The crisp air tickled her face and made her eyes water. Ireland was hardly known for its mild climate, quite the opposite. A roar of thunder in the distance and large gray smoke clouds foreshadowed the imminent arrival of a full-blown storm. But she kept peering at the horizon from the top of the cliff on which she stood, watching the waves crashing against the cliffs of Sliabh Liag. The icy wind tried in every way to slip into every crevice and under every dress, but tight in his wool coat and fur hat all she was fine. She liked that place, despite the hostile climate: she let her mind run wild and for a moment she forgot she was in the situation she was in. Those green meadows and blue waters reminded her of her childhood, the happy and carefree moments spent with her parents and especially with her beloved dad. But had she really been carefree, or was that dark shadow in her soul present from birth? Perhaps only in the short time spent as an only child, before his much-hated sister came into the world and overturned what was his perfect existence. A lightning lighted the sky, followed by a roar and this convinced her to return. Sighing heavily he took one last look at the landscape before rushing to the car he had left downstream. She didn't feel like driving along those streets with the pouring rain, now deprived by that bucolic vision she just wanted to lie on the sofa in front of the fireplace with a good book and a cup of tea. A twinge in her belly made her wince.
"Yes, all right, I'll eat something too", she exclaimed to herself..
Fortunately the journey to the small village of Carrick took just over ten minutes and all in all she did not mind driving in the silence of a road virtually free of traffic. The village of a few souls in the northern county of Donegal, known to the natives as An Charraigh, was just the perfect place to take refuge when you are on the file of the police of half the world. The few souls who resided there, while knowing each other, tended to look and think about their own affairs. Also it was late December, and the little tourism that animated the streets was all concentrated in the summer months. She was not in any danger, she had been missing from her homeland for more than twenty years, no one would have remembered her, nor would they have ever recognized her. She had not even suspected that she had settled in the villa that belonged to the Williams family, where they usually spent the holidays, since Mr Richard was very fond of hunting and carrying his eldest daughter and his wife was born exactly in that tiny town. But Richard and Heather Williams were dead for a long time, and their 40-year-old daughters were lost. No one would suspect her, presenting herself as Agatha Walsh and her 20-year-old appearance. No one would ask questions. They were safe there.
She walked through the imposing ebony door, closing it behind her with a sigh. The warmth inside was very pleasant, thanks to the huge fireplace in the center of the living room, where the fire crackled lively. She raised her eyes to the sky, as she realised that he had gone out again without extinguishing the fire and mentally pinned to scold him once he would be back. But at that moment she was alone and wanted to enjoy some peace and tranquility that for a month now characterized her days. She had gone from a hectic and dangerous life, always led on the razor's edge to a flat and monotonous calm, but what else could she do? She simply had to embrace change and prepare for what fate had subtly reserved for her. If she hadn't taken this path, the only other viable option would most likely have been death. In slow and measured steps, she walked to the kitchen to make hot tea before she went to bed on the sofa. She carelessly threw her eye out the window and noticed that it had started to rain profusely. Probably the snow would take the place of the rain soon, making the village even more inaccessible: it was necessary to make supplies as soon as possible, they certainly didn'tt want to run out of supplies with tons of snow around, Besides, the less public exposures, the better.
"At some point it will be inevitable..." she remarked bitterly to himself.
Exhausted even from doing nothing she dropped on the soft sofa in front of the fireplace. She retrieved the book she had left on the coffee table and sipped the hot drink and resumed the reading from where she had interrupted it.
"Wuthering Heights" wasn't exactly her favorite literary genre, but having a lot of free time and the huge library bequeathed by her mother towering over almost every wall of the immense hall, decided to read as many volumes as possible to keep the mind occupied and loose. What a pity that her father's old tomes had remained in their Dublin mansion, dealing with more congenial themes, such as hunting, war, or weapons, but since she was in her family's summer estate, her mother would never, ever allow her husband to take his work with them even during the holidays. She smiled slightly at the memory of her parents' bickering about it, where despite her father's authority, her mother always prevailed. But behind those quarrels there was simply a woman who took care to raise her daughters as best she could when her spouse was away from home for months to support them and a man who loved his women with all his might, that he had never missed anything and that he had always tried to protect, ending up losing his own life. They were strict parents, Richard and Heather Williams. Strict, but also loving, with a strong sense of family. They were spouses respected by all, despite Richard's work, because anyone who came across them could grasp the authority that exuded their every action and word. But would they be proud of their daughters? Despite her attempts to please your father, did she really do everything she could to honor his memory every day?
That flood of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the lock, then followed by heavy steps and puffs..
" You left the fireplace on again! How many times do I have to tell you to turn it off when you go out? Do you want to set the home on fire?" exclaimed the blonde to the person who had just entered.
"Uffff, sorry Nina, you're right, I was really in a hurry. It's raining like crazy and I had to go order firewood and stock up on canned food." replied desolate the boy, sitting on the other sofa trying to warm up. " Also it freezes... I am afraid that snow will come soon, fortunately the wood will be delivered in a few days".
Nina didn't answer, she just nodded and carelessly scrolled through the pages she was not reading at the end of.
