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The mortal kombat 1 fanbase in a nutshell

The incels complaining how the game is “bad” (they have the worst reasons why the game is bad)

Everyone agreeing johnshi is canon

How liu kang made everyone hot in mk1

People talking about how relief it feels that some of the bad guys are now good guys

i just adore how dejected he looks in the first photo 😭😭 like omfg i was cackling when i was cropping this. ugggh i love him so freaking much

my cute lil grumpy babygirl

Hey gang,

Just played khoas reigns, can somebody make a good luck, babe edit with Sektor and Khameleon, I know what those two are. Please and thank you ❤️

what was the point of making sub-zero and scorpion brothers if they are just going to become enemies again anyway, like at first i thought it was to make them a team and stop them from fighting each other all the time but no

Comic about Jadesmoke and their potential parallels if NRS loves me and let's them reach the assassin duo that they were in one non-canon comic

Big cats + canine fellows (and yes their tails point different ways so you can mix and match <3)

This is how Bi-Han looks jumping through a closing portal without second thought

Too often, I see artists, fanfic and headcanon writers put profanities (and the most obscene ones, at that) in Bi-Han's mouth. This contradicts his character in the game, where he uses a sustained language and speaks slowly and clearly, meticulously choosing his words to set an example as a clan leader invested with a divine mission and, what is more, as being the product of an aristocratic upbringing that doesn't allow for slackness nor complacency. The example that strikes me most is when Ermac binds his hands and feet, and he asks, surprised: "What is this?" Notice he doesn't say "What's this?", "What the hell is this?" or even "What the f*ck is this?" He also pronounces each word carefully, not allowing himself to be destabilized by what's happening to him.

This said, many people who are in position of power are careful with how they behave in public, but are just like everyone else in private. Bi-Han could be one of them to a certain extent. He would probably swear, but rarely, and only when he'd be alone, never in front of others, not even of his family, or only in their spare time, when they'd be off duty—and even then, it would remain very moderate, because we have to imagine that there's a lot of modesty and restraint involved between these people due to how they were raised. And because Bi-Han is well-read and well-spoken, he doesn't need to resort to insults to be verbally abusive to someone. Too often indeed, people confuse being aggressive with being vulgar.

A guide to writing Bi-Han

I've seen far too many fanfics/oneshots/headcanons and art pieces out there completely mischaraterizing Bi-Han to the point he becomes unrecognizable from who he is in canon. For fans who love Bi-Han as he is, it can be quite frustrating to see people misunderstand his character so much. This post is not meant to be criticism, but was rather made with the intention to sort out common misconceptions, educate and help creators of fanwork understand Bi-Han and his personality better.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS BROTHERS:

Bi-Han doesn't hate Tomáš. There's so much fanart out there depicting him as a bully or bad brother when that's as far from canon as it could be. You can read the in-depth analysis on their dynamic in the post I've linked, but to sum it up, Bi-Han had the option to pick any other Lin Kuei member to accompany him and Kuai Liang to the teahouse or the Ying fortress, but each time he picked Smoke. He could have chosen Sektor or Cyrax, both of which are more experienced and completely loyal to him, and yet he still chose Tomáš instead. He also appears worried when Smoke nearly dies after Nitara's attack. Yes, he snapped at Tomáš once, but siblings fight and say things to each other that are often uncalled for. The relationship between them cannot be meassured by one line that was said out of anger or the intro dialogues that are set after their falling out. According to Smoke himself, Bi-Han was always cold towards him, but that only suggests they were never close, not that there was ever any hostility between them or that Bi-Han was ever harsh/cruel towards him in the past. Tomáš also tries to reunite the brothers and doesn't want Bi-Han to be his enemy, even if he's disappointed in Bi-Han's actions. He even admits he used to look up to him. Some artworks, however, aim to make it look like Bi-Han is oh so mean to poor, sad Tomas, when that's a blatant mischaraterization of both of them, simultanously babying Tomas, a grown man, and demonizing Bi-Han, a tragic and traumatized character.

Kuai Liang and Bi-Han used to be close. Kuai Liang knew about Bi-Han's frustrations, Bi-Han knows all of Kuai Liang's weaknesses, they trust each other enough to rely on each other in combat and both feel equally betrayed by the other because of the close brotherly bond they once shared and because of the trust that existed between them. Kuai Liang was Bi-Han's second in command, Bi-Han respected him. He's never once seen belittling or insulting Kuai Liang, not even after they're no longer on good terms with each other. By the time the story of MK1 starts, Bi-Han has already reached the peak of his frustration, which explains why he snaps at his brothers so often, especially when their father is brought up, but at no time was Bi-Han ever abusive towards Kuai Liang or Tomas. He seems to have put a lot of trust in both his brothers and in return, they trusted him too. If Bi-Han had ever been a violent person with little love and care for his family, Kuai Liang and Tomas wouldn't have been so shocked at the revelation that he let their father die.

There was always a side of Bi-Han that cared about his brothers and his choices indicate that he still does. Apart from the most obvious evidence for this, the scene where he checks on both of them to make sure they're unharmed, there are also other subtle clues that he cares about Kuai Liang and Tomas. In his chapter, Bi-Han is the one who fights off all threats (Nitara, Ermac...) while also giving the easier and less dangerous task of staying outside to Smoke, the least experienced one of the brothers, as he goes to capture Quan Chi himself with the help of Kuai Liang. While he says he wants Kuai Liang dead in some intros, his actions contradict his words. He had the chance to kill Kuai Liang at the Ying Fortress, but chose to spare him. SPOILERS: The leaks for the dlc claim that Bi-Han will be trying to capture his brothers alive. He seems to have no interest in actually harming either of them, just in making sure they can't get in the way of his plans.

PERSONALITY:

Oftentimes, fanfics portray Bi-Han as this hot-headed guy with anger issues who is only capable of one emotion and it's rage. But Bi-Han's anger is not his most defining trait. There are so many more layers to his personality. Just because the story mode only showed us situations in which his anger is triggered doesn't mean that's all there is to him. He's not the kind of person to go around yelling at everyone he sees and getting angry out of nowhere. I also don't see Bi-Han cursing/cussing or insulting others. As grandmaster, Bi-Han represents the Lin Kuei and he's expected to act a certain way. @inflamedrosenkranz wrote a genius analysis on how out of character it would be for Bi-Han to curse and I strongly recommend reading it in addition to this post.

Bi-Han is not a mysogynist. This is something I see all too frequently in reader insert fanfics where Bi-Han is written as someone who doesn't take his s/o seriously or looks down at them because they're a woman. Meanwhile, Bi-Han shows nothing but respect and admiration for strong women. He seems to have looked up to his mother much more than to his father and just listen to his intros with Sindel or Kitana. He admires Sindel for her leadership and even encourages Kitana to take Outworld's throne. He also wouldn't have taken in Frost as his apprentice and wouldn't have allowed Cyrax into the Lin Kuei if he thought women weren't fit to be Lin Kuei warriors.

I know this will disappoint a lot of headcanon writers, but Bi-Han would never degrade/insult or otherwise humiliate his partner, be it through words or actions, especially not during intimate moments shared between them. His significant other directly represents him and his clan. He would not tolerate any sort of disrespect towards them, let alone disrespect them himself. If his partner were to ask him to degrade them, that would be an instant dealbreaker for Bi-Han. He would expect any potential partner to show the self-respect and dignity befitting of their role as the grandmaster's significant other.

I often see drunk!Bi-Han headcanons, but honestly, it would be out of character for Bi-Han to drink alcohol. First of all, he absolutely wouldn't be able to see the appeal of it and secondly, he would hate the way it makes him feel. I imagine he likes being in control of his own body, he likes knowing that he can rely on his reflexes should he need them and alcohol would practically render them useless. As grandmaster of his clan he needs to be an example for all the other Lin Kuei. He would also not want to take the risk of overinduldging and embarrassing himself in a drunken stupor.

People like to write Bi-Han as a grumpy and overly serious guy who can't crack a joke to save himself, but they forget he makes ice puns. Ice puns. Bi-Han definitely has a sense of humor. I just don't think he gets to show anyone that side of himself often.

Bi-Han is a lot smarter than people give him credit for. Yes, siding with Shang Tsung was a bad choice, but it was one he made out of dispair and his frustration played into it as well, clouding his judgement. The way Bi-Han tries to assess his opponents' weaknesses shows his strategic mind. He let himself be fooled once, but he's also young and still has a lot to learn as grandmaster. It's not a sign of him lacking intelligence, like some people claim.

GOALS:

While he's ambitious and wants to acquire power to some extent, Bi-Han is not the power-hungry and selfish character he's often wrongly depicted as. His intentions lie far beyond that and are much more noble. Bi-Han craves independence and freedom for the Lin Kuei. He wants his clan to get the respect and recognition they rightfully deserve after protecting Earthrealm for so many generations. He doesn't want to conquer all of Earthrealm and he has no interest in ruling other realms either. What he wants is a small portion of Earthrealm because he's convinced that the Lin Kuei deserve it. He wants a reward for all their years of loyalty and duty, not to become a tyrant.

To conclude this, I appreciate writers and artists who do their research before writing/drawing a character and I hope this analysis can be helpful to those unsure of how to correctly write Bi-Han.

If I can think of more examples to add to the list, I will make a part 2 of this post.

GUYS! KENSHI IS A LEFTIE!!

