The proverbs, obviously, aren't mine.

When Love and Death Embrace

"Judge not by the eye but by the heart" –Cheyenne proverb

Michelle

When my daughter was but a small child, I used to play the flute for her. She would stare intently up at me, her dark eyes focused in concentration and wonder. Then, later, as the music flowed through her, the notes swelling and dipping with each command of my mouth and fingers, little Julia would close her eyes and rest her head upon my lap. She loved my music, but her passions had always been her brush and her fist.

What I would give to play another song for her once more.

Raising the wooden instrument to my lips, I play again, reviving from its hollowness the memories Julia and I shared. The way she smiled, her soft laughter, the way I used to braid her long hair when she was six…her fifteenth birthday…the red canyon around us, the white sun…the day she left me for college. I play on, letting the notes embrace me in their tender melody, feeling the music from my soul, as if from another place altogether. The wonderful sound brings a tear to my eye and a smile to my lips, disrupting the rhythm of the song.

I am relieved that I can even play today. Last night I had an awful nightmare, one that left me lying awake for a long, long time. I had dreamed that I had taken up my flute, but no sound came forth. I pressed my mouth to the opening, moved my fingers, forced the air from my lungs, but all I played was silence. I could not feel the life of the song, the force of magic, the power and beauty of the notes, and I had felt myself choking on the music, the notes flowing backwards…but most frightening of all, I couldn't see Julia. As the song of my flute died, so too did my memories of my daughter. I'd contemplated seeking Ya'atsos' advice about my dream, but a side of me was hesitant to do so, for I feared what the shamaness might tell me…

My playing was interrupted by the shrill shriek of the telephone. Carefully setting the flute down, I rose to answer it.

"Hello?" I said softly.

"Ama."

My hand tightened on the phone. "A-Aji?"

She'd called; Julia had finally called after all these months! A parent always jokes about being happy to be rid of their children, but in truth, I missed my daughter more than anything. It was enough to hear her voice.

"Hi Mom. How are things?"

"Just fine, and how are you?"

"How's Aunt Cora and Gabe?"

"They're doing great—"

"And Ya'atsos, how is she?"

I could read my daughter like a book, and I noticed almost instantly that she seemed a little nervous when she asked me all these questions. Was Julia truly wondering about the tribe's wellbeing…or was this just an act masking her real motive for calling home? I decided to go along with her little skit.

"Everyone's fine, honey. But how's college? I heard you're in Mexico. How do you like that? Did you practice your Spanish? Do you study every night like you're supposed to—"

"Whoa, slow down, Mom! I'll get to that. College is great, as usual, and Mexico is amazing…"

She told me everything then, about the people, the friends she made, her studies, and the ancient ruins. I had to remind myself that my child was a woman now and no longer needed me to keep watch over her. Still, that didn't stop me from worrying and wondering just a little.

"…and there's this guy named James who likes me, and it gets to be pretty annoying…"

I laughed then. It was no surprise that men were interested. My daughter wasn't just any ordinary Jane after all. "Well of course there are guys now, ha…but wait a minute, are you having sex? Did you have sex!" A part of me was teasing her slightly, but another side of me was reminded of a younger Michelle Chang and her lover…

"Mom!" Julia exclaimed, but she hesitated as I said the words, and I waited for her to speak.

Finally, my daughter replied, "No, Ama, there was no, uh, sex…but there is another man…"

She described him first, and I noticed right away how she avoided his name. Apparently her object of affection was tall, brooding, attractive, and mysterious, and she supposedly loved him. But as I listened to the pure love in my daughter's voice, I worried for her even more, because I'm not even sure if Julia knows what love is. Boys have always been unimportant to her while she grew up, and, thanks to me and her father's broken relationship, Julia's always been a little cynical about love. But now this man comes along, and how do I know he's not just using her? How do I know that Julia isn't just grabbing anyone that takes interest?

And most importantly, if he breaks her heart, then what? Maybe I'm just being overly protective, but I couldn't suppress the thoughts.

When Julia had finished, I said, "Well that sounds great, Aji, but you still haven't told me his name."

"I did," she insisted firmly, but I detected a slight quaver in her voice. Please don't lie to me, Julia…

"No, you didn't."

