My mother clung to me like I might disappear at any moment, her sobs filling the café.
"You're alive!" she repeated, her voice trembling with disbelief and overwhelming joy. "You're alive!"
Her grip on me tightened.
Her cries were loud–loud enough to draw attention from the café's customers.
The conversations halted.
Chairs scraped against the floor as they all turned towards us, their expressions ranging with confusion to concern.
Some whispered to one another, but I couldn't hear them over the sound of my mother's weeping.
From the kitchen, a man emerged, wiping his hands on a towel. He was tall and broad–shouldered, his dark hair with streaks of grey. His eyes, weary from years of hard work, froze for a moment as he saw us.
The towel slipped from his hand as he rushed toward the scene.
"Eleanor, what's going on!?" His voice was steady, his steps halted as his gaze landed on me.
He stopped in his tracks, his face pale and eyes wide with disbelief.
My mother finally loosened her grip enough to move turn toward him–still hugging me, her face wet with all the tears. "L-Leonard… It's Zane. Our Zane. He's alive… See? What did I tell you for all this time! My baby… He is alive...!"
For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at me as if I were a ghost.
His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
The café grew even quieter, the onlookers holding their breath, as if they too were awaiting his reaction.
Finally, my father broke free from his shock, taking a slow, unsteady steps toward me. His eyes teared, and his voice cracked as he spoke.
"How… How is this possible? Is it really you… Zane?"
I nodded, my throat tight as I replied. "It's me, Dad. I'm Home."
His hands trembled as he reached out to touch my shoulder, as if afraid I might vanish under his fingers.
When he felt the solidity of my presence, he hurriedly pulled me into an embrace. It was firm strong–The embrace of a father who had longed for his son for three years.
"You are alive," he whispered, his voice breaking. "My boy… My Zane…"
"I'm here," I said, my own voice shaking. "Dad."
As our embrace continued, a trembling voice broke through the moment.
"W-What's going on? Dad? Mom—"
My heart clenched.
There she was—standing frozen at the top of the stairs. My older sister.
Elise Skylark.
She looked just like a younger version of our mother, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, reaching her waist. But unlike the poised and confident sister I remembered, she stood there now, her eyes wide open, hands trembling.
"…Zane?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I took a step forward. "Hey, Elise… It's me."
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her legs wobbled, giving out for a brief second, as if the sheer weight of her emotions threatened to pull her down.
But then—without hesitation—she bolted down the stairs. Nearly stumbling over her own feet, she threw herself into my arms, gripping me so tightly it nearly hurt.
Her voice cracked as she sobbed uncontrollably. "Zane? Is this… really you?" Her hands clenched at my back, as if afraid I might disappear again. "I thought… I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I lost you forever—"
I held her just as tightly, feeling the way she shook in my arms. My voice wavered.
"I'm here, Sis. I'm here." My throat tightened, the weight of three lost years pressing down on me. "I'm sorry for leaving you… I'm so sorry."
For a moment, it was just the four of us—my sister's quiet sobs, my mother and father's silent tears, and me, caught in between them.
The café faded away.
Nothing else mattered.
Eventually, my father pulled back slightly, his hands still on my shoulders. His eyes searched mine, as such looking for a proof that this wasn't some kind of illusion.
"Where have you been for all those years? We thought… we thought we lost you in that explosion."
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the lies I have rehearsed on my way here.
"I survived, but barely," I said, my voice low and steady. "The explosion on Frostvile Museum threw me far away, and I was in a coma for the past three years."
It wasn't completely a lie. I couldn't blame them for thinking I was dead.
That day at Frostvile Museum, my parents had taken me for a tour when an unexpected explosion killed nearly a hundred civilians.
I was caught in the blast and barely survived. The Hero Association found me and took me in, claiming I had some kind of bizarre powers.
For at least a year I was trained like a dog–for the sole purpose of being the greatest weapon they possess.
And later on, I became everyone's symbol of hope, and they named me [Hope].
My real Identity as 'Zane Skylark' remained hidden, even from them, I had signed a contract that stated revealing of my identity would bring them doom at my own hands.
Thus, even the upper-echelon members of the Hero Association didn't know who I truly was.
"A coma?" my mother repeated, her voice trembling–worrying, as her soft hand squeezing mine.
I nodded. "I woke up only a few months ago. It took me time to recover enough to travel back here."
I lowered my gaze, feeling shame. "I wanted to come back sooner, but I couldn't. I am sorry."
My father's hand moved to my cheek, his touch was gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for, son. You're alive–that's all that matters."
My mother wiped her tears with the edge of her apron, her smile radiant despite her teary face.
