Hey guys, I'm finally updating. This chapter has many things going on within it, and it's one of the longer chapters. But I hope you enjoy it anyway, and leave a review if you can.

Disclaimer: As usual, the song lyrics aren't mine, nor are the Native American quotes I'll often use in chapters. The bolded words/phrases are the parts that relate to the story.

Xiaoin: Check out my profile, if you haven't already. I think you'll enjoy it.

Spring is calling
Time to leave
The winds have told me
She's waiting for me

Hear the tune
Of northern winds

Twilight sun will soon be gone
Guide me twilight sun
I will follow you home

Earth is awakening
The grass is green, the rivers sing
She's calling for me
Shivering leaves
Songs of home

For you I will return

If you don't return I will leave a message
For you carved in stone

"Twilight Sun" by Leaves' Eyes

The Silent Flute

After that terrible night, I stopped going to class altogether, just flat out dropped, something I never would have dreamed of doing. I guess when so many things are happening at the same time, things you've never experienced before, like love and confusion and uncertainty, then it forces you to prioritize.

Mr. Vega never called to probe and inquire why his "best" student was absent, which was smart of him. I wasn't in the mood to deal with his petty little worries, for I had some of my own to think about, matters much more important than perfect attendance and perfect grades. Those straight A's now suddenly seemed awfully insignificant. It's funny in a way. All my life my teachers, my mother, my Aunt Cora, even Gabriel, has taught me that an education was the universal equalizer, that no matter who you were, what you looked like, as long as you were smart and had a degree in something, then you'd be ok. Now, I wasn't so sure. As of now I'd quit school, quit my goals, so had all that been a waste? All of these voices of the past, the influences, were haunting my mind, trying to persuade and direct my choices, attempting to mold me into this ideal person—when in the end, none of it mattered but my own decisions. It all comes down to what I chose.

And it was my decisions, mine only, that got me into this mess. I was alone now, and alone I would have to figure out an answer to my dilemmas and to Jin's.

I should have given up, gone home, kissed him good-bye…

In the gym I pummeled the flimsy punching bag with a fury I never knew I possessed. Even with my leather gloves, my knuckles ached and my skin was cracked, red and dry from hours of continuous training. I hadn't practiced my martial arts in months, and to finally allow my body to move was like sating my thirst after a long hike in the Arizona plateaus. My body seemed able to breathe again, to function normally, and I loved the bittersweet ache of my muscles and the sweat that glistened on my skin. I longed for Michelle's praises and teachings again, even for my cousin Gabe, who I'd always beaten during sparring. I wondered how my cousin was doing, and realized that this was the first time I'd shown any concern for my relatives since I'd arrived in Mexico nearly a month ago.

I was only in my gray sports bra and shorts, hair tied back messily in a ponytail, and to me, I looked like hell. However, I was all too aware of the eyes on my back, roving up and down over my body, and I felt like wiping those perverted grins from their mouths. Damn men. Even now as "adults" they were still as lecherous as when they'd been curious high school idiots. Smirking, I ignored their eyes and lewd murmurs, and continued to pummel that bag, releasing all of the pent up emotions and energy that had been weighing me down.

A memory danced across my mind then as my fist sank into the bag once more, the hint of salt on my tongue as the sweat slid down the sides of my face.

It was a day before Christie had to leave for Brazil, and we were sitting on the back porch of her house, swinging our legs back and forth as if we were small children again. I remember how the sun had shone in her hair and how, even when she was going to leave me, everything seemed perfect.

"I'm gonna be on those sandy beaches, Jules, swimming in the sea and checking out the hot surfers! This is gonna be great," she beamed, grinning over at me.

"Yeah…I know it will be," I'd replied, knowing that her smiles were a façade to mask her sadness.

After a moment, all smiles faded, and Christie closed her eyes as she inhaled the sunlight into her skin. "I may be a little promiscuous, Julia, but I hope you understand that I'm not really like that."

"Of course not. I know you, Chris."

Christie looked away, sighing, folding her hands together. "It's just that—oh, I don't know. I just feel lonely sometimes…but one day I'm gonna find him, Jules, you watch. Someday I'm gonna find that man of my dreams."

