Jin; Julia couldn't stop thinking about anything else. He had seemed
sincerely upset about hurting her when Hwoarang had thrown him out. But
then again, he HAD pinned her back against her will in a painful and
frightening way.
Sighing in irritation at her confused feelings, Julia glanced at the wall
clock. There was still a whole hour to go before meeting Hwoarang. Besides,
she needed a walk to sort herself out.
To Julia's horror, her feet seemed to take her to the Mishima Mansion without having to think about it. She paused at the iron-wrought intercom gates; what should she do? Turn back and stay mad at Jin forever? But would Jin even want to talk to HER?
Plucking up all her courage, she headed toward the guard at the gatepost. "I am a friend of Jin Kazama. We attend the same school," she informed him. The guard nodded stiffly in reply, pressing a release button to allow her to go through.
'God, now I'm in - where do I go?' Julia stared around at her the acres upon acres of private Mishima lawn and garden. A dojo caught her eye as she scanned the terrain.
Julia thought she could hear someone training inside as she came closer to it. Peering in, her heart pounded as she beheld Jin clad only in black training gi pants with red and yellow flames licking up the right leg.
He seemed to sense her presence straight away. "Julia - what are you doing here?" he asked, not looking at her.
"I want to talk for real now," she walked over until she was face to face with him, "and no fighting until it REALLY gets out of hand." Although her last comment had been a joke, Jin looked more miserable than ever.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I'm sorry too. I should have listened to you, I wasn't a very good girlfriend," Julia hung her head, but then looked up at him. Jin felt his heart break to see glistening tears of sorrow at the corners of her eyes. "All I want to know is," she began shakily, "why you hated me so much to hurt me the way you did." With that last sentence, Julia couldn't hold back the tears stinging her eyes. Jin couldn't his foolishness; he had caused tremendous heartache to the one person he loved most.
"Forgive me," he barely whispered, tears in his own eyes, "Although I do not deserve to be forgiven. Julia, I didn't hate you - I never will."
He tentatively reached out and touched her bare arms, still looking sore, from where he had hurt her. "This is because of me," he said mournfully, caressing the affected skin gently. He let go and looked at the young Native American, who was watching him with sorrowful eyes.
"The anger I felt towards seeing you with Hwoarang grew deeper over the days; I daresay it probably would've destroyed me. I would never do anything to hurt you purposefully, Julia, but this anger was playing upon my emotions until they were a frenzy. I didn't know what I was doing, I only knew and was blinded by what I was feeling - which was a potent fury and deadly rage," Jin looked down, "I know why this happens. Its because of my father; Kazuya. HE did this to me - a DEVIL gene was passed onto me and I will have to bear it for the rest of my days."
Julia was shocked beyond words at this sudden and startling revelation. "Oh my god, Jin . . ." she trailed off.
"You don't know what to say? Don't worry, neither did I when I first found out about it," Jin cast a glance downward, "It was only yesterday, actually. I overheard Heihachi talking about it whilst on the phone. Everything makes sense now." Julia placed a hand on his shoulder; slowly she cast the tears away from his dark eyes with her fingers.
"It doesn't matter to me about your demon side - I could never love you any less; I could only love you MORE," she said. Jin looked at her in surprise; a smile slowly spreading across his lips as Julia buried her face into his bare chest. He held onto her tightly and whispered into her ear, "I missed you so much."
As they broke apart, Julia acted on impulse and did something she'd longed to do for ages - reach up and kiss Jin intensely. He held her face, enjoying the feel of her silky hair falling onto his hands. Julia smiled blissfully as they pulled away, Jin looked at her with a grin as he twirled her hair in ringlets around his fingers. "More interested in my hair than me?" she teased. He grinned again. "Well, your hair doesn't talk back to me," he winked, then he turned slightly more serious, "Did you mean everything you said about Hwoarang?"
"Yes," Julia groaned inwardly, she knew another fight was again going to ensue, "I have found him to be a good friend. I don't know what else would have kept me together otherwise."
She waited for Jin to proceed yelling, but he never did. Instead, he looked like he was deep in thought. "I'll never agree to like him, but I can agree to tolerate him, for your sake Julia," he said sincerely.
Suddenly, a blinding lightning flash went off in her head; Hwoarang! She was supposed to be meeting him . . .she glanced at her watch . . . right now! Julia looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Jin. I really have to go now but I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" He waved after her, but as Julia was at the dojo entrance she quickly ran back, kissed him full on the lips and darted back out.
Hwoarang closed his eyes as painful reminiscences flooded his head. Was he sure he really wanted to drag all this up again with Julia? 'After all, it worked so well the last time I told someone,' he thought wryly. Before he could answer his question, a flashback blocked all other thoughts.
