Savor it: it's the final chapter. It's long, but I think you'll like it. Really late update, I know, sorry. It's just that I've been busy and preoccupied with school and tennis and people, not to mention my laptop was confiscated earlier.
Disclaimer: As usual, the song lyrics and proverbs are not mine. They simply enhance the story. Also, obviously, the Tekken characters aren't mine; they're Namco's, blah, blah, blah.
Please take this and run far away, far away from me
I am tainted.
The two of us were never meant to be
All these pieces and promises and left behinds;
If only I could see.
Am I nothing?
You were everything, everything to me.
And all that could have been…could have been…
Happiness and peace of mind were never meant for me
From "And All That Could Have Been" by Nine Inch Nails
"…There is a way out of every dark mist, over a rainbow trail" –Navajo proverb
Out of the Dark Mist
A drop of frost clinging to the blistered, shifting sands of red—she did not belong. Red clay smeared the pale chest, blood on snow, a bleeding wound, scarlet streak on white canvas.
We stopped for several minutes to watch it, my mother and I. Stark white, the beak black and long, as were its legs, a deceivingly blank yet fierce gaze blazing in its dark stare. It was a beautiful bird, a kind I had never before seen in my seven years of life, and being a lover of nature I stood back and looked on in awe. Having grown weary of the violent gray falcons and red-tailed hawks that dominated Arizona's skies, I was drawn to the crane.
She bent her long neck forward to groom herself with an unmatched grace and fluidity. In a nearby tree, the ebony, gray-eyed crow squawked down at us, perhaps at the crane too, flapping its wings about. It cried out again in a seemingly jealous rage of its white-feathered counterpart, yet the crane merely ignored it.
"Ajijawk," Ama had uttered, and I was unsure if she was saying my name or simply labeling the bird before us.
"Cranes bring peace and hope. Every time I see them it brings me happiness. It is a joy I cherish."
As she'd said this, Michelle had been looking at me. Smiling up at her, I took her hand as the white bird took flight, the sunlight swallowing the pale body.
Later on, as the raven-winged crow still lingered yet in my mind, I asked my mother, "And what about crows, Ama? What do they bring us?"
Michelle had replied, "All creatures have their faults, Aji—even that crane we saw—but every single one of them has their purpose on this earth."
"You didn't answer my question."
Hesitance. Would she give me honesty?
She then said, "Like their ma'ii friends, crows are selfish and deceiving; you never know what they may bring."
She has never given me anything less than the truth.
"I don't think so. Everything has some bit of goodness in them. I know it."
My mother simply sighed. "Let us hope you are right, little Julia."
Michelle made one mistake in her life, and that was naming me after a bird of hope, a being of peace, because now all that followed my name was the darkness and the loneliness. A crow's cry echoed in my ears.
Sometimes, when the nightmares became overwhelming, I would simply touch the ring around my finger. Fingering the small amber stone and then the cool silver band, I gained small comfort knowing that my mother's hands had crafted the ring; I had a piece of her with me at all times in a way.
But now as Jin's terrible dreams grew stronger and stronger with each passing night, neither memories of Michelle nor her ring were effective defenses against the demon. Seeing how I'd rejected shamanism at fourteen, what now did I have left to protect me?
Well…I had the black wolf.
Nowadays I had only to will the image of the black wolf to mind, and the demon dreams disappeared. Don't ask me how it worked, it just did. Even when it was daytime and Jin was far from my mind I conjured up the wolf anyway, for it gave me a temporary bit of safety and peace of mind. He was like that little stuffed toy you used to hold in your bed while the thunderstorms raged, or that soft voice in the back of your mind that would tell you that everything was going to be "ok"—even when you knew things would not be.
I guess it does sound a little bizarre now that I retell it to you: Julia Chang being comforted by a make-believe wolf that existed solely within the confines of her dark mind. Well, aside from the fact that I'm half Native American and believe in that stuff (you know, that "spiritual nonsense" the ignorant folks call it), I guess all I can say is that the mind finds ways to cope. Having known too many coyotes in my life, I welcomed a wolf warmly.
Wolf and crane, black and white. I guess the old saying could work: opposites attract.
Crane and coyote. Smiling bitterly, Jin entered my mind. Did everything end because we were so different, or too damn similar? I didn't really know. We'd both lost our mothers, we both loved the trees and the life in the land…but I was not a murderer. Blood did not stain my hands.
