Thank you all for the awesome reviews! Just a heads up: I won't be explaining every little detail of every tournament Julia experiences because that would just take too much time and space. That's not the point/plot of the story. Yeah, it's part of Julia's life, but the tournaments are the least of her problems in this story…so, hope you like this next chapter.
The Coyote's Bite
It was Aunt Cora who found me sweating and shivering in my bed, yet my skin was as hot as the parched canyons under the Arizona sun. I'd been muttering over an over again incoherently, and they couldn't seem to wake me. My eyes were open, but they didn't see. My body was present, but it seemed that my mind was elsewhere.
They called in Ya'Atsos, and in a matter of moments she had me back to the present. Dreams, spirits, visions…it freaked me out. Wasn't that a thing of the past, a thing only my great ancestors used to have? I mean come on! These are modern days now. There's science and technology, the CD player and telephone, not mindless visions about nonsense and talk of the supernatural. That era was over.
But how else could I explain my night terrors? How else could I explain the feeling of foreboding disaster? How could I tell my family that the man from my painting was real? Who is he anyway and why the hell do I keep seeing him?
Some things are unexplainable I guess, things which cannot be explained with science and reason. It's one of the oddities of life that I've never been able to truly figure out. I had no choice but to let it be.
After that night, after Ya'Atsos had given me a charm to wear and placed a dagger under my bed (to ward off evil spirits), I didn't have nightmares anymore. But I still felt things happening, things I knew were happening somewhere in the world. Ogre had killed two more people, and as he did I felt their pain as my own. Although I never thought I'd say this, I admit now that I believe in the great God of Fighting. His power waxes with each victim he slays, and as he grows in strength my mother becomes more and more paranoid. But, even as I knew all this and even though Michelle worried herself sick, I didn't care too much. Sure, I mourned over the loss of the fighters that Ogre killed, but as long as he left Mom, the tribe, and me alone, then everything was ok…right?
Michelle never lets me go anywhere unsupervised and it annoys the hell out of me. I'm eighteen after all, an adult by law. I'll be entering college soon, moving out and away from my mom, yet Michelle still treats me like I'm six years old.
The mornings are the coolest time of the day in Arizona. The fog still lingers in the canyons and the sun has not fully woken its merciless gaze from behind the plateaus. The red rocks are slightly wet from the morning's mist, and dew dangles from the cacti and trees. Even the birds have not yet begun to sing their song. It is now that I slip on my moccasins, one of the few clothing items of my ancestors' that I'm willing to wear, and sneak out of my home as Michelle sleeps. The smooth deer skin moccasins are silent on the ground, and when I'm well away from my house, then my neighborhood, I begin to run for the canyons.
I run for awhile, loving the sweet smell of the land and the wind trailing gentle fingers across my skin. It's just me today, alone and finally free to do as I wished. There is a small stream that flows from the base of a mountain not far from where I am, and the soft trickle of the running water is the only sound I hear. The water's music is soothing, tranquil, reminding me of peaceful days, and the water is cold as I run my fingertips over the turquoise-blue surface. Moving on from the stream, I head towards my real destination.
I used to come here nearly every day as a child, to the great canyons and ravines, to this little creek, and although the path wound this way and that, I always managed to find my way home. The canyons seemed to swallow me up, engulfing me into their scarlet depths, and the towering plateaus loomed over me, casting their shadows onto the red earth. I'd never felt more at home than I did now. This path I'd made led to a large but carefully hidden rock cave, a cave I'd always visit when I wanted some time to think and be by myself. It rested on ground level, which was relatively safe, but was hidden between thick rock walls. I wonder if my ancestors had ever discovered it as I had.
When I reached the rock, I slid easily between their walls, the sides of the narrow opening slightly damp from the morning's mist, and I entered the cave silently. In the middle of the cave is a small pool of water, clear and refreshing to the tongue even though it was stagnate. Even when the sun lifted the temperatures to an unbearable 104 degrees, the pond always kept the cave cool. Beginning to smile, I entered the cave without hesitation, running my fingertips along its cold rock walls.
