Prayer Wheel
A/N: Yes, another piece of fanfiction to help me procrastinate even more. And I know
this is kinda off-canon. Jun is supposed to be dead. But I like Jun, okay? Therefore, Jun
lives.
Jun fussily picked a bit of fluff off her white habit. The dizzying smell of the incense
from Mother Azami's room slowly seeped in through the bottom of her door, filling her
nostrils with a floral scent that reminded her of home. She woke from her dreamlike state
and stared subversively back at the loom. Her weaving was not even close to being
finished.
Jun had always resented fighting. After winning the King of Iron Fist tournament, Jun
donated all her prize money to pay for Julia's budding archaeology foundation. She was
disgusted by the fights she fought and the pain she caused, and had finally had enough of
this violent lifestyle. Joining a convent may not have been the best idea, but Mother
Azami had assured her that it would protect her from the God of Fighting's evil
influences. She hadn't seen or heard from Jin in weeks, either. He hadn't replied to her
letter informing him of her departure ("I trust that you are truly mature enough to take
care of yourself. I need this time alone, to purify myself of all the damage I've done.
…Love, Jun"), which concerned her. As she thought about her pre-convent life, she
unconsciously started weaving on the loom. After one month of this tedium, her fingers
had grown used to the automatic movements the loom demanded.
Despite all of this boredom, she couldn't say that joining Shinryuu Convent was a
mistake. In that one month, she had experienced more catharsis and deep thought than
she ever had in training for King of Iron Fist, and she had made several new friends
among the nuns. She especially had warmed up to Sister Narin, who oddly enough was a
childhood friend of Michelle's. Plus, Mother Azami's tutelage was kind-hearted and
informative, and the food there was usually better than fighter's fare.
Jun looked up towards the door as it swung open. It was Jin. He was dressed in his
school uniform, his book bag slung around his shoulder. He had just gotten back from
school, most likely. Jun rose up from her bench at the loom, more surprised than happy.
"Jin! Hello! Why haven't you replied to my letters?" The greeting was somewhat rude,
but he'd forgive her. Jin shrugged. "I don't like writing letters," was his rather transparent
reply. Jun knew he was lying, but she said nothing in response.
"Mom…Everyone misses you. So…could you come back? I can't cook without you
and Julia just can't get the hang of the Ultra Pachiki." Jun chuckled, remembering their
tag throw, and went back to spinning on the loom.
"I'm sorry, Jin. I can't. I have a duty to uphold here at the convent." Jin shook his
head.
"Then I won't try to stop you. Goodbye, Mom…" Jin looked at the ground, and then
looked back up at her – except it was no longer Jin. Ogre's face peered at her, still in the
school uniform, a small smile creasing his face.
"Jun…" Ogre's smile grew larger; he crossed his arms. Jun gasped and dropped the
loom, tangling her weaving that she had worked so hard on. She stumbled out of the
bench, knocking it over in an attempt to escape. Ogre, unfazed at her cries of mercy,
strode over to her and picked her up off the ground by her neck. Jun wrenched herself
free but only to find her back to the wall. She cried and realized that, after only a month
in the convent, she had forgotten completely how to fight.
"The God of Fight misses you, Jun," Ogre hissed. He crept up to her and readied an
Aztecan sacrificial implement. Jun had no time to scream –
…and then she woke up. Sweat rolled down her forehead and she was breathing hard,
her chest heaving, her face red. It took her a solid minute to regain composure, after
which she paused completely, and then started crying…she knew what was happening
now. The God of Fight was calling her back.
A/N: Yes, another piece of fanfiction to help me procrastinate even more. And I know
this is kinda off-canon. Jun is supposed to be dead. But I like Jun, okay? Therefore, Jun
lives.
Jun fussily picked a bit of fluff off her white habit. The dizzying smell of the incense
from Mother Azami's room slowly seeped in through the bottom of her door, filling her
nostrils with a floral scent that reminded her of home. She woke from her dreamlike state
and stared subversively back at the loom. Her weaving was not even close to being
finished.
Jun had always resented fighting. After winning the King of Iron Fist tournament, Jun
donated all her prize money to pay for Julia's budding archaeology foundation. She was
disgusted by the fights she fought and the pain she caused, and had finally had enough of
this violent lifestyle. Joining a convent may not have been the best idea, but Mother
Azami had assured her that it would protect her from the God of Fighting's evil
influences. She hadn't seen or heard from Jin in weeks, either. He hadn't replied to her
letter informing him of her departure ("I trust that you are truly mature enough to take
care of yourself. I need this time alone, to purify myself of all the damage I've done.
…Love, Jun"), which concerned her. As she thought about her pre-convent life, she
unconsciously started weaving on the loom. After one month of this tedium, her fingers
had grown used to the automatic movements the loom demanded.
Despite all of this boredom, she couldn't say that joining Shinryuu Convent was a
mistake. In that one month, she had experienced more catharsis and deep thought than
she ever had in training for King of Iron Fist, and she had made several new friends
among the nuns. She especially had warmed up to Sister Narin, who oddly enough was a
childhood friend of Michelle's. Plus, Mother Azami's tutelage was kind-hearted and
informative, and the food there was usually better than fighter's fare.
Jun looked up towards the door as it swung open. It was Jin. He was dressed in his
school uniform, his book bag slung around his shoulder. He had just gotten back from
school, most likely. Jun rose up from her bench at the loom, more surprised than happy.
"Jin! Hello! Why haven't you replied to my letters?" The greeting was somewhat rude,
but he'd forgive her. Jin shrugged. "I don't like writing letters," was his rather transparent
reply. Jun knew he was lying, but she said nothing in response.
"Mom…Everyone misses you. So…could you come back? I can't cook without you
and Julia just can't get the hang of the Ultra Pachiki." Jun chuckled, remembering their
tag throw, and went back to spinning on the loom.
"I'm sorry, Jin. I can't. I have a duty to uphold here at the convent." Jin shook his
head.
"Then I won't try to stop you. Goodbye, Mom…" Jin looked at the ground, and then
looked back up at her – except it was no longer Jin. Ogre's face peered at her, still in the
school uniform, a small smile creasing his face.
"Jun…" Ogre's smile grew larger; he crossed his arms. Jun gasped and dropped the
loom, tangling her weaving that she had worked so hard on. She stumbled out of the
bench, knocking it over in an attempt to escape. Ogre, unfazed at her cries of mercy,
strode over to her and picked her up off the ground by her neck. Jun wrenched herself
free but only to find her back to the wall. She cried and realized that, after only a month
in the convent, she had forgotten completely how to fight.
"The God of Fight misses you, Jun," Ogre hissed. He crept up to her and readied an
Aztecan sacrificial implement. Jun had no time to scream –
…and then she woke up. Sweat rolled down her forehead and she was breathing hard,
her chest heaving, her face red. It took her a solid minute to regain composure, after
which she paused completely, and then started crying…she knew what was happening
now. The God of Fight was calling her back.