Work Text:
It starts routinely enough, on a training mat east of the Monastery.
Like most evenings, it’s undisturbed. A groundskeeper tends to the swaying peonies and only stirs the air with the periodic snip of shears. Sprinting children slosh pails of water, leaving trails that muddy tiny feet and trample the gardener’s apron upon arrival, unaware of the silent presence of a god nearby, locked into his own act of cultivation.
Liu Kang's pretty sure he has thrown his shoulder out of place, but he does whatever he can to toss his arm forward and meet the pads on Master Raiden's hands with explosive overcorrection. It'll hurt today. It'll hurt tomorrow. But it will also remind him that he's human, that he still has a margin of improvement to clear, strength to whet, and lessons to digest, no matter how ready he may be. Eventually, that pain will dull into a warm glow and take on the qualities of a hand placed assuredly on his shoulder.
Lord Raiden stays silent for a majority of their sparring session. He corrects where he can, but, nowadays, there is little to correct. Instead, he imparts soft parables of wisdom and guidance where he can, usually in the lingering humidity of clumsy goodbyes as the sky darkens. Liu Kang wonders when he'll put an end to the monotony, feeling a bit like a rotting tea table passed down from a previous generation, kept around if only for the garish novelty and some intrinsic attachment to the idea that it just simply belongs.
While the numbing sensation in his shoulder travels to his heart, Liu Kang notices the softened recoil on the pad. Lord Raiden's relaxed attempts to follow through with the force of the punch causes Liu Kang to double down. Triple down. He doesn’t realize he’s wiping his nose and grinding the enamel of his molars together, or the intense heat emanating from his body. An attempt to address Liu Kang’s shift in demeanor dies quickly on Lord Raiden's lips when he captures a look that suggests he might shatter, or combust, like an overused teapot, if questioned. He wets his lips instead, tells Liu Kang he’s doing well, to push through, and that’s when a tiny glitter is restored to his eyes, flickering to the ground like the orange ash from the tip of a smoldering cigarette.
Later, after they depart for the evening, Liu Kang finally allows his arm to hang limp, meticulously wiping down the padded gear with his other hand before returning to the equipment rack. Hearing the sound of the door sliding closed behind him, he stiffens.
It is a rare occurrence for Lord Raiden to linger.
"Let me see, Liu Kang,” Lord Raiden says softly. The light provided by the moon casts a low glow that never reaches Liu Kang’s eyes, but sensing each other has never been a problem.
“It’s nothing, Lord Raiden. I-”
He’s cut off by his own sharp inhale as Raiden's fingers touch the throbbing muscles of his shoulder.
“It is terribly swollen.”
Liu Kang really wishes he didn’t have to see him like this, but he figures there’s no sense in trying to hide it anymore. Between parted lips, Liu Kang lets out soft breaths of discomfort as Raiden massages the area between his thumb and forefinger.
“Was this the result of last week’s training? Chin Na?”
“Ah, no.”
Yes.
“We will avoid that technique from now on.”
“Is that not limiting my training? If I can’t use it…”
“You do not need it.”
Hovering his hand above the inflamed shoulder, Lord Raiden produces a pool of lightning that trembles like frothy waves on the ocean’s surface, pulled by the moonlight of his eyes. At contact, the relief is nearly instantaneous. The blue healing glow reflects on Lord Raiden’s face as his brows crease lightly in concentration.
“That is…good,” Liu Kang hisses out dumbly, bracing his other arm against the table beneath him to keep upright.
“This will not heal the deepest injuries. You must be sure to rest and recover. Focus lower body exercises instead.”
A couple subsequent images come to mind, but they are certainly nowhere in the realm of visually representing Lord Raiden’s intended instruction.
“Where else does it hurt?”
“I think that's it. Thank you, Lord Raiden.” Liu Kang attempts a curt bow to the best of his ability, poised to flee.