After about two days and the encounter with Nina, I found myself in a land flowing with forests and looming mountains, crisp mornings and quiet nights, a land of lush plains of grass and plum sunsets—Montana. It was so different from Arizona's calm, wind-caressed, red-sanded canyons and scorching heat. Montana was just like any other state I guess, but I loved it almost immediately. It was definitely better than Wyoming at least, for Montana was a tranquil place, and the people were kind and hospitable. The dzil, mountains, which seemed to reign the skies, possessed a quiet majesty to them, yet a powerful gaze that commanded one's respect; they glared down at you, cold beauty sending whispers of awe up the spine. Endless forests flanked the feet of these mountains, their leaves painted with the dawn, and the stars in their sable sky shined shamelessly. I hadn't known that such pristine beauty still yet existed in a world taken by pollution and riddled with devastation. Here in this place Montana seemed untainted still, a haven for my poisoned heart.
Once I'd arrived I had spent hours just exploring these sites, and for a brief moment all worries vanished and the crane within me resurfaced. It was as if the past had been but a bad dream.
Around nine a.m. I checked out of the motel and headed for the nearest restaurant, a tiny, family-owned Thai café. Ordering a small bowl of lob and rice, I stared out the window at those silver mountains. Gazing out at them I was taken by a sudden sense of loneliness, and unexpectedly my heart recalled the joyful moments I'd shared with Jin. Don't get me wrong: I still did not love him, but that didn't stop me from mourning our failed relationship and lost trust. I knew he was a good person, at least at one point, and I wanted so hard to believe that he had not been himself when he'd followed Heihachi and his father into Arizona…
But the heart cannot grow stronger, cannot move on, if it lingers too long on the past.
So, chopsticks in hand, I continued to pick at my food, pushing away those mountains and memoirs of a love lost.
As I was digging into my backpack for money, the waitress, a small, pretty Thai woman stopped me with a gentle hand to the shoulder.
"You're not from here are you," she said, and it was more a statement than a question. Her eyes were friendly, warm, but they also possessed a voracious curiosity that I instantly disliked. Now I knew how Nina had felt like when I'd rudely attempted to pry into her personal affairs.
"I'm from Arizona," was my reply, which came out like a grumble.
"Hot place, huh?" I think she meant the weather.
"Yeah, real hot."
No matter how nice this lady seemed, I was in no mood for a conversation; in fact, I'd become even quieter than usual, anti-people more like. I didn't know what was wrong with me, didn't know what had suddenly awakened this hostility and reclusive nature. A week ago, around the time I'd met Paul, I would have done anything for simple, pointless, idiotic dialogues such as this one. But right now I just wanted her to leave me the hell alone.
Perhaps Nina was rubbing off on me after all.
Drumming my fingers impatiently on the wooden tabletop, I itched for those forests again but forced myself to stay in my seat. Maybe if I was polite she'd go away.
The waitress sighed, running her hand through a shock of frizzy bangs as she relaxed. "Wish I could travel. Unfortunately, my grandparents own this place, and I have to work to help keep the business. I've always loved the city, and these forests are getting on my nerves."
No such luck. "I see."
"Yeah…I'm jealous of them, all those wanderers."
"Wanderers?"
"Yeah, wanderers. We get a lot of them around here. Montana's a popular path of travel these days. Real nice scenery, but really, nothing happens here, just a bunch of damn trees and a whole lot of silence. I can't stand it."
Gee, wish I had that problem.
"But those wanderers see everything! I swear, they're all either just too A.D.D.…"
I cracked a slight smile at this statement.
"…curious, just plain bored, or running from something."
The smile disappeared.
She poured me another glass of water then stared at me intently. Her eyes took in the simple clothing I wore, the rumpled backpack slumped at my side, the sleep deprived eyes, and the weary feet stuffed into a pair of tattered sneakers. Meeting her gaze, I dared her to keep staring, my eyes boring into her face in silent challenge. Satisfied, I noticed the blush rise to her cheeks as she averted her eyes.
"You're one of them aren't you?" she asked after a second, recovering from her embarrassment.
One of them. Ha. I guess I'm already a social outcast.
"Sure. You could say that." Monotonous, like an answering machine. Who was this woman speaking? Whose voice? Not my own that's for sure.
"Well then…what's your reason?"
"A.D.D. I guess."
The waitress chuckled then, putting one hand on her hip as she stared out the window, sighing in longing.
"Yeah. Thing with these wanderers is that almost all of them don't want to tell the truth either. What have they got to hide anyway? I guess the road changes those people. Wish I could be like that."
