Four years on the Kent farm had transformed Brody from a chaotic toddler into a sharp, fiercely energetic six-year-old. His wild, gravity-defying black hair had grown longer and his Saiyan tail was now expertly wrapped around his waist like a furry belt, hidden beneath his denim jackets.
However, as Brody grew so did the terrifying well of power dormant within him. Standing by the kitchen window, twenty-year-old Clark watched his little brother out in the yard. It was a beautiful breezy afternoon but Brody looked utterly miserable.
Bruno, the ageing Golden Retriever, trotted up to the boy his tail wagging lazily and nudged Brody's knee. Instinctively Brody reached out to pet him but halfway there he snatched his hand back tucking his fists deeply into his pockets. He turned his head away his small shoulders slumping. Bruno whined confusedly but Brody refused to touch him.
Clark's heart ached. The farm was no longer just a playground; it had become a landscape of eggshells. Last week Brody had accidentally shattered the reinforced steel handle of the tractor just by trying to climb up. Two days ago a simple high-five had sent Clark skidding backward tearing up the lawn. Brody was terrified of his own strength. He couldn't play with the dogs he couldn't help his dad with the chores and he certainly couldn't go into town to attend the local elementary school like he desperately wanted to.
A familiar crunch of tyres on gravel pulled Clark from his thoughts. Nick Fury's sleek black SUV rolled up to the barn. "Uncle Fury!" Brody shouted his gloomy demeanour vanishing instantly. But instead of running and launching himself at the SHIELD Director like he used to Brody stopped five feet away carefully keeping his hands to himself.
Fury stepped out noticing the distance immediately. His single eye softened though his face remained as stoic as ever.
"Hey kid, no tackle today?"
"I don't want to break your ribs again," Brody mumbled, staring at his boots.
Fury chuckled low and reached into the backseat to pull out a sleek metallic briefcase. "Good tactical assessment, but I think I've brought something to level the playing field."
Inside the house, Jonathan and Martha gathered around the kitchen table as Fury popped the briefcase's latches. Inside lay a simple long-sleeved dark blue undersuit and matching leggings. The fabric had a strange metallic sheen, weaving like liquid graphite under the kitchen lights.
I promised you specialised tech when the time came," Fury explained, lifting the shirt. "SHIELD's advanced R&D division has been working on this since we found the pod. Building a gravity chamber underground would only isolate the boy. This is better – it's a localised micro-gravity weave."
Clark stepped closer, examining the material. "A gravity suit?"
"Exactly," Fury nodded. "It connects to a biometric dampener. I can remotely dial up the gravitational pull applied specifically to the wearer's body. To us, it feels like regular fabric. To Brody, it will simulate whatever gravity density we set it to. It forces his muscles and his kit to constantly work against the weight, suppressing that massive power level so he can interact with the world normally."
"Will it hurt him?" Martha asked, her brow furrowed with maternal concern.
"Not a bit," Fury assured her. He looked down at the six-year-old. "Ready to try it on, kid?"
A few minutes later, Brody emerged from his bedroom. He wore his usual jeans and a flannel shirt, but the dark blue collar of the gravity suit peeked out from underneath.
"Alright," Fury said, pulling out a specialised tablet. "Brace yourself, Brody. I'm taking you to three times Earth's normal gravity."
Fury swiped his finger across the screen. The suit emitted a faint subsonic hum. Brody gasped, his knees buckling slightly.