She turns to me with her quirky little smile and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well when you do, I wanna meet him, ok?" I replied, leaning my head on her shoulder.

After awhile, I asked, "What makes up your dream guy, Chris? Nice abs? A cute smile?"

"Quite the contrary," Christie replied solemnly, and the playful banter disappeared from my voice. She got this faraway look in her eyes, as if I was no longer present.

"He's gotta love me for who I am. He has to be kind, relatively good looking, you know, the usual things, but he's also gotta be honest. Sure, mysterious guys are attractive and have that 'dark beauty' goin' for them, but in the end, I want someone who won't be afraid to tell me who he is, and what he wants. I want that trust, you know? I want him to smile and laugh and I don't want him to take life too seriously. I don't want him to have huge secrets either, because, one way or another, those secrets do eventually return and bite you in the back. Get what I mean?"

"Perfectly."

Christie hesitated, then smiled. "Your turn. Who's your dream man, Jules?"

Sighing, I reply, "Same as you, Chris." And then Christie smiled at me, hugging me tight…

I had been too embarrassed to tell her the truth. It was our last moment together and I'd told her a lie. Because the truth was, I had no idea what I wanted in a man. She seemed to know everything already, figured everything out, and here I was lost in no man's land with my finger up in the air, unsure of which way the winds blew. I didn't know anything about that yet.

Even now as an adult I still felt unbelievably ignorant and stupid.

The punching bag gradually swung to a stop, and I wiped a gloved hand across my brow. Gulping my water, I recalled my best friend's face, her smile, and I could still remember her voice. I longed for Christie, for her to be here with me so I'd have a shoulder to cry on for once, so she could listen to me and tell me that she had all the answers. Christie would help me cure Jin, she'd take me home afterwards, bring a smile to my mother's face, and we'd all go down to Brazil together, dip our toes in the ocean and laugh away the regrets and mistakes with bird-bath sized margaritas in our hands.

If only it were all that simple.

Ignoring the eyes behind me, I exited the gym and into the locker room, where I could think more about my friend's words.

Michelle

Phoenix: A single tribe of Apache massacred in a period of a day and night, women, men, and children alike. The neighboring Hopi tribe: only a trail of blood and bodies remains as evidence of their existence. And even more tribes—the Sioux Nation in Canada, the Nez Perce in New Mexico, half the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma—all dead. All of the tribes had been decimated without a trace of the killer, and American authorities were baffled. Idiot white government, like they could do anything anyway. Everyone was dead, but nothing had been taken. None of the jewelry, the valuable heirlooms, the money was all accounted for, but everything had been sifted and ransacked through, as if the culprit had been searching for something. The land had been torn open, ravaged, deep gorges in place of lush valleys, seeking, seeking something…

I knew that only the Mishimas were capable of such a horrendous deed—so when Kazuya Mishima appeared on my front doorstep sunset the next day, I wasn't too surprised. But what did surprise me was that this time he wasn't here for the medallion. Rather, he was here for my land. Cruel déjà vu, isn't it?

My past had returned to claim me as well as my only daughter. Despair clutched at my heart, and I felt the hope slowly begin to fade from within my spirit…staring at the man before me, I knew that my time had come, regardless of how hard I would resist.

"Ah, Michelle. We meet again. But I've no time or desire for useless greetings. As you and I both know, your lands are known for their rich minerals and prowess with shamanism. Trust me: if you cooperate, your people will remain safe, and I'll be on my way," Kazuya stated.

"I trust you as a bird trusts a serpent. If it's an antidote you seek, it's not here," I growled, resisting the urge to strike him. However, I had to attempt to resolve matters peacefully; my people's lives were at stake after all.

Kazuya glared down at me, eyes slightly wide with astonishment as he realized that I already knew his intentions of being here. But as he regained his composure, the Asian man snarled, "I don't think you have a choice, Michelle."

I'm Native American, and you should know by now the fierce relationship we have with the earth. So when this arrogant Mishima son of a bitch suddenly shows up and starts demanding for my land, naturally, I retaliated.

