths.
"Ahem."
Locke sat slowly into his seat at the head of the table. His gaze softened as it fell on Dio, and with a gentle cough, he pulled both boys' attention back toward him.
"Dio."
"What is it, Dad?"
"Last night, when that robot monster appeared—you could've run for safety on your own. Why, instead, did you step in front of Clark?"
The blueberry pie froze midair. Dio's crimson eyes narrowed slightly, as though his secret thoughts had just been exposed.
He even darted a glance at Clark, only to find the boy's wide, honest blue eyes fixed on him, brimming with curiosity.
"I—"
Dio's throat worked. He looked like he wanted to argue, but the words stalled, swallowed before they could escape.
He bit down hard, then finally gave only a sharp huff:
"Who says I stood in front of him? I just happened to be there, that's all!"
Locke arched a brow, not exposing the obvious lie. Instead, he pressed on, voice calm:
"Is that so? Funny—I seem to recall you shouting: 'Clark, run!' Isn't that right?"
"...?"
Did I?
Dio blinked, startled.
"Really, Dio? You were protecting me then?" Clark's eyes lit up in sudden wonder.
Dio looked from Clark's grateful face to Locke's encouraging one.
Dad already said so—then of course that's what I meant.
"Obviously," Dio nodded, his blond bangs puffing slightly as he raised his head. "But only because if that robot killed you, Dad, Uncle Jonathan, and Aunt Martha would've all been sad!"
Locke couldn't hold back a laugh.
He reached over to ruffle Dio's hair, speaking with a warmth that carried unshakable conviction.
"Dio, do you know? True courage doesn't mean being without fear. It means that even when you're afraid, you still choose to do the right thing."
"For any living being, fear in the face of danger is instinct. It drives you to panic, to flee without thinking."
"But your choice last night proves your heart is stronger than you realize. Strong enough to overcome fear."
"Dio—that is your spirit. A spirit shining like pure gold."
The star-shaped birthmark on his shoulder tingled faintly warm. Dio froze.
It was as though—for the first time—someone had seen a quality in him he hadn't even recognized in himself.
He lowered his head, uncharacteristically quiet, and after a long pause muttered, "You're kind of long-winded, Dad."
"Clark," Locke turned, "what do you think we should give Dio, for saving you?"
"Well, that's easy!" Clark jumped up, throwing his arms around Dio with pure, heartfelt joy. "Thank you, Dio! You really are the best brother ever!"
Clark, you idiot—when did we rehearse this script together?!
Watching the scene, Locke's smile deepened.
Reaching under the table, he pulled out a large foil-wrapped bundle—the one he'd had Star Platinum prepare and tenderize earlier.
"A hug is good enough, but material rewards are important too," he said, peeling back the foil.
Inside was a massive cut of beef steak.
"Dio—your reward. Prime-grade ribeye."
"Your favorite."