"I swear I did."

"Julia," I warned, my voice lowering, knowing the old trick she was playing. She sighed on the other line, and I wondered why she was afraid to tell me. Suspicion took over. Did I even want to know the answer when Julia herself feared telling me?

"Mama, the man I'm—the man I'm talking about is J-Jin. Jin Kazama."

I nearly dropped the phone then. Had I heard correctly? Please let it be wrong…

"Excuse me?" I asked, fighting to maintain my composure.

"Jin Kazama."

"Kazuya and Jun's? Heihachi Mishima's grandson?"

"Y-yeah…Mom, I knew you wouldn't approve!" Well, what had she expected when she called me?

Something snapped within me then, the maternal instinct came on overdrive, my hand tightened on the phone, knuckles white with fury and face hot with rage and fear, my heart sinking in despair.

Oh no, oh no, please. Not yet, not now…and isn't it ironic? Of all the billions of men in the world, it just had to be Jin Kazama. My legacy of hardship with his family might not die after all…or could it?

I wouldn't allow Julia to be another prey to fall into the Mishima web. After all my attempts to protect her, after all that I have fought for, all that could be taken away with one man. Having been preoccupied with Heihachi, Kazuya, and Ogre, I had failed to notice the true threat, the subtler danger that was Jin Kazama. Since her birth, I'd vowed to protect Julia, and I would not fail now.

"What! Julia, what the hell do you think you're doing? Come home now!"

It was the wrong thing to say, but the rage and fear was too overwhelming; reason and composure had been abandoned. All her life Julia has been strong-willed and independent, and she hated it when people told her what to do.

"How dare you speak that way to me! You don't know Jin!"

"Be quiet, I'm your mother, goddammit! I know enough to say that he's dangerous! I've told you this numerous times; I thought you were smarter than this!"

"I love him, Mother." What frightened me was the note of finality in her voice, as if, no matter what I said, no matter how much I warned her, all of it would mean nothing.

I let loose a string of Navajo obscenities then, and I could almost see Julia cringe on the other line. I'd never let her hear me speak this way until now. But soon the anger abated and desperation set in. Somehow, someway, I had to make her understand. I had to convince her to abandon Jin, because if she didn't now, then my past of pain and hardship with the Mishima family would continue to haunt Julia.

"Julia, please. I'm begging you. You don't know what kind of family he comes from! If you stay, you'll only get hurt, and by the spirits, Ajijawk, I am not going to lose you. You can't trust Jin."

"Stop acting like you know what's best for me. I'm an adult now!" She was that stubborn thirteen-year old again, not the clear-headed woman she was supposed to be.

"That's because I do know, Julia, don't you get it? You must not trust that man!"

This time Julia was silent and my heart sank further.

"Honey, I know you want someone to love, but why him? There are so many other men out there to choose!"

"Mother, you don't know him. He's not the monster you believe him to be; Jin is a good man, Ama," she explained calmly, and I knew I'd already lost her.

She didn't yet understand that it wasn't just the boy himself who was dangerous. Even if he was indeed harmless like Julia described him to be (which I highly doubted he was), his family sure as hell wasn't. If Jin didn't hurt her directly, then it was certain that Kazuya or Heihachi would find a way to do it.

"Dooda! Listen to me: as soon as you look away, as soon as you give in, he will hurt you. They will hurt you. Please, Julia, just come home." (A/N: 'dooda' means no)

"I'm sorry, Ama."

The line went dead, and I was left standing there in the kitchen, knowing my daughter was doomed. Was she so blind? Was she so naïve and stupid? After all that I have told her, after all the warnings, after all this time…

And the worst thing was that I was powerless to do anything. I didn't know where Julia was, what the Mishima's motives were, nothing. I could only wait and pray. And when I picked up my flute again, I found that my nightmare became reality. I was met only by silence.

Julia

I was a stupid child, an idealistic, disillusioned girl that believed she knew everything already. I remember that phone call as if it were only yesterday. I can recall the desperation in my mother's pleads, the love, the fear, the worry…it was the last time I'd ever hear her voice. If only I'd listened…but then again, it was because I did not heed my mother's warning that I am where I am today.