"No, you don't," I replied with a humorless smirk, "there's nothing romantic or exciting about it in the slightest."
She had no reply for that one, so I deposited the bill and tip onto the table, then left.
I stayed in the sanctuary of the forests for a few hours or so, occasionally stopping to read my book under the shade of a tree, breathing in the air. I still couldn't believe how peaceful it was here. The tiny stripes of sunlight shimmering over my skin, the soft hum of the leaves as the breeze pushed through, the soft moans of the branches as the birds shifted their weight. Maybe this was what Michelle was talking about, all of that beauty she wanted me to see, that light she wanted to show me. Sure, Arizona's beautiful; my home has a harsh, coarse kind of loveliness, but these trees, this forest…it was something else altogether.
But as the dark descended a different world settled in, and I decided to head back and found a motel to spend the night.
It was a decent room I guess, with its hospital white walls and artificially scented silken lilies, yet I barely noticed as I changed into my shorts and tank top, my makeshift pajamas for the time being. Removing my contacts, I sighed in content as I settled the familiar glasses onto my nose. The only lighting now came from the TV, illuminating a blue-white glow onto all that it touched, and burrowing into the covers I began to half-heartedly watch some depressing documentary about WWII.
I began to doze off when suddenly the TV shut off, cloaking everything in darkness, and I wouldn't have panicked had it not been for the sudden chill that enveloped the motel room. Scrambling out from under the blanket, I seized the buffalo knife in one hand, muscles tensing as all my senses went on full alert. My vision being impaired with the pitch darkness (and the lack of glasses), I relied heavily on my ears.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting shriek pierced the cold silence of the room, and I swallowed my own scream, hand tightening around the little dagger as I felt my breathing come in ragged, staccato bursts. With the blood pounding in my ears and the hairs on my arms and neck rising, I knew I was not alone…
And then, from a little ways in front of me in the darkness, a pair of crimson orbs glowed. The TV instantly came back on and its blue-white light revealed the creature I had known was already there. Scrambling, I managed to shove on my glasses, and the world came into focus.
Jin's eyes returned to their normal hue, and I saw that his bare chest and hands were spattered with blood. And then I noticed the dead man at his feet, his throat torn out, glass eyes open in a frozen mask of shock, mouth slack in a silent, strangled death cry.
You would think I would be used to carnage such as this by now. And yet I still found myself backing up into the wall behind me, my gaze never leaving Jin's. He approached, a bloody hand outstretched to me, but after a moment seemed to take notice of my fear and reluctantly lowered his arm.
"This man sneaked into your room before you came here. He had a gun in his jacket," Jin said solemnly, dark irises flashing a momentary scarlet, "he was going to rob you, then kill you, perhaps worse. Beautiful woman like you, he definitely would have done worse."
"So what do you want? A thank you?" I murmured, a small bit of the courage returning.
Jin was silent but I sensed the fury behind his stoic front.
"Or your love would be nice," he murmured, and I bit back a laugh.
"I liked it better when you came to me in dreams," I stated, and a cold smile stretched across his mouth.
"But your mind has grown strong, Julia. I can no longer penetrate it as I used to."
"Indeed," I retorted as images of the dark wolf played across my eyes, "You're losing your touch. You can't hurt me."
"Is that so?" he whispered, and suddenly his hand lashed out, taking my wrist in his hand. Blood red irises, fangs unsheathed and dark tattoos etching across his forehead, he pressed me violently up against his chest, and I could smell the forest in him. Wild, savage, inhuman.
He'd told me once, even in his demon form, that he would never hurt me no matter how badly he desired me. But now, as I fought to be free from his grasp, I knew that Jin had given himself to his father's curse.
"I'm sure I can find other ways to penetrate you," he smiled, and his icy hands became bolder.
"Fuck you," I cried, and plunged the knife deep into his chest, the hilt nearly disappearing into his skin.
Jin grunted, stumbling backward as blood spilled from the stab. But, eyes glowing still, he began to laugh, then removed the buffalo knife and flung it away. I watched in horror as the wound began to heal, closing in on itself as the flesh became as whole and as flawless as before.
"It will take more, much more than that, Julia, to get rid of me. For I love you too much," he murmured, eyes crimson once more.
"Then do it, Jin, make me yours. I'm here, damn it! I'm here and you're stronger, so what are you waiting for?" I growled, fists clenching.
He smiled maliciously then, running a long, cool finger down the side of my face, and I couldn't help but flinch as his touch burned my skin; a frostbitten kiss.