Raiden’s palm, still hovering nearby, drags across his clavicle, and Liu Kang winces.
“Hiding it will only set your training back, Liu Kang.”
He wants to say it hurts everywhere. In fact, with each deft exploration of Raiden’s fingers, it’s beginning to radiate to a lower region. But, if there’s anything Liu Kang has exercised more than his body, it was his self control. Embracing the pathetic feeling of failing Raiden’s expectations flags any unwarranted physical reactions. Now, under Raiden’s intense gaze, he feels more like a kid than he ever did.
“My neck.”
The tickling lightning attached to Raiden’s fingertips travels up the taught muscle to his ear, fingertips occasionally brushing against his skin and sending differently charged sparks along his flesh.
“Why did you allow it to progress this far?”
“It was insignificant at first. I thought I was stronger than that.”
“Your strength is apparent, but there is a lesson to be learned in patience. Sometimes, there is only one path to travel.”
When the crackle of lightning evaporates and the contact is gone, Lord Raiden looks as though he just awoke from a coma. With the tight feeling in his shoulder sufficiently alleviated, Liu Kang quietly catches his breath and realizes again that they're the only two here, all alone in the dim equipment room with only the occasional cricket chirp as company. He turns his attention back to wiping the already clean sparring pad.
“I will not let you down again, Lord Raiden.”
“I will keep an eye on your recovery. Take care of yourself, Liu Kang.”
Liu Kang looks at him with wide eyes and smiles between his words of gratitude. Though the muscle will take time to heal, it feels as though the lightning technique seeped further beneath the skin, touching something unexpectedly raucous inside his chest.
-
Each subsequent night, under the veil of darkness, in the aftermath of evening training, a single candle can be seen lit behind the doors of the east wing. Lord Raiden’s fingers roam across Liu Kang’s skin and test the response of certain muscles.
Here?
Yeah. There.
Thunder rumbles, casting strange shadows against the yellow glow. It hurts, but it feels good. It burns, but that’s the pain of progress.
Lord Raiden takes on the role of a physician. Though it would be simpler and more practical to seek therapy with the monks, he administers a targeted healing regiment and standard muscle exercises that revitalize a different sort of life within Liu Kang's core. He knows Lord Raiden is a bit overqualified for the task. As a result, Liu Kang feels caught in a sticky afterbirth of humiliation, but he is no stranger to the thrill derived from his mentor’s scrutiny. There were times in his life where he'd bounce heavily on his toes and swipe his nose to steal Lord Raiden's waning attentiveness when guiding another student. The only difference between him and Kung Lao in this regard is that his friend lacked subtlety. And results.
Sometimes, after hours of leg exercises, he stumbles through the door of the east wing like an eager schoolboy while Raiden follows behind. He doesn’t try to think about what this might look like. To the gardener who minds his own duties, it is the silhouette of spirits roaming the courtyard. Or maybe, to the nosy gardener, it is two rambunctious teens up to no good between each other’s legs. To an observant gardener, it is an untouchable man and his warrior fleeing into a moment of seclusion, and, like the two observed subjects, he doesn't spend time trying to deduce the nature of this rendezvous. But, eventually, there comes a surging feeling in Liu Kang's chest at the thought of just what this act could look like, and what it represents.
Here?
A bit.
Then it should be fully healed soon.
He’s healing, but he isn’t. He enjoys tearing at an irrelevant, hidden wound by placing a high level of meaning into these meetings. Does Lord Raiden’s hand linger longer, or does he imagine it? Will the sunlight ever see this, or will they be bound to the chill void, shrouded by the wooden interior of a coffin, forever?
Healing meant the end of a journey, the end of an ache, the final article in a tattered, crusty magazine.
Liu Kang rolled his ankle earlier. Well, rolled seemed a bit of an overstatement. He stumbled over the stairway to the courtyard earlier when Kung Lao’s foot accidentally collided with the sole of his heel. It barely ached. Actually, it didn’t ache at all. Barely even caused him to flinch. But he favored it later, used it to his advantage, just enough that only a particularly watchful, pale eye would notice. A slight waver of a stance. A rapid shake of the left foot upon reset.