Back to my story.

Angry and disappointed, I'd slammed the phone back onto its cradle and made my way out of school. My pace quickened, my jaw clenching painfully, and I knew that only Jin could make me feel better. Damn her! Why couldn't she understand? Meeting Jin was one of the best things that ever happened to me, so why couldn't she just be supportive? But what had I expected, a warm welcome and smiles? She'd only been warning me of the Mishimas since I was old enough to speak after all.

"Julia."

If that was one of my stupid study group members again, then they—

But as I turned, I realized that it was Professor Vega that had called for me, and I watched as his stubby form hurried down the hall towards me. He smiled stiffly, one of those fake smiles that held no warmth, and inside my heart sank. I already knew what this was going to be about and at the moment academics was the last thing I wanted to deal with. However, I plastered a smile to my face, which I hoped passed as polite and pleasant.

"Hi, Mr. Vega," I greeted, readjusting the glasses on my nose.

"Could we talk in my room?" he asked, beckoning with his hand.

"Sure." Damn.

Once we were enclosed in the privacy of his room, Mr. Vega turned to face me, his face grim. He folded his hands in front of him and looked me in the eye. Though he was slightly shorter than I was, I felt tiny in his gaze.

"Julia, you are one of my best students. Straight A's all the time," he began, and I lowered my eyes to the ground.

My teacher continued. "But right now, if you haven't checked, you're pulling a C plus. It's an advanced placement class, no doubt it's gonna be challenging, but you, Ms. Chang, you are capable of an A and beyond. What's going on?"

"Please, Mr. Vega…" I began, wanting to escape his disappointed gaze. Jin would be waiting…

Then, out of nowhere, Mr. Vega blurts, "James tells me there's a man you're seeing."

My eyes met his, my mouth curling into a sneer. Of course. James. I should have known he'd tell Vega, the nosy bastard.

"Yes, I am seeing someone, but I assure you that he is not the source of my poor grades," I said slowly, as if speaking to an imbecile. Mr. Vega wasn't pleased, but he didn't comment on my disrespect.

"Really now? Well, I won't pry, but all I want to say to you is that I'm worried. You're a very intelligent woman, Julia, and you're heading the right way…but if you need someone to talk to, know that I'm always here," he said with a sad smile, and I nodded.

"Thanks, Mr. Vega, but I think I'm fine," I replied curtly, and walked out.

What is up with people these days? First James, then Mom, now my teacher…I sighed heavily as I exited school. Only Jin understood me.

When I finally arrived outside, I discovered that Jin wasn't there waiting for me. That's strange. Everyday he's always out here at three, waiting to walk me home…well, maybe something came up. But as I began to walk to the hotel alone, I wondered, What does the guy do when we're not together anyway? I'd never bothered to ask. He never mentioned a home he went to, or a job, if he had one…but then again, this is Jin Kazama. Shrugging, I forget about it. That's ok. Just as long as he comes later on, it's no big deal.

It's a nice afternoon. The sun was shining beautifully, the weather wasn't too hot, but I instead decide to just relax in my room for once. Discarding my backpack onto the ground, I removed from the little fridge a small carton of vanilla ice cream and settle down onto the bed to watch some news.

As the news anchors rambled off in what I call "machine gun Spanish," (they talk so fast it's sometimes hard to understand all of it) I think about my mother and my conversation earlier. I hate fighting with my mother, but then again, she could have been a little more understanding. This is my first love after all! But I can see why she's so concerned, and she only loves me. Still…I wish there were some way I could prove to her that Jin wasn't all that he seemed.

"…hombres se llaman Mateo Rodriquez y Eduardo Sanchez estan muertos…"

My attention returns to the TV screen, and I listen intently as the Latino woman reports her story. Apparently there'd been two murders, and both men, Mateo and Eduardo, had been mutilated beyond recognition. I stared down at my vanilla ice cream, which I no longer had a stomach for, and returned it to the fridge. Fear rippled through my body as the news reporter continued, stating that the murders had occurred not ten miles from where I was staying. So now there was a killer on the loose? It was time to hone those martial arts skills again, I guess. No doubt my martial arts is second nature to me, but I hadn't trained in nearly a month, and I gazed over at my untouched leather gloves…maybe later.