"Because I don't like to force you. If you join me, in time you will learn to love me, and together our hearts will once again be whole. But we can't accomplish that if you fear me."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Jin's face remained expressionless. "Being a demon isn't so bad, but it does get lonely sometimes, out here in the darkness…"
"Oh please. Don't give me that bullshit."
Jin laughed, shaking his head. "That's what I adore about you, Julia. You have that spirit, that gentle yet fierce and untamable fire within you that fuels your heart and keeps you running from me. I admire your strength, little bird."
His face became grim, a shadow falling over his pale cheek. "But a flame cannot burn forever, especially with a storm chasing at its heels. And once that flame dies, Julia, you're mine."
Then I shall forever keep it burning for both our sakes.
Spreading ebony wings, Jin whispered, "I'll be waiting for you."
With that, the dark creature took flight and disappeared through my window, taking the man he'd killed with him.
It was strange for after that night I did not see Jin again for a long, long time. He no longer haunted my dreams, nor did he confront me in physical form. Occasionally I would feel his presence, but it was faint, like the fading tendrils of a nightmare as the mind awakened from slumber. He kept his distance for so long that at times the fear was almost forgotten.
Almost.
There was no other option; I had to keep running, even if it meant for eternity. I had to show Jin that I was strong still, that I would forever resist him. For no matter how beautiful and enchanting Montana seemed to be, I would find no true peace here.
It reeked, the sweat and the blood, the scent of broken hearts and sweet victory long after the lights have faded. The taste of adrenaline, of the speed and the mothball mouth guard pressed up against your teeth—tastes like heaven. Disco-ball, all those colors and speckled lights, the little iridescent mirrors (everybody's watching), the nausea and then relief as you claim the win, applause, bow, next. And perhaps sushi afterwards, a bit of laughter and tequila ice cream on the side; or maybe tears, hot and bitter. Depends. This thing can be unpredictable.
I was in Tokyo today. Yesterday was Shanghai, and the day before that, Calcutta.
The leather gloves felt like sandpaper as I slid them on, and the long golden feather scraped like a dull knife across the back of my bare neck. Breathing deeply, I inhaled the dank, musty smell of the locker room, closing my eyes in an attempt to concentrate. Beads of sweat had already formed on my brow, and the far off cheers of the crowd sent my stomach churning.
My first fight was ten minutes away and it was an automatic forfeit if you didn't show up on time. I had managed to catch a glimpse of my opponent—some redheaded rookie from Finland that had never even been to one of these tournaments before. She couldn't have been more than seventeen years old and had looked as panicked and frightened as an insect caught within the sticky entrapments of a spider's web. I shouldn't have been worrying.
But I always did. It's sickening.
Come on Julia, you idiot, you've done this twice before. It's the fifth tournament; for the Spirit's sake you should be used to this by now. She'll be an easy win. Just relax.
Taking a gulp of water, I strapped on the multi-colored, beaded headband about my forehead, flaunting my culture and the pride of the Navajo. Being one of the few Americans (and, sadly, the sole Native American) here at the tournament, I had to show off my nationality a little. Of course I wouldn't step outside and wear these kinds of outfits in everyday life, but my combat clothing gave me an identity within the throng of the hundreds of foreign fighters. I was one of the best after all, top thirty in fact, one of the few rare female combatants allowed to compete against males, and I'd already left my mark in these tournaments twice.
And still I worried as if I was just a beginner.
A gaggle of giggly girls suddenly barged into the locker room, disturbing the stillness and my concentration, and I groaned inwardly, despising such immaturity. Turning my back, I continued to prepare for my fight, sliding on the knee-high boots, clasping the turquoise and beaded jewelry about my neck, then braided my hair into one long pleat.
"Oh, he is like, so fine!" one cried, jumping up and down.
"We go to school with him!"
"Duh."
"Well, like, ask him out!"
"Shut up, Miharu! I barely know him!"
"He is so damn gorgeous!" came another, and they agreed in unison.
The squealing and shrieks of adoration continued, and I was about ready to shoot myself. Slamming my locker shut, I turned to face them, jamming the mouth guard into my mouth in fear of yelling obscenities into their pink little faces. I never got a glimpse of the leader for she was well guarded by her pigtails posse, but I was glad, for I feared that I might have smacked her for bringing in this ridiculous pack of hyenas.
"Have you seen Jin Kazama?" one girl asked, eyes wide and a crazy grin twitching at the corners of her lips.
