Part I: Legends
"Mom, is this really necessary? You know I'm not interested in them." Julia Chang winced as her mother tugged her hair.
"It's not breaking into your schedule that much," Michelle said. "You'll still get outside before the sunrise. Besides, you used to love having your hair put up like this."
"That was a long time ago. Still holding out on the hope that I'll get married some day?"
"A mother can dream. Besides, if you go to the festival in boring old pig tails, the boys may have a different set of questions for you that you'd be less interested in answering."
Julia knelt patiently as Michelle finished tying her hair into a figure eight around the bent willow and pull the wooden frame from the whirls of her squash blossom hair style. As a child, Julia had wanted to wear her hair like this all the time, delighting in the novelty of her plain chestnut colored hair whirled into the shape of sunburst squashes on both sides of her head. Occasionally, Michelle would capitulate although it was supposed to be reserved for festivals to denote a maiden of marriageable age. Now it only served to bring unwanted attention from boys, like taping an ad for the classifieds on her back.
'But it's tradition', she reminded herself. 'Besides, it makes mother happy, and I owe everything to her.'
"There," Michelle said, giving Julia's shoulders a gentle squeeze.
Julia looked in the mirror and saw Michelle standing behind her with the sad smile of a mother watching her child growing up. It was times like these where Julia could almost forget that she been forsaken by her biological mother, where she could almost believe Michelle was her true mother ... where she could almost feel truly loved for herself. She managed a half smile back at Michelle. "Maybe today my luck will change."
"Perhaps."
'Yeah, right,' Julia thought as she stepped out into the cold darkness.
She went straight to the edge of the village, a quiet area of nothing but burnt sienna rocks and sky. It was not yet dawn on Sunday morning, and the night had been cool and cloudless. There was a chill in the air, uncharacteristic of an Arizona summer, a coldness that froze voices in throats and burned eyes, a wind that seemed to pull organs from the body leaving nothing but a strange emptiness in the soul. Normally she relished waking up before the sun, just as the animals scurried to their underground burrows.
She enjoyed that moment where the world held its breath at the cusp of light and shadows - a balance point as thin as a single ray of light. And then with a stirring of the wind, the balance would tip and the sunlight would spread its hazy glow like orange jam across the toasted crust of the Painted Desert. Today though, the sun hid beneath the mauve blanket of night as if to keep its golden warmth all to itself.
More than the cold, it was the sky that disturbed her. Not a single cloud wisp marred its surface, and that meant the rain ceremony had failed. For the first time in Julia's eighteen years, the Niman festival had ended with the Katsinam scheduled to return to their winter home in the San Francisco peaks without a sign to ensure the survival of their descendants. According to the older Hopitu, this had happened a few times in the past and was attributed to some error in the ceremony, which is why they had extended the festival one more day in hopes of correcting whatever error had prevented the rain. The Katsinam, the spirit fathers, would be of no use if they abandon their children. Although a small part of her wouldn't be surprised if they did, but the Hopitu needed all the help they could get. The rain was scant enough, with even less water there was little chance they would live to see the next summer.
"And then," Julia whispered, "the world would die." For the Hopitu were the only people who remembered the commands of Masaw, guardian of the fourth earth and the underworld. They were the last of those who followed the old ways, who kept the cosmos in balance, who revived the earth and sun. The other tribes had inhabited other lands where life was easier like the tropics or had bent nature to suit them and had lost the power of their faith. They had lost their path and failed their duty to the Creator.
Crouching at the edge of Second Mesa, Julia peered down the sheer rock face that seemed to be the only effective barrier separating the Hopi tribal lands from the larger and ever encroaching Navajo reservation that surrounded them. There was a long history between the two tribes, not all of it good. It was the Navajo who gave the name Anazasi, "Ancient Enemy", to the ancestors of the Hopitu - a name that was only recently being shed in favor of the neutral "ancient pueblo people." Perhaps it was that knowledge that prevented Julia from consenting to their right to self-determination and acknowledge their desire to be known as "Dineh" instead of "Navajo."
'Why call them the name they want when they don't do the same for us?' Julia thought. But then she chided herself for being childish. 'Besides,' she thought, 'what if I was really one of them?' She could never be sure what tribe she had been born to before being abandoned in one of the myriad ruins in Canyon de Chelly. Had Michelle, her adoptive mother, not been trespassing on Navajo land at that time Julia would never have survived. Michelle had always said she had followed a vision to find Julia. From the whispers that reached her ears, Julia understood Michelle's decision to follow that vision had been against the Hopitu Tribal Council and her decision to adopt Julia had caused her to lose considerable status with the unmarried men.