Since the first time i saw Kenshi, i always thought it is so weird that he carries his sword by his left shoulder. Then a thought crossed my mind and i went and rewatched the Story Mode to confirm my theory.

Nine times Kenshi does things with his left while it is four times with his right. (We don't account Game Mode here and i only counted the times Kenshi purposedly does something)

A huge indicator that Kenshi is a leftie is that he always holds his sword in his left. You wouldn't hold your weapon in your nondominant hand when you're about to fight.

He gestures more with his left

He picks up things with his left

He even offers his left hand to shake! Who even does that?

Another small detail i noticed is that when Kenshi does fist-in-hand salute, he has his right hand over his other, which is the way women usually do in chinese culture. You can see Raiden is properly doing the salute here.

It can be that fact that Kenshi is not very familiar with chinese etiquette, but what i think is that he fisted the hand that was natural to him, being his left.

This explains why Kenshi has his sword by his left shoulder and draws it with his left hand. You might say but Johnny also has Sento by his left too but let me tell you, Johnny doesn't know a shit about swords and even when he wields it, he has it in his right hand!!!

Therefore, Kenshi Takahashi is left-handed. Thank you. *mic drop*

Once again thinking about MK1 and how Bi-Han didn't have to be the scapegoat of the story. Both Bi-Han and Kuai Liang could have escaped the Ying Fortress together. Bi-Han never had to side with Shang Tsung. It served no purpose within the story, it was entirely unnecessary, as was the part about him letting his father die.

Instead, the brothers could have fought Shao, Shang Tsung and the dragon army together. Kuai Liang could have gotten his scar in the fight against Havik and Darrius. After Kuai Liang and Bi-Han both narrowly escaped with their lives, Bi-Han could have simply insisted on aborting the mission once the brothers regroup with Smoke. They nearly died, Bi-Han's faith in Liu Kang was already shaken before, no one could have blamed him for losing it entirely after seeing what they're up against and watching his brother nearly lose an eye in front of him.

Kuai Liang could have then protested and refused to follow Bi-Han back to Arktica unless they go back and finish the mission first, revealing the brothers' conflict of interest. Bi-Han wanting the Lin Kuei's freedom and Kuai Liang wanting the clan to keep up their old ways and follow tradition. The brothers could have then fought and the story would have progressed as we know it.

Nothing important within the narrative would have changed, except that it would have made both brothers more relatable characters. Sub-Zero and Scorpion would have still ended up becoming rivals, with the only difference that Kuai Liang and Bi-Han wouldn't have any stains on their names as they do now, one nearly committing fratricide and the other having let his father die as well as having abandoned his duties. Bi-Han's motives would have been much more relatable, his concern about his clan's future, the care he very obviously holds for his brothers, it could have all been displayed so much better with just these few tweaks to the storyline.

What makes the MK1 story bad is the lack of love that was put into it. I know the sheer amount of characters on the roster doesn't make it easy to give every single character time to shine in the story mode or to give them all as much depth as fans would like, but even a few small changes can have a big impact. It's disappointing that apparently no one cared enough about the Lin Kuei brothers to think much about how they would come across. All three of them got sidelined, mischaracterized and for the most part, ignored by the story. The wasted potential here is saddening.

sektor & cyrax being female. cyrax (possibly) being kuai's ex yet both of them being absolutely loyal to bi-han. frost being bi-han's protégé. bi-han most def being a mama's boy. nrs really said bi-han is for the women.

so weirdos that keep on insisting he's a misogynist can go shave their backs now.

“Your blood will never be Lin Kuei”<—Bi Han isn’t saying he’s not family because he’s adopted. I think what he’s saying is that he’ll never be considered a warrior by Lin Kuei standards. It no different than than a snobby Harvard student with top grades telling off another Harvard student who happens to be a family member and whom they look down on that they shouldn’t have been admitted and is a waste of space.

No you DONT UNDERSTAND

Bi HANS SCREAMS BROKE MEEEEE

More reason to hate khaos reigns, we were this close to another sonya appearance after invasions Mileena ending but NOOOOOOO

*Bi panic intensifies*

Hotness transcending gender is crazy tbh

A super easy fix to Sektor could’ve come from her ending, make her realise she doesn’t need bi-Han and decide to run the Lin kuei how she sees fit by creating cyber initiation but NOOOOO it’s gotta be “Liu kang forgot about my man so now I hate him”

A very off the top of my head example could be something like

“Though I had returned to the temple after Titan Havik’s defeat, I remained livid. Livid with Bi-Han’s foolishness, Kuai Liang’s betrayal, and Cyrax’s defection to his shirai ryu. Bi-Han’s actions, his immaturity in the face of such a threat, they made me realise how unfit he was to lead the Lin Kuei. As master armourer, and now acting grandmaster, I decided to put my focus on the clan’s future, a future that did not involve Bi-Han’s arrogance and unpredictability. My initiative was first met with resistance, but those who opposed did not realise that “no” was never an option. This is the future of the Lin Kuei, a future rid of any opposing clans, a future with me at the helm.”

You got lipstick on my face!

Theme: sfw

Summary: kissing your husband, forgetting you had lipstick on.

Pair: Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Liu Kang, Kenshi Takahashi, Kung Lao, Raiden, Rain, Smoke, Geras, Syzoth, Shang Tsung x chubby reader 

Tw: down-bad men, they are after you

A/n I’ve checked my inbox, you guys are gonna make me cry with all the compliment

You were extremely excited to go on a date with your husband, with all the work he has, there is barely any time left for you both! You put on lipstick to enchant your lips even more, which was a mistake. You enjoyed pressing kisses on your husband, which is why lipstick should be a no to you

Johnny doesn’t give two shits, he’ll walk around with bunch’s of lipstick stains on his face! It’s a trophy for him, his wife gave him kisses! He ignores any weirded stares he’s given, let them stare, he’s famous after all. But he isn’t giving them a wink of his attention, he’s only staring at how good you look in that dress. You’ll be taking tons of photos, many where Johnny has his hand “sneakily” on your plush hips. Scold him, not like he’s listening when he gets a great view of your body 

Bi-Han will stare at you, you could see the soft blush on his cheeks. You giggle, attempting to wipe away the lipstick stain which only spreads it even more. You smile innocently when he asks if you got it off, nodding your head. He’s confused, why are people laughing when he walks by or has a smile? You almost panic when he says he’s going to the restroom, he definitely is going to know. The moment he came back out, his face was red, but the lipstick stains are still there. Now matter how cold he could act, he still enjoys your affection. 

Kuai Liang would be a blushy mess, but he still loves it. He would never be uncomfortable with the affection you give him, a little hesitant to walk around with lipstick marks. But when you tried to wipe it off, he dodged the wet paper towel. He’ll happily walk around, now everyone knows your his and he is yours. Gets embarrassed when Smoke comes over and teases you both, patting your husband's shoulder before scrambling off before Bi-Han could scold him. 

Liu kang is so confused, what makes his face feel sticky? He swears he knows what lipstick is, but he’s just lying. You give him the simplest explanation, but he still doesn’t know why you kissed his face. But a kiss is a kiss, he’s happy! Happily walks around with red lipstick on his face, it’s his pride! Nobody would even look his way, they realize how happy he is with it. He has much respect, he expects that same amount of respect even when he looks a bit goofy.

Kenshi felt so awkward in that moment, it’s not that he doesn’t love you! You're going to give the poor man a heart attack! His blindfold didn’t help his case, his face bright red. As much as you wanted to tell him it’s fine to wipe off the lipstick, he didn’t want to! Although he regrets going out in public, Johnny was there laughing his ass off when he saw Kenshi. Kenshi will never live this off, Johnny somehow took a photo fast before Kenshi could even grab his phone. They made a bet, it doesn’t concern you, the sight of Kenshi’s friendship with Johnny was funny to you. Kenshi would grumble under his breath, resting his head on your shoulder. You owe him cuddles for a month. 

Kung Lao was shocked for a second, before his flirty smirk came back. Are you sure you want to play this game with him? You always were the one who’s blushing at the end of this game, his hand gently rubs at your cheek. You shriek, attempting to get away from your husband who had ill intentions now. Somehow you got him to leave the house, without any trouble. Keep an eye on his hands, he’ll attempt to squeeze anything he can get his hand on. Don’t be shy, smack his hands, stop him from doing something that will make you flustered. If he notices how flustered you are, he would chuckle and place his hat on your head. Covering you from the curious looks from watchers, in the end, he always wins this little game. He’ll make it up to you, maybe a dance? 

Raiden chuckles, a cheesy smile on his face. He didn’t grow up with Kung Lao for no reason, they share similar traits. He knows exactly how to make you flustered, he learnt it from his best bud. Though you have a chance to reverse the order, you can make him blush! Just as he was about to do something flirty, you smash your lips against his. There goes another lipstick mark, and now his face is red in embarrassment. He’ll be blushing the entire time you're out, he can’t stop thinking about your kisses! Kung Lao definitely chuckled when he saw how blushy Raiden was, they were still two different people after all. 

Rain is very embarrassed, don’t embarrass him, he wants to be super cool! He wants to maintain his title, you just make him seem like a sucker for attention. Which is, he instantly melts when you kiss his face. He chuckles, leaning closer for your touch. You're the only person who can see him without, let alone press kisses to his face. He wouldn’t go out anymore, he’s desperate for more of your attention! Don’t you dare stop, give him more kisses or he might die! He’ll have you trapped underneath him, you're not allowed to leave until you give him your kisses!