But an ordinary woman, no matter how great her martial arts or her will, stands no chance against a full-fledged demon driven by rage and hate. I knew this, knew that I'd never see Julia again, my daughter, my light, my life…yet I raised my fists and defiantly looked Death in the eye.

I understood my dream now. The silent flute.

Pivoting, I landed the first blow.

Julia

The air smelled of rain, yet the clouds remained dry. They were all black, like smoke in the heavens, and a thick fog crept in like a silent killer, entwining among the trees and the blossoms like a great snake. It was extremely humid, sticky, and it stuck to me like freshly spilled blood. Something was wrong.

And suddenly all was quiet. The fog ceased, the humidity lessened slightly as a gentle, almost merciful breeze whispered in from the north.

Run, run, run, it seemed to murmur…

I didn't know what it was, intuition, a sixth sense, a vision, or just some odd, unexplainable spiritual connection. All I knew was that once the thunderstorm hit, the lightning blinding my vision momentarily and the rain suddenly erupting out of nowhere, I knew that something was wrong back at home.

Fear gripped my heart, not from the raging thunderstorm that struck the trees into splinters, nor from the rain that flooded the earth and drowned the birds. Something terrible was happening, but I didn't have the slightest idea what it could be. I could do nothing but stand there in the relentless downpour, my clothes and hair drenched and plastered to my skin, vision blurred and filled with gray spots, and the freezing cold invading my body from all sides.

Michelle

I wiped a thin line of blood from my chin and quickly straightened, not allowing Kazuya the time to prepare for another blow.

The demon man laughed slightly, and his uppercut sent me flying into the kitchen counter. I doubled over, clutching myself as I felt an electric jolt shoot through my body, and it was as if my nerves were on fire.

"Why must you make it difficult for me, Michelle?" he sneered, advancing quickly.

Recovering, but only just, I rushed him again, my elbow aimed, but Kazuya was much too fast and side-stepped at the last moment, using my own momentum to send me careening into the wall. Collapsing to the ground, I groaned, unable to pick myself up. I was losing focus too easily, my movements reckless, juvenile, yet as my mind cried for me to fight harder, my worn, beaten body demanded surrender.

"I get the mother," he snarled as he seized my hair, forcing my head up from the ground, "and my son gets the daughter."

"Damn you," I snarled, leaping up, my energy suddenly renewed at the mention of Julia. But Kazuya merely struck me in the head again and again, the back, the belly, everywhere, until I was on the brink of the sweet, merciful darkness.

But suddenly he was off of me and seemed to be engaged elsewhere. Finding the strength to lift my head up slightly, I realized that Gabriel had intervened. The muscular Native American man was miniscule compared to Kazuya, and I wept silently as I watched him destroy my nephew.

"Gabriel! Run! Run, Gabriel! Leave me!" I cried, but he simply ignored my pleads, and continued to advance on the demon man, fear in his eyes yet determination and worry for me as well. Foolish, stupid, idiotic, brave Gabriel! How did he expect to defeat Kazuya if he couldn't even beat Julia in a simple sparring match?

It was over in a matter of a few seconds. He hadn't even had time to scream. Gabriel lay in a heap on the floor, his blood seeping slowly from his body, staining his white T-shirt a dark crimson. I began to cry harder now, harder because I'd just witnessed the brutal murder of my sister's boy, harder because Gabriel had had nothing to do with this, an innocent life taken. The tears flowed faster for I hadn't fought nearly as hard as I should have, and because I knew that I would die here on the floor and never see my daughter's face again. I would never get to hear Julia's voice or her laughter, feel her hand in mine or see her brilliant smile. I would never again be able to guide her through life, nor ever see her college graduation or her husband, not her wedding or the little grandchildren that could have been mine…

"I'm sorry, Michelle. But it's your fault. It didn't have to be this way," he murmured into my ear, his hands gripping my hair until my scalp screamed in agony. "I need an antidote, and your home may hold the key. I suffer, don't you understand!"

