Part 1: Before

Charlie

As his girls had gotten older, Charlie had found himself becoming increasingly relieved that it would be Serena who would take his place as a samurai ranger.

Serena was a strong girl. She was tough, and a fast learner, and a terrific swordswoman. He knew she could handle it, and he was grateful, because Emily was so much younger than her sister, in years and in other ways, and he finds himself so glad that Serena is the one who will go off to save the world, and Emily is the one who will stay on the farm with him and get to have a life.

Which is why, when Serena gets sick, Charlie's heart sinks. It would be bad enough to have a sick child, if the other was healthy and safe. But when it becomes clear that Serena's illness will prevent her from taking her place as the yellow samurai, Charlie also has to worry for his other daughter, who he will be sending to a very dangerous place completely unprepared.

Emily has to learn in a few years what Serena has spent her life training for. And she does well. She practices hard. She understands.

When Serena and his wife go away to Chicago to get Serena the best possible treatment, it leaves Charlie and Emily alone to train. And he tries, he really tries, to teach her everything he knows about life in a very short time.

And when her arrow shows up, Charlie is apprehensive. He wants to believe that he's prepared his baby girl for anything, that she can handle it, and that she will be alright. But deep down, he worries that she isn't prepared at all. That this is the last time he'll see that look of joyful innocence on her face. That all of this will rob her of that.

It's the reason he's always been so grateful Serena had been born first. She had been ready. She had been prepared. Emily…

He worries about Emily.

Maria

Mike is the only one of her children who doesn't care about their heritage. He's aloof on a good day, and he doesn't take his training very seriously.

Of course, she knows that he can survive anything with a smile and a good joke, but she wonders what Ji will say when her son shows up and can barely draw a morphing symbol.

It's not something she pushes on him very much. She just can't bring herself to do it. He'll have time for all that when he gets the call, she knows. And she trusts Ji to whip him into shape in quick time.

She wants him to have a childhood. She wants him to be able to enjoy his life, because he's always helped her enjoy hers. Mike has been her upbeat little comedian since he could talk, and she wonders what she'll do without him, when Fererra and Paulo start fighting and there's no one to defuse the situation.

He's her spitting image, she knows that much. While most of her children resemble their father, Mike has always been a reflection of her, and so it's fitting, really, that he gets to be the one to carry on her legacy.

And maybe being a ranger will teach him how important his ability to laugh at things is. Maybe he'll understand why she looks at him sometimes and her eyes go fuzzy.

Maybe he'll understand how amazing he is, when he sees how hard it is to find light in the darkest of times. She hopes he won't lose that. It would make her cry if her son came home without the ability to laugh, without the sparkle in his eyes.

But she has faith.

William

It's easy to be proud when you have a son like Kevin, William thinks. He's been a straight A student his whole life, has always taken his training seriously, and he excels at everything he puts his mind it.

If William were a different person, it would be easy to make Kevin keep striving for perfection, but in truth, it isn't him that does the pushing. Kevin is the one with the drive, the one with the determination to be perfect. William builds shelves in the spare bedroom to put trophies on, and that's all he really has to do. Kevin does the rest.

He knows that Kevin will do what he needs to do when he gets the call. He imagines Kevin being the heart of the team, the most dedicated, the strongest. He has no doubt in his mind that his boy will be the finest blue samurai that he can be, may even surpass William himself.

Sometimes, though, he does wonder if Kevin is ready. If he's mature enough to handle being a samurai. His son wasn't always the serious kind. When he was young, he was so much more like his mother. Always laughing, playing, seeing the beauty in life. That had been Shay's gift to them both; the ability to appreciate the world for what it is.

But when Shay had died, all those years ago, Kevin had started to change. He'd become more like his father, more serious, more business life. And while that's good, for the most part, while it will make him a wonderful samurai, William wonders if Kevin has lost too much of the parts of his mother that he'll need to get through this hard time.

Because it's not all about the sword technique, and the symbol power, and having the world on your shoulders. It's also about waking up each morning grateful for another day, and realizing how precious it is to be alive. It's about understanding that being a ranger is so much more than just putting on a suit and fighting monsters.

And William worries about that. He worries that Kevin won't cherish it, won't be able to escape the hard headed person he's become and let things go every now and then.

He worries Kevin will take it too seriously, and hopes that someone on the team will be able to help him with that.

Vicki

In a lot of ways, the day Mia gets her arrow is like the first day of school.

Vicki stares at it like an abomination, and when she realizes what it means, when Mia gently shakes her shoulder and Vicki snaps back to reality, all she can do is hug Mia as tightly as she can and hope she doesn't have to let go.

She eventually has to let go, has to let Mia go off on her own and find her destiny. And she has to trust that she's been a good mother, that she's taught Mia the things she needs to know, that Mia will be alright because Vicki has prepared her for the world ahead.

But when the car pulls away, and Vicki and her husband and son finish waving, she can't help but burst into tears, the same way she did when she got back in the car after waving Mia off for her first day of kindergarten.

Because it's a new chapter, and this time Vicki knows that she really won't be a part of it. She knows that it could be years before she sees her daughter again, and she hates the idea of not being a part of her life until then.

She remembers being the center of Mia's world when Mia was a little girl, and how fascinated Mia had been with the family history, and how amazed she had been when she had been told it was all real. She remembers Mia's awe at the feeling of being chosen, and in that respect they were the same. Vicki had shared the same amazing feeling of purpose when she had found out.