So it was he that they were talking about, the fighter from Japan, son of the tainted Kazuya Mishima and grandson of the hated Heihachi Mishima. From what I'd heard, he was an amazing fighter, never lost, and he'd won all the previous tournaments…yet I had never seen him. The whole time I'd been either too busy trying to spot Heihachi, too determined to win, fixated on forest restoration—or, unfortunately, I'd already been eliminated from the tournament. During that time, Jin Kazama had almost never crossed my mind in the slightest.
I shook my head no.
"Really?! Whoa, you should really take some time to watch him."
Unable to stand it, I spat out my mouth guard. "I'm not here to stare at men. I'm here to fight and defeat them. But there's a male strip club down the block from here if you're wondering."
Shaking my head again, I stalked out, leaving them staring behind me. In the distance I could hear the muffled cry of the speakerphones: "Jin Kazama wins!"
What else is new?
My first fight took place in a parking lot believe it or not, with the judges and referees on the sidelines. Basically there were almost no rules. Just as long as you didn't kill one another you were fine, but really, in Heihachi's tournaments anything goes.
The lights were so bright. Michelle's teachings echoed throughout my mind, the desire to win was overpowering, the adrenaline building, heat rising and muscles aching, the taste of salt and victory on my tongue…seize it. It's mine today.
"…versus Julia Chang from Arizona, U.S.A.!"
Exhaling deeply, I let the world disappear, and in front of me were only my fists and my opponent. I didn't even hear the referee as he gave his consent for the fight to begin. All I felt was the world flying by as my body did the talking, as I conquered my opponent, the lights and the sounds spinning, spinning, spinning…
I remember that fight had lasted only a few minutes before I'd knocked her unconscious. It'd only been the first round too. I'd even felt sort of bad for the kid, me being twenty and experienced, and she barely seventeen and a first-timer. For the next week I'd proceeded to the higher levels, going on to win five more fights, but then got eliminated the third week of the tournament. Hanging my head in shame, I'd grudgingly returned to Arizona…and then Mexico…
Closing my eyes, I recalled everything I'd experienced in that fifth tournament; my body ached for the sweet release of combat again, the familiar sweat and blood and adrenaline, then the rush of pride and joy when the fight ended as victory was claimed. It had been months now since I'd had a real fight.
Lately, I've been remembering a lot of things. It was like my mind kept recycling old thoughts over and over, reminding me of my past, the past that had led me here into this cold motel room bed, into the arms of nothingness. For without the past, there is no present. There is no future. It is the past that helps to mold us, for we are malleable. We like to think that we are unique, forever resilient, like the quiet rocks at the bottom of the stream, repeatedly crushed and smoothed over with water. But we are malleable. I was strong, still am, was resilient, but had managed to change so much over the past month or so that I sometimes didn't notice anymore. Even the rocks clinging to the bottom must surrender to the water's wrath sooner or later, their rough edges becoming smooth.
My mind kept on remembering, kept me aware, and even the littlest, most insignificant things were important. Everything mattered. Everything that had ever happened to me had taken me here. But what bothered me the most was that I would always wonder what I could have done differently to change things.
Some say things happen for a reason. Or maybe not; maybe I still have a choice.
Deciding I had lingered long enough in one place, I grudgingly left the motel the following night, heading reluctantly for the road that would take me away from Montana and its ethereal scenery. As it turned out, my leaving was a mistake, for nearly an hour into my walk the first raindrops began to fall. They became a thunderstorm after that, and lightning tore up the sky, screaming rage and sorrow into the clouds as it forced the rain down. Long and dismal, the road had absolutely no sign of civilization on either side, and I was forced to keep walking.
And, knowing my luck, there were no cars that night; the road remained void of anything but the river of rain and my drowned out footsteps. The sky, a gaping mouth, darkened as a horde of gray clouds stumbled in from the east. Pulling my red sweatshirt closer about me, I tried in vain to keep out the vampire kiss of the rain as it sucked the warmth from my body. Drenched sneakers and clothes, hair plastered to my face, and water-spattered glasses—I could barely see the road ahead of me.
That was when the possibility hit me: I was stranded. It was possible that I was going to die here on this Montana road, and I'd never even seen that light I'd been seeking. I was going to die within the fury of this thunderstorm, alone and lost, a failure, and Jin would triumph, claiming me as his own, come and devour the fire within, reducing me to no more than a cold memory drifting, forgotten, on his dark wind.