"Hard reading?" asked the blond, stretching lazily..
"Mh." the woman moaned.
Although the relationship between the two had improved considerably, it could hardly be said that the woman was one of many words.
"Have you eaten something?".
"No, I've had some tea. There's some left,, if you want!" she replied dry..
"How not? And you're not hungry? You know you have to eat for two!".
Nina looked up at the ceiling, before yet another reminder of her current condition. It was true, she had to nourish that little thing inside her belly too, and she didn't want to be taken back either by her son of the same age, nor by the gynecologist again, who had visited her and loudly reproached her for not taking enough care of her pregnancy.
"Yes, yes, I know, but stop harassing me!"
"You have to be strong for both of you, that's what the doctor told you! When do you have the next checkup?"
How she hated those third degrees.
"In three weeks."
"Indeed! Come on, I'll cook something! What do you want to eat?"
It was useless to try to persuade him, he was so enthusiastic to have reconnected with the biological mother that he would do anything for her and for the fetus she was carrying, that little brother, or little sister he had always wanted to have. She could be as grumpy as she wanted, but she knew that deep down she had grown attached to him and was grateful to him for helping her escape from Japan and take refuge in her native land.
"Thai chicken." she answered without a second thought.
"Again? How can you like all those spices?"
A raised eyebrow was her eloquent answer.
"But if you want Thai chicken, Thai chicken will be. I'm going!" the boxer quickly replied, heading for the kitchen.
"Steve!" she stopped him halfway.
"Yes?" the other answered promptly.
"Thank you." and she went back to focusing on the pages of the book.
The man smiled. His mother was really tough, but he didn't care: he wouldn't lose her again. He couldn't afford it, especially because despite her silences, grumpy faces and grunts, she had understood that she could trust him and even if he despised her relationship with the ruthless man who Jin Kazama was, he would still by her side. While he was cooking, he wondered what would become of the child she was carrying if only his real father, if he was still alive, had discovered its existence. According to Nina, Jin was actually a loving and sensitive person who had to live with his terrible curse, but Steve strongly doubted that he had in future plans to start a family, indeed... He couldn't wait to extinguish his race from the face of the planet. It was a good thing that his mother had accepted his idea to return to Ireland, where life was still going on, despite the fact that the war was now on a world scale. His grandparents' old house was the perfect place to hide, even though the first large-scale settlement was almost an hour's drive away, they had presented themselves as brother and sister to the small community of Carrick and given their impressive resemblance no one would doubt it. Maybe they could have a future in that little town. But all in all, he was fine with it, no matter how long it lasted, he felt he finally had a family to be in and take care of.
"Wow, what an inviting smell!" the blonde commented, crossing the kitchen threshold.
She sat down at the small table in the corner of the room, watching the big raindrops crash on the glass and slide away, her hand clenched fist under her chin. Despite showing off a melancholy appearance, she always looked beautiful. Even though she had entered the second trimester and she had always been thin, the bump was barely visible: Steve was worried about the health of the unborn child, sometimes he felt that her mother was not taking the pregnancy seriously. But then again, how he could blame her after everything that had happened? At the next checkup they would also discover the sex of the fetus, and yet their home was not even remotely equipped to accommodate a newborn.
"I'll think about it when the right time comes." she kept repeating every time the boxer pointed it out to her: by now he had decided to give up and follow her, leaving her as quiet as possible, but still trying to keep her in line.
"I hope it turned out okay. Tell me when it's enough." Steve began, filling his mother's plate with a large portion of rice and chicken.
"Too much!" answered the blonde when she found the dish in front of her.
"Nina...".
"Steve!".
"Come on, please. You can leave some leftovers there if you don't feel like it, but you can't keep eating like a bird".
Rolling her eyes, she decided not to answer for quiet living, she simply sank the fork in the food and blow on it slightly so as not to get burned. She began to chew slowly, observing an indefinite spot on the checkered tablecloth. They ate lunch in a silence broken only by the noise of the cutlery against the porcelain dishes.
The taste was not evil, Steve was used to cooking meals alone (especially because Paul and Law with whom he had shared an apartment, were two disasters at the stove despite one was the son of a cook), but Nina was a woman whose fine palate was used to caviar and champagne and who knows what delicious dishes that were served every day at Mishima Zaibatsu.
"Is it so terrible?" he asked timidly to break the silence, noticing how the mother was attacking unwillingly the last mouthfuls.
Nina didn't answer, she only finished what was left, before pouring herself a glass of water, drinking slowly and finally getting up from the table. She definitely wasn't in the mood that day. Resigned Steve stood up and turned head down to clear the table, starting to collect the dishes. He opened the water in the sink, waiting for it to warm up, when turning he found the blonde handing him the pile of dishes and cutlery. The tablecloth and napkins had already been folded to perfection.
"It was delicious." she replied, before taking her leave of the kitchen. The boxer stood there with plates in his hand. Her mother was certainly the most unpredictable person she'd ever met, no wonder she was such a deadly killer. But serial killer or not, it was still his mother, who was still making huge progress in improving their relationship, even if it didn't seem. And he, in spite of everything, felt that he loved her endlessly.