The reason I'd come here was to be alone, to escape the watchful eyes of my mother, and the searing gaze of the sun. Everyone needs a sanctuary. But as it turns out, I am going to be denied that desire, for I am not alone after all. Sitting on the edge of the pool was a lone ma'ii (A/n: coyote), a male by the looks of it, with a ragged but shiny pelt of gray. He lapped up a few droplets of water, the pink tongue creating silent ripples across the mirror-still surface of the water. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't notice me, but then I watched as his ears cocked and his head lifted, nose to the air. Silent as I was, his sense of smell never failed him.
Coyotes are scavengers, not the most beautiful or intelligent creatures in the world in my opinion, and are often seen as sly and untrustworthy. But they are part of nature, and I love them all the same.
His yellow eyes found me quickly, and he slowly stepped away from the water. We stood there together, staring at one another, neither of us moving a muscle. He was waiting for me, waiting for me to do something, but all I did was meet his yellow gaze. And in this moment I realized that he was indeed beautiful. His eyes were a little dull, his pelt was coarse and unkempt, and his legs skinny and malnourished, but yes, he was beautiful. He looked like he had seen many things, known many hardships, and that was why he was here, alone in my cave.
It was I who moved first. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, I extended my hand. The coyote growled, taking a hesitant step backward, but I refused to lower my hand.
"Come here. Come on, now, I'm not going to hurt you…" I said over and over softly, keeping my voice low. I kept my head lowered too, softened my gaze a little, so he did not think of me as a threat, and continued to speak.
Slowly, the gray coyote inched closer and closer to me, his eyes narrowed and wary, but his body moving forward towards my hand. Then, he was standing right in front of me, and I gently set my hand onto his head. Reflexively, I flinched slightly just when my skin met fur, afraid that he'd bite me, but the creature just stood there waiting. Regaining my courage, I began to scratch his head, behind the ears, under the chin like a good old dog, petting and smoothing down his rumpled pelt, and the coyote closed his eyes and let me do as I wished. Pretty soon he'd slumped down at my feet, a silly grin on his face, and when I pet him again, the coyote licked my fingers. When I'd stop, he'd push his head underneath my hand, silently asking for a scratch. Laughing, I pet the pathetic creature until my fingers tired, and we just sat there in the cave, watching the colors change on the rock walls as the sun rose.
My mother would be looking for me soon, but somehow I didn't want to leave the coyote yet. He was terribly lonely, and also hurt by the looks of the numerous scars on his body and the dull gaze in his eyes…
But when I reached down to pet him again, the coyote turned his head and sank his teeth into my hand. Releasing a cry of shock I leaped up and recoiled from the predator. Now his eyes were no longer playful and sad but wild and feral, his teeth bared, canines gleaming, ears pointed, and he lunged again. Clutching my hand to my chest, which wasn't bleeding but ached a little, I lashed out and kicked the coyote in the chest. He stumbled slightly but came at me again, his fangs fixated on that hand he'd bitten, and this time, when his teeth made contact again, blood burst forth. The sudden scarlet against my hand shocked me more than the pain.
I screamed, realizing the danger I was in, and scrambled to get away. I was nearly halfway to the exit of the cave when I quickly glanced behind me to see if he was following; he wasn't. The coyote was at the water's edge again, watching me leave with those expressionless yellow eyes. Strangely, I felt hurt, betrayed, and then I reprimanded myself for feeling this way over a dumb animal. Still, he had managed to affect me, and I cast one last questioning glance his way. Why had he suddenly turned on me like that? And why did he not chase me down and kill me? All he did was draw blood, nothing more.
The coyote bent his head to drink from the water; what an odd creature. Then, I fled home, the blood running down my wrist and forearm from the open gash on my hand.
The coyote's bite healed rather quickly, in two days, and all that was left was a tiny little scar, barely visible, on my left hand. I never saw the coyote again, but maybe that's just because I never returned to my cave. Or maybe it's because the coyote may possibly have never existed.
I graduated number one in the top ten of my high school class and Michelle and nearly half my tribe was there to celebrate. Smiling, I realized that I would finally be able to go to college and pursue some real dreams for a change. What I would do in college was still undetermined however.
"You're such a nerd, Julia," Gabe joked as he tugged on my braid.
"Thank you," I smiled as I embraced my cousin.