"Let me see, Liu Kang." Lord Raiden says later, once the twinkle of chimes above the storage room door fall silent. He reads the unspoken ailment like he has the book memorized, that maybe, even if the book was burnt and charred to pieces, he would still know what it was trying to say to him.
“Did you injure your ankle earlier?”
“Yes,” He says looking down, because he's not really used to lying to Raiden in a manner that benefits him.
What he doesn’t expect is for Raiden to kneel in front of him. His sharp, strong outline takes on a position of reverence at Liu Kang’s feet as he assesses the ankle. He pulls at the elastic around the bottom of his pants and eases his fingers into the tendon. Then, shimmying Liu Kang’s shoe off, follows the line of his Achilles into his heel and massages the area lightly. He’s too mesmerized by the image beneath him to flinch.
Liu Kang really, really doesn't want to embarrass himself, so he puts his hand in his pocket to add some give to the fabric between his legs. When Raiden looks up, he's happy he did.
“It doesn’t seem particularly swollen.”
“It must be nothing then.” The shame rising feels connected to Lord Raiden’s fingertips, worming its way up his leg and settling in his hips. There, it slowly boils, the steam heating his cheeks. Lord Raiden passes the quasi exam Liu Kang proctors, but he doesn’t expect the answer Raiden fabricates for him.
“No. Wait. Here.” He rolls a nonspecific, painless area of skin between his fingertips. “Does it hurt here?”
His eyelashes flutter as his gaze darts to the right. He can’t look at his face when he nods.
-
Here?
No. Here.
There?
Yes. It hurts so much.
He plays a scenario out in his mind when he kicks his underwear to the bottom of the bed and writhes underneath his sheets. He doesn’t think anyone else's fingers could ease the pain, but he does the best with what he has. It’s not unlike the torn, aching muscle of his shoulder that flares from the awkward grip he has around himself. The only exception is that his shoulder sees the effects of Lord Raiden's remedying touch. Now, he regurgitates the image of his Master staring up between his legs. Giving him excuses. Taking them.
Please. Don’t stop.
-
It doesn't really register how strange their meetings are until they continue long after Liu Kang’s shoulder has healed. It takes place a little over a week after the affair begins.
“Very good progress” becomes something Lord Raiden says more often than not. He’s not lying, at least. Not like Liu Kang. He has progressed. He has been healing. At least, that’s what his body is saying, but he overuses the shoulder now to make sure it really is healed, and strains it a bit when a fireball collides with Lord Raiden’s collar, closer to vitals than intended. He feels a bit better when his arm starts to ache doing one-armed pushups as a form of self-punishment. But still, it’s healed. He knows it’s healed.
Liu Kang faces the window and scrapes a thin white line into the lacquer coating of the table in front of him when Lord Raiden places both palms on his shoulder, massaging the tissue. It feels much better now that the swelling has dissipated. It feels even better knowing that Lord Raiden must know it as well.
“I’m sorry for earlier. My aim could use more practice.”
“It is nothing, Liu Kang. Your aim is exceptional. I am at fault for improperly dodging.”
Liu Kang turns around abruptly, easier to part from the homely warmth of Raiden’s fingertips this way. The collar he struck earlier is slightly charred, a tiny bit frayed. Liu Kang finds it striking, especially considering Lord Raiden likely saw his attack incoming and still failed to react.
“Could I see?”
He laughs slightly out of his nose in response, but Liu Kang is quick to insist.
“You assess the injuries to my muscles each evening, Master Raiden. It is only fair that I should assess yours as well.”
Lord Raiden’s expression wavers a little.
“You know my flesh will heal most injuries instantaneously.”