"Let's close the café for the day. My son travelled for an entire day. You must be hungry."
"Very hungry." I replied.
"Come on, Zane," she said softly, her voice thick with tears, "Let's go upstairs."
Our house is a two-story building of first floor being the café and the second floor being our home, as my sister took me to the second floor which held our home, I noticed, neatly potted plants lining in the balcony spoke of my mother's flawless care, while the slight creak n the wooden staircase hinted at my father's stubborn refusal to replace anything that still had character.
It wasn't any thing grand or luxurious, but it was ours. Every inch of the house held memories–some cherished, some painful, but all part of me.
Later, as I stood in the bathroom, steam curling around me... I heard a faint sound outside the door.
I opened it slightly to find Elise sitting on the floor, her back against the wall.
"Elise?" I asked, surprised from the other side of the door.
"I just… I can't leave. What if you disappear again?" she said softly.
I crouched down, resting my back against the door. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You don't understand. For three years, I lived every day thinking you were gone. And now you are here, but… it feels like a dream. What if I wake up and you're gone again?"
I swallowed hard, her voice cutting deep. "I'm here," I said firmly. "And I'll prove it to you every day if I have to."
"You better."
For the past fifteen minutes, Elise had been chatting non-stop.
My older sister–just eleven months older than me–was on verge of turning eighteen, she didn't even pause her chatter while I was in the bath, as if afraid I might vanish the moment she stopped talking.
When I finally emerged, we made our way to the dinner table together.
It was laden with all my favourite dishes: spiced venison stew, perfectly glazed carrots, and a golden, flaky apple pie that filled the room with its sweet, comforting aroma.
As I took my first bite, the tension in me faded away.
My parents and Elise watched in silence, their eyes filled with relief—like seeing me eat was proof that I was really here. That I had truly come back.
The flavours washed over me, warm and familiar. Tender meat. Fresh vegetables. It was a perfect blend of spices and herbs.
It was perfect. So perfect.
My jaw tightened. A strange feeling crept up my chest, spreading to my throat, and then to my eyes.
Before I knew it, tears slid down my cheeks.
My fork clattered softly against the bowl. I wiped my face, but the tears wouldn't stop.
Across from me, Elise leaned forward, her brows furrowed. "Zane… why are you crying?"
I shook my head, forcing a smile. "I don't know." My voice wavered. "Maybe… because it's been so long since I felt this."
She let out a quiet sniffle. "Idiot." A tear rolled down her cheek. "You're crying because you're happy. And now you're making me cry too."
***
We laughed, the sound of our laughter breaking through the weight of the moment.
For the first time in years, the house was filled with warmth.
As the conversation shifted, Elise pulled out her 'Nova' ID, with a proud grin on her face.
"I'm training to become a hero," she declared, her eyes shone brightly.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "You're doing great, Elise." I reached out, ruffling her hair.
"Hey! Stop that! I'm older, you know!" She huffed before smirking and patting my head in return.
The atmosphere was lighter now. My mother poured another bowl of stew, my father grumbled about the customers, and Elise beamed as she shared stories about her time at Nova Academy.
"Nova, huh? I didn't realize you enrolled."
"Of course, I did! I wanted to make Mom and Dad proud. After you…" She hesitated, but only for a moment. "After everything, I realized I wanted to protect people."
Heroes, huh… Could I ever go back to that?
I had left that life behind, gone into hiding from the Hero Association.
But now, hearing the excitement in her voice, I felt something stir. A shadow of the past, a flicker of something I thought was long gone.
I had once stood at the top. The Rank-1 Hero. A symbol of power.
But now… Was that all I was?
The days of my glory felt distant, blurred by the pain and confusion that came after 'that thing' took my life.
I wasn't the same anymore. My body had changed. My powers had evolved.
But had my purpose?
I looked at Elise—my brave, determined sister. She still had hope. She still believed. In heroes. In me.
She didn't know the weight of that title, the sacrifices it demanded. I had lived it. I had lost because of it. And I wasn't sure if I could ever go back.
But maybe… I could keep her from making the same mistakes.
"Zane."
Her voice pulled me out from my thoughts.
"Why don't you come to Nova with me? Maybe you could replace 'Hope' and be my hero instead."
'Replace Hope?'
The words hit harder than I expected.
I looked at her—at the girl who had always looked up to [Hope]. To me.
And for the first time, I saw the path ahead clearly.
A weight settled in my chest. But this time, it wasn't anger. It wasn't fear.
It was resolve.
I'll go back.
I'll take my revenge.
But not as [Hope].
But as Zane Skylark.
End of Chapter.