Smoke is a giggling mess, his face bright red. Give him one of your lipstick, he wants to give you lipstick marks too! You both end up going at with lipstick stains on both of your faces, others would groan when they see you both. You guys acted like teenagers sometimes, doing chaotic and corny stuff together. Smoke couldn’t care less if his brothers saw you both, though Kuai Liang would chuckle while Bi-Han would scoff, but he was happy for his little brother. 

Geras would be extremely confused, he’s never experienced affection. All he knows is that he likes the way it felt, his body seems to want more of whatever that was. Liu kang would chuckle if he saw the lipstick stains on Geras’s face, which is why he wants to stay home. He would have his eyes closed as you pepper more kisses to his face, you giggle at how cute your husband could be sometimes. He wants to ask why you did that, but he’ll ask later once he gets his fill of your affection. Just continue to pepper kisses to his face, it feels really nice.

Syzoth is confused but he’s smiling, he loves all the affection you give him. His tail would be wagging so fast, almost hitting your leg. His tail thumps loudly on the ground, thankfully there were no items near you or else they would have gone flying. His tail would be wagging for a while, he can’t help it! He’s so happy to receive any affection from you, you could almost hear the quiet purr coming from him. You now have to give all your attention to your greedy lizard husband 

Shang Tsung would instantly dodge your touch, it’s a reflex. When he saw your face sadden, he instantly brought you close. He’d coo at you, rubbing your head gently. He presses his lips against yours, chuckling when you blush. His fingers would gently rub on your hips as you press kisses to his face. He’ll let you have your moment, but later he’ll be teasing you for this. His fingers gently trace your face, seeing the dumb smile on your face. You spend the rest of your night with your husband, being romantic to the point it was corny. 

More mortal kombat cause I can’t get enough of these men

Warming the ice (Bi-Han and Tomas MK1 fic)

(MK1 childhood Lin Kuei trio - Bi-Han and Tomas)

Summary - Bi-Han feels isolated. Alone. Unloved. Little toddler Tomas can't have his brother feeling that way, and steps in to try and help.

(Hurt/comfort/brotherly love) (~3000 words)

Will eventually be up on my AO3 once the rest of the chapter is complete and I'm satisfied with it all - We are family. - Tsukuyomi_Ravioli - Mortal Kombat - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Enjoy!

.

“You cannot keep acting like a child.”

Bi-Han lowered his gaze to the pebbled ground beneath him, trying desperately to swallow the bitterness rising in his throat.

“You must be stronger. Smarter. You cannot afford to keep showing these weaknesses of yours, Bi-Han. The Lin Kuei depends on you.”

“I’m sorry.” Ice was forming on the tips of his shoes. A new development of his cryomancer abilities, if he had to guess. It would have intrigued him, had it been at any other moment in time. Now, it only aided to further humiliate him. A physical manifestation of these weaknesses of his. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yet it continues to, despite our discussions.”

“I know.” His head dipped lower, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Rough, sharp canines cut easily through the plump flesh. His tongue tasted copper. “I will better myself.” He bit out, “I will. For the clan. For Earthrealm.”

“It doesn’t look it, Bi-Han.”

Sometimes, Bi-Han felt lonely.

It was a stupid, childish feeling. One he knew he shouldn’t have- shouldn’t even consider at all, really- because how could he be lonely, surrounded as he was by the Lin Kuei? By his family? By the bustling life of the temple and its nearby surrounding villages? 

He wasn’t some isolated outcast, shunned and forgotten by society. He interacted with people every day. He studied with his masters, sparred with the other students, listened to his elders- he was one of the sons of the Grandmaster, for the gods' sake. People knew him. Took advice from him. Respected him. Feared him.

And still, here it lay, deep beneath the surface. That gnawing, hungry emptiness he couldn’t quite shake, no matter how hard he tried- and believe him. He tried.

A silent killer- it crept in during the quiet moments. Moments where he was supposed to be relaxing, away from his life as the Grandmaster’s heir. Moments where he was supposed to be happy, living as the boy he was, not as the man he was expected to become. Where peace and joy were supposed to overtake everything in his soul.

When the echoes of his footsteps, and the whispers of his breath were the only sounds of the night. When the only noises were the whistles of the wind, and his fingers flitting through the pages of his books. When he meditated, when he ate, when he lay down to sleep. That’s when it would sneak in. It always knew exactly where to find him, to hurt him most. Wrapping itself tight around his heart, turning the featherlight moment into something suffocating and heavy.

“You’ll always be different. You’ll never fit in.”

“No one could ever love you, you know.”

It gnawed at him, quiet and persistent, gently unravelling the threads of his calm until all he could feel was frustration and doubt. Where he could no longer meditate, or read. Where he could no longer stand the silence that he would crave at any other time in his hectic life. 

He didn’t understand it- this inexplicable sense of isolation that lingered even when he was surrounded by his clan. It made no sense. He wasn’t alone, so why did he feel like he was? Why did he feel so distant, so disconnected from everyone around him?

“You will never belong.”

Maybe this was one of his weaknesses. The ones his master spoke of, constantly chided him about. Maybe this feeling inside of him was proof of his failure to overcome. Proof he wasn’t as ready to fulfil his destiny. Proof he was not as ready as he thought he was.

“You’ll never be ready. You’ll never be enough.”

The thoughts twisted in his mind, feeding the guilt that already festered deep inside. He was supposed to be better than this- stronger, colder, unfeeling- unyielding like the ice he so graciously commanded. He was supposed to be the future protector of Earthrealm, the future leader of the Lin Kuei, the future Grandmaster himself. But instead, he felt adrift. Lost in a sea of emotions. Emotions he should. Not. Be. Feeling.

Something soft and wet landed on the skin of his hand, startling him out of his own head.

He blinked, gaze darting downwards to look at the watery droplet on his hand, and then upwards at the sky high above him. It wasn’t raining. The night’s clouds were sparse- even the few he did see were light and wispy, not dark and heavy with… Oh.

He scrubbed a hand over his damp face with a shaky huff, breathing thickly into his palm. Weak. Weak, weak, weak.

“A Grandmaster does not weep, Bi-Han. He does not shed tears. He is the foundation of his clan, the stones upon which his people walk.”

He shakily exhaled, hunching his shoulders as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He’d never be good enough. He’d never feel content. He’d never feel happy. He’d never feel loved. He’d never-

“Bi-Han?”

A voice startled him from the storm raging inside his mind. It was quiet, muffled, almost overshadowed by the wind. Any normal person wouldn’t have even heard such a small mutter of a noise.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small figure standing at the edges of the courtyard, watching him. Their little hands wrang nervously against one another, ghostly pale eyes peeking out curiously at him from behind wisps of grey, smoke-curled hair.

Tomas.

Panic and shame surged through Bi-Han. How long had he been standing there? How much had he seen?

He quickly straightened, hastily scrubbing a hand across his face as he went, praying it erased any lingering traces of his vulnerability. Tomas couldn’t see him like this. He couldn’t allow him to witness his failures. What kind of older brother would he be if he did that? 

Tomas knew him as a brave, fearless warrior, he couldn’t see him as a scared, weeping child. Tomas looked up to him- relied on him. Needed him to be strong. Tomas depended on him to be a protector, a warrior of unyielding ice, the Grandmaster he was destined to become.

The whole world did, really. Whether they knew it or not.

“Tomas.” He called out to the boy. His voice was rough and scratchy, edged with an iciness that he hoped sounded commanding. He inhaled once more, forcing his shoulders back, attempting to regain his lost composure. “What are you doing out here?”

Tomas wasn’t allowed in the training yard, by orders of their mother. That much Bi-Han knew- and while technically, Tomas wasn’t in the courtyard, the little boy standing just on its outskirts, his small face peering in past the entrance archway, it was good enough. It gave him something to focus on rather than the uncomfortable coiling in his gut. 

The child didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze dropped to the ground, clearly eyeing the fine-line between outside and inside the yard. His tiny teeth gnawed at his bottom lip, awkwardly shuffling from one foot to the other. He looked so small, so… innocent.

Bi-Han briefly wondered if that was what he himself looked like, when the elders scolded him.

“I just… uhm.” Tomas’ voice was still whispered, still that timid, uncertain tone. “I saw you sitting all by yourself.” The wind ruffled his grey curls, the hair swirling like smoke from a fire. “You looked… sad.”

Bi-Han’s heart tightened uncomfortably in his chest. He forced himself to remain stern, to keep his voice steady. This little interaction would be over soon, and then he could go back to… whatever he was doing before this. “You should be inside.” He started, “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

Usually, Tomas would take that as his cue to dart away, lest he faces his eldest brother’s infamous icy lectures. To run right for his room and right to bed, as suggested. But Tomas didn’t move- at least, not to leave he didn’t.

Instead, he took a step forward. Into the training yard.

“Tomas.” Bi-Han warned, voice low.

Tomas took another step. Then another. Then another- his bright pale eyes never leaving Bi-Han’s own dull brown ones. Small, milky-white teeth still worried the skin of his bottom lip, his tiny hands playing with the dulled, yellow seams of his hand-me-down jumper. This was unusual of the kid- Tomas never defied any rules set for him, even the ones that Bi-Han himself deemed silly and pointless. He found himself silent, watching him wander closer, and closer, until the boy was mere metres away from him.