Halting on the side of the road, I knew it was useless. Not knowing what I was waiting for, I waited anyway, hoping for a passing vehicle to come and save me from this storm. There was still some fire left to spare…
Yet the road remained empty and the hope continued to wane.
Swaying slightly, nearly collapsing to my knees from the cold and exhaustion, I found that I could not move any farther.
"Get up, Julia…get up!"
With blood pooling in my mouth and dripping down my chin, I staggered to an upright position and raised my fists, staring at my mother through blurry vision. I was so near that darkness, that sweet, merciful unconsciousness that would tear me away from the pain and Michelle's brutal training. But something kept me alert and standing, some ridiculous will that maintained the fight in me.
"All right. Now what, Julia? What's your next move? Show me."
Swaying, I nearly collapsed again.
"Julia, you must fight the pain! Ignore it. There will be times when you'll have to keep fighting no matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts. Every move you make must be precise; it must have a purpose."
Gritting my teeth, I willed the strength back into my body, wiping furiously at the blood on my mouth. Michelle's punch had not been restrained like in our previous sparring sessions; today she'd finally revealed to me that fierce warrior within her that she'd been concealing this whole time.
And, being fifteen and not fully trained yet, I wasn't sure I liked it. When she fought it was as if she became a totally different person; "tough love" is an understatement in this case. But that didn't deter my will.
Brushing back a few stray bangs, I lunged, fists at the ready. Almost instantly, I saw my mother prepare for her defense, elbow lifting…yet at the last moment I dodged her blow, feinted to the left as she swept air, then released a kick to her shins then abdomen. Grunting as the wind was knocked out of her, Mom doubled over on her knees, clutching at her stomach.
Once she'd recovered slightly, she flashed me a proud grin, winced, then got up.
"Well done. You conquered the pain. I think you've just won your fight," she wheezed.
I nodded, then keeled over as my body surrendered.
Rising stiffly as the memory faded, I began to walk again.
An hour must have passed, perhaps more, and when I nearly succumbed to the rain again, an image of the black wolf flashed unexpectedly in my mind. His golden eyes peered at me, forcing my gaze to meet his as he nuzzled my shoulder gently…
Get up, Julia. Get up.
In the next moment the wolf vanished and was replaced by the distant moaning of a motor—and, to my disbelief, the faint blur of white headlights. Believing myself to be hallucinating, I blinked several times, but when the light did not disappear, I knew my chance had come. The headlights, glowing with a blinding radiance, increased in size, inching closer and closer.
Looking up just as the motorcycle passed me by, its driver flashed me a brief, indifferent glance. Biker goggles shielded his eyes from the relentless downpour, and his hair was drenched and plastered to his face. The leather gloves and jacket made me groan slightly in disappointment. Please not another one of those damn Wyoming bikers; I'd had enough of those.
However, he was the only sign of civilization for miles, and in this storm I'd take anything. So with the desperation and all too familiar chill tightening its hold about my body, I ran into the road, the rainwater splashing about my legs and soaking through to my skin.
"Wait!" I cried out into the night as I stared hopelessly at the receding taillights, and I knew he'd already gone.
The tears threatened to fall as I retreated back to the side of the road where I'd come. Knowing I would have to somehow wait this thunderstorm out, I hugged myself tight and tilted my head back to the rain, feeling the drops slide down the sides of my face as I surrendered myself to its cold caresses.
Just as I was beginning to close my eyes, the sound of the motor returned, growing louder and louder above the din of the storm. Eyes widening, I realized that the biker had returned. Hope leaped up to my throat once more, yet my body was frozen stiff to the point where I could only stare dumbly at my savior.
"Hey! You need a ride?" he shouted, and it took me a moment to process his words.
An image of the black wolf appeared again before my mind's eye, the golden eyes and familiar dark pelt replacing the biker…then all returned to normal. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I wondered if I was coming down with something.
Finally, in response I nodded, having not the energy to find my voice. After adjusting my backpack securely into place, I swung my leg over the bike and took my place behind the biker, waiting for him to accelerate. Keeping my hands to myself, clutching the bottom of the leather seat, I decided against holding him about the waist. We were complete strangers after all.
My rescuer turned around in his seat then, and behind the rain-spattered goggles I saw his eyes narrow in interest as he examined his passenger. The dark eyes were uncomfortably curious and bold as they roved up and down my body, stopping at my face, where the biker stared long and hard. Why did I always seem to attract perverts?