'Well, life can't get better than this,' Hwoarang thought as he performed his usual strut down the streets of his hometown of Seoul, Korea. Him and his band of merry 'money-makers' had just struck it lucky; unfortunate foreigners had just literally HANDED over their cash to him on a silver platter, so it seemed, it had been THAT easy. Anyhow, there had been talk of some Japanese in town. And not just any Japanese - members of the Mishima Private Army. Hwoarang couldn't wait to challenge these intruders from the Land of the Rising Sun into his beloved homeland to a street fight - a good way of earning some quick cash. And LOTS of it. Face to face, finally, as the red sun dipped behind the mountains of the Korean border and bathed the surrounding land in an eerie crimson glow. In one of many back alleys of Seoul, on one side, stood about ten members of the Mishima Private Army and on the other - Hwoarang and his team. As always, Hwoarang challenged the opposing side to a set amount of US dollars then raised the stakes to a seemingly foolish high amount of money - if the other side could beat his entire gang including him, he'd hand over the money and vice versa.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Korean," one of the MPA spoke rudely, "Let us see this fortune you speak of."
"You shall see the money . . .if you win," said Hwoarang darkly. Hwoarang watched each and every member of his crew lose to the opposite side silently, knowing his chance would come soon. As his last man was down, one of the soldiers sneered at Hwoarang. "Our money, boy," he cracked his knuckles, "Hand it over."
"This is barely over yet," Hwoarang stated calmly, disguising any anger well, "You have yet to fight myself." At this point, another youth stepped out of the shadows. He had been observing the match the whole time; Hwoarang hadn't even noticed him. The Japanese boy looked to be the same age as his own, but his hair was fashioned bizarrely in one straight spike with a few stray strands that fell over his eyes.
"Fight me," the youth remarked simply, "My name is Jin Kazama." Hwoarang nodded, underestimating the innocent look about the strange boy. The challenge began. Punches, kicks and blows were all exchanged one after another - both youths were too evenly matched for one to win straight away. Hwoarang blocked an impending strike and noticed that the boy showed no trace of fatigue. He grew desperate; he had never lost a fight before in his life! And what dishonour it would be to lose to the Japanese, of all people. With a new surge of determination, Hwoarang executed another round of precisely aimed kicks. It carried on this way until the sun had disappeared completely and in her place was a canopy of flickering stars.
"Please, Hwoarang," Kim Chun-Tae, one of Hwoarang's gang members, pleaded, "It appears as though you have finally met your match in skill and the night is fast drawing. We cannot hang around all day. Just call a draw."
"A draw?" repeated Hwoarang, horrified to hear that his perfect record of many unbeaten fights was going to be tarnished by a humiliating draw.
"Accept that you may never be able to beat this guy," Chun-Tae added more gently. So ended the match. Both sides left empty-handed. Hwoarang left with his head bowed in awful thought. He headed back to the dojang and sat quietly; numb from the mortification of actually walking away from a fight he had not won (nor lost.) Suddenly, Hwoarang sensed a presence of authority. Leaping to his feet and bowing low in respect, he greeted his teacher quietly.
"What troubles you, Hwoarang?" Baek Doo San murmured as he felt the disturbed aura radiating off the younger Korean. Hwoarang could hardly bear to bring himself to come to terms with reality. "I-I failed to beat this Japanese guy," he avoided his teacher's gaze, "It ended as a draw. But I will defeat him again for if the chance ever arises." He added hastily, knowing Baek must be feeling disappointed in him. However, his teacher only spoke one question. "What was his name?" Hwoarang looked up in surprise. Was his name really relevant? All the same, he answered. "He introduced himself as Jin Kazama. I do not know what connection he had with the Mishima Zaibatsu." Master Baek's eyes hardened. "The Mishima Zaibatsu?"
"Yes. I challenged the Mishima Private Army. Kazama was with them," Hwoarang bowed his head once again.
"Kazama," muttered Master Baek, then his eyes widened in realisation, "Never attempt to seek out Jin Kazama again." Hwoarang glanced upward at the worried tone in his teacher's voice. "But I need to rectify this. I WILL defeat him when the time comes," his eyes glittered with something he'd suddenly remembered, "The Iron Fist Tournament! The one you entered nearly 20 years ago. There will be another held soon - Kazama is almost certain to enter it. I shall enter too and finally have the chance to correct my demise." "No, I forbid it!" Master Baek's normally calm voice was replaced by a desperate thunder. Then he sighed at Hwoarang's bewilderment. "I hoped that I would never have to reveal this to you, Hwoarang." Hwoarang was utterly confused and somewhat frightened about whatever it was his teacher was about to unveil.