“Are you…” The seams of Kuai’s old jumper were falling off in little chunks, now, torn away by fumbling little fingers. “Are you… okay?”

Bi-Han almost outright flinched at the question. 

His mouth instantly opened, ready to scold, to fight- to push Tomas away. To protect his image, to reverse whatever memory Tomas now had seared in his mind of his elder brother, weak and crying right in front of him. 

But nothing came.

He couldn’t do it.

Something in Tomas’ gaze- the sincere, too-real understanding. The ghostly eyes filled with concern- it made him hesitate. The harsh words he wanted to say, willed himself to say, never came. The words intended to scare the child away from ever attempting this again couldn’t form. His cold tongue turned soft. 

Tomas took another shy step toward. His small, soft hand reached out to gently touch Bi-Han’s knee.

“It’s okay.” The little boy whispered. He sounded far too old for the age he really was. “It’s okay to cry. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

His throat tightened. Those words, such simple, stupid words, and yet- yet it hit him. Hard. Harder than any of his master’s criticisms ever had. Bi-Han’s lower lip was trembling, his vision blurring with those god-forsaken tears again, his so-carefully built walls crumbling easily under the watchful gaze of a mere child.

He didn’t know what to say- how do you respond to something that sincere? That honest and truthful? Such pure, disarming kindness? He wasn’t used to it- he wanted to squirm away, run for the hills and never look back- and yet he didn’t. He found himself just… nodding. A small, almost imperceptible motion, but Tomas caught it. Tomas saw it. Saw him.

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Tomas’ mouth, a soft, gentle expression that seemed to warm the frigid air around them. A boost of confidence that set the toddler aiming further. Higher. 

Without much hesitation, his littlest brother clumsily climbed up onto the bench beside him, his small hand never leaving Bi-Han’s knee, using it instead to boost himself up with a soft oomph until he was safely onboard the wooden contraption, his own knees dangling off the bench’s edge.

Bi-Han watched him with a mixture of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite name. It was unfamiliar. A warm feeling that spread from where Tomas touched him, seeping through his bloodstream to his cold, icy heart. 

Hope, maybe? Love?

Tomas settled beside him, shuffling so he was close enough that he could rest his head against Bi-Han’s side, his other hand curling around his arm, clutching on tight. The toddler didn’t say anything else- he didn’t need to. The message was clear.

“I love you.”

“You belong.”

“You’re enough.”

For a long while, they sat like that. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but soothing, and gentle. The heavy weight in Bi-Han’s chest seemed to lessen, just a little. As if Tomas’ presence was enough to shave away some of the thick burden that he carried. He could feel the toddler’s fingers tiredly tracing the swirling gold pattern on the sleeve of his hanfu. Could see his eyes were half-closed, cheek smushed from where it was pressed against him. He really should be in bed by now.

“Tomas.” Bi-Han’s voice was croaky from disuse, though softer, that icy edge from before long gone. “Why exactly were you out here- in the first place? You know you shouldn’t be.”

Tomas lifted his head sleepily, blinking up at Bi-Han with those almost glowing pale eyes. “I saw you from my bedroom window.” He said quietly. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” He snuggled back in, sighing warmly, eyes beginning to close once more, voice drifting into an almost silent murmur. Words that felt like they weren't for Bi-Han’s own ears to hear. “I know what it’s like to be alone.”

Bi-Han’s heart twisted at that. He unravelled his arm from out of Tomas’ grip, instead curling it around the boy himself, drawing him closer, into something that somewhat resembled an embrace. His fingers touched soft, smoky hair. “Thank you.” He murmured, the words thick with emotion, “I… I needed it.”

Tomas smiled up at him again, his face tired, but his eyes shining with joy. He pressed closer, little grey hair tickling Bi-Han’s chin as he wormed his way further into his brother, as if he was attempting to merge their bodies together. Bi-Han simply let him.

“Don’t worry.” The little boy whispered, after a brief moment of silence. “I won’t tell Kuai.”

A small, unexpected smile tugged at the corners of Bi-Han’s own mouth now. “Good.” He found himself replying lightly, nodding. “You know I’d hate to lose my reputation as the cool one.”

Tomas giggled softly, yawning. “You’ll always be the cool one. Kuai’s the fiery one, remember?”

They sat there in silence for a little while longer after that, the quiet evening wrapping around them like a protective cocoon. Bi-Han found himself staring out at the empty courtyard, watching the shadows deepen as the night finally fully set in. Normally, this would be the time where that loneliness crept in. Reared its ugly face at him, reminding him of all his fears. All his doubts and insecurities. But tonight was different. With Tomas here- though asleep as he was now, drooling on the side of his very expensive hanfu- it was different. The silence wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t debilitating. It was bearable. Enjoyable, almost. 

It was no longer an enemy, but the companion it should have always been to him. One that allowed him to breathe, to simply exist as himself. Not as the future protector of Earthrealm- not as the future leader of the Lin Kuei, not as the future Grandmaster, but as Bi-Han. 

He could be just Bi-Han today. And that was okay. It was okay because people wanted just Bi-Han. In whatever shape and form he came in- broken or unbroken.

The beginning (MK1 Tomas fic)

Hey there! Do you like Mortal Kombat 1? Do you like the Lin Kuei? Do you like traumatising children?

Well boy do I have the fanfiction for you!

Summary: The beginning of the Lin Kuei trio - The murder of the Vrbada family (Hurt/comfort - slight gore) - Word count ~ 6000

Can also be read here, on AO3: We are family. - Tsukuyomi_Ravioli - Mortal Kombat - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

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He had been only five. Only five, when his family were slaughtered.

That day- it was something he would never, ever forget. One of the first ever full memories to grace what he considered his early ‘childhood’, and it was one of his most vivid to date even all these years later.

His family were not deserving of the end that befell them that fateful day. They were not criminals- they had not stolen, pillaged or murdered. Their hearts were pure and beautiful, despite their personal struggles. They had been humble hunters, seeking a quiet, calm life. Yet despite this, their bright, kind souls were extinguished without a second thought that day. Right before his very eyes. His life had almost been taken in that fell swoop too.

And for what reason? Well, Tomas was still chasing the answer to this very day. Twenty nine years later. He had a feeling that he would never find it, though.

“Tomas-!”

Even if he did finally find an answer that made sense- an excuse that he could possibly understand and reason with, it didn’t change the fact that that day hurt him more than he had ever been hurt in his whole life. No physical wound could reap as much sorrow and pain as he had felt that day.

“Máma?”

Not even his own death could ever compare.

Tomas had been dozing, his little head resting in his hands when loud, violent shouting tore him from the beginning of a peaceful dream. 

Someone was yelling. In what language, exactly, Tomas wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that whoever it was was really, really upset, their snarls rattling the walls around him. They sounded like his Tatínek- when he drank too much juice, that was. Maybe this person had drunk too much too? They must have drunk a lot, if so. Tomas had never heard someone sound so angry.

 A sudden crash rattled the wall near his bedroom window. Tomas startled, his pale eyes wide. The whole room seemed to tremble with the impact, groaning as if it might collapse at any moment. His toys, once steady in their scattered spots across his floor wobbled and fell, little wooden soldiers clattering to the floor. Another shout, more yelling and then-

He gasped as his window shattered, exploding inwards towards him, tiny, fine shards of glittering glass raining down upon him like tiny, sparkling knives. He bit his lip, hard, a shiver wracking through his body as the cold night’s air swept easily into the room, biting into his exposed skin uncomfortably. This person- they needed to calm down. Papa got angry too, sometimes really, really angry, but never like this. 

Speaking of his Tatínek, he could hear him now, voice rising to meet the stranger’s own. Angry, heated words- something about the window, about the money it would cost. Typical of his Papa, really, but Tomas could hear, under that familiar, fiery anger, something new. Something different. Something that made his little stomach twist into knots. Fear.

His dad was scared.

He looked down at the glass surrounding him once more. It was like a landmine of sharp little daggers of ice, glistening from the lanterns outside. Máma would be so mad. She hated messes like this. Tomas would know- he’d caused many himself. Accidentally, of course. 

He should go and find her, really. Tell her that his window was broken, that he was cold, and that Papa may or may not be outside arguing with another crazy-man. She’d drag his Papa back inside so fast by just the ear if she found out he was causing up a stir. She was always quick to stomp his argumentative flame out.

Ever-so-carefully, he pushed himself upwards. His tiny hands brushed off the glass from his clothes as best as he could. He grabbed his favourite toy- a little wooden horse, handmade from the finest wood. A birthday gift, from his late babička. ‘For protection’ he reasoned with himself as he held the wooden figure close to his chest, letting his thumb gently run over the familiar grooves, feeling each and every cut that had been deliberately made in order to form the cute horse staring up at him. Comfort and ease washed over him.

Now, to find his Máma.

Cracking his door open, he peered out into the dimly lit corridor. The shouting was louder here, somehow. It was harsh and ugly, words Tomas hadn’t ever heard before being exchanged by his Papa and the stranger. More things were thrown, too, hitting the outer walls in rapid succession, shattering upon impact, rattling the house as they went. Grown-ups were scary, scary things.