“Most ? So, after all this time, I am not yet strong enough?” It's meant to be playful, but the edges are tinged with honest trepidation.
Lord Raiden, ever so clinically, takes his hat from his head, pulls the cover from his cheeks, and parts the overlap of his robes, just below the clavicle, just above the heart.
“See? There is nothing.”
When he offers the newly exposed piece of flesh for Liu Kang to inspect, he takes it as he has taken each of their prior nightly escapades. To his advantage. He admires the way the moon traces shards of silver trickling from Lord Raiden’s bun and the red indent his hood creates against his skin.
The pounding of his heart hammers into his ears. He thinks he can even feel it on his index finger as he parts the robes further and touches his bare chest, feeling his warmth, the untouchable smoothness of divine flesh now made tangible beneath his shaking hand. Recoiling from the prolonged contact, Lord Raiden prepares to speak before Liu Kang’s hand pulls away and his low voice interrupts him.
“Your back. I struck you heavily on the back earlier.”
“That will not-”
“Please, allow me to check.”
Lord Raiden turns around slowly and shifts the cloth in a miniscule manner, just enough to expose the top mound of his shoulder blade. Liu Kang touches the surface, pulling lightly at the robe and exploring the area he elbowed earlier in their sparring session.
“I believe it was here. It would have bruised any normal person.”
Lord Raiden’s posture stiffens.
“May I check for any other injuries?”
After a long pause, he nods. Liu Kang pushes the robes down below his ribcage, stifling a gasp when he sees several glowing, snaking cloud designs etched into his muscular back. A bright cyan pool undulates luminosity beneath the white surface like a backlit stream of water.
“Are these-”
“Markings of godhood. Nothing more.”
Liu Kang can tell Lord Raiden wants to disintegrate. He can sense his discomfort like his joints aching in the presence of a storm cloud, but he’s not selfless enough to offer his master a way out, and Lord Raiden hasn’t told him to stop.
He tracks the tattoos with his eyes first, then with his fingers, until he follows them all the way down to a silver puff of skin in the form of a large, branching path like a leafless willow. The memory of a deep wound. A lightning scar.
“It looks like you have been injured before,” Liu Kang notes, almost breathlessly.
Lord Raiden’s silence lasts several heavy seconds until he exhales a small puff of air.
“My brother, Lord Fujin, was a natural to godhood throughout our youth. Much more so than I.”
“He hurt you?”
“He redirected a bolt of my lighting.”
“While training?”
“While fighting.”
The feeling of that scar beneath his fingers seems to burn for a moment, and the visual rips abruptly from his sight when Lord Raiden pulls his collar back around his neck and readjusts his uniform. As if nothing happened and nothing was revealed. It doesn’t alter the impact, though.
It’s an expensive delicacy of rare meat to be savored, devoured whole. The aftermath provides a feeling or importance. A feeling of guilt.
-
It would make sense if Lord Raiden did not want to see him again tonight, especially after the evening prior, but he shows up anyway. And he shows up the next night. And two nights later. Then three. Each time, he checks his shoulder. This time, he starts using Liu Kang’s excuses.
Did I strike you here?
Yeah.
He looks down at his rib cage that has the blooming splotch of a small bruise. Lord Raiden touches it with his thumb and Liu Kang notices the way his hand forms similarly to a fist, matching the mark.
His eyes travel all over Liu Kang’s chest before settling on a small scar in the sensitive skin between the hip bone and navel that he forgot existed.
“When did you get this?” He questions genuinely.
“Probably five years ago.”
“How?”
“I think it was right when we started having extra lessons outside of the White Lotus ones.”
Lord Raiden gives it a considerable amount of attention with his fingers, to the point that Liu Kang is one shaky breath away from whimpering out a love confession. Lifting his palm, Lord Raiden summons a blue wave, ripping Liu Kang from the reverie.
“Don’t bother. It’s a part of me.” Giving a comforting smile, he suddenly feels self conscious at the expression staring back at him.