Hwoarang's life had been turned around since the very moment he had heard the truth spill from Master Baek's lips. A new-found disgust for himself had grown and especially after his teacher had been brutally murdered by the Toshin. He had vowed to enter the tournament and seek revenge on Jin Kazama and the monstrous beast that had killed his teacher.
To Julia's horror, her feet seemed to take her to the Mishima Mansion without having to think about it. She paused at the iron-wrought intercom gates; what should she do? Turn back and stay mad at Jin forever? But would Jin even want to talk to HER?
Plucking up all her courage, she headed toward the guard at the gatepost. "I am a friend of Jin Kazama. We attend the same school," she informed him. The guard nodded stiffly in reply, pressing a release button to allow her to go through.
'God, now I'm in - where do I go?' Julia stared around at her the acres upon acres of private Mishima lawn and garden. A dojo caught her eye as she scanned the terrain.
Julia thought she could hear someone training inside as she came closer to it. Peering in, her heart pounded as she beheld Jin clad only in black training gi pants with red and yellow flames licking up the right leg.
He seemed to sense her presence straight away. "Julia - what are you doing here?" he asked, not looking at her.
"I want to talk for real now," she walked over until she was face to face with him, "and no fighting until it REALLY gets out of hand." Although her last comment had been a joke, Jin looked more miserable than ever.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I'm sorry too. I should have listened to you, I wasn't a very good girlfriend," Julia hung her head, but then looked up at him. Jin felt his heart break to see glistening tears of sorrow at the corners of her eyes. "All I want to know is," she began shakily, "why you hated me so much to hurt me the way you did." With that last sentence, Julia couldn't hold back the tears stinging her eyes. Jin couldn't his foolishness; he had caused tremendous heartache to the one person he loved most.
"Forgive me," he barely whispered, tears in his own eyes, "Although I do not deserve to be forgiven. Julia, I didn't hate you - I never will."
He tentatively reached out and touched her bare arms, still looking sore, from where he had hurt her. "This is because of me," he said mournfully, caressing the affected skin gently. He let go and looked at the young Native American, who was watching him with sorrowful eyes.
"The anger I felt towards seeing you with Hwoarang grew deeper over the days; I daresay it probably would've destroyed me. I would never do anything to hurt you purposefully, Julia, but this anger was playing upon my emotions until they were a frenzy. I didn't know what I was doing, I only knew and was blinded by what I was feeling - which was a potent fury and deadly rage," Jin looked down, "I know why this happens. Its because of my father; Kazuya. HE did this to me - a DEVIL gene was passed onto me and I will have to bear it for the rest of my days."
Julia was shocked beyond words at this sudden and startling revelation. "Oh my god, Jin . . ." she trailed off.
"You don't know what to say? Don't worry, neither did I when I first found out about it," Jin cast a glance downward, "It was only yesterday, actually. I overheard Heihachi talking about it whilst on the phone. Everything makes sense now." Julia placed a hand on his shoulder; slowly she cast the tears away from his dark eyes with her fingers.
"It doesn't matter to me about your demon side - I could never love you any less; I could only love you MORE," she said. Jin looked at her in surprise; a smile slowly spreading across his lips as Julia buried her face into his bare chest. He held onto her tightly and whispered into her ear, "I missed you so much."
As they broke apart, Julia acted on impulse and did something she'd longed to do for ages - reach up and kiss Jin intensely. He held her face, enjoying the feel of her silky hair falling onto his hands. Julia smiled blissfully as they pulled away, Jin looked at her with a grin as he twirled her hair in ringlets around his fingers. "More interested in my hair than me?" she teased. He grinned again. "Well, your hair doesn't talk back to me," he winked, then he turned slightly more serious, "Did you mean everything you said about Hwoarang?"
"Yes," Julia groaned inwardly, she knew another fight was again going to ensue, "I have found him to be a good friend. I don't know what else would have kept me together otherwise."
She waited for Jin to proceed yelling, but he never did. Instead, he looked like he was deep in thought. "I'll never agree to like him, but I can agree to tolerate him, for your sake Julia," he said sincerely.
Suddenly, a blinding lightning flash went off in her head; Hwoarang! She was supposed to be meeting him . . .she glanced at her watch . . . right now! Julia looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Jin. I really have to go now but I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" He waved after her, but as Julia was at the dojo entrance she quickly ran back, kissed him full on the lips and darted back out.
Hwoarang closed his eyes as painful reminiscences flooded his head. Was he sure he really wanted to drag all this up again with Julia? 'After all, it worked so well the last time I told someone,' he thought wryly. Before he could answer his question, a flashback blocked all other thoughts.