Biting back the pain, I emitted a derisive laugh, then spat in his face, the mixture of saliva and blood sliding down his skin. I would not go into the next world silent and weak with this filthy creature smothering my spirit. "You do not know what suffering is, you worthless bastard. I am not a coward like you, Kazuya Mishima. I did not sell myself to the darkness like some desperate whore, nor did I ever betray my own lover and child for power. You shall rot in hell; the spirits show no mercy to murderers and traitors!"

He struck me again, but I blocked him this time, and his red eyes stared daggers into mine.

"Spirits or no spirits, Michelle, I was damned the moment I let the Devil enter me forty years ago; I am already in hell. So let's see if your beloved spirits will save you now, bitch," he growled.

And before his fist made contact, I saw Julia's smile. I heard her voice for the first time since the vision of the silent flute. She spoke softly, and her laughter echoed in my ears as if she was right there beside me, murmuring into my ear…

"It's gonna be okay, Ama…Ama…I love you…"

And then there was just the darkness devouring me up, pulling me forth into her ebony arms. My spirit broke free from my body, flying for the heavens to be in the embraces of my ancestors at last…and yet, as I glimpsed just the faint slivers of light, I found that I could not get through.

There was a barrier; I could not see my ancestors. Trapped in this world, I knew that the next life had denied me entrance, and that I would find no peace, for my unnatural, brutal death hindered that ability. Doomed to an existence as a lost, restless ghost that did not belong to this life, I plummeted back down to earth, watching as Kazuya abandoned my body. I wept, if a ghost could possess the capability to weep, and knew that in order for my spirit to find peace, my Julia would have to suffer some more yet.

Although dead, I knew all of this.

Drifting down to my body, with its slack mouth and opaque eyes staring straight ahead, I faded into the shadows, awaiting my daughter's return.

Jin

"Your father killed Michelle."

The Arizona heat stifled my breath and my speech, and for a moment all I could do was stand there, staring in disbelief as my grandfather revealed the outcome of last night's killing.

"You must be mistaken," I debated, my heartbeat increasing wildly.

"I'm sorry, Jin. And he found no antidote."

"He killed her for no reason!" I exploded, knowing that if Julia found out, it would be the end of our relationship. It was incredibly selfish of me, but I couldn't let that happen no matter what.

"What are you worrying about? You still have her daughter," Heihachi retorted.

"Not necessarily," I snarled, running my hand through my hair in frustration and desperation. What was I to do now?

How could I have let this happen? Michelle was dead, slain by my own father, and all of Julia's doubts about the Mishimas would be true. She would leave me alone in the darkness again, with fear instead of love in her eyes, and with wounds that would never fully heal. Damn you, Kazuya!

"Why didn't you tell me he was going to Arizona!" I screamed to Heihachi, and I felt the demon stirring within my blood.

Heihachi merely smiled. "You never bothered to ask."

"You sick bastard! You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? Didn't you!"

My grandfather replied with silence, and I knew what a fool I'd been to trust Heihachi and to allow my father to murder innocents—especially Michelle Chang, the one person Julia loved and respected more than me.

This was my fault, mine alone, and killing Heihachi wouldn't bring back Julia's mother, nor would it make me feel any better. So instead, I allowed the demon to take over, dark wings taking form, and I abandoned my grandfather in the scarlet canyons.

Soaring through the wispy clouds, I knew that I would never tell Julia what my father had done. I tried to convince myself that perhaps, if I were to tell her, she and I could still be together. It was my father, not I that had taken her mother's life…

But would that really make a difference?

Despair and shame squeezed at my heart. How dare I even consider lying to Julia, who has only been honest with me all this time. Besides, I underestimate her intelligence and intuition. One way or another, Julia would figure it all out. She'd know sooner or later that I'd been involved as well, that I'd stood idly by, watching as Kazuya killed countless people. I was just as much of a murderer as my father was.

However, I knew that I would keep my silence for as long as necessary.

