Thousands of miles away, time seemed to pass in a completely different way: however no matter how long and boring the days were, punctuated by bad weather and an annoying monotony, they still passed inexorably. Although the days on the calendar were increasingly close to spring, the climate suggested differently. Besides, she didn't have much to do in her condition... She had read any volume in the huge mansion and despite Steve bringing home dozens of new books every time he returned from the city, she read them in record time and found herself even more bored than before. She tried to keep her mind occupied and nerves steady with yoga and meditation, but with little result, because her body was in full change and she felt increasingly awkward: despite being endowed with remarkable strength and an enviable physical prowess, she couldn't control her movements anymore, she just felt like a stranger in her own body. Something that the watchful and careful look of the boxer had not escaped and with the excuse that she had to rest and not make efforts, he didn'tt allow her to engage in any domestic business: he cleaned, cooked, tidied tirelessly and never made her miss anything..
She honestly didn't know what to think... It was too strange for her to live in cotton wool and be served and revered in that way, especially by a person for whom she had no affection and who had even tried to assassinate before finding out who he really was. She couldn't explain why Steve, despite her anaffective tendency and her life choices not shared by him, persisted in trying to establish a healthy mother-son relationship. She didn't expect her son, her own blood, to be so different from her, even though he himself had had horrible experiences during his young life: he was kind, positive, selfless, and above all bloody sincere. Steve didn't know half-measures, nor half-words: with the right ways he never hesitated a second to say what was going on in his mind, in a clear and direct way. Any parent would have wanted a child like that, or at least... any parent who chose to be.
Since she was locked down in that house that belonged to her maternal grandparents, with her son who shared almost the same age as her and a new creature that grew in her womb, she had often questioned the meaning of the word family, since fate had decided to deprive her of it at a young age. She walked past her old bedroom, and paused for a moment on the door, her hand on the handle, but decided to go further. She didn't feel like going in. Instead, she went to her parents' room, which was currently occupied by her, because it was more spacious and comfortable. The huge four-poster bed in mahogany wood and purple velvet that stood in the center of the room had always seemed a huge taboo: as a child Nina wasn't used like all children, running to bed to their parents after a nightmare, or for loneliness, or affection. Although they had been loving towards her, they particularly wanted to impart discipline and control in such a way that growing up he learned from the beginning to be autonomous... That was until Anna was born. Her sister was not as strong and resolute as she was, and one way or another she managed to make inroads into her mother's heart with her whining and doll eyes. In hindsight, she was grateful for her education, because if she had been otherwise, she would never have been able to manage on her own once she was orphaned. She carefully observed the huge oil painting hanging above the huge oak dresser depicting the Williams family. Richard Williams' austere gaze could still pierce everyone through it, as if it were real.
"Well, Dad... You better look at me like that... Surely you wouldn't be proud of me now..." she murmured sadly, reaching out her hand to touch the painting.
As soon as her hand came into contact with the canvas, however, the nail hung on the wall too many years before suddenly gave way, causing it to slip. Her feline reflexes allowed her to catch it just in time before it ended up behind the forniture and was irreparably damaged, but the dust raised from behind the frame caused her to cough loudly.
"God..dammit..." she cursed, trying to free her throat from the dust.
"NINA! Is everything okay?"
Attracted by the noise, Steve rushed into the room like a tornado, ready to help his mother.
"What is it?"
"The pa...int fell... I swallowed dust..." she stammered with tears in her eyes, desperately trying to catch her breath.
"Wait, I'll get you a glass of water!" he replied, rushing downstairs into the kitchen.
Nina tried to pull herself together and put the painting on one side. Her breath was cut off and her throat was burning to death. Fortunately the boxer returned in a few seconds and she drank with great gratitude the huge glass of fresh water that he had brought her, finally finding relief.
"Better?"
"Yes... Thank you Steve!"
"You're welcome! Come on, I'll help you hang it!"
However, as they looked up, they noticed an unusual detail: behind the painting was hidden a rudimentary combination safe.
"What's that?" asked the boxer.
"I don't know. I had no idea it was there..." the blonde replied, perplexed.
What was a safe doing in their lost mansion? The Williams had always been a wealthy family, yet she remembered all their possessions had remained in Dublin. What could possibly be so valuable? She kept staring at the wall in the grip of an almost primitive curiosity, while the boy in turn was intending to study the woman's expression: it was clear that she had been sincere and unaware of both the presence of the object and the content.
"Would you like to...open it?" he asked timidly.
Nina remained silent for a few moments before nodding.
"I help you move the..." but Steve did not have time to finish the sentence that the killer easily climbed on it, as if her bulky bump did not exist.