“It’s too late for that now, anyway.” He deflects.
Lord Raiden looks at it for far too long afterwards, unceasingly, until Liu Kang shifts uncomfortably and the board beneath his foot creaks.
“You cannot harm me in the ways I have harmed you.”
Liu Kang stumbles unexpectedly, his brain still processing Lord Raiden’s observation by the time he hears the sound of someone playing with the door handle, interrupting the moment as the warmth peels frantically from his body. Red feathers across his cheeks even though Lord Raiden’s posture is strong, resolute, and somewhat obstructing Kung Lao’s view of him as he enters.
“Ah, sorry Lord Raiden. I didn’t think you were still here, I was looking for-”
“Liu Kang?” He says after craning his neck around Lord Raiden’s figure. The incredulous sound of his voice is as accusatory as the look he passes between the two of them. It turns the blood flowing heavily to certain regions frigid immediately.
“We were just finishing up,” Lord Raiden responds easily. Something twitches at the corner of Kung Lao's lips. A smile, or a grimace.
-
“What’s going on, Liu Kang?” Kung Lao questions, leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed. He managed to fill the air with other subjects while they walked back together, but the remains of unspoken thoughts haunting him are suddenly crawling from their graves.
“Hm?” Liu Kang answers, only partially opening an eye while sitting at the foot of his bed in meditation.
“What’s going on between you and Lord Raiden?” He clarifies bitterly, dissecting with little decorum right into the sensitive core.
“I injured my shoulder while practicing Chin Na. Lord Raiden has been monitoring the progress of my recovery.”
“Ah. Your shoulder. Funny that I haven’t noticed any issues with it when we were training together.”
“It is improving. He’s just making sure the healing continues.”
“Is that what you call it? You train alone in the evenings with him. Then he privately heals your wounds?”
“That is the truth.”
“I don’t care what it is. You know what that looks like, right?”
The steps pounding forward are thunderous, pulling Liu Kang fully from his meditation. His posture hardens defensively.
“I can’t be the only one who has noticed where you have been in the evening. Y’know, those teacher’s pet rumors can quickly become teacher’s toy rumors.”
Liu Kang throws an arm over his knee and gives Kung Lao a bewildered laugh.
“I’m worried about your reputation,” Kung Lao hisses at the improper response.
“Mine? Or, by association, yours?”
His expression flounders desperately, brow pinching and jaw shaking, before they soon take on inverse qualities.
“Do you really think I’m making this about myself? Whatever you think you’re doing with Raiden, it’s not funny. It’s not playful. He’s not someone that you can just fool around with. He’s our teacher. He’s a god. And anything that happens between you two will only end up hurting you.”
He turns his shoulder and the door follows, slamming shut.
Liu Kang doesn’t let too much time pass before he’s fingering the soft, raised flesh in the same manner Lord Raiden had earlier.
Here?
No, can you make it hurt?
Kung Lao’s phrases echo alongside his own, but he doesn’t let it stop him. He turns fossilized rage into fuel and sets it ablaze. He rams into his fist until his palms chaff and his voice chokes around tangled threads of glowing tattoos. Only after his mind goes through an embarrassing number of images and desires he could never disclose aloud does he consider Lord Raiden’s words.
“You cannot harm me in the ways I have harmed you."
By the time his body catches up to his brain, his stomach flips upon realizing something revolting.
This pain might already be his alone.
-
Lord Raiden allows him, again, to inspect his back. He didn’t strike him particularly hard today, but that’s the whole point. Their excuses now are feeble at best. They’re running out, and Liu Kang’s patience is worn down to a single thin string. After Raiden collects his robes and tightens the knot at his belt, he turns his attention to Liu Kang’s shoulder, testing the range of motion.
“Does it hurt here?”
“No.” Liu Kang deadpans harshly. Truthfully. Lord Raiden regards him with mild surprise.
“Are you certain?”
