Chapter 33: Brothers

The hospital lights buzzed faintly overhead, flickering in the way that made silence feel louder. Myla lay on the narrow bed, her hands trembling above the pale curve of her stomach. The doctor held papers and read through them carefully.

Doctor: It’s confirmed. You will be having two children. Twins.

The room didn’t move. Kraven sat in the corner, elbows on knees, hands clasped tight as if prayer might buy time. He didn’t look at the doctor. He didn’t look at Myla. Only at the floor.

Myla (softly): Twins… How wonderful.

Doctor: Yes. Our other doctor was able to confirm he could feel two sources of Intergy coming from you. You must be so excited!

Myla: Yes!

The doctor looked to Kraven.

Doctor: This must be good news for you too!

Kraven: Yes! I’m just in shock.

Doctor: We won’t know if they’re boys or girls until delivery, but until that time comes, you two can start preparing for two. Do either of you have questions for me before you leave?

Kraven: You’re sure it’s two?

Doctor: Yes, we’re absolutely sure you’ll be having twins.

Kraven: Incredible.

Myla: Beautiful.

The doctor smiled happily for them.

Doctor: Well, no rush. I’ll be heading out. Feel free to leave whenever you’d like, and if you have anymore questions, please let me know. I’ll most likely be in my office. Please set a time for our next appointment at the front desk before you leave.

Kraven: Thank you, doctor.

The doctor smiled once more and left the room. Silence. Myla sat up and looked at Kraven nervously.

Kraven: Are we going to talk about it now?

Myla: Can we afford both?

Kraven: We said we could barely afford one.

Myla (shaking): I know…

Kraven: So, what now? Do we raise both?

Myla: I don’t know.

More silence.

Kraven: Do we… abort?

Myla: Kraven!

Kraven: We’re both thinking of options here! I’m not saying we have to do that!

Myla: This is… unexpected.

Both continue to think about possibilities.

Myla: Maybe we can manage both?

Kraven: I’m all for that, but can we live like that?

Myla: I don’t know…

Kraven: I barely get paid enough to keep the lights on. And you’re not working anymore.

Myla: Maybe you were right. We shouldn’t even have considered having kids.

Kraven: Yes, but you said you always wanted one.

Myla: I know… I wanted one… but now I don’t know what to do… with two…

Kraven: Maybe, I get another job somehow.

Myla: Do you think there’s another place that would hire?

Kraven: I mean, I can try.

Myla: And what if no one picks you up for anything?

Kraven thinks…

Kraven: Do we… give them up?

Myla: Kraven!

Kraven: I don’t know, Myla! I’m trying to think here too!

Myla (nervous): Just don’t say it like that.

Kraven stood, pacing now.

Kraven: What do you want me to say, Myla? That everything’s going to be fine?

He stopped by the window.

Kraven: I’ll look for another job. If it means keeping all of us together, I won’t mind losing a bit more sleep.

Myla turned away. Not from him— but from the guilt.

Myla (whispering): And if you don’t get another job?

Kraven didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Myla: What if we… kept one?

Kraven turned.

Myla: We raise one. Give the other up. Adoption. We wouldn’t be killing them… just… giving one a chance.

Kraven said nothing. Not yet. But that was the moment everything began… the moment two lives were discovered, and only one would be chosen.

Ten years later.

Ten-year-old Aku sat alone at the edge of the cafeteria, his tray barely touched. The mashed potatoes had already gone cold, the slice of bread untouched, fruit still whole. He stared down, fork in hand, but didn’t move to eat. The chatter of the other kids buzzed all around him. His legs swung beneath the bench, too short to reach the floor, his shoulders curled forward like he was trying to disappear. No one sat near him. No one even looked his way except for the boys at the far table, who’d been watching him ever since he sat down. One of them whispered something, the others laughed, and they stood up in unison. Their steps were slow. Deliberate. Aku didn’t look up, but he heard them coming. Aku barely had time to react. One of the older boys grabbed Aku by the shirt and threw him on the floor. His meal had already been taken— bread crushed, fruit kicked aside, a cup spilled across the tiles.

Bully 1: Take his food.

Aku (getting up): No!