It was a huge decision for a nineteen year old, and more than once Michelle must have wondered what her life could have been like if she had let Julia die as an infant and just lived her own life according to her plan. If anything it spoke volumes of Michelle as a mother, a woman, and a human being. On paper everyone knew the right answer, but how many would actually sacrifice their future to give a baby nobody else knew existed a chance to live? At that moment, Michelle would have known that once she picked up the infant, she couldn't pass it on to anyone else because she had already defied the Elders just being there.
If there was one thing that knowledge taught Julia, it was her life belonged to Michelle. Michelle could have walked away and been bothered only by pangs of her conscience when she was alone at night. Instead she chose to have a constant reminder of her decision that day. She gave her future to Julia. Not because of who I was, Julia often thought, but because of who she was.
In the distance, drums were pounded. The ceremony was starting.
* * *
The villagers stirred in the center plaza, and Julia turned back towards the kiva, a massive hollowed out chamber of earth. A fire danced at its center, making its only opening look like a window to the underground as light flickered at the entrance. It was to the underworld that Taiowa had guided the worthy to be saved from the destruction of the previous three worlds, a place of warmth and safety, a place for the Ancients.
In a few moments the Katsinam would leave the kiva and begin their trek to Nuvatukya'ovi, the snow capped San Francisco peaks where they would live for the next six months. Katsinam, messengers, ancestors. How strange it must be to see time pass. How, in a few years, so many native cultures, like trees that have been for centuries, were felled to be examined and shaped by men who did not care for them. Across the land, only stumps and the deepest roots - traditions buried underground - remained.
From the kiva, Eototo, the Katsina Chief, emerged to lead the procession to their home. His white dome head swiveled side to side, and the three holes that served for his eyes and mouth gave him the expression of child-like wonder. The red, black, and turquoise sashes fluttered at his side as he danced in the plaza to the beat of a drum. More Katsinam joined him from the kiva. They raised their hands to give the villagers one last blessing until they returned six months later.
Julia looked to the horizon in hopes of seeing storm clouds forming. In the distance was the slightest of bit of haze. Someone shouted, and Julia turned to see one of the Katsinam throw off its mask.
The lithe figure seemed to explode from the procession as it unravel the colorful robes in one swift motion. The white face seemed to mock the Katsinam, a reminder that they were not the only ones who could put on masks and become more than they were. Red hair streamed from behind the cat mask, and the ninja charged toward the crowd with a knife that ran along the length of her forearm. The crowd parted to leave only Michelle in the ninja's path.
"Mom!" Julia lurched forward through the crowd.
Michelle was already moving though. She leapt back from the knife, hands raised, and batted aside two more swipes. The ninja seemed to realize that she no longer had the element of surprise and crouched down. The fingers of her left hand formed a third leg which she used for balance as she slunk in a slow circle. The eyes of her mask looked like tildes and betray none of her intentions, neither by blinking nor focusing on her target.
"Stay back, Julia," Michelle said without taking her eyes off her opponent. "Kunimitsu - I thought I told you to never come back to our lands."
Kunimitsu said nothing, but moved lightly on the balls of her feet, shifting the weight effortlessly from one leg to the other. She hid the knife behind her back as she circled, bringing it out only to twirl between her fingers before hiding again. She took half a step forward and then leapt sideways, shooting out her left hand. Dust flew towards Michelle's eyes, and she blinked hard as she stumbled back. The knife was raised like a gavel ready to strike down its death sentence in a stroke of finality.
A rock struck Kunimitsu's ribs, causing her body to twist in pain and her knife to go wide of its target. For a moment, the ninja's eyes seemed to glow as she turned towards Julia. Neither one moved as they assessed the threat of the other. At first it looked like Julia would be disregarded and the attack on Michelle would continue unabated, but then the ninja lunged at Julia with the frightening speed of a diamondback striking back at an animal who had stepped on it.
The single fang flashed and only a quick step back kept Julia's throat intact. Her body seemed to move on its own, not through training but fear, doing little more than backing up.
'Move your hands,' she told herself. 'Dodge, don't become mesmerized by her movements, fight back.' But her body didn't listen; her eyes stayed locked on the knife and she moved only in response to it. She didn't even see the left hand strike that hit her chest. A sharp pain radiated out from her sternum, and she thought perhaps Kunimitsu had pulled out another knife and jammed it between her ribs.