“You’ve wandered into the wrong fucking area.” His father was slurring in Czech, voice muffled behind the bulk of the front door separating Tomas from the madness outside. His words were heavy, like it was a strain on his whole body to talk. Tomas’ little feet were quick to move away from the door, carrying him towards the kitchen instead, which resided right at the back of their house. That’s where he would find his Máma, napping in her big, brown, cosy rocking chair. She loved that chair. So did he- she always rocked him in it when he had nightmares. “You think you can come here and threaten me? Threaten my family? Do you? Who do you think you are, huh? Huh!?”

The stranger yelled something in their own native tongue, and before Tomas could even attempt to debunk it, a new sound tore through the night. 

His father’s screams.

Tomas froze, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t a mad scream. It was something else entirely, something he had never heard from his father before until this very moment. Pain. His father was screaming from pure and utter agony. He sounded hurt, really, really badly hurt. The house shook with the sound, the walls shuddering and whining. It sounded like the house was crying. Or maybe that was his Tatínek, Tomas couldn’t tell anymore.

Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Everything stopped. The world was so incredibly still that the only thing he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears. The frantic flutter of his petrified heart was loud, and painful, too. His tiny hand came to rest on his shirt above the spot, squeezing tight. 

“Papa?” He couldn’t help but call out, voice croaky and raspy with fear. He listened for a moment, straining his ears to hear anything other than his own laboured, terrified breathing. Nothing. Not a single sound.

The door unlocked with a soft click, like a twig snapping in a quiet forest, creaking open slowly on its hinges.

Tomas tried again, hopeful and desperate. His fingers tightened on his toy. “Papa?”

It wasn’t his Papa.

Tomas found himself here often.

It wasn’t a particularly well-known spot to those residing in the Shirai Ryu temples. An old, withered security post, high up out of the reach of even their best students, overlooking the wondrous, snow-capped mountains the very temples were built upon. The little area was untouched by humans for the most part, and, because of this, mother nature had been quick to recapture it. Birds’ nests, moss, lichen, it all grew and flourished in the cover of concrete privacy. Its beauty now marred the once dead stone walls, turning them into something new. Something alive. Something cherishable, and beautiful.

It reminded him of his first ever hunt with his dad. Covering his body in dirt and sticks and other gross muck in an attempt to ‘blend in’ with nature, trying to hold back his childish giggles as he lay stomach-down on the forest floor, His father laying beside him, dripping in mud and covered head-to-toe in leaves, attempting to shush and scold him with a finger against his own curled grin.

They had looked like a pair of idiots. Came back empty-handed too. As it turns out, birds and hares startled easily when you had a wiggling, excited toddler at your side, no matter how much of an expert you were. His dad hadn’t been upset, though. Instead he had ruffled Tomas’ filthy, mud-streaked hair with a laugh, and bought some rabbit meat from one of the local butchers on the way home.

His dad had tried to pretend Tomas had caught it, when confronted curiously by his mother. Wound up a wild tale of a chase that led to Tomas wrangling the prey with his bare hands. Obviously, Tomas’ mother wasn’t stupid enough to buy into that. Still, it had them all laughing and snorting and giggling over a nice cooked stew later that day. The rabbit had tasted amazing. 

Of course, that only happened once she had thoroughly scrubbed the pair of them clean from the dirt on the porch outside. She wouldn’t have let them step a single foot in the house before they were sparkling clean.

The sword was the first thing his eyes latched onto, the blade catching in the moonlight. Long streaks of crimson smeared the metal, thick drops of blood sliding off its edge and hitting the ground in sickening splats. 

The person didn’t look at him. He didn’t need to. His intentions were clear.

“Máma!” He shrieked, stealth forgotten as he turned tail and ran. His heart was in his throat- he felt sick. Deeply, truly sick. “Máma! Máma!”

He burst into the kitchen, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process as he reached his mother. She was there, right where he’d pictured she would be, sat in her cosy rocking chair, looking at him with kind, sleep-fogged eyes. Her calm demeanour did nothing to ease him. He couldn’t stop shaking. 

Flinging herself at her, he buried his face into her lap, tiny hands desperately clutching onto her with newfound strength. His breath came in ragged, whimpered gasps, “Máma!”

“Tomas?” Her voice was silky and soft, still heavy with sleep as she blinked at him. His twin sister, Anna, sirred in her arms, pink tongue sticking out as she yawned. “Tomas? Sweetheart?” His mother called again, her beautiful, graceful features etched in a worried frown. A hand came to cup his cheek, thumb wiping at the tears in his eyes. “Another nightmare?”

The birds were chirping softly, nestled high above him, the moss wet and soothing under his palms.

His sister would have loved it. 

At least, he thinks she would have.

If Tomas closed his eyes, he could imagine it. Imagine Anna laughing, how the echoes of her giggles would ring through the quiet space. Her small, soft hands reaching out to touch the moss, her big, doe brown eyes staring up in wonder at the birds nesting above her head. She had always been the more adventurous of the two of them. Braver, louder, she was everything he was not. 

If he closed his eyes, he could see her here, with him. See her older, wiser, but still the little Anna he had grown up with. Cheeky and loving, her blonde hair longer, curling slightly at the ends, and still that same kind, curious gaze in her eyes as she took in the world around them both like she was five once more.

But it was just that, wasn’t it? Just imagination. Some sad, bittersweet fantasy his mind created, desperate to try and fill the aching void in his heart.

Today that void could not be filled. The gaping chasm of aching in his battered soul only wanted one thing, and that thing could never be given to him. 

Another year, that’s what today marked. Another year since his family’s murder.

The wind whispered softly through the temples, ruffling his clothes as if desperately attempting to soothe him. But that ache in his chest remained. It was a familiar pain, one Tomas was well aware of. A special place in his heart that ached only for his family. To play with his sister, or his father. To hug his mother. To feel her gentle arms on him, rocking him as she once did, her lips in his hair, pressing a kiss to chase away his nightmares.

The rocking chair lay on its side now, abandoned, its familiar, loving creak silenced. The three of them were huddled on the floor now, tucked away in the nearest corner; Tomas’ Máma had been quick to push him behind her, positioning herself between her children and the man stood in the doorway. Anna was clutched onto her side, her little face buried deep in their mother’s chest, her tiny body wracked with the trembles of complete and utter fear.

Anna’s sobs were muffled against their mother’s nightgown, but Tomas could feel every tremor. He pressed himself close to his mother too, peering out from behind his Máma’s shoulder, his small hands clung tightly to her gown, fingers twisting the fabric in a white-knuckled grip. 

The man- he was just standing there, in the doorway, watching them cower, only a few feet away. In his hand, that fated sword. Tomas could see it clearer now. Bits of hair and flesh were scattered among its crimson smears, like grotesque ornaments. He felt sick.

His mother noticed it too. She let out a heart-wrenching sob, her whole body beginning to tremble as realisation dawned upon her. “Marek…”

The man took a step closer. His mother’s hand shot backwards blindly, searching for Tomas, grasping a tight hold on him, pulling him even closer to her. He could feel the raw desperation in the way her nails dug into his skin, her breath hitching. It was as if she was trying to anchor them together, save them from a fate unsavable. Even she could not will them away from the inevitable. 

“They’re just children.” She choked out, her voice a true desperate plea. There was no anger, no fight. Just a mother’s last true hope. “They are just children.” Her voice shook, her body quaking. “Just kill me, please. Please leave them alone. Let them live, please. Please, god, let them live.”

Another step. Then another. Tomas buried his head into his mother’s soft hair, the familiar, comforting scent of her filling his nose. He could hear Anna’s frightened whimpers, feel her writhing and quaking against him. He reached out with his free hand, finding her arm and squeezing tightly. ‘I’m here’ he wanted to say, ‘I’m here. I love you’, but his mouth was screwed shut. The words couldn’t come, no matter how hard he willed them to. 

“I don’t want to die.” Anna’s whisper, hot and frantic in his ear, broke his heart into a thousand pieces. “Tomas, I don’t want to die. I’m scared-” Her voice broke into another sob. He wanted to tell her so, so badly that it would be okay. That they would be safe, somehow, that their Máma would get them out of this, but the words, just like before, simply would not come. He was scared too. So, so scared.

He never got the chance to comfort her. To hold her tightly, to kiss her forehead like he did so very often. The blade descended, swift and merciless, before he could even blink.

“Tomas?”

A voice startled him from his thoughts, though it was gentle, familiar. Kuai Liang. Leave it to his brother to track him down even when Tomas himself didn’t want to be found. ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire’. Something like that.

He didn’t need to look to know what his brother was thinking. Kuai Liang was no stranger to loss himself, and he was not blind to others' losses either, especially not his younger brother’s. Tomas felt a flicker of gratitude- a small ember of light in the darkness he had been drifting in. He wasn’t being pressured to talk, to make up silly excuses. Tomas didn’t need to explain himself. Kuai Liang wasn’t seeking an explanation. He knew why Tomas was here.

The silence settled between them, only disturbed by the wind. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It could never be awkward with Kuai Liang. Tomas could feel his warmth from here, a gentle, welcoming presence. An anchor to reality amidst his spiralling thoughts.

Kuai Liang’s footsteps, light, yet deliberate, broke their shared quiet, though barely heard over the wild whistling around them. He moved carefully into Tomas’ peripheral, his posture relaxed and calm as he claimed the empty spot beside him. With a deep, tired sigh, Kuai Liang leaned back on his hands, his gaze wandering over the surrounding landscape. The freshly-healed scar over his right eye tugged slightly with every small movement of his face. “I’ve never been up here before.” He hummed, “It’s nice. Peaceful.”