Bully 2 (pushing Aku back down): Stay down, bitch!

Aku got up quickly and punched one of the boys. The boy responded with a quick punch to the ribs. Aku doubled over, gasping for air, but stayed on his feet. Another swing came from the side. Aku ducked it, then threw a punch of his own. It connected, knuckles cracking against the bully’s stomach. The bigger kid staggered back, shocked, but only for a second.

The fight spiraled. Chairs scraped. Trays hit the floor. One boy grabbed Aku by the collar and slammed him into the lunch table.

From across the room, Josar and Sicrus were finishing their food at a chipped plastic table by the corner wall.

Josar: There they go again, picking on the new guy.

Sicrus: Yeah…

Another swung wildly. Aku twisted, barely avoiding a clean hit, but not all of it. A hand grabbed a metal fork from the table. The boy lunged, jabbing forward like it was a knife. Aku leaned back just in time to avoid a direct stab, but the prongs tore into his cheek. A red line bloomed across his face. Blood spilled fast, and Aku screamed, stumbling to the floor, hand clutching the wound.

Josar: Hey! Stop that!

He got up and jolted toward the fight.

Sicrus: Oh crap.

Sicrus dropped his cup and followed.

Josar crashed into the nearest bully with a shoulder check that sent the older kid flying sideways. The second turned to swing, but Josar ducked under the arm and countered fast. A jab to the stomach. Elbow to the ribs. A kick swept the boy’s knee. Sicrus grabbed the last one from behind, dragging him backward by the shirt, then slammed his head into a bench. The boy collapsed, dazed. Josar didn’t stop. He pivoted, blocking a wild punch with his forearm, then grabbed the attacker’s wrist and twisted, following with an elbow to the face. Another came rushing from behind, but Josar turned, caught the punch with both hands, and launched a knee into the boy’s gut. The kid dropped with a wheeze. It was messy, fast, and loud, but Josar moved with rhythm. His stance shifted like he’d done this a hundred times before. He didn’t just throw punches. He adapted. Anticipated. Redirected.

Sicrus: Behind you!

Josar turned and blocked just in time. He and Sicrus stood back to back now, defending, striking, overwhelming the older kids who once thought they were predators. The door burst open.

Grandpa: Enough!

His voice cut through the chaos like a whip. The bullies froze. Josar and Sicrus stepped back, panting. Aku was on the floor, curled in on himself, blood mixing with tears as they streaked down his cheek and across the tile.

Josar: Grandpa, they attacked the new guy!

Grandpa: Stay back, Josar! You too Sicrus!

The old man moved fast for his age, kneeling beside Aku, checking his injury with steady hands. His voice lowered, gentle now. The bullies left the scene.

A few moments later, Aku sat quietly in the nursery. The nurse finished pressing the last bandage against his face, smoothing it over the deep gash. He was still crying, but the sobs had softened, the weight of the pain dulling into a quiet tremble.

Nurse: There you go, sweetie. You have to stay out of trouble.

Aku: I didn’t do anything, though.

Nurse: Those boys are bad news. You can’t hang out with them.

Aku: I didn’t though. They came to me.

Nurse: I see. The cafeteria ladies need to a better job at being with you all in case things like this happen.

The nurse grabbed a few more band aids and handed it to Aku.

Nurse: Grandpa told me Josar and Sicrus came to your rescue.

Aku looked confused.

Nurse: Those were the two boys who jumped in for you. Thank goodness they were there. Who knows what those other boys would’ve done with that fork. You’re not even allowed to have metal forks in the first place. I guess they ran out of the plastic ones.

Aku said nothing. He was upset and rightfully so. Later, he walked back into the kitchen. A plate was waiting for him—fresh food, untouched. He climbed into the seat slowly, cautiously. The others were gone. Just silence. Aku tried to chew a piece of bread, but the sting from his cheek made him wince. He stopped. Whimpered. From the back of the kitchen, Josar and Sicrus stepped into view. They approached slowly.

Josar: Are you ok there?

Aku whimpered again. Asking if he was ok made him cry more, tears slipping down his cheek.

Sicrus: It’s ok. Don’t cry.

