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Chapter 60: Big Bro Brock
🕑 Added 2022-12-14 17:36:01 +0000 UTCThe Kickstarter was funded in less than 24 hours, by the way, so a big thanks to all of you who joined!
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Jack raised a brow. “Spar with you?”
Dorman Whistles stared him in the eye. “Yes,” he said, smiling. “Please?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you’re strong. I can tell; I’m strong too. And these random weaklings aren’t enough to make me stronger, but you are.”
Jack blinked. This was a bit too sudden. He’d barely spoken to the guy before.
“I thought violence was forbidden.”
“In the town, yes. But we have training basements.”
Jack looked deep into this guy’s eyes and found something familiar. The fire of a fighter burned there; the urge to test himself against worthy opponents and relish in battle.
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Brock cheered and climbed on Jack’s shoulder, eager to watch two strong people go at it.
“Are you sure, Jack?” Edgar said from the side. “What about the fights?”
Dorman glared at him. Jack raised a hand. “It’s fine. The strong people will fight weak ones, mostly, so there won’t be much to see. A spar will be better.”
“So, wanna go?” Dorman asked. He looked like he couldn’t wait. Jack shared the feeling.
“Sure,” he said. “But come to my basement. Yours could be an ambush.”
“Fine by me. Let’s go.”
***
The previous night,
Brock felt the wind on his fur, the night breeze on his face. He bared his fangs in a smile.
He jumped from the rooftop to a hanging rope, using it like a branch to launch himself further forward. There were plenty of these ropes, and they made crossing the town fun.
Unfortunately, they weren’t always empty. Brock fell face-first into a white shirt, unlatching it and taking it with him. He barely managed to stick his head out of a shoulder opening; wrapped in white, he now resembled a ghost flying through the air. Thank the Monkey King there was no one on the streets to see him.
He paused on a rooftop to pull the shirt off him, dropped it on the flat wood, then almost jumped away again. At the last moment, he realized this wasn’t polite. He gently folded the shirt first, then left it on the rooftop and flew away.
Big Bro would be so proud.
Brock admired Big Bro. He was so strong, like a big brorilla! He could lift…a lot of weight!
Brock himself wasn’t that strong, and that made him sad. However, it also lit a fire in him. He would become strong. He would make everyone proud. Big Bro, Father, and Mother. He would be the strongest brorilla, and then the pack would never send him away again! Father said it was for his own good, but Brock knew the truth. He clenched his little fists, unleashing a monkey cry in the still night air.
Brock would become strong… He just had to figure out how.
He kept jumping, balancing between rooftops, hanging ropes, and lighting poles—he preferred the latter, as they resembled trees.
Bright shops and dark ones crossed under his feet. Bakers out to light their first oven of the day and barkeepers cleaning up. Locked carts of yummy food and heavily-clothed people pacing fast. Occasional speech wafted from below to disappear quickly as Brock kept running.
The day was noisy and full of weird smells and sounds and people saying things he couldn’t understand. Brock disliked the day. But the night… He liked the night. Even though he sometimes felt sad during it.
Now, only the faraway district was lit and noisy, the one where all the bros that looked similar to his big bro stayed, but he didn’t need to go there.
He latched onto a lighting pole and came to a pause. He brought a hand over his eyes to shield from the bright light just above his head, then looked around. His other hand kept him anchored to the pole.
A nearby alley looked inviting. A perfect place to think. Moreover, he could see the big-bro-with-big-stick statue of the arena right before him. That was pleasant.
A few moments later, Brock fell into a dark alley. The town’s few sounds disappeared, cut off by the towering walls around him. The alley was strewn with empty boxes left over by the nearby shops, and its stone walls stank a bit of fish, but that was okay.
Brock found a crate that looked towards the end of the alley and sat on it, his fist supporting his chin. He was close to the arena, so he could also see the statue from before through the buildings. It was quiet, too.
Finally, Brock had found the perfect place to think. And so, he dived into his doubts, seeking to dissolve them.
Big Bro in the sky, he wondered, why Brock not strong? Dumbbell too heavy now, but dumbbell light at home. Is Brock weaker? Is Brock not working out enough?
He was distraught. Everyone around him was strong, but he was weak. No wonder Father had kicked him out. He didn’t even have impeccable pecs!
Brock sadly flexed a bicep. It only doubled his arm’s girth. He scowled, a couple tears glistening in his ears—being weak was shameful for a bro, but crying was not.
What am I doing wrong, Big Bro in the sky… he wondered sadly, not expecting an answer to his thoughts.
But he got one.