Tomas swallowed, his voice rough and croaky from disuse, “You don’t have to do this.” He started, “I’d understand.”

Kuai Liang paused. He shifted closer, until their shoulders touched, a steady warmth radiating from his body into Tomas’ own. His brother was a furnace. Always had been, really. The heat grounded Tomas in the moment. Kuai Liang shook his head, his expression calm but firm. “I do.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Don’t.” 

Tomas left it at that.

Go limp. Play dead.

Close your eyes, slow your breathing. Pretend it doesn’t hurt. Don’t flinch, don’t cry, don’t make a single sound. Do nothing at all. If you’re still, maybe you’ll live to see another day.

Anna was choking next to him,her breaths gurgling, wet and ragged, as if she were drowning. His mother was silent. Tomas kept his eyes tightly shut, willing himself not to look.

He attempted to steady his breathing, to quiet the frantic pounding of his heart. His whole body screamed in agony, twitching and writhing despite his best efforts. The blade hadn’t been merciful- the man had not held back. Deep, painful lacerations laced his skin- his face felt like it was on fire, his blood boiling as it pooled out of him, searing his pale, once unmarred skin. He wanted to cry so badly. To shriek and thrash and wail. He was only five. Only five.

He wanted his Máma. To feel her arms around him, hear her soft voice as she soothed away the pain. To have her kiss his bruises and bandage his cuts, to rock him to sleep like she always did when he was upset. His hand was still entangled in her nightgown, his face pressed against the back of her neck, which was steadily growing colder with each passing second. 

She was right there, beside him, and yet Tomas had never felt so alone.

He sighed, turning to lean closer into Kuai Liang’s welcoming presence, resting his cheek on his elder brother’s shoulder. In turn, Kuai Liang’s arm wrapped around him, tugging him closer. 

“I hate seeing you like this.” His brother whispered, as if almost to himself, gaze still set on the mountains before them. On the setting sun casting pretty yellows and purples across the cloudless sky. “I always hoped, as the years went by, that you’d be able to heal fully.” His mouth tugged into a grim, thin line, “I know now that pain like that doesn’t disappear, no matter how much you will it to.”

Watching his mother and sister die was something that Tomas could never, ever truly scrub from his memory. Pieces of his childhood had fallen away over the years, slipping through his fingers slowly like sand as he aged, but that memory would never leave him. It was imprinted on his brain, hardwired into his DNA, entangled in his coding- whatever metaphor he tried to use didn’t give it enough justice. It was there, and it was never leaving him. No matter what.

Part of him was thankful. Knowing that he’ll keep a memory of them forever- be able to remember their faces in such vivid detail, their voices clean and well-kept in tone, as other memories of his faded and warped over time. He won’t ever forget what they looked like. To him, that is invaluable.

Part of him though, deep down? He felt as though that moment was glued to him to remind him how he failed them. He led that attacker right to them both as they slept, unaware of the dangers. If he had run elsewhere, had time to wake them up before leading the man to them, done something brave and different- maybe the outcome would have changed. Maybe they would still be here today, alongside him.

Tomas didn’t know how long he lay there, motionless, his small, tiny body curled against his mother’s cold side. Time had become a blur, a slow, endless stretch of darkness and pain. He was caught between the terrifying thought that maybe this was what death was, and the equally more petrifying idea that if he was alive, and he moved, even just an inch, the man would return and finish what he started. 

Maybe this is what death really was. Nothingness. No heaven, no hell, just absolute nothingness. You just lay there, alone, forever, feeling nothing but aching emptiness and unending agony. He hoped it wasn't. He really, really hoped it wasn’t.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears eventually, breaking the eerie silence of the night. They were growing louder and louder. Voices hit the air around him, unfamiliar and hurried, a language he didn’t understand. He stayed still, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, his breath catching in his throat as the footsteps drew nearer and nearer, creaking down the hallway in a hurried fashion. The kitchen door whined on its hinges. His bloodied fingers clenched tighter onto his mother’s nightgown. 

A gentle, soft hand touched his neck, nimble fingers feeling for a pulse. Then, another cradled his head. Tomas couldn’t help but flinch, a sharp, violent shiver running through his body. The touch was warm. Alive. He dared to open his eyes. Just a little.

A woman. Long, black, silky strands of hair curling delicately around her cheeks, her haunted face pale in the moonlight. She was kneeling beside him, once-white clothes soaked crimson in the blood of his mother, sister- him, too, to an extent. Her eyes were the same shade of brown as his mother’s. Filled with the same concern, the same kindness. She was talking to him, her lips moving, though blurred by his tear-clouded vision, voice low and soothing, though he couldn’t understand a single word.

“Máma…” He whimpered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He wasn’t sure if he was calling for his mother, or asking this kind, strange lady to be her.

The woman, in turn, gave him a sad, heartbroken smile. She reached forward, her arms slipping under him, lifting him gently from the blood-soaked floor, pressing him close into her side. Tomas let her, too numb and weak to resist, a hand curling in the cloth of her dress. His head lolled against her shoulder tiredly, half-lidded eyes drawn back to the scene he had been pulled from.

His mother, his sister- they were just… lying there. Still and silent, their faces pale in the dim light of the night. His mother’s hand, the one that had held onto him so dearly, was so deathly limp now. Contorted and completely lifeless. Anna’s small body was curled into her side, half-tucked away from view, his mother’s last attempts at saving her clear as day. 

The woman holding onto him began moving away, turning towards the door without much notice, eager to leave the massacre behind. Her voice was still soft, though dripping in worry and urgency. Her hand cupped the back of his head where it rested against her shoulder, thumb feeling over a long, deep cut on his scalp. His gaze remained fixed on his family’s corpses, though. A part of him wanted to cry out, to reach for them. To demand that this woman put him down, let him cuddle with them one last time, to fall asleep in his mother’s arms once more, but his body wouldn’t respond. It felt as though he was floating, detached from everything around him. From himself, especially. His lips were sealed tightly shut as the door to the kitchen closed, his family disappearing for the last time behind its wooden frame.

Tomas’ world was a blur of movement and noises as the woman carried him through the cold night’s air. He could hear her calling out, her voice urgent and strong, though her words foreign and unfamiliar. Men, women, they had joined her as she walked, lanterns held up high, glinting weapons sheathed safely in scabbards as they escorted the pair. He glanced around, head still resting on the woman’s shoulder, eyes heavy with exhaustion. They were approaching something- something big. Massive, really. Tall and elegant, high up atop a hill, the climb steep and treacherous.

Oh. This must be a temple. Tomas had never seen a temple before.

The temple's inhabitants were beginning to stir as the woman’s calls echoed through the courtyards. Sleepy, confused faces appearing in windows and doorways, their features blurred by the soft glow of the travelling lanterns moving past. He could feel their eyes on him, though, their gazes shocked and concerned, racking over his wounds and the blood smeared both over him and his saviour. The woman’s hands tightened on him, pulling him closer, as if attempting to shield him from their judging view. That, he appreciated.

Two boys caught his own gaze as he sleepily looked at the crowds around him. One taller, more broader, the other smaller, but no less muscular, both staring at him from the footpath to one of the much larger, prettier temple homes. The taller one wore a deep, calming blue, the other a bright, fiery yellow, their little confused faces peering out at him, dark, curious eyes meeting his own pale ones. 

The woman holding him looked over herself, her own eyes meeting those of the young boys. She said something in her native tongue that sent the two of them scrambling back behind closed doors, out of view. Tomas tiredly wondered what she had said to them. Were those her children?

He was whisked away before he could question it further, carried down a narrow corridor into a dimly-lit room where the strong scent of sage and sandalwood greeted him, tickling his nose gently. There, she lay him down upon a low cot, his battered body sinking into the fabric. A man was waiting nearby- a doctor, if Tomas had to guess. He was much, much older than her, his face lined with wrinkles of age and wisdom. His eyes, though sharp, held a kindness as they took in the sight of the small boy placed before him. 

His voice was deep, calm and well-controlled as he turned to speak to the woman, his hands gesturing towards Tomas as he himself rolled back on his chair, checking over his equipment. In response, the woman touched Tomas’ shoulder, her fingers gentle as she began to peel back the layers of clothing clinging to his skin. Her movements were deliberate and careful, each button of his torn and bloodied shirt undone with absolute care. She murmured quietly in his ear the whole time as she worked, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed, jumpy nerves, even if her words were incomprehensible.

Once he was stripped bare of his clothes, the doctor leaned back in, his gaze sharpening as he examined the full extent of Tomas’ injuries. His cold, rough hands shifted Tomas back and forth and side-to-side, eyes hesitating over the deeper cuts across his shoulders and upper back. He muttered something short under his breath before turning away back to his equipment nearby.

Throughout it all, the woman stayed close, her hands never leaving him. Her fingers, which had deftly unbuttoned his shirt moments before now traced delicate patterns across the skin of his face, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp as she combed through his smoky hair. It reminded him achingly of his mother.