'Well, life can't get better than this,' Hwoarang thought as he performed his usual strut down the streets of his hometown of Seoul, Korea. Him and his band of merry 'money-makers' had just struck it lucky; unfortunate foreigners had just literally HANDED over their cash to him on a silver platter, so it seemed, it had been THAT easy. Anyhow, there had been talk of some Japanese in town. And not just any Japanese - members of the Mishima Private Army. Hwoarang couldn't wait to challenge these intruders from the Land of the Rising Sun into his beloved homeland to a street fight - a good way of earning some quick cash. And LOTS of it. Face to face, finally, as the red sun dipped behind the mountains of the Korean border and bathed the surrounding land in an eerie crimson glow. In one of many back alleys of Seoul, on one side, stood about ten members of the Mishima Private Army and on the other - Hwoarang and his team. As always, Hwoarang challenged the opposing side to a set amount of US dollars then raised the stakes to a seemingly foolish high amount of money - if the other side could beat his entire gang including him, he'd hand over the money and vice versa.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Korean," one of the MPA spoke rudely, "Let us see this fortune you speak of."
"You shall see the money . . .if you win," said Hwoarang darkly. Hwoarang watched each and every member of his crew lose to the opposite side silently, knowing his chance would come soon. As his last man was down, one of the soldiers sneered at Hwoarang. "Our money, boy," he cracked his knuckles, "Hand it over."
"This is barely over yet," Hwoarang stated calmly, disguising any anger well, "You have yet to fight myself." At this point, another youth stepped out of the shadows. He had been observing the match the whole time; Hwoarang hadn't even noticed him. The Japanese boy looked to be the same age as his own, but his hair was fashioned bizarrely in one straight spike with a few stray strands that fell over his eyes.
"Fight me," the youth remarked simply, "My name is Jin Kazama." Hwoarang nodded, underestimating the innocent look about the strange boy. The challenge began. Punches, kicks and blows were all exchanged one after another - both youths were too evenly matched for one to win straight away. Hwoarang blocked an impending strike and noticed that the boy showed no trace of fatigue. He grew desperate; he had never lost a fight before in his life! And what dishonour it would be to lose to the Japanese, of all people. With a new surge of determination, Hwoarang executed another round of precisely aimed kicks. It carried on this way until the sun had disappeared completely and in her place was a canopy of flickering stars.
"Please, Hwoarang," Kim Chun-Tae, one of Hwoarang's gang members, pleaded, "It appears as though you have finally met your match in skill and the night is fast drawing. We cannot hang around all day. Just call a draw."
"A draw?" repeated Hwoarang, horrified to hear that his perfect record of many unbeaten fights was going to be tarnished by a humiliating draw.
"Accept that you may never be able to beat this guy," Chun-Tae added more gently. So ended the match. Both sides left empty-handed. Hwoarang left with his head bowed in awful thought. He headed back to the dojang and sat quietly; numb from the mortification of actually walking away from a fight he had not won (nor lost.) Suddenly, Hwoarang sensed a presence of authority. Leaping to his feet and bowing low in respect, he greeted his teacher quietly.
"What troubles you, Hwoarang?" Baek Doo San murmured as he felt the disturbed aura radiating off the younger Korean. Hwoarang could hardly bear to bring himself to come to terms with reality. "I-I failed to beat this Japanese guy," he avoided his teacher's gaze, "It ended as a draw. But I will defeat him again for if the chance ever arises." He added hastily, knowing Baek must be feeling disappointed in him. However, his teacher only spoke one question. "What was his name?" Hwoarang looked up in surprise. Was his name really relevant? All the same, he answered. "He introduced himself as Jin Kazama. I do not know what connection he had with the Mishima Zaibatsu." Master Baek's eyes hardened. "The Mishima Zaibatsu?"
"Yes. I challenged the Mishima Private Army. Kazama was with them," Hwoarang bowed his head once again.
"Kazama," muttered Master Baek, then his eyes widened in realisation, "Never attempt to seek out Jin Kazama again." Hwoarang glanced upward at the worried tone in his teacher's voice. "But I need to rectify this. I WILL defeat him when the time comes," his eyes glittered with something he'd suddenly remembered, "The Iron Fist Tournament! The one you entered nearly 20 years ago. There will be another held soon - Kazama is almost certain to enter it. I shall enter too and finally have the chance to correct my demise." "No, I forbid it!" Master Baek's normally calm voice was replaced by a desperate thunder. Then he sighed at Hwoarang's bewilderment. "I hoped that I would never have to reveal this to you, Hwoarang." Hwoarang was utterly confused and somewhat frightened about whatever it was his teacher was about to unveil.
Hwoarang's life had been turned around since the very moment he had heard the truth spill from Master Baek's lips. A new-found disgust for himself had grown and especially after his teacher had been brutally murdered by the Toshin. He had vowed to enter the tournament and seek revenge on Jin Kazama and the monstrous beast that had killed his teacher.