Suddenly, the sound of rustling surrounded him. He looked around warily. Paper boxes and crates were pushed aside, and from behind them, five dogs appeared—one big black and four dirty brown. Before he knew it, Brock was surrounded.
He looked at the dogs deeply. They snarled and barked at him, eyes filled with hunger, but Brock’s were only filled with pity.
These dog bros were so skinny. Their ribs showed, and their muscles seemed weaker than a newborn gymonkey’s. How could they live like that!?
And what were they even doing here? Brock didn’t understand everything when Big Bro spoke with other tall bros, but he knew that there weren’t many small bros like himself here.
But, maybe, there were some. Maybe his Big Bro wasn’t the only one who brought his pack. And, maybe, the other Big Bros weren’t good bros. Maybe these dogs were only alone and starving here…because they had been abandoned.
Rage clouded his eyes, quickly shifting back to worry.
He jumped up at once, staring at the dogs with a compassion that they apparently did not share. They bared their fangs and jumped at him. Each reached at least his chest in height, but Brock wasn’t afraid; with muscles that small, how could they beat him?
He ducked under the first dog and grabbed it by the leg, then spinned it twice in mid-air before dropping it on the second dog. A third tried to bite him, but Brock simply grabbed both sides of its mouth and forced it shut. He then wrapped a hand around its muzzle and put the other under the dog’s belly, raising it and throwing it at the fourth dog like a big poop. Both tumbled away.
Only the fifth and last dog—and also the largest one—was left by now. It must have been the big bro of the dogs, and it eyed Brock warily. He didn’t want to hurt it; so he jumped on its back and held on to its fur, butt bumping against its spine as the dog jumped and thrashed around, but it was unable to throw him off.
Eventually, it got exhausted and fell to the ground, at which point Brock dismounted.
The rest of the dogs were staring at him now, eyes filled with fear. Brock had no intention of harming them, of course; his heart hurt simply looking at them. These little dog bros desperately needed a big bro to guide them.
Suddenly, a thought struck Brock like a thunderbolt. Should he become their big bro? They were different species, but Big Bro had already shown Brock that different people could be bros.
But muscles are the most important, he thought with sadness. Two different desires warred inside him; on one side, he wanted to become the big bro of these dogs and help them. On the other, he wanted to spend all his time working out so he could become stronger and worthy of Big Bro’s brohood.
He hesitated for a moment, but eventually chose the second path. He needed to become strong. He didn’t want to be kicked out of the pack again.
However, just as he was about to depart and leave the dog bros to their fate, a second thought struck him!
Wait! he realized. If muscles are the most important, why is Big Bro a big bro? Why is Father a big bro? They could be working out instead!
This was a predicament! Brock frowned and sat back down on his crate to consider the issue. There was something there; he just didn’t know what. The dogs looked at him and waited, unsure of what was happening.
I know! he realized, slapping an open hand with the bottom of his fist. Father said all muscles are important. The heart has muscles too! Big Bros guide their little bros to work out their hearts!
His monkey mouth formed into a big ‘o’. What a truth he had discovered! “Uu-ha-ha!” he shouted.
He jumped up excitedly. He would become the big bro of these dog bros. They would be his pack!
Excited, he looked at the dogs and flexed his muscles to declare his decision. They didn’t flex back, but that was okay; as a good big bro, he’d teach them how to properly communicate with other bros.
He’d also teach them to work out. But first came another thing. He just couldn’t bear to see his little bros skinny like that.
Reaching into his pocket—Big Bro had asked him to wear a pair of red pants—Brock took out a pack of salami. He had been planning to use it as a snack for harder thoughts, but now, his little bros needed it.
The moment he took it out and opened it, the dogs jumped at it. Brock grabbed their muzzles and tossed them all away, then glared at them.
He was their big bro. They should show respect.
The dogs whimpered. Then, one by one, they looked down. Brock smiled warmly. He used his hands to cut the salami into five roughly equal pieces, then distributed it to his little bros. They practically tore into the poor salami.
Brock looked at them sadly. They were so poor and weak…but luckily, they now had a strong big bro to help them. He felt filled with pride, and his chest stuck out a bit—undoubtedly from his heart muscles getting stronger. He was working out already!
Big Bros were so wise.
Suddenly, Brock wondered something else. If he trained his heart, what else could he train?
Head muscles! he realized. Big Bro sometimes sits in silence. He works out his head muscles. Brock should do the same.
He nodded, resolved to try what his Big Bro called “cultivation” instead of fighting the dumbbell all the time.
Then, as his little bros had already finished eating, he started showing them how to work out. They normally shouldn’t do it right after food, but…well, they needed it.
With his guidance and a lot of hard work, these dog bros would become buff in no time at all!
