Both Roses didn't leave the Aged Steels and Underday Arcade until after sundown, when they needed to pick up Ruby's sister on the way home.
A local dojo trained students of all ages in the ways of martial arts. Even though the eight-year old sister exercised her hardest at school, she kept up her techniques during Summer vacation, too.
Sweat soured the air, but a couple trees outside the quad smelled woody and herbal.
Bamboo torches set a flickering, cozy mood, while trails of paper lanterns formed parades above people's heads, criss-crossing this way and that.
Kids, parents, and instructors mingled in the dojo's enclosed yard. Students wore cotton-white gi uniforms, belts to tighten them in place, and leggings without shoes. The final evening class had ended minutes ago, so some children were fitting into their slippers for the journey home while chit-chatting among friends.
Two mentors in coal-black outfits engaged some of the parents in small talk.
Mom formed a cone around her mouth and projected her voice over the training yard. "Yang? Little dragon!"
A couple heads turned from the closest people, but the babble of conversation picked back up at once.
Ruby's sister hopped into view from the center of a gathering and beat her arms overhead. "I'm over here!"
Again, Yang hopped into view, closer than last time but stuck in a different gang of classmates. "Coming, Mom!"
For a third time, the eight-year old sprang up and waved both arms. "Almost there!"
Then, she squeezed between the hips of a couple parents to meet her family.
Mom and Yang called each other's name in unison and pounced into a hug.
The sisters stuck out their tongues at each other.
Wrinkles, grass stains, and dirt marked Yang's outfit especially at the elbows and leggings. She wore identical gear as the other students, but the volume of her golden hair and its highlight in the glow of fire set her apart from the rest. She unbundled the pony-tail she'd worn all class so her mane spilled down her back: longer than Ruby's, a thousand times more tangled, and brighter than she'd ever be.
"Look at you! I'm so proud." Mom guided her daughters away from the dojo, while she also bore the several bags from earlier that day.
Yang said, "Sensei said if do as good this weekend as I did today, I'm winning the spar portion."
"That's awesome!"
"And I hope Shell's watching just so I can remind him not to mess," she slammed a fist into her other palm, "with my friends."
"That's right." Mom urged them on the way home. "No bully's gonna get away with trouble while you're around."
They walked home together talking the rest of the way about Ruby's first adventure. Yang recalled the memories she'd made at Underday Arcade two Summers ago. Mom described some of the strongest visuals during that day's visit, but Ruby stole the descriptions and ran away with them — how awesome they were, how they made her feel, what excited her the most. The Aged Steels had the best. Place. Ever! She begged to visit again the next day. Maybe the day after that. Every day sounded like a good idea.
Except Yang shut her down by racing to whatever object was ahead of them. She said things like, "Last one to the stop sign's a rotten egg!" or, "Whoever gets to that bench last loses dessert to me!" or, "Bet I can beat you to that tree!"
The girls beat Mom to every finish line.
Best of all, they had won a forever's worth of sweets out of her.
She also smelled like a bad egg — but not really — but maybe.
Ruby kept racing and winning first place all the way out of town and all the way home, since Mom couldn't keep pace and Yang eventually gave up.
Dirt and herbal flavors blended the country this far out from the suburbs.
Crickets and cicadas charged the setting with their music.
Owls gossiped about the bats who swooped this way and that.
A mail box with six paint hand-prints marked the beginning of a dirt path shooting right from the main road. Bamboo torches flanked their final stage home. The family's footsteps scraped over loose grit as their trail curved between patch oaks, through the neighors' habitats. The eyes of raccoons and deer who watched their passage glimmered like coins for a moment before scootching away.
They found home before the waxy gaze of its front facing windows found them.
Ruby charged ahead. "Daddy, we're home!"
He shouted from the other side of the cabin, "Over here, kids."
The family household offered multiple entrances on the ground level, including the formal front door, a cellar on one side, and their back porch. Patch oaks leaned toward the house on its left and right. Their foliage brushed the second story's windows, resembling prickly haze at night.
Rose and Yang's father, Taiyang Xiao Long, called them to the porch, where he was resting his bare feet on the banister and leaning back in his rocking chair. He took his latest sip from a glass before setting it on a nearby table to greet his daughters.
Ruby got to him first and caught his legs in a hug. Traces of food scents lingered around him, but she couldn't identify what they were. "Hungry!"
Once he rose to his feet, he picked her up in time for Yang to barge against his legs, too. "We're starving, Dad!"
"What happened to your uniform?"
Yang repeated what she had told Mom, while Dad heaved them through a screen door, into an aura of meat piled with seasonings. His kitchen had three modes, and that night's version began with setting up dinner.
Mode number one and everyone's second favorite: the Xiao Long Meal.
"The mall was so amazing. You have no idea. You haven't seen it until you go there with me. We're going back tomorrow, and after tomorrow, and again after that. We're going back forever." Ruby arranged plates, napkins, and silverware for her family, racing barefoot round and round the dining table while she scooted pieces into place. She prepared her family's drinks for filtered water or lemonade, one glass at a time, and brought in her Dad's so it wouldn't be forgotten outside.
"We get it, you had fun. You don't have to keep saying it over and over." Yang transferred steamed broccoli into a dish, long grain rice pilaf into a platter, and dipped serving spoons into both of them before setting them on the dining table. She moved the fruit bowl out of the way and placed in its spot a heat-resistant mat for when their main course arrived. Last but not least, she brought four chairs, one on each side of the table. "Can you make her stop? She's driving me crazy."
Dad chuckled, but the girls continued back and forth.
"I just think it's the best place ever so I'm going to live there when I'm grown-up."
"Ugh, no you're not."
"Yes, I will. It's mine. I own it now."
"You can't own Underday Arcade, Ruby."
Ruby stamped her foot. "I do now!"
"Fine, whatever."
Dad opened the oven door, revealing a whole roasted chicken which cut their debate at once. Both sprang to either side of him and bounced in place. Ruby's eyes dilated. She grinded her teeth so hard, they squeaked, and saliva pooled under her tongue. Every time she hit the ground, she hissed, "Yes yes yes yes yes."
"Back up." Dad rotated in place like this was a practiced maneuver.
Yang shut the oven door and turned it off for him.
Once all four of the family sat down to eat and hot food was piled on their plates, they silenced for the sake of savoring it.
Mode number one: the Xiao Long Meal. Roasted chicken dripped off its bones. Salt and pepper lightly seasoned their broccoli. Green onion and cheese flavored their side of rice which was steamed to a tender texture.
Mom and Ruby leaned back in their seats. Smiles and heavy lids over their eyes graced their expressions after a long afternoon.
Yang reached over the table to scoop second helpings on her plate. She destroyed her broccoli, first, shoveled rice into her mouth after, and polished her drumsticks of all their meat.
Once everyone completed their dinner, Dad gathered their plates and cutlery to be washed later.
The Rose-Xiao Longs relaxed the rest of their night in front of a TV, but before the action movie's credits rolled up the screen, Mom and Dad were snoozing where their heads leaned together — his on her shoulder and her cheek in his hair. A combination of blue and white glow framed their faces.
A crocheted throw made of black and brown yarn, larger than a king-sized mattress, covered them all at once. They hadn't even made it to bed before drowsiness coaxed them to dreams.
THE END.