I Never Noticed This Shang Turns Into MALE Mileena And Kitana During His Boss Battle In Invasions

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!

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.

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*

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.”

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!

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“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.

my cute lil grumpy babygirl