Model Kit Nerd Jonathan, Chevrolet Comes Calling Again

October winds swept across the farm carrying the scent of wheat, and golden waves of grain rolled all the way to the horizon.

The calendar hanging beneath the porch had already been turned to its final page, densely marked with countdowns to the autumn harvest.

But Dio and Clark were not on the farm.

Two weeks into the school term, both boys had gone to school in town.

Leaving behind...

"Sigh."

"Sigh."

Two farmers sighing in front of the rebuilt barn.

Jonathan scratched the back of his head, bits of straw rustling down from his messy hair.

Locke stared at the oily sheen on his wrench, seemingly lost in thought.

"You go first?"

"No, you go first."

They exchanged a glance, then suddenly spoke in unison:

"Clark's birthday!"

"Dio's birthday!"

Black smoke billowed as Jonathan's tractor let out a puff, as though it had been amused by the coincidence.

Shaking his head, Locke pulled a crumpled list from the bottom of his toolbox.

A date at the very top had been circled in red:

Harvest Day.

That was right. That day was Harvest Day.

Not only a day to harvest crops, but also the day they had received their two gifts from heaven.

"Actually, Martha's been going on about it since August."

Jonathan pulled out a copy of The Complete Guide to Children's Party Planning. "She said Clark and Dio were turning eight this year, so we had to make it a grand celebration."

"She says that every year."

Locke chuckled, then pulled a small notebook from his pocket.

Dio's flamboyant handwriting filled its pages:

[Birthday Wish List]

1. It can't be the same as any previous gift.

2. It has to be thoughtful.

3. You absolutely have to put your heart into it!

The older they got, the harder they were to please.

"This kid..."

"Sigh."

"Locke, Martha found my secret stash again a while back."

Jonathan looked miserable. "I don't have enough spending money left."

"Didn't Martha just give you some half a month ago?" Locke frowned.

He wondered if Jonathan had picked up some bad habit.

"Don't misunderstand me." Jonathan coughed. "You know, no man can resist it."

"What?" Locke was startled.

So this was more than just a simple bad habit?!

"A while ago..." Jonathan suddenly lowered his voice. After looking around and confirming Martha was nowhere nearby, he mysteriously pulled a toy store flyer from his pocket. "That robot cartoon from that island country."

Locke's brow relaxed. "Gundam?"

"Shh—!"

Jonathan hurriedly clapped a hand over Locke's mouth. "Keep it down! Martha still thinks I bought tractor parts."

Sunlight fell across the flyer, revealing an image—[PG Perfect Gundam Limited Edition].

The string of zeroes after the price made Locke suck in a breath.

"You..."

Locke's voice trembled slightly. "You spent all of this month's spending money on two big plastic toys?"

Superman's adoptive father, forty-one-year-old Jonathan Kent, had become a model kit nerd.

What kind of dream am I having?

Jonathan's old face reddened at those words.

"What do you mean, plastic toys?! This is a man's romance! And this one is made of alloy!"

He pulled out a second flyer, showing the half-assembled model inside. "Look at the articulated joints, look at these details..."

In the shadows.

Two middle-aged men pressed their heads together over the flyer as though they were conducting some illegal transaction.

Locke's Adam's apple bobbed.

The 1/60 alloy frame in the photo gleamed coldly beneath the lights, its precision impossible to look away from.

He admitted it.

He was a little tempted too.

"So..." Locke said gloomily, "give me one?"

"No!"

Jonathan shoved the flyers back into his pocket as though electrocuted. "I'm building both of them! One in its original colors, and the other, according to the toy store owner, can be made into some kind of battle-damaged version."

Locke sneered and leisurely pulled out Dio's wish list, waving it in front of him.

"Then let's see what you'll give Clark as a gift..."

"Y-you bastard..."

Jonathan's face turned the color of liver.

Trembling, he opened the hidden compartment beneath his tractor seat.

Inside lay two unopened model boxes with sharp corners, their mecha covers gleaming in the sunlight.

The air froze for three seconds.

"Brother!"

Jonathan suddenly roared and slapped one of the boxes into Locke's arms. "Take it and build it!"

The sunlight cast his shadow against the barn wall, making him look like a stalk of wheat bent beneath the weight of life.

Sighing, he then held out a hand toward Locke.

Signaling for him to hand something over.

"Who told us to be brothers?"

Locke gave a mysterious smile. "I secretly prepared a big gift for Clark and Dio a long time ago."

He led Jonathan over to a sheet of tarp, then lifted it away with a grand flourish.

Underneath was a miniature tractor modified from a children's toy car?!

"I put it together from parts of a scrapped harvester."

Locke rubbed his hands smugly. "Dio definitely won't know!"

"Cool!"

A smile appeared on Jonathan's face. He whistled and walked around behind the tractor. "Brother, I'm taking this with me, then."

"Go ahead."

"Remember to make an identical one for Dio, or just wait for him to guilt-trip you with that sweet talk."

Locke shrugged, gesturing for Jonathan to take the half-finished project beside it as well.

"Okay, okay. I'm sure those two little guys will be very happy."

Humming a tuneless little song, Jonathan happily pushed away the miniature tractor, using his tractor to tow away the cart full of parts as well.

The setting sun stretched his shadow long behind him, like a great bear that had stolen honey.

So...

My brother Jonathan.

When did you become like this?

Locke sighed.

He still remembered when he had come here to stay at the age of twelve. Jonathan had been unbelievably strict.

No late-night snacks, bed before nine, no more than two hours of television a day, and even going out came with a set time limit.

He had been the very picture of a strict father. How had he become like this now?

To be honest, compared to his own childhood, Locke was even a little jealous of Clark now.

Back then, he had fought Jonathan several times just to win himself a little freedom.

So...

"Sorry, bro."

He chuckled and patted the model box.

"I'll give it back after I finish building it."

With a sly grin, Locke crouched down and hid the limited-edition Gundam beneath the lowest level of the scaffolding, then turned and walked toward the farthest corner of the barn—

A grime-covered tarp still lay over something there.

"Rustle—"

Beneath the tarp were two gleaming metal cases.

Two gold-stamped emblems shimmered in the twilight.

That miniature tractor had merely been a discarded prototype Locke had casually molded with Star Platinum.

His real gift was not that.

"Hiss..."

Locke rubbed his chest painfully.

These two astronomical telescopes had cost him a sizable portion of his savings, and he had even called in a favor from Anthony to get them brought back from the United Kingdom.

Dad had really put a lot of thought into this one!

Apparently, they were from some Royal Academy of Sciences or something?

Whatever.

In any case, those two boys should like them.

"Skreeech—!"

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the piercing sound of tires scraping.

Locke reflexively covered the cases with the tarp and glanced at the clock hanging on the barn wall.

—4:23 p.m.

At this time...

There were at least another thirty minutes before the school bus arrived.

Besides, he could recognize that old school bus's engine with his eyes closed. It definitely did not make the muffled rumble of a high-end engine like this.

Locke narrowed his eyes, casually wiped his hands on his work pants, and strode out of the barn.

He raised a hand over his brow as Star Platinum's telescopic vision let him gaze into the distance.

A Chevrolet was bumping shakily over the potholes in the dirt road like a lame old cow.

The full-sized SUV, which should have looked imposing, now resembled a drunkard, swaying left and right to avoid the rocks jutting from the road. Mud splashed from who knew where stained its paintwork.

Two months later.

They had come again.