"You underestimate me a little too much, boy. I'm pregnant, not sick!" she reminded him with a grimace.
He again observed the safe locked by a padlock, which obviously required a combination to be opened. Breaking it wouldn't be a problem, but she was sorry to ruin anything that belonged to her family: despite the comforts, her parents had always been devoted to work and discipline and never would have allowed herself to fail in their teachings. Yeah, but what could be the code to open it? She reflected for several minutes, aware of the boxer's presence at her side, probably terrified that he would slip off the furniture and get hurt
She distractedly wondered how it was possible that he loved her when she had been anything but a good mother to him, despite the enormous help and support he was giving her without asking for anything in return. He had literally saved her life and managed to drag her away from Japan where she risked being killed at any moment, had brought her back to her homeland and helped her in everything constantly. All in all she felt tenderness, even if she didn't show it; she knew that Steve acted in disinterested way, but below ardently desired the approval of the mother: he wished she looked at him with the same look full of pride just as her father did with her and, although he was always so authoritarian and stern, never forgot to remind her how she was the most beautiful thing in his life, along with his wife and how happy he was the day she was born... Suddenly the lighting caught her, and instinctively ran her fingers over the digits of the padlock. The latter snapped after a moment, opening a bit with difficulty.
"How did you do that?" Steve asked, astonished.
Nina smiled melancholy, taking off the lock and handing it to her.
"012361... I don't understand..."
"I was born on January 23th, 1961, it's my birthday."
The blond boy snapped his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me? We could have celebrated!"
Nina gave in to a bitter laugh.
"I haven't celebrated it since before my cryogenic sleep. As you can see, I survived anyway."
Steve kept quiet. As a child he always wanted to celebrate his birthday with his friends, invite them over and eat the cake all together, open gifts and play chase and hide and seek. But the Foxs would never allow it. And besides, he had no friends..
"Well, well..." exclaimed Nina grabbing the handle. " Let's see what's hiding here."
A second cloud of dust was released as soon as the blonde opened the now rusty safe, but this time she was prepared. Not that she expected to find anything valuable, but not even the only object that was inside, which was a voluminous tome covered with leather. No trace of money, jewels, or else... Just that huge book lying motionless and dusty at the bottom. She took it gently and was surprised at how light it actually was. On the dark brown cover was engraved a majestic W in the middle of an intricate decoration all in Gothic style. She brushed her fingers on the surface, unsure whether to investigate further.
"May I ask what is it?" Steve timidly asked..
" I don't know..." she replied, placing the volume on the bedside table next to her and preparing to go down.. With her eyes she stopped the boxer, who was already ready to assist her in the operation, but did not say a word: he could only imagine how a strong and independent woman like her could feel caged in such a situation, so he let her do it, without taking his eyes off her. Nina grabbed the book and gently opened it. To her astonishment it was a photo album: between one page and the other there was a very thin sheet of paper, to protect the images and prevent them from sticking to the parchment of which they were made of. It was undoubtedly a very old object, but frankly not something of inestimable value that deserved to be locked in a safe. And yet, she thought, if it was in there, there had to be a reason, so she slowly walked over to the giant bed and sat cross-legged with the album in her lap.
"Well then, I..." said the blond, heading for the door.
"You can stay if you want..." the assasins interrupted him.
It was very clear that Steve was dying of curiosity too, but as usual he was feeling out of place. On the other hand, even in his veins flowed Williams' blood and it would have been ungenerous for her to chase him away after everything he was doing for her. For them actually.
"Okay..." he replied uncertain.
"Come on, sit down."
Steve took a seat next to his mother, as she was about to study the first image. All the photos were inblack and white and covered almost the entire surface of the sheet, except to leave a thin frame of parchment all around. At the bottom right there was a tiny caption written by hand with a very thin line, surely with a nib and inkwell. Nina immediately recognized her father's orderly handwriting and her heart lost a beat: she remembered him confortably sitting at his desk writing letters and signing documents with his inseparable fountain pen and ink bottle next to him, always precise and careful not to smudge even a comma. The first photo depicted a couple of people, with the unmistakable austere and authoritarian frown typical of the family. Nina recognized them immediately.
"These are my paternal grandparents, Aidan and Siofra Williams. This photo must be at least from the 1930s..."