There was a big dinner after that, Mom made me give a speech, and there were presents and congratulations exchanged, all that good stuff. By the time the evening was over I was exhausted. But there was still one more thing Mom had to tell me.
"I am so proud of you Julia," she murmured into my hair as she squeezed me to her. There were tears in my mother's eyes and I kissed her cheek.
"I couldn't have done it without you, Ama," I replied with a smile.
"Yes, but it was your brain, not mine. You are a woman now, Julia. Whatever path you take in life, make sure you're happy, and always make sure you have enough money to support yourself."
"I know, Mom."
"You'll be going off to college soon, and even though Mother Earth is beautiful and strong, she has her scars as well. She has her dark sides, so be careful, Julia. Make the right choices."
The usual mother and daughter pep talk, but, smiling, I hugged her again. "I will."
Michelle smiled, then removed from the kitchen counter a piece of paper. She handed the sheet to me silently, and I peered down at the writing.
"It has been four years, my daughter, four years since Ganryu has visited us. Do you remember what he told us?" my mother asked.
I read the headline on the paper: The Mishima Zaibatsu presents: The King of Iron Fist Tournament III.
I looked up at my mother. "Ganryu said the next tournament was to be held in four years…and sign up is…" I scanned the paper quickly, "in three days!"
Michelle nodded, and I felt the adrenaline rush through me as my excitement and anticipation grew. The prospect of competing against other fighters and proving my ability set my blood on fire. I was now better than my mother in combat. I had beaten her several times, and I couldn't wait until I entered. The idea of seeing a new world beyond the barriers of Arizona excited me beyond anything I'd ever felt. Hell, I've never even been out of state in my whole life! And this tournament was to be held in Japan and then several other countries too. Not to mention all of the different ethnicity's and cultures this tournament introduced. Beaming, I flashed my mother a broad grin.
"I'm going to fight, Mom, I'm gonna fight like you did? Oh, this is so exciting!" I squealed, clutching the paper to my chest. Guiltily, I felt that the idea of participating in this renowned martial arts tournament was making me happier than graduating number one from high school.
The smile gone from her face, my mother snatched the paper away. I reached for it slightly, confused, but Mom shook her head and set the paper down behind her.
"No, Julia, you are not going to fight in this tournament, and you never will. This paper is for me because I am going to enroll alone. Aunt Cora will look after you in my absence," Michelle explained grimly.
Shocked and hurt, I could only stare at my mother. Had I not beaten her several times during sparring? My skills far exceeded her own now! I'd been waiting so long to prove myself, so long to feel the rush of the fight, so long to compete against someone else that was just as good or better than I was. And now my mom was just going to take that away from me after all my training and hard work?
"What?" I cried in disbelief, finding my voice finally. "You can't do this, Mother! I want to fight too!" I sounded like a whiny little girl again, and my face heated with embarrassment, but I wanted this so much. I realized then that this was the first time my mom and I had ever gotten into an argument.
"I'm sorry, Julia but you can't. It's too dangerous."
"How is a little martial arts tournament going to harm me? I have the skills and the maturity to do this, Mom!"
"I do not doubt your ability, Julia; you are indeed very good. It's only your safety I'm worried about. Join any other tournament you like—except this one."
"No! The Mishima tournaments are the most prestigious, they have the best fighters, you said so yourself, and don't you want me to challenge myself?"
"Yes but—no, Julia, no! You have no idea what actually goes on in these tournaments, and I will not have you involved. I will not lose you like I already lost your father! Do not ask me again if you can participate!"
I had never seen her this upset before, not even when Ganryu had visited four years ago.
I was quiet for a moment, allowing my mother's words to sink in. For years I've known since I was a kid that Mom had secrets, hidden fears that she never wanted to talk about. And that didn't include my father Han. I knew all about him already, but there had always been something else, but I'd never asked. Now, for the first time, I had a chance to find out what was really bothering her. I'd waited long enough.
"What are you not telling me, Mother? Does it have to do with the God of Fighting?" I asked softly.
Michelle hesitated, but slowly nodded.
"You're strong, Julia, but not strong enough. Heihachi Mishima, the man who runs this whole accursed program, is dangerous as well, very likely more so than the God of Fighting himself. It's because of him and his family that you're not fighting."
"Then why are you fighting? You shouldn't go either if he's this bad."