Julia

The white crane nudged at the gray coyote, using her beak to gently caress his pelt. But instead of returning the tenderness, the predator reared up, clamping powerful jaws over one of the bird's pale wings. She screamed, the white crane, yet no sound came forth. She struggled with the coyote, desperately writhing in his fatal grip, flapping the other wing uselessly, and she watched as her snow-white feathers were quickly stained an ugly crimson…

Her blood flowed over both of them, and the silence endured…

In the movies, when the main character has a nightmare, they wake up bolt upright with their back ramrod straight, and sometimes they do this with a dramatic gasp or scream. But in reality, with true nightmares, you lay quietly in bed with the covers drawn up to your chin, your heartbeat crazy with fear. With senses on full alert, fear courses through you as you stare out, eyes wide open, into the darkness. Every shadow, every slight movement, sets your nerves on fire. Your fear is far too great for you to move or gasp dramatically, because the remnants of the terrible dream still linger yet in your mind. You can't seem to grasp the exact images every time, but it's not the pictures that matter; it is the horrible feelings it leaves in its wake that never fails to instill fright in your heart.

That's how it is when I have this nightmare—or perhaps, dare I say, vision. Finally, I have grasped a slight understanding of this dream, which has haunted me for two days after that eerie thunderstorm. The coyote may possibly represent the Mishimas…yet who is the crane? Why would mind conjure up such a violent nightmare?

After the fear abated, I reluctantly rolled out of bed, hair disheveled and eyes swollen with the remnants of sleep, and trudged for the bathroom. After discarding my clothing, I quickly stepped into the shower and tilted my head back lazily, allowing the hot water to wash away last night's fears. The steam filled the bathroom, covering the mirror in a distorted, milky film, and the heat was nearly suffocating, forming beads of sweat on my skin. Yet I refused to leave the shower. I knew that I should stop the water, that I should instead call home and check on the family…yet a side of me also feared what I might hear, that perhaps it was worse than what I'd thought it to be. And believe me, after meeting Jin and going through his little mood swings, more bad news was something I just couldn't handle right now. I'd deal with it later.

However, I was forced from my watery sanctuary when there came a persistent, loud knocking at the hotel room door. Reluctantly turning the water off and sheathing myself in a bathrobe, I hurried to the entrance. Jin Kazama stood in the doorway, spiky hair sticking out in all directions, clothes in disarray, but he still managed to look attractive at the same time.

"Julia," he rasped, and pushed his way in. He had a way of doing that, and all I could do was shut the door quietly behind him.

The silence was heavy, deafening, and for a moment all the two of us could do was stand there across from one another, unspoken questions lingering in the air. He'd been gone for five more days now and still owed me an explanation.

Then, Jin slowly moved towards me, and before I could stop him his mouth had descended on mine. I found myself responding hungrily, realizing that, despite my anger and confusion, despite the unease and the doubt, I still wanted him in my life. My arms came around to clutch him closer, my body instinctively molding itself against the hard contours of his body. Jin's mouth was bolder this time, and moved to my neck, my collarbone, and, parting my robe, I felt his coarse lips press against the area between my breasts.

"No, Jin," I gasped, my back suddenly arching as he moved the robe farther away…

"You want me Julia, I can feel it. Just surrender, this once. Let me give you the joy I've denied you all these weeks."

The man sure knew how to convince, and I felt the desire radiate off him in waves. He was so tempting, his mouth and hands setting my skin ablaze with lust, the bed only a few feet away…But although my body clearly yearned for his touch and his kisses, my mind had other plans. It resisted him fiercely, so ardently that it was almost frightening, my conscience screaming for me to push Jin away.

And all my life, other than when I was fighting skin to skin, I've always listened to my mind first.

"No!" I cried, wrenching myself away as I pulled my robe tightly about myself. The remnants of his kisses left a burning trail on my skin, and I tried hard to ignore the desire in the pit of my stomach.

"Goddammit, Julia! We both want this! Why do you continue to deny me?" he asked, eyes afire with frustration yet sorrowful at the same time.

I turned to him in a rage. "Because with it comes trust, Jin, and security. And over the past days, I don't know if I have either from you."

"But I love you, Julia, and you me. That is enough; love is enough!"

"Love? What exactly is love to you? It smells more like lust to me."

My words seemed to echo in the air, settling in between us like a barrier. Jin was silent.

