mia

him, kuai liang and tomas have set camp in the middle of a forest, a few miles away from the ying fortress. the undercover part of the mission requires extreme carefulness, resulting in no light or heat sources of any kind, especially during nighttime. sitting in between the trees at the early hours of the morning, it’s bi-han’s turn to guard his brothers’ sleep. he knows both of them don’t mind the cold – especially kuai liang -, but bi-han can’t help but smirk at the thought that he’s the one awake when it starts to snow.

he doesn’t mind it. he did, once – but now, bi-han can’t tell how much of him is organic and how much of him is just ice in a human form. his powers are such a fundamental part of himself and how he interacts with the world around him, that remembering how things were before them just feels uncomfortable and incomplete. he recalls the nights spent under heavy snowstorms, blinded and hindered by the sheer force of it. he recalls seeing the look on his mother’s face once his father began his training – well, the cryomancer training at least.

he does not remember this first lin kuei training, a distant and foggy memory he often recalls solely due to his mother’s accounts. bi-han does not remember being anything before he became a fighter. his first memories are mostly training ones, and thinking about them is often unpleasant. remembering his weakness is not the type of reminiscing he enjoys; dwelling on past mistakes does him no good when he can’t become better from them. there is nothing else to improve by thinking about his childhood, so he doesn’t.

he does remember his first cryomancer training. he had just turned 16 and his father had just returned from a mission. he remembers the look on the old man’s face once he entered their home, after the usual medical check-up and mission report. his father was equal parts terrifying and severe – and seeing the almost malicious look in his eyes is something that stills haunts bi-han, as much as he tries to evade the memory. he knew what turning 16 meant; he always knew, he was being trained for this exact moment all his life. bi-han had never been anything but resigned and reliable, both to his father and to the lin kuei. he knew it would happen eventually – and would gladly die in the middle of the storm if it meant honoring both his family and his clan.

without a word, his father guided him to the backdoor of the house, opening it. the exit led to a forest, much like the one bi-han sits now. and, without a thought, bi-han left the warmth and walked aimlessly for five days in the middle of a snowstorm.

he remembers every single second of those days. he recalls the feeling of hopelessness that arose once he realized he could no longer find his house. he recalls the excruciating pain in every inch of his body, both from hypothermia and from the walk. he remembers the delirious visions he endured, the wolf he had to kill in order to eat and survive. the rules were clear: no fire, no shelter. meat was eaten raw and bloody and warmth was not an option, not even from the skin and fur he removed from the animal. he remembers the sound of the wind, the cracking of the trees. he recalls the wetness of his pants and shoes, buried so deep in the snow he could barely feel them after a couple of hours.

he recalls collapsing after the third day, feeling every single snowflake that covered his skin before passing out.

his body was found on the fifth day, under a thick layer of snow. he woke up three days later, in one of the rooms on the medical pavilion of the lin kuei temple. his mother sat by his bed, a thick coat covering her frame. bi-han didn’t understand at first – the place felt incredibly warm, almost uncomfortably hot; she would have no reason to wear such a garment indoors. and then he realized the heavy condensed puffs of air that left his mouth with every breath, along with the delicate ice formations that covered almost every single part of the room, from the bedframe to the walls. worse, he could somehow feel every single part of that ice, almost as if they were extensions of his own body. he realized he could move them, if he focused for long enough, stretching up to the ceiling or recoiling to just the bedframe. it felt wonky, like a broken member – he could feel it, but controlling and moving felt painful.

this memory in particular amuses him. it not only shows him the obvious – he has drastically improved his skills since then, becoming the cryomancer the clan needed -, but the fact that he survived all that time in the cold with no aid or protection showed him how strong he actually was. it showed him that, even in the most adverse situations, fighting against mother nature itself, bi-han could and would rise victorious, no matter the cost. mastering ice was a natural, almost logical consequence of his existence; bi-han does not dwell on subjectivities or emotion and prides himself in his practicality and logic. his ego is often fed by the fact that he knows he’s good in every single thing he does – and that very few, almost none carry the same strength, resilience and greatness as he does.

bi-han is aware, however, that his father would never be satisfied. in his eyes, bi-han was not and would never be enough – and bi-han knew that. he was acutely aware of the critical stare the man always sported and the disdain in his voice every time he interacted with bi-han. being the eldest son taught him that praise and affection were achieved through servitude and resignation; and even when he worked his hardest and pushed past every single limit, the praise he craved deep down was still uncertain. even in death, bi-han knows every single situation his father would’ve criticized his choices, down to the exact words he would’ve used. always the same tone, always the same phrases.

in the years preceding the old man’s death, bi-han became aware of the patterns. he always knew them, at least subconsciously, but they only became notable once he actively looked for it. bi-han knew how and what and when he would say something, almost like a script from a play. it became predictable and, therefore, able to be used as leverage. bi-han couldn’t openly confront his father, he was still grandmaster of the lin kuei after all. but he could make sure the man ate his words every time he opened his mouth – and that felt enough of a victory as he could achieve at the time.

