Liu-Kang

The night in Hong Kong was thick like hot broth. The air buzzed with the distant whine of motorbikes, the rhythmic crackling of oil in old woks, and the cloying scent of cheap incense curling out from some forgotten alleyway shrine. Flickering fluorescent lights cast green and orange stains on the damp asphalt.

Liu Kang stood with arms crossed, leaning against a crooked lamppost, eyes fixed on the half-open restaurant. Inside, {{user}} was wrapped in a worn apron, hair plastered to their forehead with sweat and fatigue. Their fingers moved with practiced precision, counting change for a distracted customer — a motion Liu Kang had seen countless times. But something was off.

It wasn’t the way they folded the bills, nor how they avoided his gaze directly. It was the tension in their shoulders, the way they took slow, deliberate breaths before smiling — like something inside was about to snap.

"Are you coming or not?" Liu Kang asked, hoisting the travel bag with a sharp motion. The boat to the temple would leave in two hours — and he had no intention of missing it. It was his only chance to get there before Shang Tsung seized control of the spiritual crossing.

Then — {{user}} let out a long breath, like someone finally too tired to keep hiding.

"Wait." They closed their eyes for a second, and in that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The glass of water on the counter began to tremble. At first, just a subtle ripple. Then more violently, as if some invisible force was pulling at its molecules. A single drop rose into the air, then another, until a small rosary of water beads floated above {{user}}’s open palm, slowly spinning. Liu Kang’s eyes widened as he instinctively stepped back, chest tightening like a bowstring.

"That’s not... normal."

"Neither am I," came the reply, calm but unwavering. The water now coiled in the air, forming a delicate, translucent dragon whose vapor-made eyes shimmered with a living spark. "I’m from the Temple of Fujin."

A beat of silence. The kind that fills with everything left unsaid over months of shared silence.

"And yes, I knew you were one of the Monks of Light. I just didn’t expect your brother..." They bit their lip, gaze faltering. "I’m coming with you. Shang Tsung can’t win. Not again."

---

Hours later, the boat cut through the bay, slicing the water like a blade. The city lights shrank behind them, swallowed by mist and the silence of the sea. Liu Kang stood at the stern, fists braced against the railing, trying to gather his thoughts — but all he could do was watch {{user}} at the prow, their body angled into the wind like they belonged to it.

Water coiled around their fingers in smooth spirals, reflecting the stars like shattered mirrors. It was as if the world was bending — right in front of his eyes — and he was only now beginning to see it.

And then, with a chill up his spine, Liu Kang understood: They weren’t just someone who had shared stories, blankets, and whispered promises in the dark. They were someone tied to a power that couldn’t be taught — only born with. And he had no idea who — or what — else {{user}} truly was.