A single tear slipped from Tomas’ eye, tracing a path down his bloodied face. The woman’s thumb was quick to catch it, her lips pressing into a thin line as she leaned forwards, closer, whispering something to him, her eyes filled with honest concern. At just the simple gesture, more tears followed, and Tomas had to look away, his pale eyes staring down at his bloodied hands resting in his lap, entangling his fingers together. His lip wobbled dangerously. “Máma…”

Eventually, the woman was called away from him. Her warm hands left him hesitantly, replaced by the cold, harsh string of the needle as the doctor attempted to stitch him back up. As she stepped back, Tomas looked up, watching as she wandered over to a newcomer, a man, who was stood in the doorway, arms crossed and expression grim. Their conversation wasn’t a loud one by any means, but it held heat, their whispered voices rising and falling. Tomas noticed their eyes dart towards him occasionally, looking him up and down. Judging him. Were they discussing what to do with him? Was he even welcome here?

When the doctor finally finished, his wounds stinging and raw, but now clean and tended to, whatever argument had befallen the pair seemed to cease as well, an answer concluded, if the man’s dip of his head and his quick exit had anything to go by. The woman returned quickly, gathering Tomas up in one arm, cradling his tiny body close to her chest, her other hand reaching out, snagging the dirtied, slashed clothing he had once worn. She softly thanked the doctor, at least, he assumed so, Tomas hearing him murmur something to her in turn. A gentle, satisfied exchange between the pair before she took her leave, dragging Tomas away with her. Back down the narrow corridor they went, away from the scent of herbs and towards the crisp chill of the night’s air once more. 

She was quick to lead him towards another building- the same one, he noted, that he had seen those two boys disappear into earlier. She didn’t hesitate, waltzing in through the large, elegant door, down the winding hallways until she reached what he assumed were her own quarters, letting them both in quickly, the thin wooden door closing with a click behind them.

She moved with practised ease, setting Tomas down on a cushioned mat as she moved further into another room, returning moments later with an old, dusty box, full to the brim of children’s clothes- blue and yellow outfits, like the two boys he had seen. After rummaging around inside the box, and comparing him to the garments she found, the woman settled on a small pair of yellow pyjamas. The fabric was soft and worn from time, smelling faintly of lavender and rose. Though they were far too large on his small frame, the cuffs reaching the very tips of his fingertips, the bottoms pooling well past his toes. Regardless, they were comfortable- a stark contrast to his previous attire, which now sat abandoned near the doorway in a bloodied heap. The relief was immediate and more than welcome.

The woman changed out of her own blood-soaked dress, donning something soft and simple in tow. She sat down beside Tomas, pulling him into her lap, her arms wrapping around him in a comforting embrace. He curled into her almost immediately, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, seeking solace in her warmth. He could hear her murmuring softly to him, her voice soothing and melodic as she spoke simple, singular words to him. She was trying different languages, he realised, attempting to find which one he would react to- some words she spoke he vaguely recognized from stories or encounters, some completely foreign to him entirely. She didn’t speak Czech, though, but Tomas didn’t expect her to. Instead, he simply burrowed closer, letting the sound of her voice wash over him, lulling him toward the sleep his body desperately begged for.

Sensing his need for quiet and peace, the woman’s words gradually faded into a gentle hum as she began to rock him slowly, her hand idly stroking his soft, pale hair. The tune she hummed was soft and tender, a melody that felt like a distant memory. It sounded like something his own mother may have sung to him. Maybe one she may have sung to him tonight, in her beloved brown rocking chair. Had she been given the chance to.

Tomas’s eyelids grew heavier as his body sank deeper into the woman’s comforting embrace. He felt the tension in his muscles slowly ebb away, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion that he could no longer fight. The horrors of the night began to blur, replaced by the warmth of her arms, the softness of her voice, the steady beat of her heart beneath his cheek. He let himself drift, slipping into the safety of sleep, the last thing he heard being the woman’s gentle hum, carrying him into a world where, for a moment, he could forget everything.

Tomas awoke to Kuai Liang’s rough, scarred hand ghosting across his face, idly tracing old scars. His fingertips were careful and precise, brushing through his hair, flattening smoky strands. He tucked a few particularly curly rebels behind his ears ever-so-gently.

When he had fallen asleep, he hadn’t a clue. He had gone from sitting up to laying down somehow, his head now pillowed in his brother’s lap. The night’s winds were no longer a gentle breeze, instead howling and wailing through the mountains. The cold of the air bit at the exposed skin of his arms, but Kuai Liang’s unnatural, fiery warmth kept most of the discomfort at bay.

They hadn’t cuddled like this since they were children. Kuai Liang was much like Bi-Han when it came to things like affection, making Tomas the odd one out of the three, naturally. Cold and icy, Kuai Liang never wanted to get too close to anyone, attempting desperately to mimic his elder brother, wanting to be everything he was and more, even at the cost of his own mental health. It seems Harumi had done a good job in getting his brother to take up on his naturally softer side once more.

Losing Bi-Han to that same coldness he had once strived hard for probably helped, though. Tomas knew it was a sore spot still, even after all the time passed. It hurt him, too- he wasn’t afraid to admit it. Losing Bi-Han was like losing his blood family all over again. Like losing his adoptive father and mother. Bi-Han was the closest person he had to a parental figure after everything he had lost over the years, and just like the previous ones, he had disappeared too. Instead this time, on his own volition. That had stung even deeper.

“Sleep, brother.” Kuai Liang whispered, voice barely heard over the wind. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He yawned, jaw cracking. His brother’s warmth and ghosting touch were slowly dragging him back under, reminding his mind of better days, soothing his aching, lonely heart. And who was he to fight it?

the Lin Kuei bros if they were even relatively nice to each other

Cooling the fire (Kuai Liang and Tomas MK1 fic)

(MK1 childhood Lin Kuei Trio - Kuai Liang and Tomas)

Summary - Kuai Liang feels like all he is is second-best. He is nothing compared to his older brother. Little toddler Tomas inadvertently shows him otherwise.

(Hurt/comfort/brotherly love/minor humour) (~3000 words)

Linked to a previous post of mine titled 'Warming the ice' (A Bi-Han and Tomas fic). Now up on my AO3 alongside that post - We are family. - Chapter 1 - Tsukuyomi_Ravioli - Mortal Kombat - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Enjoy!

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“You’re slow, Kuai Liang.”

Kuai barely managed to jerk his body backwards, the fist that was intended to connect with his face instead grazing his cheek, a whisper of what could have been a fatal knock-out blow. “I’m having a bad day, Bi-Han.” He hissed, voice laced with irritation. He intercepted Bi-Han’s next anticipated strike with his forearm, redirecting the violent force of his brother’s fist far away from his body, “Cut me some slack, would you?”

Bi-Han’s expression remained unreadable. His body did not falter. Without hesitation, the older boy dipped low to the ground, sweeping at Kuai’s leg with ruthless precision, knocking him off balance with ease. The impact sent Kuai crashing to the ground, the air of his lungs escaping from him. He rolled himself to the side with a wheeze, narrowly avoiding another kick aimed directly for his ribs. “A bad day is no excuse for this kind of sloppiness.”

Kuai’s blood boiled. The harsh lights of the training hall, the murmurs of other students sparring nearby, the distant voices of the elders overseeing them- and above all his brother's stupid, irritating little remarks- it was too much. All too much. “This is supposed to be light training, you know!” He barked, scrambling to his feet. His hands clenched into tight fists, so tight his knuckles ached. “What is wrong with you?”

Bi-Han’s lips curled into a mocking smirk. “Did I strike a nerve, little brother?”

He was amused. He was finding this funny.

Kuai’s jaw clenched. The heat of his pyromancy simmered at his fingertips, begging to be unleashed. Words rose to his throat, eager to spill. ‘Yes’ he so desperately wanted to scream, ‘Yes, it did. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted?’

His mouth was welded shut, however, so he let his anger do the talking. He charged forwards, fists bursting into flames. His rage ignited every inch of him- his hair, his arms, even his feet. For a brief, exhilarating moment, he saw Bi-Han’s expression shift. That smirk that once sat on his perfect features was wiped clear off of his face, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Of shock. Of fear. Finally-!

“Kuai Liang!” The sharp voice of one of the elders cut through the air, freezing his body in place almost immediately. In an instant, the red-hot flames that had all but consumed him were gone, his rage smothered by an incoming ocean, one of shame and dread. His gaze immediately dropped to the floor in embarrassment. “No abilities are to be used during these sparring sessions! You know this!”

That he did. Humiliation seared his cheeks as he lowered his head further, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He could hear Bi-Han’s derisive snort, could feel the eyes of the other students on him, their whispers burning hisses in his ears. “Sorry.” He muttered, the word bitter on his tongue.

“You are to stay behind after this session! Do I make myself clear?”

“... Yes.”

His gaze peered up slowly as the shocked murmurs died down, and the students around him continued their sparring quietly, his eyes quickly finding Bi-Han’s own. His brother tutted, looking him up and down, “You should keep… that” He gestured to Kuai Liang’s body, “in check. It shouldn’t be that easy to rile you up.”

“You’re one to talk.” He couldn’t help but bite. 

That stupid, entitled smile from before was back on Bi-Han’s lips. “This is why I’ll always be better than you, little brother. You could learn a thing or two from me.”

Bitterness and rage were sour, ugly feelings. Feelings that had no place in a warrior's heart. Least of all one who bore the honour of the Lin Kuei- the elders had drilled that lesson into him time and time again. 

Particularly today, of course. His ears were still ringing from that friendly ‘discussion’.

Despite all this, though, here he was. The Kuai Liang- the would-be warrior, son of the Grandmaster, future assassin of fire, sulking like a petulant child. Like some spoiled, entitled god-damn brat.