Josar: Is your mouth ok? Does it hurt to eat?

Aku nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his free hand.

Sicrus: Those guys are assholes. They gather up on you and fight like bitches.

Grandpa (from the sink): Watch your language!

Sicrus jumped. He hadn’t noticed Grandpa nearby, drying dishes at the sink. Grandpa walked over with a small glass cup of blended fruit, cool and soft in color.

Grandpa: Since you can’t chew that well, here. Try to drink this at least. It’s just fruits, but it’s something for now.

Aku took it carefully and drank. He stopped halfway, setting it down.

Josar: That’s really messed up.

Grandpa: They’ll be punished. Don’t worry.

Sicrus: They better be grounded for a hundred years!

Josar: Yeah, and no food for a hundred years too!

Grandpa: They’ll be grounded for sure.

Aku looked at the plastic fork still lying by his plate.

Aku: I’m going to stab them back.

Grandpa: Now, now. Don’t make threats like that or I’ll have to ground you too. You just got here, Aku.

Aku (tearing up): They hurt me, badly. It’s not fair. They deserve it.

Grandpa: Yes, yes. I know.

He knelt beside Aku again, inspecting the bandage gently.

Grandpa: They sure gashed you pretty hard, but…

He patted Aku’s head softly.

Grandpa: Don’t become what hurts you.

Sicrus: There he goes again.

Grandpa shot Sicrus a disapproving glare.

Grandpa: Yes, Sicrus! Don’t become what hurts you.

He stood, went back to the sink.

Grandpa: You boys need to get to bed soon though.

Josar looked up to Grandpa.

Josar: Can Aku sleep in our room too?

Grandpa: We don’t have room to put another mattress in there.

Josar: That’s ok. He can have mine. I’ll sleep on the floor.

Aku glanced at Josar.

Grandpa: No, no. We’ll figure out how to fit another mattress. I was just saying there’s practically no room left.

Sicrus: I can squeeze my bed into the corner. Lemme go clean my stuff first though.

Josar (to Aku): Would you like to be closer to us?

Aku didn’t know how to answer.

Sicrus: Stay with us in case those fuckers try something again.

Grandpa: Language, Sicrus!

Sicrus pouted.

Grandpa (to Aku): Would you like your room to be with them?

Aku looked at Josar, then at Sicrus. Then nodded.

An hour later, the three boys were in their new room, arranging blankets and pushing beds together.

Josar: So, your name is Aku?

Aku nodded.

Josar: I’m Josar.

Sicrus: And I’m Sicrus.

Aku (shyly): Hi…

Josar: Did you come from another orphanage or did your parents drop you off?

Aku: I was transferred… My other orphan place was closed down.

Josar: I see. Which orphanage?

Aku shrugs.

Josar: My uncle dropped me off here after my auntie died.

Aku: Your auntie died?

Josar: Yeah. She was sick with cancer.

Aku: Cancer… What’s that?

Josar: It’s a kind of disease.

Aku looked perplexed hearing about cancer.

Josar: What about you? Did your parents drop you off at your other orphanage?

Aku: No. I grew up there.

Sicrus: Who gave you your name?

Aku: Gave me my name? I was always Aku. It says that on my paper thing.

Sicrus: Birth certificate?

Aku: What’s that?

Sicrus: Your paper thing, right?

Aku: I think so.

Sicrus: Yeah, it’s a birth certificate.

Aku: Does your paper thing— birth certifi-ficate say Sicrus?

Sicrus: I dunno. I gave myself my name. I don’t think I have any papers.

Aku: So, Sicrus is not your name?

Sicrus: It is. I gave it to me because Josar said my other name sounded funny. Sicrus sounds cool.

Aku: You had a different name?

Sicrus: I made my other name too. I don’t know who my family is or what name I was born with.

Aku looked sad.

Sicrus: Good thing your parents named you at least!

Aku didn’t know how to respond.

Josar: Don’t be scared. We’re not trying to bully you.

Aku: I know.

A quiet moment passed.

Aku: Thank you… for saving me.

Josar: Of course! I hate those guys. They’re bullies.

Aku: You know how to fight. I saw you.

Sicrus: Yeah, Josar likes to read books about mixing art.