However, being in a vulnerable state and knowing that now wasn't the best time to pick a fistfight, I settled for the traditional glare. Clenching my teeth to curb the anger, I pulled the red sweatshirt hood farther over my head in an attempt to hide my face as well as protect it from the rain.
It seemed to work, for suddenly the look on his face changed to one of surprise. But then a wry smile twisted his mouth as he shook his head, amused.
What had I gotten myself into?
"Yeah you might want to hold on. It can get pretty slick," he suggested, then smiled once more. I returned his expression with another glare, but reluctantly clasped my arms about his waist as he turned around in his seat.
Well, let's just say that those were some of the best set of abs, ones that, shockingly, rivaled Jin's. Even through the leather jacket I could feel the biker's strength, could almost envision the toned perfection…but I quickly shoved the thought away, as well as the temptations to run my hands over the taut stomach. As a result, my hold on him loosened.
Unfortunately, he noticed, for as soon as my arms did so, the damn bastard accelerated. Sending the motorcycle flying forward, he forced me to cling to his waist for dear life as the rain pelted around us, his laughter resounding in my ears. Gritting my teeth, I reluctantly tightened my hold and tolerated his immaturity, knowing that it didn't matter too much anyway. Once we reached shelter I wouldn't be seeing any more of this jerk.
He drove for about another several minutes before the dim lights of the green-painted motel appeared. Rundown, isolated, the neon sign flickered "open" a couple times, then sputtered and died. As we pulled into the parking lot, the man turned to me again.
"We're stopping here for tonight. You're on your own from now on," he grunted.
I nodded again, muttered a half-hearted "thanks" then hastily got off the drenched motorcycle, feeling his prying eyes on me again as I entered the motel. Unfortunately, the biker followed me inside.
Clutching my backpack tighter about my shoulders, I stared at the desk clerk, hoping he'd skip the stupid introductions and hospitality crap and just give me a room. He was a heavy-set man, the front of his shirt stained with what I hoped was barbecue sauce, and spoke with a heavy German accent.
"Well, I've only got one room available. Are you two together?" he rumbled, inclining his head towards the biker behind me.
Glancing at him, my rescuer answered, "Not really. Are there two beds?"
The man at the counter nodded, then burped and I looked away in disgust. Thank the Spirits there were two beds!
After a moment of struggling to bend over to open one of the drawers, the desk clerk handed each of us an ancient looking key, the silver licked with edges of rust. Trudging down the hallway, he then showed us to our room.
"Enjoy your stay," he grunted, then retreated back the way he'd come.
I sure would. Sighing, I barged into the room, flinging my backpack onto the nearest bed. Sighing wearily, I started to remove my drenched sweatshirt, nearly forgetting about my newfound acquaintance. Halting, I turned to him and noticed how he lingered in the doorway, those eyes staring unashamedly at my body once again. Pulling down my sweatshirt, I flashed him my steely gaze.
"You mind?" I snarled, turning to face him.
The man smiled that cocky grin once more, then pushed his goggles up so they rested on the top of his head. Even in his grungy, drenched state, I suddenly found myself breathless for a moment; he was attractive, to put it simply. He looked about the same height as Jin, but his physique, unlike the bulky build of the Japanese man's, was leaner, tapered at the waist, yet still muscular and strong at that. Dark, curious, his eyes gleamed with mischief, a sly, playful curve tugged at his mouth, and the long locks of hair, stained previously a dark auburn, had begun to dry. It now shone a deep, fiery scarlet, and a few stubborn strands fell down to cover his eyes—crimson rose petals, a bleeding wound, a flame in the darkness.
Scarlet paint on white canvas.
Shivers, whispers of something foreign in my heart; there was a wildness within him, rebellious, turbulent, an untamed spirit that made me want to repel him—yet at the same time lean in for a closer look.
The little white moth drawn to the candle's flame—would I risk the burn? Or could I swallow the light, devour this heat? Oh Julia, you poor fool.
Unlike Jin, the calm before the storm, this strange man before me was the storm.
Unzipping his leather jacket, he tossed the rain soaked thing aside, revealing a simple white T-shirt beneath that didn't do much to disguise every perfect contour of his upper body. Biting the inside of my cheek, I forced myself not to blush and kept my defiant gaze in place.
"What?" he said, feigning ignorance at my last inquiry.
Setting aside the undeniable fact that he was a looker, I reminded myself that he was still a stranger, perverted, arrogant, and was not to be trusted. I felt the old anger returning, the familiar caution, and there was that hint of a smile on his lips again.