"True, but you forget that I've been in one of these things before; I know how his system works, and I want to get rid of the bastard before he creates anymore chaos. You don't know anything about how ruthless Heihachi can be. He threw his own son over the face of a mountain after all…anyway, you cannot even begin to fathom what he and his family are capable of."
"Is Jun Kazama part of his family?" I asked suddenly. I don't know why I asked it, how the woman's name all of a sudden popped into my head, but I waited patiently for my mom's answer.
My mother closed her eyes. "I don't know if she ever married Kazuya, but Kazuya is Heihachi's son. And Jun was Kazuya's lover and together they conceived a child—children, according to Ganryu—and…oh never mind."
"Tell me, Mom. Please," I begged. For a long while, my mother looked away and remained silent. I've always been patient, and I know that she gets this way every time she's about to say something extremely important or extremely painful. And then, with pain in her eyes, Michelle began to tell me the story. She told me everything from the medallion to something called the Devil Gene, from Heihachi throwing Kazuya over a cliff to Jun and Kazuya's relationship. She even told me a little bit about the God of Fighting. Seeing how he derived his power from the death of fighters, Heihachi's tournament was a definite hotspot for Ogre.
"What are their names?" I asked curiously after Mom had told me about the children.
Mom sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "I don't know, but I do know that the son, the firstborn, is only a year older than you are. He's dangerous, Julia, and will be at this next tournament. He probably even carries the Gene in his blood."
"How do you know that for sure? Maybe he's innocent and it's only his father and grandfather that are messed up," I argued, but Michelle shook her head.
"It doesn't matter. As long as he's related to the Mishimas, he is no friend of ours. That, my little bird, is why you are staying here with your aunt and the rest of the tribe. Even if I fail to bring down Heihachi and fail to defeat the God of Fighting, there will always be someone else to take my place."
So she could even die at this tournament. However, from the look on her face, I knew that the last thing Michelle wanted were my tears. She would not tolerate my pleads for her not to leave; when my mother's mind is made up, nobody can change it, not even me, her own daughter. So instead I remained quiet and only nodded once.
From the information my mother just told me, I instantly hated the Mishima family, but I couldn't bring myself to hate the children. They would be around my age by now, and they couldn't help it if they'd been born to two crappy-ass parents. They were just unlucky. Their mother was dead, murdered, and all the men in their family were cold-blooded assholes. I've never been that unlucky. The only bad luck I've ever had is when my father left my mother and me.
I thank the spirits everyday that I still have my mother, and I hope that I never have to lose her like the Mishima children lost theirs.
The tournament started in two days, and my mother planned to leave on the morning of the second. Except one afternoon, a day before her departure, my mother went out to run some errands—and she never came back.
We waited, my tribe and I, for several long, agonizing hours for Michelle's return. When night fell, my worry changed into unbearable fear. With all this conflict going on about the God of Fighting, the corrupt Mishima family, and the dead fighters, my imagination ran wild. Had Ogre found my mother? Was she even alive still? Had Heihachi finally come after her and our medallion?
There was only one thing to do in order to find some answers. Rummaging through my mother's packed suitcases I finally found the sheet of paper, folded it neatly, and stuffed it into my jeans pocket. Then, calmly, no tears, no overreactions, no wails, I unpacked my mom's luggage and put my own clothing inside in their place. The moccasins went and so did the hunting dagger, items I packed more for comfort than necessity. The brown leather gloves I used for sparring went in, boots, brush, hygiene items, books (yeah ok, I read. So what?), and a couple feathers from the tribe for good luck. On my finger I slid on the beautiful silver ring my mom had given me three years ago and I quickly pulled my hair up into a taut ponytail.
Well, ironically, I was going to the tournament, but for altered reasons. I had to find my mother, and this was my chance to finally see what the Mishimas were all about. It wasn't just a simple martial arts competition anymore, or proving myself and winning the prize money…no. My mom is missing. If she gets hurt…well, she won't. I'll be there to save her.
With a heavy heart, I left Arizona the next morning.
"Don't ever be afraid to be alone. Sometimes, we grow stronger when we're by ourselves…"
I tried hard to believe that.
So...yeah. She'll meet Jin soon I promise.