Hello everyone, welcome to the first, uploaded, chapter of my one-shot story compilation. Unless specifically stated in my opening AN for a chapter, everything you read here is cannon to my Steamed Petals AU. These are just little side stories that have sprung up from questions that arise, in my mind, from things that happen in Steamed Petals, or just something that pops into my head that won't leave me alone until I write it up. This chapter is chronologically out of order from the ones to come in the future, but, because of the plot of this story, was date specific. I hope you enjoy the story.
Memories and Regrets
A lone figure walked among the tombstones. Two other, smaller figures in combat skirts waited a short distance away. They had been accompanying the third, but had been motioned back, and held position, knowing their companion needed some privacy for this initial greeting.
A hand reached out from the figure, brushing dried leaves and dust from one of the markers. The figure kneeled down, leaving the hand resting on the stone, as its head bowed, and the shoulders shuddered in obvious sobs.
The figure raised its head and looked at the words on the marker. Hei Xiong, Born: Feb. 9, 945; Died: July 17, 1002; Beloved Husband and Loving Father.
"Hey dad, it's me, Junior. It's been thirteen years since you passed, and this is the first time I've visited you since we laid you to rest. You always said I was a failure, and I guess this kind of proves it. I'm sorry dad. I'm sorry it took me so long to come see you, but it took a long time for me to come to grips with the fact you were gone. You were a tough old bastard, and I honestly thought you'd outlive us all, being too stubborn to die." Junior takes a shuddering breath before continuing.
"It took me even longer to forgive myself. The last words we ever spoke to each other were words of anger. I can't even remember what it was we fought over that time, but it must have been something stupid. Mom always said I got my stubborn streak from you and she's right. It took nearly five years and your passing away for me to talk to you again. Mom's doing alright, but she has her bad days with her breathing because of all the smoking she did in the past. She's quit now though, and I'm glad for her. It only took three hospitalizations for pneumonia to make her decide to quit for good. Guess you and I aren't the only ones in the family with a stubborn streak, heh. I visit mom at least once a week, and talk with her even more often, and no matter what's going on at the time we always end our visits or conversations by saying 'I love you' to each other. I'm never making that mistake again. Mom always says that you still loved me as your son, and that you never believed we'd never talk again. The thing is, we never did talk again, and I only just recently allowed myself to forgive myself for that, but I will never hear you say you still loved me." Junior wipes his eyes with his left hand, his right still resting on the headstone, and then motions the two girls forward.
They join him, kneeling on the opposite side of the grave. In honor of the solemnity of the day, both girls had elected to wear black, but Melanie still wore her white flower hairpin and Miltiades wore her red and white feathered hairpin. "Dad, I'd like you to meet my girls, Melanie and Miltiades. They may not be mine by birth, but I've raised them for the past ten years, and I've come to love them as my own. I never thought I'd have or want kids, but when I saw these two ragamuffins scrounging through the dumpsters out behind my bar, I couldn't turn them away. I took them in and started looking for their family hoping to find some relatives who would be willing to take them in, but that turned into a dead end, and I didn't want to turn them over to the foster care system, I'd heard too many horror stories about it. Instead, I went through the bureaucracy and obtained legal guardianship of them. It's amazing what will be overlooked in a person's background when it comes to being allowed to raise unwanted orphans. Now I know why there are so many stories about the foster system. I'm just glad I was able to keep these two out of that nightmare." Junior shakes his head thinking what could have happened to them.
"Mom absolutely loves them, although she's not a fan of their fashion sense, and there are times I think they wear certain outfits trying to provoke me into an argument about clothes. Anyway, I've raised them the best I can and given them what they needed to grow into a couple beautiful and talented young ladies, but they've decided they want more out of life. They want to give back to everyone that has less than them, and so, they've applied to, and been accepted into Beacon Academy. I'd made sure they could take care of themselves in a normal fight, but last year, a lone girl busted up my bar and put Miltia in the hospital with a fractured jaw and cracked ribs. Turns out the girl was a huntress in training, and my girls wanted to be able to handle themselves like that, plus they liked the idea of protecting those that couldn't protect themselves. They've put a lot of time and effort into learning martial arts, and have made names for themselves in the Pit, which I don't approve of, by the way, but they start as freshmen at Beacon this fall so I wanted them to meet you before they left. Girls, say hello to my father." He smiles gently at the two.
"Hello Mr. Xiong." Melanie says.
"Hello Grandpa." Miltia greets.
Junior smiles to himself. He had suspected the greetings would be something like that. Melanie had always called him Junior, and Miltiades had always called him dad. That is, once he got them out of the habit of calling him sir. It didn't matter to him what they called him, he knew they both loved him and he loved them both.
They spent a few moments in silence around the grave and then Junior gets up, dusting himself off and saying, "Come on girls, we promised your grandma we'd stop in for an early lunch before we met up with Mr. Xiao Long for your training session this afternoon." The irony was not lost on Junior that the man who came so highly recommended to help further train his daughters was none other than the father of the girl who single handedly tore up his bar. "I'm sure the next time you meet Yang you'll want to show her how much you've improved."
There you have it. Yes, I am writing myself in as Junior here. This is very close to what happened between my dad and myself, and it has taken me this long to forgive myself for allowing the last words I ever spoke to my dad to be ones of anger. I will always regret never being able to reconcile with him, so, please, if any of you reading are in a situation where the last words you spoke to a loved one were ones of anger, please think about getting in touch with them and try to come to terms with the issues between you. Every year on this date I have to remember the pain of his passing and I kick myself for not swallowing my pride and apologizing for whatever stupid thing it was we argued over. All I can do now is Keep Moving Forward.