Breathing deeply, I remembered Christie's last words the day she left Arizona, about how she didn't like her men secretive and mysterious…

"Because I think, for the first time, that I may know an inkling of what love is. It is trust, honesty, and joy. It is knowing that you're safe, knowing you're complete, and knowing that there lies no secrets and deception in between."

Jin bowed his head, refusing to make eye contact. This time, it was I who approached him.

"Can you give me all of that, Jin? For it is you, not I, that has been denying things. You're hiding something from me," I stated, for I knew that it was indeed true. Jin was keeping something from my knowledge, something important that he feared would end our relationship. How incredibly selfish of him. I continued to learn things about him everyday, many of which I wished I hadn't found out about.

The problem now was finding out his secret.

Glaring at him, I murmured, "It doesn't matter; one way or another I'll find out."

He started for the door.

"If you truly loved me, Jin, you would not keep such secrets from me."

After that ordeal, I hurriedly dressed and headed for downtown where I could find a phone (the phone lines had mysteriously been out of order at the hotel the night Jin returned). Removing my phone card from my back pocket, I quickly punched in my home phone number, wondering how much this long distance call was going to cost. But money wasn't the primary issue at the moment.

The phone rang three times before somebody answered, and when I heard the quavering voice of Aunt Cora on the other end, I knew something was horribly wrong.

"Aunt Cora? Hi, this is Julia. I was just calling to see if everything's ok up there," I said softly, cradling the phone against my shoulder and ear as I hurriedly jammed the phone card back into my jeans pocket.

In response, Cora burst into tears. Her sobs seemed to pierce straight into me, her raw sorrow twisting my heart between its fingers and squeezing painfully hard. Swallowing my fear, I plowed on.

"Aunt Cora, please, what's the matter?" I asked, trying and nearly failing to maintain my composure.

The sobs turned to hiccups. "Oh Julia, I was hoping we'd h-have this c-conversation later…"

"What? Tell me what's going on right now, Aunt Cora," I demanded.

"It's Gabriel, Julia. Gabriel…my son is dead!" she suddenly wailed, and I had to put up with her heartbreaking sobs once more.

My skin grew cold, and suddenly my heart squeezed tightly in my chest. The air suddenly seemed thinner, the oxygen harder to inhale…

Gabriel…gone? It just didn't seem possible. Gabriel, my tall, handsome cousin, a man so filled with life and laughter, couldn't possibly be dead. There had to be some misunderstanding.

"What?" I managed to gasp, my hands trembling.

It took even longer this time for Aunt Cora to respond. When she finally did, she'd managed to regain some of her composure, but her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Listen to me, Julia: that's not all. Your mother, M-Michelle…"

The silence hung heavy between us, and I could hear my aunt's shaky breathing on the other line, as if a cold chill had somehow swept its way between us, embracing us close to her icy breast…I hated the sensation, but forced myself to remain calm.

Waiting patiently, I wondered if I even wanted to hear this. Ama's all right, Ama's all right, of course she's ok, she's so strong, she has to be…

And yet I knew that my heart lied. It had been doing that a lot lately.

"Aunt Cora?" I prodded, my voice barely audible.

"Julia—Julia, your mother is dead."

There was the initial shocked silence…and then without warning the emotions came plunging in out of nowhere.

Words cannot even begin to describe the torrent of feelings that invaded my body, my heart, my spirit, my mind. Suddenly the world became a blur, as if I was trying to see clearly with tears in my eyes, and my head spun, the colors mixing violently into one unidentifiable shade, the light diminishing, the hope and life dying within me. I knew my aunt spoke the truth.

Michelle was dead. Cora might as well have told me I was dead as well. And I searched, oh yes, I searched, I prodded, I sought out my mother's spirit, her life force—and it simply wasn't there. In return, I felt only hollowness, a dark space, and something else too…something like sadness. Anger. Hopelessness. Desperation. It was a cold, empty loneliness that seemed to wail my name, calling for me, reaching into my spirit and wrapping its talons about me. I knew my mother was dead, and yet I fought the talons, weeping, denying Aunt Cora's words, pushing away the dread and the emptiness.