Only her time as a samurai hadn't exactly gone according to plan. She spends a lot of time staring out the kitchen window after Mia leaves, hoping, praying that Mia is alright. That Mia and her team will be able to do what hers couldn't.

And occasionally, she pulls out the baby album and cries, and throws things at Terry when he makes fun of her.


Part 2: After

Charlie

It's like a great big family reunion when they get the call, and Serena, in full remission, bounces during the entire airplane ride. Charlie can barely contain his excitement, too.

It's been two years since he say Emily, and three for Serena and his wife. None of them can wait.

And Charlie is still maybe a little bit worried about what he'll see when he sees his daughter again, but he's ready. He knows the costs of being a ranger, and he knows that now Emily will, too.

Only she's more beautiful than he remembers. She runs towards them when they pull up to the Shiba house, and throws herself at Serena. Then she wraps her arms around all three of them, and they stand there, holding each other.

Ji compliments him on the amazing job he did with Emily, and Charlie watches her dance around with her friends, hug her sister, smile back at him happily. And yes, he thinks, he did do alright.

And so had Emily.

Maria

Fererra, ever the attention hog, tackles him to the ground the moment they see him. She imagines it's only the element of surprise and his brotherly affection that allows Fererra to take him down, but Mike comes back up swinging, giving Paulo a noogie and lifting Albert onto his shoulders happily.

Maria jokes with him about his bulging biceps, smacks him over the head when he accidentally curses in front of her, and then hugs all of her old friends, most of whom she hasn't seen in years.

It's a jubilant celebration. There's drinking, and she watches Mike do back flips and use his symbol power to create confetti that everyone applauds. And when he comes over after a while, she takes his chin in her hand and gives his face a good shake. He "awe, Ma"'s her, but it's good to hear again, and she can't help but be happy that he's still able to make her laugh.

She even makes him dance with her on the training mats, and he laments loudly about dying of embarrassment, but Maria just smiles, and sees her son's happy sparkling eyes and remembers how the world goes on after being a ranger is over.

How things change, but at the same time, they don't.

William

He couldn't be prouder if he tried. He simply feels like he'll burst of pride when he sees his son again, happy, healthy, and victorious. There is no trophy to hang on the wall this time, but this is by far the greatest victory Kevin's ever had.

And William tells him so. He doesn't waste any time telling him how proud he is, how happy he is that Kevin did what he couldn't do.

Kevin just gives him a sad smile, and then a tight hug.

And William is relieved, because when he looks at Kevin, really looks at him, he sees that something has changed in him. That Kevin had come full circle, has found a medium, has finally regained what his mother's death had taken from him.

He watches Kevin laugh with his friends, watches the green and pink rangers force him to eat cake, even going to far as to shove it in his face, and he watches the way Kevin laughs, and the way he smiles with light in his eyes.

It almost makes William tear up. Only Maria Montoya is next to him, and she'd never let him hear the end of it, so he toughs it out.

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn't seem at all embarrassed to shed a happy tear when Ji toasts the last generation of Samurai Rangers.

Vicki

It's bittersweet, when they show up for the party and Mia looks as radiant as ever and seems so sure of herself. Vicki holds her tight, and is a little surprised at the way Mia holds her back.

She tries not to cling. She mingles, and watches her son and the gold samurai perform a quick song that everyone sings along to.

Eventually, though, she does cling. She wraps an arm around Mia's waist, and holds onto her while they talk to other people around them. Mia doesn't seem to mind. In fact, if Vicki wasn't so sure it was impossible, she'd say her daughter missed her.

Vicki was always a worrier. She wanted to be able to protect her children from the world, and she did a pretty good job of it while she could. She's overprotective at the best of times, and terribly obnoxious at the worst. Letting Mia go, raising her knowing that one day she'd have to, had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done.

Only now that she sees her, now that she has her mostly back, Vicki thinks she finally understands motherhood. 23 years in, and she's finally figured it out.

It's not about protecting them from everything, because who could live that way? Sometimes, pushing them out of the nest is the best thing for them, no matter how hard it is.

And in the end, they'll always come back to you, Vicki thinks, giving Mia another squeeze. Mia turns her head, gives her mom a smile and squeezes her back.

?

He wonders what happened, sometimes, when he looks at all of them. When they came to him, they were all so young, so unbelievably young. Sometimes, he can't believe they've made it this far.

Especially Jayden and Lauren, he thinks, watching them joyfully toast the rangers with their friends. It feels like the end of a chapter, seeing them finally together, and happy, their mission fulfilled.

It is the end of a chapter, he knows. For all of them. It's the second time he's experienced this, only this time, he feels like a teacher who has shepherded his students through their destiny's instead of a friend of the team. It's both fulfilling and depressing, really.

He's come full circle, and so have all of his rangers. His mind wanders to what he'll do without them. Less clean up, he thinks with a small grin. Fewer broken dishes and practice swords, too. Fewer happy memories, he thinks remorsefully.

With a small smile, Ji thinks to himself that he'll have a few quiet years… until the next generation of young samurai come for training. Because while there may no longer be Nighlock, there's no telling when the Samurai might be needed again.

He's drawn back to the moment when suddenly, a toast is directed at him.

"To mentor," Lauren says, raising her glass, "Without whom none of us would still be standing."

"Come on, Ji," Mike says, giving him a hopeful look. "Tell us you love us."

The others egg him on too, but Ji shakes his head, lifts his glass to his lips in silence.

Yes, Ji thinks, he loves them all.