Afraid and not wanting to hear more, I turn the TV off with a flick of the remote. Now would be the time where I would take out my textbooks and notes to study, and hopefully change that C to an A, or a B plus at the least, but my mind kept getting sidetracked. It kept shifting back to Jin and his gentle smile, to his soothing voice and dark eyes. So, instead of studying, I sat on my bed for a long time, perhaps for hours, who knows, wondering and waiting for Jin to visit, daydreaming about holding him again…for the rest of the night, my schoolwork lay untouched. Old Julia would have stressed out, lay awake reviewing the new information she'd recently learned…but that girl was gone. Yawning, I head for the bathroom.

It wasn't until I was showered and preparing for bed, which was around 11:45, that Jin finally decided to make an appearance. He stood in my doorway, shirtless and barefoot, spiky hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. After giving him a quick once over, I realized that for the first time since that night in the temple, I felt anxious and uncertain when I looked at him. What had he been doing? I'd never seen him like this before.

"Jin?" I asked, recoiling slightly, and I found myself hiding behind the door. Was it my imagination, or had there been a flash of crimson in those dark irises of his?

"Can I come in?" he rasped, one strong hand already on the knob. He didn't wait for my consent and simply barged in.

"Uh, sure," I murmured, annoyed, and shut the door behind him.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," he said, sitting down on my bed. Yeah, just a little late. It would have been better if he hadn't come at all, I think to myself with a small yawn. Looking at him once more, I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and sweat clung to his skin like water. For a moment I had nothing to say to him, and I couldn't stand to be near him—the man reeked of…I dunno what. I just knew that it made the bile in my stomach rise to my throat, and I suppressed the urge to vomit.

Jin then flashed me an eerie, disturbing smile, and he pulled me to him, pressing me against his bare chest. It should have been a good experience, seeing how he's got one of the best bodies on a man, but I found it rather repulsive. His wet skin dampened my robe, and he covered me in his overpowering stench. I pretended not to notice when Jin tried to kiss me, and gently, I disengaged myself from his arms. However, now that I'd been even closer to his skin I now recognized the scent. The realization hit me full force, and I felt the cold fear spread icy fingers across my skin. Run, run, my mind whispered.

"What's wrong Jules?" he asked, and his voice was no longer soothing. It was more like a growl, feral, predatory…

My mother may seem like a gentle, soft-spoken woman at first meeting, but do not forget that she is also a merciless martial artist. To add to that, Michelle is a fierce hunter and tracker, and she specializes in buffalo. There aren't many herds of buffalo in Arizona, so sometimes my mother will make this huge trip with the men of my tribe and go to the Great Plains states, where larger herds roam. Don't get me wrong; Michelle loves Mother Earth as any Navajo does, but sometimes I questioned her love for me when she hunted. She truly enjoyed killing wild beasts (I never understood it) but anyway, as a child, I remember her carting home a couple of these massive dead buffalo for dinner every now and then.

"You know," I'd said when I was twelve, "there's a grocery store right down the road, Ama."

And Michelle would only smile and plunge her little knife into the buffalo's gut. It was a gruesome experience, the skinning and cleaning of the beast. First my mother would take her knife and rip off the heavy coat of the buffalo, tearing and pulling, until the poor thing was only a pink, red, bloody mess. Then, came the gutting. Shuddering, I recall the long intestines as they spilled to the red ground, the scarlet blood staining the gray stones. It was never the sight of the organs and death that affected me, but the stench.

It was a raw, acrid smell, and so powerful it was like a punch in the face. I wasn't sure what it was exactly; it might have been the blood, the raw organs, or maybe just the overall smell of death. I vowed never to become a buffalo hunter after that.

My point of this grisly tale? The man I loved smelled like that buffalo. Jin reeked of death.

"Julia, what's wrong?" Jin asked me again, and I could only shake my head. He attempted to embrace me once more, and in response, I vomited all over the floor.