The training session that had ruffled him so badly had long since ended. The elders’ stern reprimands were long gone, their harsh glares fading away with the light of the day. Bi-Han was no longer taunting him, the students no longer whispering around him. Now, night cloaked the temple in peaceful silence. The hallways deserted, the courtyards outside empty and blank. But the turmoil within him refused to quit. It refused to leave him be, a constant nagging in his ear. His mind churned, a whirlwind of thoughts he just couldn’t seem to banish away. 

Why couldn’t he just let this go? Why couldn’t he just… simmer down- cool off, or something, for once in his life? Why was he so riled up? Why couldn’t he stop thinking? Why was this so hard?

‘It shouldn’t be that easy to rile you up.’

He found himself trying meditation- in an attempt to bring some form of tranquillity into his life. It was probably (most definitely) the first time ever he had done so outside of lessons, tucked away quietly behind the judgement-free, and more importantly Bi-Han-free, walls that made up his room.

Unravelling his dusty, never-before used tatami mat, he threw the poor thing onto the floor in front of him, his body quickly following not even a half-second later, hitting the ground with a soft grunt. He forced his eyes closed instantly, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees, palms-up, his fingers curling slightly into the air above. 

Right. Let’s do this. Tranquillity. Tranquillity, tranquillity, tran-quil-li-ty.

In.

He drew in an achingly slow, deliberate breath. Controlled and neat, just as he’d practised hundreds of times before. Granted, not on his own accord.

Hold.

His hands were so incredibly sweaty.

Out.

Like really, really sweaty. What the hell? Why was he sweating so much? And why just his hands? Was that normal?

In.

He was already bored. And sweaty, apparently. Bored and sweaty. Unhumanly sweaty.

Hold.

And still pissed, of course, how could he forget about that? That never left.

Out.

In fact, he was actually more pissed than before. Meditation was supposed to calm the soul, not enrage it further, yet all it seemed to do was irritate him more.

In.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into the soft skin of his palms.

Hold- ah, screw this.

Brown eyes snapped open, his gaze unfocused as he stared down at the floor, his teeth wobbling the skin of his bottom lip. His chest tightened with frustration.

This is why I’ll always be better than you, little brother.

Bi-Han could probably do this with ease. Hell, the angelic, righteous little future-leader was probably meditating right now, all neat and tidy and perfect like he always was, while he couldn’t even last five seconds! 

A knock at his door startled him rapidly out of his thoughts, his eyes zoning back into focus as they shot towards the direction of the door. The knock was too gentle to be Bi-Han, and it was far too late for his parents or any of the elders to be checking up on him. “Enter.” He called out, his voice rough from disuse.

Slowly, the door creaked open, a small face peering cautiously around the wooden frame, big, wide, grey-silvery eyes meeting his own.

“Tomas.” He blinked, confused. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

The toddler shuffled on his feet, still partially hiding himself behind the door. His ghostly gaze dropped to the floor below, “I couldn't sleep.” He confessed quietly, “Can I stay with you?”

“I’m not going to bed anytime soon.”

“I’ll be quiet.” Tomas whispered, tiny fingers rapping gently against the wooden door as he spoke. “Really really quiet. I promise.”

His first instinct was to tell Tomas no. To snap at him- to send him scrambling back into his room where he most definitely should have been. But one look at the toddler- at those big eyes and tousled smoky hair, the flames inside died down. Just a bit.

He let out a slow breath- one he had barely been able to do just moments before. “Come here then.” He said, softening his tone and patting his knee. “You can stay.”

If Tomas were a dog, his ears would have perked up at the sound of the open invitation, his little socked feet sliding clumsily around on the wooden floor as he quickly stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. His footsteps were light and quiet as he made his way further inside, stopping just in front of him.

Reaching forwards, Kuai scooped his little brother up, settling him down onto his lap with a gentle squeeze. Tomas squirmed slightly, getting himself comfortable before going lax with a big sigh, squishing his cheek against his brother’s chest, grey eyes peering up to meet his brown ones. “Are you meditating?”

Kuai sighed, resting his hands back on his knees, palms up, just as before. The warmth of Tomas' body against his own was grounding, a soothing contrast to the restless energy that had been coursing through him just moments before. “Trying to.”

“I didn’t think you liked meditating.” Tomas, true to his word, was ‘quiet’, not silent. Kuai should’ve expected that, he supposed. Not that he had the heart to call out the toddler on it. After all, Tomas was five. “Do you?”

He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “Not really, no.”

“Then why do it?” There were tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt, holding on tight. He could feel them through the thin material. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, little one.” Kuai sighed, cracking open an eye to peer down at his brother. Tomas’ own were half-lidded with exhaustion, partially hidden behind strands of curled grey hair, “Better now that you’re here.”

As the words left his mouth, he realised how much he actually meant them. Tomas had a way of softening the world around him, cooling the tension that had built up inside Kuai like water to a flame. Tomas' eyelids fluttered, a soft, weary hum escaping his lips as his tiny body relaxed more into Kuai's warmth. He clung to his older brother like a lifeline, his small fingers tightening around the fabric of Kuai's tunic.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Tomas whispered quietly, his eyes closed.

Kuai allowed his own eyes to close, settling down into the meditative state he had tried so hard to accomplish earlier. It came with ease, this time. “Of course.”

 "I... I had a bad dream," Tomas mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Kuai's brow furrowed slightly, though his eyes remained closed. "What was it about?"

Tomas hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know.” He confessed, “There was lots of shouting, and bad men. I couldn’t find you or Bi.”

Kuai hated that he knew exactly where those dreams probably stemmed from. Tomas couldn’t have nightmares like a typical child- of monsters under the bed, or skeletons in the closet. Tomas dreams stemmed from the murder and bloodshed he had witnessed at such a tender age. This wasn’t the first one the toddler had told him about, nor would it be the last. He could only hope that more of them stayed like this- less articulate, and more blurry. For Tomas’ sake.

"You don’t have to worry about that happening, Tomas," Kuai murmured, his voice steady but soft as he lifted a hand, stroking his brother’s back gently. “You’ll always have me and Bi-Han. We’re not going anywhere.”

Tomas shifted, resting his cheek more fully against Kuai’s chest, his breathing evening out slowly. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

A small, contented hum escaped the boy. Kuai continued to hold him close, his hand lightly trailing through the pale, smoky strands of Tomas' hair, untangling the knots from what he assumed had been restless tossing and turning. The act was soothing, not just for Tomas, but for Kuai as well. In the quiet of the room, the earlier frustration and self-doubt felt far away, replaced by a simpler, purer duty: being here for his little brother. That he could do. He couldn’t fail at that like he could other things.

“I wish Bi was here too,” Tomas said after a long stretch of silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “He always makes me feel better.”

Kuai smiled faintly at that, though that familiar pang of irritation prickled at his chest. "Bi-Han can’t always be around, Tomas,” he said, keeping his tone gentle despite the thoughts churning through his mind. “But I’m here. Isn’t that good enough?”

Tomas tilted his head slightly, eyes no doubt opening just a fraction to peer up at Kuai’s face. Not that Kuai was looking himself. He couldn’t bring himself to. To see the longing and yearning that Tomas’ gaze no doubt had for their ‘perfect’ older brother. “You’re both good.” The boy said quietly after a moment, “Just different goods. But both good.”

The simplicity of the statement almost made Kuai laugh. Tomas, in his own innocent way, had summed up what Kuai had been grappling with all damn night- the differences between him and Bi-Han, and the heavy weight of always feeling like he fell short. It was a child's perspective, unburdened by the complexities of rivalry or expectation. “How so?”

“Bi is strong and scary. He makes me feel safe.” Tomas yawned, cuddling closer. “You’re warm. And funny. You make me feel happy.”

“I’m glad you think so, little one.” Kuai’s smile softened, though he couldn’t entirely shake the lingering sting of self-doubt. “But I think you like Bi more.”

Tomas’ hand slapped against his chest lightly, as if scolding him. "No. I like you, Kuai.” He pressed his cheek further against Kuai’s chest, nuzzling into him like a cat seeking more warmth. “You remind me of my mama.”

That made Kuai pause, the words sinking in slowly. He couldn’t help but open his eyes to regard the toddler nestled against him. "I do?" 

“Mmm.” Tomas nodded sleepily, his own eyes closed. He didn’t elaborate, but Kuai didn’t need him to. That one sentence spoke volumes just by itself.

Kuai’s heart ached in a different way now- a warm, tender ache. He hadn’t realised that such simple acts- acts that were, deep down, truly his, not a reflection of his want to be like his older brother, had had such a deep effect on Tomas. Had led to him being considered on par with Tomas’ mother of all people.

Maybe… Maybe he didn’t need to be perfect like Bi-Han. Not in the sense he was thinking, at least- in the sense that Tomas was showing him.

“Thank you, Tomas,” Kuai whispered, brushing a soft kiss against the top of his brother’s head. “That means a lot to me.”

Tomas didn’t respond, already drifting off into sleep, his small body fully relaxed against Kuai’s. Kuai held him there for a long, long time, simply listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, his own heart finally finding a moment of peace in the quiet of the night alongside it.

i never noticed this… Shang turns into MALE Mileena and Kitana during his boss battle in Invasions

i love that he turned into all the ninjas (Sub, Scorp, Smoke, Rain, Ermac, Noob, Tremor) and EVEN these two!