The boxer's eyes were shining: he was discovering with his mother his ancestors's faces and he was surprised how vaguely his great-grandfather had common features with him, a detail that even Nina noticed, who looked at his face first and then his grandfather's a couple of times before grinning slightly. Whoever Steve's biological father was had almost no influence on the predominant gene of his mother and ancestors, just looking at him and no DNA test was needed. His great-grandfather was a tall, muscular man, with a thick handlebar mustache, brown eyes behind a pair of thin round-rimmed glasses. The hair was definitely blond, as well as the mustache, while his wife, a short and quite slender woman seemed to have either light brown, or ash blond. Nina gently scrolled the pages, taking care not to ruin anything, studying photos of her relatives, all belonging of her father's family. She had known some of them, but most of them had no memory: she wasn't sure if she really met them, or if they were just another aftermath of her post-cryogenic sleep amnesia. Then came the first photo where her mother was portrayed, dating back to the 50s. Heather Williams was really beautiful, and she looked a lot like her and her sister Anna. In the photo she was portrayed next to her father, both dressed elegantly; probably it was a special occasion.
"Is that your mom?" Steve asked, noticing the huge similarity between the two women.
"Yes, she is..."
"You are almost alike!"
Nina slightly smiled, continuing to browse the album. There were more photos of her parents during their long engagement period. What particularly struck her was Richard's soulful gaze every time he stared at her mother, or filled with pride when they posed in front of the camera. A look that became even more intense when she came across a photo dated 30 January 1961, where his parents posed in front of the camera, with an expression of pure joy on their faces. In her arms Heather lovingly held a child wrapped in a blanket, immersed in a deep sleep. She stood still watching herself, so small and innocent. She wondered if fate had already decided for her to be cruel and mocking throughout her life, depriving her of everything dear to her. She turned the last page, and scanned a photo dated 21 January 1966 that portrayed only her and her father on her birthday. He hugged her tightly, while she smiled happily. On her father's face, always so serious and composed, there was so much love and affection. Below, written by Richard Williams' fist, there was the caption "Nina: my greatest treasure!". She could no longer contain tears.
" Nina..." Steve muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder.
" I'm sorry, I'm... it must be the stupid hormones..." she tried to justify herself between hiccups. The blond man did not answer, he simply embraced her gently, patiently waiting for her to vent and recover. She was so sensitive, even though she had spent her whole life building herself an increasingly impenetrable armor. He took a clean tissue out of his pocket and handed it to her so she could dry her eyes.
"The last photo... It was taken when I turned 5... Anna was already born, and yet..."
" Yet a parent shouldn't have preferences, but it wasn't. I understand that, but you couldn't help it."
"You don't understand Steve... Dad... Dad always loved Anna so much and he loved our mother so much too... I was her greatest treasure but... But it was all my fault if he has been killed..."
There was an almost deafening silence. How could it be her fault?
"Come on, Nina, I'm sure it wasn't..."
"Yes, it was! I'm the only one responsible for his death, because I was too weak, because I wasn't strong enough..."
"I don't understand..."
Nina pulled up her nose and breathed deeply trying to calm down.
"Our mother died when I was eight. Fulminant breast cancer, then the medicine was at very rudimentary levels and the disease left her no escape. Our father was destroyed, we were all he had left and we had very few living relatives with whom we didn't have close relationships, so despite being well aware of the risks he started to take us with him on his business trips. He was a mercenary, so he just left us at the base, did his job, and then we went straight home, but one day fate decided differently..."
Steve realized the worst was coming. Nina wasn't a woman of many words, especially when it came to strictly personal matters, yet she knew that now as never she needed to vent and find support in someone else. She had borne a huge burden of terrible memories for far too long.
"We were flying on the Swiss Alps when there was an engine failure and we had to make an emergency landing. We couldn't get to the airport and we crashed, but miraculously, we all hit the impact, partly muffled by both the low altitude and the huge amount of fresh snow. Bewildered, sore and cold we got back on the road, but as you can imagine for two girls of 11 and 9 years was certainly not a piece of cake. And it was there that the disaster happened..." she paused briefly to dry her eyes that were filling with tears again and went on. " We were nothing less than an impediment slowing down the group that was laboriously trying to survive in the midst of a storm, without food or proper clothing. Enraged the other mercenaries ordered my father to leave us behind, because they could not afford to risk freezing to death while waiting for us. Of course my father reacted very badly to a similar request and soon a very violent fight broke out. Anna and I were literally terrified, even though he was very strong he couldn't do anything against 7 men who were on him. In the struggle he lost his rifle, his only weapon of defense and landed just a few meters from where we were. Dad yelled at me to hand him the weapon, but I stood still, completely in shock... It was as if cold and fear had turned me into a statue... And that cost him dearly, because a few moments later he was shot right through the heart."
Steve felt bad about it. He had wondered for all his life who his parents were, believing himself to be the most unhappy boy on Earth, but what happened to his mother was a million times worse. The trauma of losing his mother, surviving a life-threatening crash, witnessing his father's execution virtually impotent, cryogenic sleep, the pregnancy he was born into, the fratricidal war with her sister... He immediately realized how much pain she had to endure and was no longer surprised by her cold, cynical and unfriendly attitude, nor by her attachment to Jin Kazama, whose existence was punctuated by loss and despair in equal measure.