And to think that the last time we'd spoken was during an argument, a conversation that seemed so petty now; to think that the last words I'd uttered to my mother were ones of arrogance, anger, and foolishness. With this realization, the silent tears finally decided to make an appearance.

"Ajijawk, I'm so sorry. Both Gabriel and Michelle in one day," she murmured.

Aunt Cora began to speak of the good times, you know, the usual bullshit that was supposed to make people feel better, but all I knew was that Mom was gone, as was Gabriel. Your mother is dead…

I halted Cora's nonsense with a single word: "How."

It was more of a demand than a question, and I felt the anger boil up within me, temporarily suppressing the initial grief. My knuckles turned white as they clutched the phone; I knew Gabriel and Michelle had been murdered.

The scar on my hand burned as if on fire, and my fist clenched in an attempt to quell the pain.

Silence, once again, but eventually my mother's sister replied, "Kazuya, Kazuya Mishima. But your mother and cousin weren't the only ones he killed, Julia. Several tribes were massacred…innocent people…"

Of course, the Mishimas, the one family that has been my enemy since my mother's arrival into their tournaments. How could I have thought it could have been anyone else? I didn't have to ask when these incidents occurred. I had only but to confront Jin about those several weeks when he'd been absent.

But the possibility of Jin Kazama, the man I thought I loved, being involved in my mom's murder, made me sick to my stomach. I did not even want to begin to think about it. Closing my eyes, I could feel the denial again, rising up like a shield around me.

No, no way. Jin has his flaws, but he wouldn't do this to me, to anyone! Jin's not a murderer, a mindless, heartless killer…

But my mind recalled Mateo Rodriquez and Eduardo Sanchez, the deceased Mexican men I'd seen on TV, and I knew that I uttered lies. With the Gene playing a part, anything was possible with Jin.

Finding my voice, I said, "I'm coming home."

Isn't it funny how you wait until the situation is dire in order to do what is right? I should have left weeks and weeks ago. I should have left the moment I knew he was Jin Kazama in that abandoned Mayan temple. Maybe then I could have prevented all of this bloodshed and grief that had destroyed my world. Maybe I could have kept the coyote at bay. My one careless, selfish moment resulted in the death of the person closest to my heart, and naturally, though it was clearly not my fault, I took the blame, I felt the guilt. I felt like weeping and destroying everything in sight at the same time. The self-loathing was overpowering, even stronger now. It felt like a bird was struggling to break free from its steel prison, flying violently inside my throat, and I had to breathe deeply several times to regain control.

And poor, poor Aunt Cora. She and her innocent son had been unwillingly dragged into this, and the guilt increased tenfold within my chest. It was a burden I'd carry for a long time, a wound that would take me years to fully heal.

"Good, Julia, good. The tribe needs you now more than ever. You must be here to set your mother's spirit free," she cried.

"Bye," I whispered curtly, then hung up the phone.

Aunt Cora should know that that wasn't at all possible, my liberating my mother's soul from this earth. She'd died a brutal death, and only with justice—and perhaps vengeance—would her spirit rest. It is like that in every death. The soul, though abandoning the body, its temporary host, needs peace. It needs closure and rest in order to move on the next life. Many people do not believe in the soul's travel to different worlds, most of who are ignorant whites who believe only in the tangible, and I pity them greatly. They narrow their minds to this world and to this existence, and have a history of suppressing others who disagree.

But anyway, history never was my forte. I can go on and on about how the Caucasians have mistreated my people, minorities in general…but my point is that there are other worlds, a form of Heaven and Hell does exist. But my mother is trapped. Her spirit does not know the path to the next life.

I felt her now, calling to me, beckoning me home, begging to be released from her restless existence. And I would come too, but there was still one more thing I had to do before my departure.

I knew who the crane was now. It had been hidden within me since my birth, hidden within my name…

Hugging my jean jacket closer to my body, I headed back to the hotel where I knew Jin would eventually come. The tears and the mourning would come later, but now it was time for me to be at my strongest. I was alone again, for sure this time, but that's all right.

After all, like my mother told me once, sometimes we grow stronger when we're by ourselves.