Josar (correcting): Mixed martial arts. You always get it wrong.

Sicrus: Whatever.

Aku: Will they come after me again?

Josar: Probably not, now that you’re with us.

Sicrus: Yeah. You’re with us now. We’ll always have each other’s backs.

Aku: Always?

Sicrus: Always.

Aku: What if I get transferred again?

Josar: That won’t happen.

Aku: How do you know?

Sicrus: Because we’ll always have each other’s backs.

Aku: That doesn’t really answer my question though.

A couple knocks at the door.

Grandpa (on the other side): Go to sleep boys!

Sicrus got up to turn off the lights and returned to his bed. The moonlight outside barely cut through the window blinds, casting thin silver lines across the floor. The three boys lay in their beds— Aku tucked beneath his blanket in the center, Josar on the left, Sicrus on the right. But none of them slept. The quiet wasn’t empty. It was full of breathing, the rustle of sheets, the unspoken comfort of not being alone.

Aku (softly): Who was that old man?

Josar turned slightly toward him in the dark.

Josar: You mean Grandpa?

Aku: Yeah… that’s not his real name, right? Does it say that on his birthing paper thing?

Sicrus (grinning): Nope. Everyone just calls him Grandpa. He’s not really anyone’s grandpa. He just works here and watches over all of us.

Aku: So… he’s in charge?

Josar: Kind of. He cooks, cleans, fixes stuff. Talks to us when we’re feeling sad. He’s been here a while.

Sicrus (mockingly): Don’t become what hurts you! Blah blah blah!

Sicrus sighs. Aku was quiet for a moment, then…

Aku: Is there… a Grandma too?

Sicrus snorted, barely containing a giggle.

Sicrus: Nah. There’s no such thing.

Aku blinked.

Aku: No such thing as Grandmas?

Sicrus: Not here. Not in this place. It’s just Grandpa and the staff sometimes. But none of them stay long.

Josar (chuckling): Sicrus means there’s no Grandma here in particular. But grandmas exist. Somewhere. Probably.

Aku: Oh…

He turned slightly in his bed, the blanket pulled close under his chin.

Aku: Earlier… you talked about a paper thing.

Sicrus: Oh, yeah. Birth certificates.

Josar: They keep all that stuff in the main office. Birth certificates, transfer files, papers from before the kids got here. Even mine’s in there… I think.

Aku: Where’s the main office?

Josar: Down the hallway, past the cafeteria. There’s a big door that’s always locked unless you’re an adult.

Aku: …Could I ask to see mine?

Josar hesitated.

Josar: Only the staff are allowed to touch that stuff. They don’t usually let kids go through it. But you can ask, I think.

Aku: Oh… okay.

Knock knock.

Grandpa (through the door): Boys… if you don’t sleep now, there will be no breakfast for you tomorrow.

Sicrus (whispering): He’s serious about that.

Josar: He did it once. Made us skip a whole morning.

Sicrus: I almost cried.

Josar: You did cry.

Sicrus: Did not!

Josar: Did too!

Knock.

Aku (whispering): …We should sleep.

The beds shifted as the three boys finally nestled in, their bodies still, the air growing quieter. No more whispers. No more questions. Just the soft, steady rhythm of three boys each with their own scars, their own stories.

Aku couldn’t sleep. Hours had passed. The room had gone quiet long ago, and the other two boys were breathing steadily in their beds. But Aku lay still, eyes wide in the dark, the weight of everything pressing against his chest— his aching cheek, the stinging bandage, the foreignness of this place. And something else. A question that wouldn’t leave him alone. The paper thing. The birth certificate. He didn’t even know if he had one. But he wanted to know. Needed to. Slowly, silently, he slid the thin blanket off his body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet touched the cool floor. He stood. And then… he disappeared. A veil of shadow rolled over his skin like liquid ink, dimming the edges of his form until he was nothing but a silhouette. Darkness clung to him like a cloak, concealing his presence, dampening the sound of his steps. It was the only ability he’d ever known how to use… hiding. Bleeding into shadows. He crept forward, past Sicrus’s bed, then Josar’s. Neither stirred. The room stayed still. Aku then slipped under the door drifted down the hallway— quiet, slow, almost weightless. But he wasn’t perfect.