"Dad... Can you ever forgive me for not being strong enough, like you always taught me?" murmured the murderer in tears, observing the last photo of the album that had caused yet another emotional collapse.
"He's already forgiven you, Nina! Actually he has nothing to forgive you for, it wasn't your fault!" the boy replied, putting a hand on her shoulder again.
"Hell no... If only I had handed him the rifle he would still be here..."
"You were 11! You could have been as strong as you wanted, but you were just a scared, helpless little girl and you can't blame yourself or feel responsible. Even if you could hand him the rifle, they were seven against one, right? And they were armed. He probably wouldn't have survived anyway, so don't blame yourself for faults that aren't yours, especially not this much!"
Nina shook her head inconsolably.
"Anna always blamed me for being responsible. She's the only family I have left, I still remember how she squeezed my hands when I collapsed in front of our father's body and tried to comfort me. But when we were rescued and sent back to Ireland, things changed dramatically. Our relationship was destroyed forever from that moment on, she had her revenge on me as long as I suffered from amnesia, trying in every way to reduce me to nothing more than an amorphous puppet at her mercy, but eventually things went differently..."
"It's not true that she's the only family you have left! You have me. And the little one you're carring, who will love you unconditionally! You're not alone anymore..."
"Steve, anyone who comes near me ends up hurting themselves..."
"Well, it won't happen again. It's never too late to start over... Look at me, I'm 22 years years old and after a life spent on my own I returned to live with my mother..." he tried to defuse.
And he managed to do that, by ripping off a tight smile.
"22 years old... Not bad, considering I'm stuck at 24, even though I'm actually 44."
Steve chuckled back. A long moment of silence followed, where they both brooded over what they had said.
"What were your foster parents like?" Nina asked out of nowhere.
She didn't know why she asked him that question, she'd just dropped out, but now she was really curious. Steve smiled bitterly.
"They weren't the best, to be honest. Of course, I am very grateful that they took me out of the orphanage and gave me a home, a good education and allowed me to pursue a boxing career, but they were quite cold. They would never have allowed me to fight if it wasn't for my physical education teacher who had seen a lot of potential in me and guaranteed that I would become a champion, otherwise they would have forced me to play golf, or other boring sports typical of the bourgeois."
"Were they strict?"
"A lot. They were an English couple with royal lineages, though very far off. My foster mother, Elizabeth couldn't have children, and for a high-ranking family, it wasn't acceptable, so they decided to adopt me when I was already a big boy because they thought to educate me more easily and for society and church's eyes they would appear even more charitable and worthy of respect. But from them, I don't remember a caress, a compliment, not even a pat on the shoulder. To them, I was just a trophy to be displayed when needed, and I should have been grateful for what they were giving me. In fact as soon as my career started to take off I thanked them and I left home."
Nina grimaced at those words. Her parents were very strict, but not anaffective. Heather was a loving and caring mother, and Richard in his own way also showed affection and pride towards her children. She hated the hypocrisy of high-ranking families where the facade was the one and only priority. She felt very sorry for her son, he too had not had an easy past, yet he was so sweet, selfless, understanding and above all mature. It was obvious that he had to grow up alone and quickly.
"Do you think... Do you think I could be... A good mother?" she asked out of the blue, looking at her belly.
The blond man was stunned by such a question, but quickly recovered, happy to see how she was trying to improve and trust his judgment.
"I'm sure. It won't be easy, but who better than you knows what it's like to grow up alone and in pain? You know exactly what you should not do and the mistakes you should not make, you will see that everything else will come by itself. Besides, parenting is the hardest job in the world."
Nina nodded and sighed as she closed the photo album. She was exhausted by the tears and the unexpected whirlwind of memories and emotions that had upset her in that gloomy afternoon. Yet her son was right: it's never too late to start again, she couldn't waste this opportunity.
"I'll get dinner ready, it'll take a while... If you need me, I'll be downstairs, okay?" Steve said, getting out of bed.
"I'll come help you, I'll meet you in a second..."
"Don't worry, it's not necessary."
"I want to!"
The boxer fell silent, but then smiled good-naturedly at her.
"Alright then. I'll wait for you, while I prepare everything."
So he left the room. Alone with her thoughts, Nina held the tome to herself for a few moments, before getting out of bed. Before she left, she looked at the picture of her family, hiding the safe.
"Mom... Dad... I will do my best to be a good parent, just as you have been for me. I promise, I will make you proud of me!"
Author's note: "Teaghlach" means "household, family, following" from old Irish.