"I'm sure you've seen lots of girls before, but I'm just not one of those who'll spread her legs at the sight of any decent looking guy," I growled, "Now, do you mind not looking at me that way?"
The red haired man pressed his lips together, probably in an attempt to suppress another sick smile, then replied, "Sorry."
We stood there for another moment, the biker with his wolfish grin and me with my quavering glare. My mind, the same mind which had saved me numerous times, the one that had screamed for me to flee Mexico, was sending out warnings now, urging me to abandon this motel and seek shelter elsewhere lest I become hurt again. It warned for me to keep running, to ignore my attraction to this stranger, told me that my main priorities now were to avoid petty temptations, to disregard trust…
Indeed, my new roommate was not to be trusted in the slightest. Yet my heart, the same heart that had led to my mother's and cousin's downfall and Jin's demonic infatuation, triggered the curiosity within, murmured gently for me to stay for just a bit longer, fed the fascination.
And, almost always, Julia Chang listened to her heart before her mind.
In the distance, I thought I heard a wolf howl into the night…
"My name's Hwoarang by the way."
The rain murmurs against my skin, feather-soft, kissing the cold onto my mouth and hands. Time to purify, time to forgive. Time to hope again. Time to set aside the wounds and inhale the light.
I have tasted this rain before: bittersweet, tender, fresh, of corn tortillas and old love, of a crimson-haired man, that heartbreaking smile and those gentle hands—of a crimson-eyed demon, frostbitten mouth and poisoned soul. Of turquoise paintings and coyote smiles, the melody of the wolf and a white crane's cry. Memories: memories of a time past and a time beginning, of Navajo prayers and flame-licked dawns, forests of forgiveness and visions of hope on a blank canvas. Paintbrush quivers, the colors flow, unknown, unstoppable, unpredictable…and they live on. Bloom.
"Don't ever be afraid to be alone, Julia. Sometimes we grow stronger when we're by ourselves…"
Indeed, I found wisdom from my mother's words; I became strong with solitude. But I don't have to be alone, not anymore. I am no longer that child from the beginning of my tale. I had seen and felt so many things, things both terrible and joyful, experiences that had forced that shift from innocence.
Meeting him forever changed my life, for Hwoarang showed me many wonders, gave and taught me things that I would not trade for anything else in the world. It was while I was with him when I began to believe in fate. But soon Hwoarang would become something much more than a temporary sanctuary from Jin's relentless pursuit, much more than a companion from the past's regrets…
But the canvas has not yet been filled; the painting is far from finished. The crane has not yet conquered the coyote, nor has she heard the entirety of the wolf's song.
The story is still fragile. It has barely begun.
Wandering, walking, drifting with the tide
Browsing, searching, finding our way through life
Whatever we find, it is all about to last for awhile
Just a better way to live on our place,
The place that we owe our lives
It's a fragile, small box.
I feel like life is catching up
And the law of self-preservation is being broken
In the end we will give back.
Wandering, walking, drifting with the tide
Browsing, searching, finding…
It's a fragile, small box.
It's a fragile, small box.
"Box" by The Gathering
Well, there it is, my version of Julia's story. However, it doesn't stop there; Julia's journey continues on in "Love Found" and I'll soon re-post chapter one of that story for those of you who are interested. I wrote "Love Found" a little over a year ago and was forced to delete it, (Long, ugly story, don't ask why I did it) and I'll re-post the remaining chapters after I've revised it. Why revise? Because a year is a big difference, and after rereading what I'd written at 15, I noticed my writing style has changed. So now I have a chance to improve the story.
Now I hope you think differently about Julia when you look at her. Too many times is she just called the "tree-hugger"; too many times do we see stories with Xiao and her annoying pigtails and her relationship with Jin. Julia is the intellectual! We need more women like her, not a world full of Xiaos where their smartest idea is to build the world's best amusement park. While Julia's fighting to protect nature, not to mention in college studying, Ling is off daydreaming about some ridiculous time machine and riding pink Ferris wheels…agh! Ok, I'll stop now. I get like that when I think about Xiao.
Thanks all of you who read this and contributed your thoughts and suggestions: wine and roses, xjmaster, Sachi G, Ichigo K, Mint Oreos, Hatori, Aki Ronin, Tay, RoguefanAM, InfinitiveEvil101, Keia101, and everyone else I missed.
I'm sad to see Wanderer end, because in my opinion, this is my best work out of all of my other stories, and it is by far my favorite piece. This will definitely not be my last Julia story! Sage Pagan