Thunk.

A small pile of books, left on a reading shelf near the corridor wall, tumbled over as he passed. His elbow had brushed them. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. The books had landed on carpet, muffling the impact, but it still echoed faintly in the quiet. Aku looked back, breath held, ears straining for the sound of footsteps. There was nothing. Just silence. He swallowed hard and kept moving. It took a few minutes, but he followed Josar’s directions carefully until finally, there it was, the main office.

The door was locked, as expected. Aku stood before it, fingers twitching. Then, without hesitation, he lowered himself, flattening into the dark. His body melted into the shadows beneath the doorframe. It was like sliding through water— cold, strange, and slow. But he made it. On the other side, he re-formed, breathing slightly heavier now. That part always took effort. The office smelled like paper and dust. Moonlight through the window cut across a large desk, illuminating a shelf of files and binders. He started searching first the top drawers, then the desk, then finally the cabinets. His fingers trembled as he opened one of the larger drawers and flipped through the neatly organized folders. The labels were handwritten. Some names were scratched out and re-added. Dozens of children. Dozens of histories. Aku sifted carefully through the files.

One caught his eye. "Josar."

He opened it. Inside was a page typed and scribbled in blue ink:

Name: JosarAge: 12Hair: BlondEyes: BlueBirthday: May 22Father: DeverinMother: EminySiblings: NoneAdmission Reason: Uncle neglect after aunt deceased.

Aku stared at that line for a while. His fingers touched the edge of the paper. He didn’t fully understand what it meant, just that Josar had no one left. He carefully closed the file and slid it back into place.

Next, he searched for Sicrus. He flipped through every letter.

Nothing. No record. No file. Not even a mention. And then… he saw it. “Aku.” His chest tightened. Hands trembling, he opened the folder and unfolded the documents inside. A photo. A short profile. His name. And then— words he had never seen before.

Name: AkuAge: 10Hair: BlackEyes: BrownBirthday: January 21Father: KravenMother: MylaSiblings: Twin brother, Sen.

His eyes widened. He read the names again. Kraven. Myla. Sen… Sen? The page continued.

Current Orphanage: Troita OrphanageReason for Admission: Transfer from Clyden Orphanage (Closed)

He turned the page. There, attached in the back, was another sheet— older, thinner.

Previous Orphanage: Clyden OrphanageAdmission Reason: Financial neglect

The words blurred for a second. Not from ink, but from the tears brimming in his eyes. He didn’t cry, but he blinked. Hard. He had a brother. He had a name… and there was… financial neglect.

A noise outside the door. Adult voices and shoes scuffing lightly. Aku’s instincts kicked in. He slammed the folder shut, stuffed it back into the drawer, lined everything up exactly how he found it. His hands moved fast. As he turned to leave, his shoulder bumped into the corner of a small nightstand.

Crash.

A ceramic cup shattered against the floor. Aku froze. Panic rising. He scrambled into the shadow under the door, slipping through it just as the doorknob behind him began to rattle. He ran back down the corridor down toward the bedrooms. He reached his door and bled through the bottom crack, darkness pulling him into the floor like liquid. His body reformed in the room. Josar and Sicrus were still asleep. He dove into bed, pulled the blanket to his chin, and shut his eyes. Footsteps passed outside the door. A pause. Then silence. In the dark, Aku lay perfectly still. But inside… his whole world had changed.

Josar (whispering): What were you doing out there?

Aku was startled.

Aku (whispering): You’re not asleep?

Josar: Well, I’m talking to you now, so I guess I’m not asleep.

Sicrus: Same here.

Aku: Woah!

Josar: Shhh, don’t get Grandpa over here.

Aku: Ok, ok.

Josar: I saw you slip under the door on your way out. How’d you do that?

Aku: Umm… I don’t know how I do that. I just do.

Josar: I’ve never seen anyone hide in shadows like that.

Sicrus: Me neither.

Aku: Oh… yeah… I can use darkness.

Josar: What the heck is that?

Sicrus: Darkness?

Aku: I don’t know either.