“Lord Raiden?” He starts in a dark tone.
“Yes, Liu Kang?”
“How long has it been since my shoulder fully healed?”
The question hangs densely in the air for several moments. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
“It has been weeks now, hasn’t it?”
Again, no response, but it clearly catches Lord Raiden off guard. His hands flinch back. Liu Kang quickly captures them.
“Why don’t you touch me where you wish?” Liu Kang begs, heatedly.
“You know I am uninjured. You know I am fully healed, right?"
Liu Kang’s brow dampens beneath his headband and his breathing is erratic. Searching Raiden’s gaze brings no answers. There is a part of him that is still a child, racing through the streets after slicing the coin-filled pocket of an unsuspecting stranger, looking aimlessly for someone with outstretched arms to carry him home. He’s still needy. He’s still a beggar.
“Please.”
He clutches Raiden’s collar and presses his growing erection, the same one kept artfully hidden each night for the past four straight weeks, into his leg.
“Where do you want to touch me?”
Lord Raiden's expression of surprise regards him thoroughly before backing away, recoiling and shaking slightly at the intrusive contact. His face then reveals a wandering sadness creeping across the creases. Confusion morphs into impulse. Liu Kang can’t stand that look anymore or the absence of his fingertips on his skin.
He takes matters into his own hands, pulling Lord Raiden’s face into his mouth and kissing violently against his lips. It’s spontaneous, brief and alarming. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he can’t stop. Lord Raiden’s surprise is gentle at first, he accepts him for only a moment, until he’s clenching his teeth together as Liu Kang’s tongue pries between them. Pushing Lord Raiden into the wall, the rough clatter of equipment scattering is secondary to the sound of Raiden’s surprise. A gasp, and Liu Kang finds his entrance and forces his tongue inside. It’s delicious and destructive. Salt on a wound. Absently, Raiden’s fist pushing him back makes his shoulder ache.
Lord Raiden goes along with it for only the duration of an unskillfully tossed pebble darting across the water before striking him warningly in the chest and knocking him backward. Liu Kang winds up in return with an open palm of his own, shoving Lord Raiden into the wall again. This time, he is stopped halfway before he can collide his lips into Raiden’s with a punch to the gut. He fights back again, but his stance is uncoordinated and he is disarmed swiftly to the ground. Feeling the wood on his chest and against his cheek, Liu Kang's limbs go limp as Lord Raiden pins him down with his own arm behind his back. Their breathing is both erratic. It looks erotic, feels erotic, but it’s not. Not really.
“Take care of it tonight,” Lord Raiden demands in a low growl, his breath hot against the back of his ear. He can see Lord Raiden’s eyes make a hesitant gesture to his backside to clarify his point. Then, he releases Liu Kang’s arm roughly, standing as a bright bath of lightning envelopes the tight space and scatters away instantly.
-
There are no crashing streams or layered forests nearby, no damp alcove to settle into where no one will hear him scream or cry, so his voice is soundless and his eyes are dry. He returns to his apartment after wandering through the dim lantern light of town and dragging his toes down a couple dirty back alleys until his feet hurt. His stomach is empty, but he doesn't open the refrigerator or light the stove.
If there were any less forthcoming methods to address their habitual affair, it's too late now. Besides, Liu Kang already replayed every unlikely situation and exhausted every alternate scenario as soon his shoes stumbled across the grass outside the equipment room.
That night, he doesn’t care who sees.
When he hears the tickle of thin glittering droplets against the window pane after staring down the cream swirls on the ceiling for hours, he doesn’t care who knows. He throws open the window with a splintering crash, moonlight blanketing his room, his bed, and his body. The moon is a gentle lover, caressing contours that lightning never explored. Enveloping him are the two translucent arms of fluttering curtains. With his chin resting against the window ledge, wind stings his eyes that stare challengingly at the thunder clouds in the sky. The rain water touches his skin, trickles down his wrist, trails across his chest, and delves between his legs. He doesn’t care that Kung Lao is only one room over through the parchment thin walls. The sounds he makes are that of a wounded animal over anything. A crack of thunder resounds. Then, it downpours.