It felt as though her heart was being ripped out, and in the fury that only pain can bring, Julia grabbed Kunimitsu's wrist, dug her other fist deep into the ninja's gut, and wrenched the hand away. A quick shove caused Kunimitsu to stumble back and allowed Julia a short time to recover from the chest pains. Kunimitsu wasted no time in renewing the attack, and slashed right at Julia's eyes.
With a move that was as much as a dodge as a strike, Julia slipped the knife and delivered an elbow to Kunimitsu's sternum before jerking her arm up and backhanding her masked face. A half step back led her safely away from the predicted knife strike. Pushing off her back foot, she doubled Kunimitsu over with a straight armed punch. Spinning, Julia maneuvered behind her and shoved both arms hard into the ninja's shoulder blades. Kunimitsu's flailed her arms like a wounded bird trying to take off.
Michelle was waiting for the pass. Dropping to one knee and twisting the knife hand up and over her head, Michelle flipped Kunimitsu onto her side, and the small backpack Kunimitsu wore slipped off. Another pull locked the ninja's arm straight behind her. A sound like splintering wood came from the ninja's arm as Michelle brought her fist down hard just above the elbow. Kunimitsu screamed as her hand was forced open by the pain. The knife fell from her fingers and danced on the hard dirt in two small hops, pirouetted on its tip, and laid still.
Michelle continued to hold the broken arm and placed a knee high on the ninja's back, forcing her to the ground. "I warned you, Kunimitsu, never to return to my homeland."
Kunimitsu grunted heavily, trying to reach her elbow with her other hand. "I - I had no choice. The pendant ... he needs the pendant or it's all wasted."
"Who? Kazuya?"
"Kazuya is dead ... finished off by Heihachi. Please, my arm."
"What does Heihachi want with the pendant?"
"My arm, please, my arm ...."
Kunimitsu collapsed to the ground as Michelle stepped back. She stretched a feeble hand out, closing her fingers around the knife's handle. Julia stepped forward, but Michelle grabbed her arm and shook her head. Kunimitsu struggled to sheath the blade left-handed, and then settled back on her haunches.
"Now," Michelle said, "what does Heihachi want with the pendant?"
"It comes," she said. "Awakened by blood, summoned by souls, the tournament shall call it."
"What are you taking about?"
Kunimitsu's head lolled back, exposing the thin milky column of her neck. She laughed. The hollow sound rattled from her throat like vacant turtle shells. "The Darkness lives. The God of Fighting walks again."
"The God of Fighting ... Ogre - it can't be. Why are you laughing? It will kill you too."
This only made Kunimitsu laugh even harder until the pain seemed to overcome her. Kunimitsu's laughter died and her body stilled. Very slowly, she removed the band around the back of her head and pried her left hand beneath the mask at the curve of her jaw. With a sound like mayonnaise being stirred, the mask peeled away. Bits of flesh stretched like taffy, snapped, and dangled loosely from the mask. The putrescent air clung to her decayed face.
The collective gasp of the villagers seemed to steal the air away from Julia, and she was unaware that she had momentarily stopped breathing. There was no air, no wind, and no ground. There was nothing but the face. The flesh looked almost like melted caramel, globbed up in some areas and worn away in others exposing the fine whiteness of her bones.
"You see," she said, fixing eyes empty of all but a hazy molten gold upon Michelle, "why I do not fear? The Manji have no souls."
"Then you could help us fight it."
Kunimitsu laughed again. Her eyes didn't blink so much as dim slightly. "What use would I be if I can't even defeat you?" Kunimitsu covered her face with the mask again. "It's too late - it has awaken. The fourth season has ended."
From a pocket, Kunimitsu pulled out a small remote and pressed the button. Something within her backpack exploded, spraying water through the fabric. Laughing, Kunimitsu threw the remote at Michelle and threw something else at her own feet. In a flash of light, it was as if the air around Kunimitsu's body suddenly condensed into a dark grey cloud. When the smoke cleared, she was gone.
"No," whispered Michelle. She was picking through the backpack, pulling out shards of an earthen jar.
Julia recognized part of the pattern; it was the ceremonial jar, an integral part of Hopi legend. As the Hopi people made their migrations around the world, they often had to settle in inhospitable places. The ceremonial water jar was a gift from Masaw. So long as it remained intact and buried, water would flow from it based on the power and prayer of the people. If Kunimitsu had uncovered it earlier that would have explained the failure of the rain ceremony. There would be no water until a replacement jar was made and blessed. Kunimitsu had just signed the Hopitu's death warrant.