Josar: Interesting.

Sicrus: What were you doing out there?

Aku: I was… I was looking—

Josar: You found your birth certificate, didn’t you?

Aku (nodding): I did. I saw yours too.

Sicrus: What about mine?

Aku shook his head.

Sicrus (disappointed but still smiling): That’s ok! No worries.

Josar: What did it say?

Aku: It had your parents name and about your aunt—

Josar: Not me, silly. You!

Aku: Oh!... Ummm…

Aku thinks.

Josar: Well?

Aku: I saw my parents name.

Sicrus: Ooo.

Aku: And then I saw my name. It is in fact, Aku.

Josar: Did it say why you’re here?

Aku: Financial neglect.

Sicrus: Oh? Your parents don’t have money?

Aku: I don’t know. I’ve never met them.

Josar: Hmm, that’s sad.

Aku: Well, there’s another part.

Sicrus: There’s more?

Aku: Yeah…

A pause.

Josar: Tell us. You’re just sitting there all quiet.

Aku chuckles nervously.

Aku: I have a brother.

Sicrus: What?

Aku: A twin brother.

Josar: And you never knew this until now?

Aku nods.

Sicrus: Did you never meet your twin?

Aku shook his head.

Josar: Wait. I think I get it. Your parents couldn’t afford two kids, so they gave you up.

Aku tilted his head.

Sicrus: Oh… that’s crazy.

Josar: They gave you up for adoption, and I guess because of that, you’re here.

Sicrus: Man… ten years and no one adopted you?

Aku looked sad.

Josar: You didn’t have to say that part, Sicrus.

Sicrus: Sorry! I mean, we’re all here too. No one adopted us.

Josar: What’s your twin’s name. Did it say?

Aku: It said… Sen.

Josar: Sen… Your twin’s name is Sen.

Sicrus: Kind of crazy to think about.

Aku: Yeah… you’re telling me.

Josar: So, let me get this straight… You have a twin… but you are in an orphanage because of financial neglect… yet you never met your twin… which can only mean your parents had to choose one of you… and they chose Sen over you.

Aku thought hard.

Sicrus: Man, that’s sad.

Aku: That makes sense.

Sicrus: You’re not mad they chose Sen over you?

Aku: Not at all. That’s so cool I have a brother somewhere out there. And I have a Mom and Dad who take care of him.

Josar: You’re not one bit upset?

Aku: Well, sort of. But that means my brother got to live a good life, right?

Sicrus: I guess that’s a good way to look at it.

Aku: That just means, after we are old enough to get out, I just have to go find my family right?

Josar: That seems to be the case.

Aku: How old do we have to be to get out?

Josar: We age out at twenty, after our teen years are over.

Aku: Ten more years?

Sicrus: That’s another lifetime… Well, your current lifetime.

Aku thinks hard.

Josar: So, you just have to live one more time, and then we can go find them!

Aku looked to Josar, slightly confused.

Josar: What’s wrong?

Aku: We’re going to go look for them?

Josar: Yeah. The three of us!

Aku: We just met…

Josar: So what?

Aku: And you’d help me find them?

Josar: Well, I don’t have any family to go find.

Sicrus: I don’t even have a file.

Aku looked at Josar and Sicrus, their faces in the dark gently light by the moonlight. In the moment, the void in Aku felt like it was filling… filling with happiness. Aku kept his face composed, but tears were starting to fall from his eyes.

Josar: Don’t cry.

Sicrus: Did we say something wrong?

Aku wiped his tears and smiled.

Aku: No, no. You said nothing wrong.

Knock knock knock.

Grandpa (from the other side): No breakfast for you three tomorrow!

A moment of shock and silence.

Sicrus: Great, now I’m going to cry.

Josar: That’s ok. We can celebrate with a good lunch.

Aku: Celebrate? For what?

Josar: For the good news of course. This is good news for you, right?

Aku nodded.

Sicrus: Ok, let’s actually go to sleep now before Grandpa takes away lunch too.

The three boys eventually settled into their own beds. Aku lay quietly, eyes fixed on the moonlight spilling through the window. He watched it in silence, its pale glow steady against the dark, until sleep finally took him.