As the invisible, crushing weight settled over his entire body, Clark gritted his teeth and sank his small boots heavily into the floorboards. For a terrifying second, he considered intervening, thinking it was too much. But then Brody stood up straight. The oppressive, suffocating aura of his 15,000-plus power level, which usually radiated like heat from a furnace, was suddenly pulled inward, entirely suppressed by the suit's resistance. Brody blinked, looking at his hands, and slowly reached out to pick up a ceramic coffee mug from the table. He gripped it and it didn't shatter into dust. It simply sat there perfectly safe in his hand. Brody's dark eyes widened with absolute wonder. He set the mug down and looked up at Martha. "Mom?" he whispered. Martha knelt down, opening her arms. Brody didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, his footsteps heavy and clunky under the increased gravity, and threw his arms around her neck, squeezing her tight. For the first time in years, Martha didn't have to brace herself for the impact. It was just a normal, perfect hug from her son. Clark smiled, a heavy weight lifting off his own chest. "Alright, alright, don't get too soft on me," Fury smirked, packing up the briefcase. "That suit is going to make you stronger every day you wear it, Brody. You'll be walking around carrying the weight of three men. Think you can handle that?" Brody pulled back from his mother, a fierce, distinctly Saiyan grin spreading across his face. "I can handle it, Uncle Fury! I'm going to go pet Bruno!" As the boy heavily but happily stomped out the back door to finally play with his dog, Fury turned to Clark. "Now that he's not going to accidentally break your jaw… it might be time for you two to start burning off some of that energy in the back fields. Teach him how to throw a punch." Nick Fury didn't just leave curriculum; he left a suit. Before his black SUV rolled out of the driveway that afternoon, Fury handed Jonathan a heavily encrypted tablet. It…
A rigorous, scientifically calculated training schedule pushed the boundaries of Saiyan biology while keeping Brody grounded. The results were terrifyingly fast; what took a normal human years of conditioning, Brody accomplished in days. Within the first week, the six-year-old felt three times Earth's gravity like a gentle breeze. Under Fury's remote supervision, the biometric dampener dial steadily climbed from five to eight times Earth's gravity over the next month. By the time the Smallville Elementary School open house arrived, Brody was walking, running and playing under ten times Earth's standard gravity. To the world, Brody Kent was simply an energetic, slightly rowdy farm boy with a wild head of hair. However, beneath his flannel shirts and denim jeans, he carried the localised weight of a massive boulder every second. Thanks to the suit, Brody finally achieved his most desired goal: a normal life. Fury orchestrated flawless adoption papers and medical records, allowing Brody to board the bright yellow school bus for his first day of first grade. He could finally hold a No. 2 pencil without snapping it into splinters and play tag at recess without accidentally launching his classmates across the football field. While Brody relished the joys of a normal childhood, Clark realised he didn't have to sacrifice his own. Over a year, he and Lana Lang had officially been a couple. Their quiet, unacknowledged teenage affection had blossomed into a deep, unwavering romance. But as they sat together in the hayloft of the Kent barn one rainy Friday evening, listening to the drumming of the storm against the tin roof, the weight of Clark's secret suffocated him. Lana leaned against his chest, tracing absentminded patterns on his flannel shirt. "You're quiet tonight, Clark. You've been quiet all week." Clark swallowed hard. His heart pounded.
He was hammered against his ribs so violently he genuinely feared she could hear it. Years ago, Fury had given him advice: "If you lock all your emotions away just to be safe, you won't be a protector. You'll just be a statue."
"Lana," Clark began, his voice trembling slightly. Gently pulling away, he looked her in the eyes. "There's something I have to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago. About me… and about Brody."
He didn't sugarcoat it or hide behind metaphors. He told her the absolute truth: about the ship buried beneath the barn they were sitting in, about Krypton, the yellow sun, and the powers he had spent every waking second holding back. Then he told her about the flaming pod that had crashed into the cornfield, about Planet Vegeta, Thanos, the monkey tail hidden beneath Brody's clothes, and the ten times gravity the little boy was currently sleeping under.
When he finally finished, the barn was dead silent, save for the rain. Clark braced himself, waiting for the fear, for her to back away and look at him the way those people at the river had looked at him years ago—like a monster.
Instead, Lana reached out and took both his hands. "An alien," she whispered, her eyes wide but completely devoid of fear. A slow, gentle smile spread across her face. "You know, that actually explains why you never sweat during harvest season."
Clark blinked, completely stunned. "You're… you're not afraid?"
"Clark," Lana said softly, squeezing his hands. "You're the guy who spends an hour trying to rescue a stray kitten from a tree. You're the guy who looks at his little brother like he hung the moon. I don't care where you came from. I know exactly who you are."
A profound, overwhelming sense of relief washed over Clark. For the first time in his entire life, he didn't have to hide.
Lana didn't just accept Clark's truth; she embraced the Kent family's reality. She smoothly transitioned into the role of a…
Fiercely protective older sister-in-law Fury to Brody. Whenever she visited, she ensured Brody's tail was tucked away before guests arrived, helped him with his maths homework to prevent frustration and desk breakage, and even baked extra-dense, hyper-caloric protein muffins using Fury's SHIELD rations to satisfy his insatiable Saiyan appetite.
As high school drew to a close, Clark discovered something extraordinary. Growing up, he had always believed his alien origins would doom him to isolation. He imagined himself forever observing the world from the sidelines, a lonely god in the shadows.
How wrong he was. When acceptance letters arrived, Clark and Lana were both headed to Metropolis University. Uncle Fury had worked his magic, ensuring their scholarships were impeccable and their dorms provided Clark the freedom and privacy he needed to commute back to the farm or SHIELD facilities in an instant.
Packing for college, Clark gazed out the window. In the yard, Lana laughed as she tossed a football to a six-year-old Brody, who caught it perfectly despite the crushing 10G weight of his gravity suit. Bruno and the other farm dogs happily barked and chased the boy in circles.
Clark Kent, an alien from a dying world, was raising a legendary warrior from another dying world. But thanks to his parents, his brother, his love of his life, and a grumpy one-eyed super-spy, Clark hadn't missed a single part of his humanity. He had it all.