The alley was too quiet.
Red light from the building’s emergency system bled out into the street like a dying breath. The scent of scorched metal and ozone still lingered, mingling with the dampness of the pavement. A few blocks away, the faint sound of sirens pierced the stillness. But here, in this tucked-away shadow of Grit City, the world had frozen.
Ethan Keller—the Blue Boxer—stood motionless, the djinn’s lamp cradled in his hands like something fragile and final.
Jubbar loomed beside him, arms crossed, waiting, gaze unreadable.
Jack sat on a stack of old crates nearby, watching Ethan with bright, trusting eyes and no idea what was coming.
Ken—Khaki Karateka—stood just to Ethan’s left, his expression etched in disbelief. He knew what the look on Ethan's face meant.
“No,” Ken said, shaking his head. “No. You’re not doing this.”
Ethan didn’t answer at first.
He was too busy watching the way Jack’s legs swung off the crate, scuffed knees bouncing, hands fidgeting with his green shirt. The brave boy looked exhausted, bruised, and happy to be alive. Blissfully unaware.
How could he not remember?
How could he not know?
The way they used to fight side by side. The first time they saved a hostage together. That night on the rooftop, drenched in rain, laughing after barely surviving a demon-possessed vending machine. The night after this whole nightmare began, when Jack—Lumberjack—had finally, finally, whispered across the dark:
"I think I’ve loved you since before I even knew what that meant."
Ethan blinked hard.
His arms felt heavy. Like they weren’t meant to hold this lamp. Like they’d only ever broken things.
“I have to do this,” he said softly.
“No, you don’t,” Ken insisted, stepping closer. “You’ve made mistakes, sure. You acted impulsively. But that doesn’t mean you throw everything away. You’re the Blue Boxer. You’re—you’re my dad.”
Ethan swallowed against the burn in his throat. The words struck deeper than they should have. Maybe it was because Ken’s voice cracked near the end. Or maybe it was because Ethan had once heard that same voice cry years ago, when Ken was just a ten-year-old runaway taken in by a stranger in a blue mask.
“I’m not your dad,” Ethan said gently. “Not really. I’m just... the guy who got lucky enough to take care of you. Who saw how incredible you were, and tried to help you become the hero I could never quite manage to be.”
Ken flinched. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” Ethan said, lifting his gaze. “Ken... I’ve done so many things wrong. Not just rubbing that lamp. Not just turning us into kids. But all the things that led up to it. The choices I made trying to fill the hole in me left by Mom and Dad... by all the people I lost, all the friends who died or quit or vanished because this city chewed them up. I kept pushing people away so they wouldn’t be the next casualty.”
He looked down at the lamp.
“I thought maybe if I could be young again... I could fix it. Be better. Rewrite something I never got right. But all I did was get us nearly killed.”
“You didn’t know,” said Anansewa gently. Her tone was soft, but her eyes shimmered with sympathy—and caution. “You made a mistake. That doesn’t mean you deserve to lose everything.”
“But that’s just it,” Ethan whispered. “I’m not losing everything.”
He looked up at Jack.
The boy blinked at him, puzzled, tilting his head just slightly.
“I’m choosing something better,” Ethan said.
Jack grinned. “Wait, is this another cool mission?”
The words cracked something open in Ethan’s chest.
He chuckled, weakly.
“No, buddy. It’s not a mission.”
Ken stepped forward again, hands tightening into fists. “Ethan. Don’t. Please. You’re the closest thing I have to a father. To family. You gave me a home after I lost mine. You taught me how to fight, how to lead.”
Ethan turned to him.
“I know. And now I’m giving it all to you.”
Ken’s mouth trembled. “But I’m not ready.”
Ethan’s smile was warm—too warm.
“You are, Ken. You’ve been ready for a long time. You led the team. You brought us all back. You saved Jack. You saved me. You’re not the sidekick anymore. You’re the real hero.”
He stepped forward, one small hand gently holding Ken’s larger one.
“And I’m proud of you. So proud. But I can’t keep being the weight around your neck. Or Jack’s.”
He turned to Jack again.
“My best friend saved my life.”
Jack beamed.
“And the man who once loved me...” Ethan paused, voice trembling. “The man I loved gave up everything for me. So now I’ll return the favor.”
Jack returned his gaze with a blank look,utterly confused. “Huh?”
Ethan walked over and gave Jack a tight,squeezing hug. The kind of hug lumberjack used to do after a successful mission.
“I remember everything now, Jack,” he said softly. “And I remember you. As a man. As Lumberjack. As the most loyal, frustrating, brave, and wonderful person I ever fought beside.”
Jack blinked, blushing a little in Ethan's embrace. “Sounds like I was pretty awesome.”
Ethan smiled. “You were. You are. But what you did today? Giving up everything you were, just to rescue me? That’s more heroic than anything we ever did in costume.”
Jack looked uncertain now. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“I know,” Ethan said gently. He released the hug,stepping back a little,just to look in Jack's eyes. “But I do. And I want you to have someone who remembers what it’s like to fight beside you. Who sees you not as a liability, or a kid, or a sidekick—but as a partner.”
Jack blinked. “You mean... you?”
Ethan nodded.
“I want to be your best friend. For real. Not just as some older guy who remembers the world before it got so dark. But as a kid like you. Someone you can grow up with. Someone who gets it.”
Jack looked up at him. His face was blank at first—but then it softened. His eyes shimmered, just a little. He nodded.
“Okay.”
Ethan turned back to Jubbar, who had watched the entire thing without a single joke or smirk.
“I wish,” Ethan said, “to forget all of my past memories—my adult life, my trauma, my pain. But I want to keep my skills. My instincts. My training. I want to be the Blue Boxer in spirit—but a twelve-year-old in mind, just like Jack.”
Ken stepped forward again. “No. Please.”
Ethan turned. “Ken... you don’t need me anymore.”
“That’s not true!” Ken’s voice cracked. “I still make mistakes. I still screw things up. I need your advice. Your perspective.”
“You’ll have that,” Ethan said. “But it’ll come from who I am now. Not the broken, tired man I was. That guy? He was losing himself. He didn’t even notice the world falling apart around him. You’ve already passed him, Ken. You’re the leader now.”
Anansewa stepped forward quietly. “Ethan... are you sure?”
Ethan looked at her. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Jubbar huffed, wiping at one eye with a hanky made of cloud. “If you’re done with the touching speeches, shall we make it official?”
Ethan reached down and placed his hand on the lamp.
“I wish,” he said, “to forget everything of my adult life—but keep my skills and instincts. I want to grow up again. Beside Jack. Under Ken’s leadership. As a kid.”
The lamp glowed.
The air trembled.
Jubbar nodded. “Done.”
And just like that—it was gone.
Ethan blinked. He stood up straight, a little slower. He looked around the alley. His eyes landed on Ken. Then CT. Then Anansewa. All strangers.
Then he looked at Jack.
“Hey,” Ethan said softly.
Jack’s face lit up. “Hey!”
They laughed and pulled into a tight,innocent hug—just like that.
Ken turned away for a second, trying to hide the tears prickling at his eyes.
Ethan Keller—Blue Boxer—was gone.
But in his place was a kid. A boy. A little brother. One who could finally leave behind the weight of tragedy and trauma. One who could make new memories. With Jack. With Stealthy Scout.
And Ken?
He would carry both their pasts. He would lead. Protect. Teach.
It's his new responsibilty.
Even if it hurt.
Anansewa stepped beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, Khaki?”
Ken exhaled, watching the two boys run down the alley, laughing, joking, chasing each other like they hadn’t just survived a war.
“I am not,” he said,trembling. “But let’s go home.”