He takes care of it.
-
During the following days, the aforementioned gardeners would look to the east wing of the monastery wondering why it looked so impossibly dim.
He avoids Lord Raiden like an epidemic. In return, Lord Raiden does not seek him out. After all, he finally offered him one good excuse to throw their useless training regiment and heretical treatment away. Rejection is a funny thing. Even so, the feeling of freedom is the feeling of unbelonging.
Seven days gives him enough time that he no longer winces at the vision of the east wing soaking up mist in the distance. Instead, in the evening, long after his solo training in another region of the monastery, he finally goes inside. He brushes his fingers against the scrapes in the table, reassembles some stray equipment, and sits with his knees folded to his chest behind a rack of training clothes in the corner like a shameful child. When he crosses his arms, his shoulder stings.
In the wet heat and quiet cloth cocoon, his eyes flutter shut and his head bobs like a lone duck on the surface of a heavy current.
Suddenly, the door shifts open.
Beyond bleary eyes, Lord Raiden enters. He sits his hat on the table and runs his finger across his forehead, pinching the creasing skin. He wears robes with a black singed collar.
Stifling a sharp breath, Liu Kang freezes as he watches, beyond the dark, overlapping clothing, Lord Raiden stands wearily in place with his head clutched. He has no idea how often Lord Raiden has returned to this place each evening, and his heart ricochets at the thought. Summoning a sharp ball of lightning, it whirrs with energy Liu Kang can feel tremble through the floorboards. He holds it closely to his chest, right alongside the mark on his robes.
Lord Raiden's chest heaves. As though he is in pain.
As though Liu Kang hurt him.
When it looks as though he is about to make contact with his skin, Liu Kang anxiously shifts forward, and Lord Raiden stills.
Several tense moments pass before the lightning dissipates and the entire room darkens. He doesn’t realize until he sees two legs in front of him that his hand is outstretched and his eyes are damp.
“Liu Kang?”
Liu Kang can barely see anything in front of him, but he feels, lightly, a knuckle brush against his palm. A touch at his fingertip.
“Liu Kang.” He says again. This time, he sounds the way Liu Kang feels.
He kneels to the floor and crosses his legs. His face still obscured by the gentle rustle of orange robes between them, he releases a lengthy breath.
“It was Tuesday.” He announces finally, tightly.
“Two weeks and three days before today. There was a rainstorm in the morning and the evening was humid. You asked me what species of bird flew from the windowsill, picked up your arm, and followed the pattern it made in the sky. Then, you said there must still be swelling in your shoulder. There was not.”
Liu Kang's eyes widen, and his mouth becomes too dry to swallow.
They linger together until a soft breeze stirs the robes, revealing a temporary glimpse of Lord Raiden’s face. He is looking down, eyes shut, as though in meditation. Students who beg their Master for forgiveness when threatened with exile look less remorseful.
Shifting his foot forward slightly, Liu Kang’s shoe is only centimeters from Lord Raiden’s foot. He clenches his jaw when several long moments pass and carves crescent intends against his palms. Then, Raiden answers, moving his foot just a bit to meet the tip of his shoe with his own.
A shaky sign is expelled from Liu Kang’s lungs before he reaches forward to grasp for Raiden's arms apologetically, which somehow, coincidentally, had already found his own. A final clear view of Raiden’s face, between the veil of robes, reveals that his cheeks are pink, like the bright healing skin beneath a scab. Between ripples of fabric and scratchy hems, Liu Kang’s fingers lace around Raiden’s neck, at the bunt lapel, and he presses his forehead into that space of his chest. Lord Raiden’s hands grapple at his shoulder and embrace him back tightly.
This time, there are no excuses.