"I'm…I'm sick," I gasped as I retched once more. Well, that was true, but for all the wrong reasons. Some of my sickness was due to the incredible fear in the pit of my stomach, another to Jin's smell—and the other part due to my mother's warning earlier. What had Jin been doing all this time? And those dead men on TV…no…wait a second…

Jin fetched the trash bin and placed a sympathetic hand on my back as I emptied my stomach. I wished he wouldn't touch me at all, but I was at the mercy of my body now and I hadn't the voice to tell him.

When my retches had abated, I washed my mouth and brushed my teeth. I resisted the urge to take another long shower, but I emerged from the bathroom with a slight smile on my face. Maybe if I pretended I was ok Jin would just leave. But for an hour or so Jin lingered, talking about nonsense, watching TV, and after awhile I'd had enough.

"Jin, I heard on the news today that two men are dead. And you just happened to be late today…anything you wanna tell me?" I asked, trying for the innocent voice, but I noticed the way he stiffened beside me.

"A tragic accident, nothing more," was his vague response, but I wouldn't let him get away with it. It was risky, possibly even stupid, but Jin carried the Devil Gene and hadn't been here on time. And with two recent deaths, could it all just be a big coincidence? Maybe. But my heart knew better.

"Don't lie to me. You killed those men didn't you? Or was it the Devil?" I whispered, pulling my robe closer to me.

This time, his eyes did flash red momentarily, but I noticed how Jin winced, as if in pain. He was fighting it, wasn't he? The Devil Gene? For the first time I was beginning to understand.

"No…it wasn't me…" he rasped, and he bit his lip.

"It was the Gene then," I replied, "but it was still your body, Jin, your hands. Oh God…oh my God…"

Michelle had been right…

"Julia, no, wait—"

"Don't touch me! Get away!" I cried, slapping away his hands.

Angered by my fear and rejection, Jin emitted a sound I had no idea a human being was capable of uttering. But then again, he wasn't human at all was he? No, Jin was something else altogether. I did not yet fully understand the extent of Jin's demon blood, or the danger I was in, but at the time the fear was too great for me to comprehend anything.

"NO! I said it wasn't me! I'm not a killer!" he screamed and his hand lashed out, gripping my throat.

Taken by surprise, I struggled in his vice-like grip for a moment, gasping for air, but instinct took over not long after. Clenching my teeth in rage, I swung my right arm over Jin's arm that was choking me. Twisting, I brought it back, slamming my elbow into his own, and I heard a satisfying crunch as his bone broke beneath my strike. Jin cried out, and I rolled out of the way, robe billowing about my legs as I took up my fighting stance.

Recovering from his momentary pain, Jin glared at me, charged, and lifted his good arm…and lowered it a moment later. Breathing heavily, the man I loved staggered clumsily backwards away from me. His face was a mask of sorrow and confusion, his eyes blinking back the tears, the look of madness vanished, and he collapsed to the ground on his knees. Jin gazed down at his trembling hands, the long fingers spreading wide…was he just realizing what he had done? What those beautiful, terrible hands had done?

He was Jin Kazama again, that fragile, wounded man I'd met in the temple again, and, lowering my fists, I went to him. I knew now that beneath the demon lay a human being, a simple, good, kind man. He suffered terribly, and I knew that he had no control over his actions once the Gene took over. And despite my initial fear, I still loved and wanted to help this man.

But Jin wouldn't have it. He flung me away, crying, "No! Stay away! I'm sorry Julia, I'm so, so sorry…"

And with that, he left, and I remained sitting alone on the floor, afraid and worried, confused yet curious at the same time.

The smell of death still lingered in the room.

He was a killer. He was half demon, Kazuya's son, part of the Mishima bloodline…and he was also the man I'd given my heart to. That wasn't about to change. I'd witnessed it firsthand, right here in my room. I had seen Jin's darkness, his demon side, and no doubt it was frightening and dangerous. But I had also seen his humanity, his good side, buried deep beneath the Gene.

If I could find a way to strengthen that light within him, if I could help Jin overcome his darkness, then maybe he and I could be happy. Maybe then my mother would accept him. One thing was for sure: I still loved him. No matter how scary, no matter how dangerous he became, he was still my Jin Kazama, and I was determined to help him. To hell with Kazuya and Heihachi. Forget Michelle.

Jin needs me now and I him, and that's all that matters.