The Aftermath

"Jack, please talk to me."

His mother's voice cut through the silence, shaky and desperate. Jack stood by Ethan's grave, eyes glued to the fresh dirt, fists clenched tight. It had been days since the funeral, but the weight in his chest hadn't lightened. He hadn't spoken much since then, and every word now seemed trapped behind a wall of grief and rage.

"Jack," his mother tried again, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We can't stay here forever."

He stiffened but didn't move. "You go ahead," he whispered. His voice came out raw, broken.

His mother didn't argue. Tears filled her eyes, but she knew better than to push. With a heavy sigh, she turned to walk back to the car, leaving Jack alone at his brother's grave. The cemetery felt impossibly still, almost like the world itself was mourning alongside him.

Jack took a shuddering breath, fighting the storm of emotions raging inside. He remembered the countless times Ethan had dragged him to the gym, always laughing, always full of life. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right that his brother was gone.

"You idiot," Jack muttered. "Why did you have to fight him?"

The memories flooded back—Ethan stepping into that cage, determined, fearless. Rico's vicious elbow, the way Ethan had crumpled, and that awful, empty silence. Jack had screamed for him, but his voice hadn't mattered. Nothing he had done had saved Ethan.

He sank to his knees, fingers digging into the earth. "I should've protected you," he choked out. "I promised I would."

But promises didn't matter anymore. His brother was gone, and Jack was left with nothing but guilt and rage. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the burn of unshed tears. In the distance, he heard the faint rustle of leaves, the wind whispering through the trees.

"Jack."

The voice made him flinch. He turned to see Mason, Ethan's best friend and sparring partner. Mason looked as wrecked as Jack felt, his eyes bloodshot, his shoulders slumped. He approached cautiously, as though afraid Jack might shatter at any moment.

"Mason," Jack managed to say, voice thick with grief.

Mason swallowed, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "I thought I'd find you here," he said quietly. "I… I needed to say goodbye, too."

Jack didn't respond, but he didn't push Mason away, either. They stood there in silence, both grappling with the hole Ethan had left in their lives.

"I keep thinking about that night," Mason said eventually. "How Ethan was so excited, how he swore he'd beat Rico."

Jack's jaw tightened. The mention of Rico's name was like a knife twisting in his gut. "Yeah," he whispered. "He really believed he could win."

Mason's fists clenched. "He should have won. That hit was illegal, Jack. Everyone knows it."

Jack looked up, his eyes blazing. "And yet, no one's doing anything about it."

Mason's anger mirrored his own. "I talked to Coach. He said the officials won't overturn the decision. They're calling it an 'unfortunate accident.'" The bitterness in his voice was palpable. "Rico gets to walk away without consequences."

Jack's hands shook. "It wasn't an accident," he growled. "Rico knew exactly what he was doing."

Mason nodded, tears shining in his eyes. "We all saw it. But proving it? That's a whole different fight."

Jack's vision blurred with rage. He wanted justice, but the system had failed Ethan. How could he let Rico keep fighting, keep winning, when his brother's life had been stolen? The anger burned so fiercely that it hurt.

Mason hesitated. "What are you thinking?"

Jack turned back to the grave, feeling his heart harden. "I'm thinking I can't just let this go," he said. "I won't."

Mason's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

Jack stood, his resolve hardening like stone. "I'm going to make sure Rico pays," he said, his voice low but unwavering. "If no one else will hold him accountable, then I will."

Mason stared at him, a mix of shock and understanding crossing his face. "Jack, you can't… You've never fought professionally. Rico's dangerous. You'd be putting your life at risk."

Jack's gaze was unflinching. "Ethan believed in me. He always said I could be a great fighter if I wanted to. Well, now I have a reason."

Mason looked like he wanted to argue, but he saw the determination in Jack's eyes. "You're serious about this."

"Dead serious," Jack said. "Rico took Ethan from us. He needs to face the consequences."

Mason exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Then you'll need help," he said, a hint of fire lighting in his eyes. "You can't do this alone. If you're really going to fight, you'll need to train, harder than you ever have before."

Jack nodded, his heart pounding. "I know. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of Jack's decision settling between them. Mason finally extended his hand, his grip firm. "Then let's do this. For Ethan."

Jack's eyes burned, but this time it wasn't just grief—it was hope, a spark of purpose. "For Ethan," he echoed.

Together, they turned away from the grave, a shared determination driving them forward. The world had tried to move on from Ethan's death, but Jack wouldn't let it. He would fight, not just for his brother, but for justice.

And as they walked away, Jack whispered one last promise to the wind.

"Rico," he said, his voice filled with quiet fury. "You're going to pay."