he does not dwell on their last conversation. he does not feel guilty for their last encounter.

he does feel guilty for not seeing his mother in her last moments, however. the news of her passing was delivered to him upon return from a mission, along with kuai liang. even then, bi-han knew he could and would not grieve her as she deserved – the clan needed a strong figure to support his father and kuai liang and tomas needed someone to lean on. he knew he would never be able to properly express how important she had always been during his upbringing and how much of her heart he still carries to this day. every single memory he has of her is crystalized in time inside his mind, secretly treasured like a hidden chest of precious jewelry.

kuai liang is terribly like her, in the best and worst ways possible. he has the strong sense of justice and rebellion that she did – a fierce and strong warrior, capable of the most amazing accomplishments he’s ever heard of. his mother was fire itself: bright and brilliant and terribly passional. unchecked, his mother could devour entire villages all by herself. as much as mastering ice was his own nature, mastering fire was kuai liang’s. as much as becoming grandmaster was his destiny, becoming the lin kuei’s general was kuai liang’s.

bi-han notices the sky beginning to brighten. if they lifted camp now, they would probably arrive at ying fortress before dawn.

duty called – and, once again, the lin kuei rose to the challenge.

at least, for now.

he does not enjoy physical contact. he never enjoyed it, even as a kid - being touched without consent is something bi-han despises with a fiery passion. the cryomancy does not aid in that aspect; the warmth of the touch is bothersome and sometimes painful. but it feels uncomfortable in a different way, almost as if his bones ache inside his body once people touch him without consent or warning. it often leads to an angry discussion or someone leaving with a broken nose. kuai liang tends to deal with the situation for him, especially when the perpetrator is an important figure or of interest to the lin kuei. but sometimes his reaction time gets the best of him - and confrontation is inevitable.

at the same time, bi-han is not verbally affectionate. when necessary, bi-han can lecture his students on fighting techniques, on weaponry, on war strategy and philosophy. he has done it before countless times, each time more eloquently than the last - bi-han is an excellent teacher, even though he lacks patience most times. but when it comes to interpersonal relations, bi-han is a complete disaster. surely, he can converse with other clan leaders, can discuss politics and trade deals, can and has secured alliances with other clans ever since he became grandmaster. he looks smooth - but, in private, bi-han falls flat every single time he has to interact with someone. it feels odd and weird and uncomfortable, both for the person and for him. it feels just like being touched, like his bones creak under his muscles once the awkwardness sets in - it feels physically painful.

so he refrains. he refrains from most celebrations or social gatherings, he does not interact with people outside of work or training. he leaves his bedroom in the early morning, works and trains until exhaustion and, once he's satisfied with his productivity, returns to his chambers to bathe, eat and sleep. that is, if he doesn't sleep at his table, in the grandmaster's office - kuai liang finds him unconscious on top of stacks of papers, sleeping over lin kuei documents and mission reports.

(on those nights, either kuai liang or tomas leave him a cup of tea and some food for once he wakes up. bi-han never thanks them for it, but they know he appreciates the care).

even before he became grandmaster, bi-han had the exact same routine: wake up, train, classes, train again, eat, bathe and sleep. his cryomancy interfered severely with his sleep - something about his metabolic rate trying to compensate for the cold, so he feels constantly awake. insomnia has accompanied him for years and the easiest way to sleep is to just exhaust himself enough that he passes out and sleeps until the next morning. it doesn't always work - but it does the trick on most nights. his mother was desperate seeing her son exhaust himself to sleep, but they had no other solution to the issue.

his mother worried about him. she knew bi-han was the most dedicated of all her sons, even though kuai liang and tomas have always been as devoted to the clan as the eldest. but bi-han's obstinate nature worried her. it worried her that bi-han would exhaust himself to the point of death to fulfill his father's demands. the lack of physical contact and verbal communication, even with his own family, terrified her; and realizing how closed off bi-han had and would always be made her worry for his wellbeing even in her last days.

kuai liang and tomas don't talk about it. they know trying to argue with bi-han is futile - and would end badly for both of them. tomas knows bi-han is closed-off because he feels uncomfortable and would rather die than force his brother into an uncomfortable situation. kuai liang still worries and wishes his brother would open up more, even if only with his brothers, but he also knows bi-han is not the type of person to verbalize concerns or issues. his brother is practical and methodical; the type of person to solve the issue before telling anyone about it. so he knows that, if someone were the matter, he would know sooner or later; but his mother's worry rubbed off on him.

bi-han may not be verbally or physically affectionate, but one can clearly tell when he is worried. bi-han cares for very few people in this world and he unconsciously dotes over them a little when worried - which is a lot, considering bi-han does not dote on anyone in normal circumstances. questioning on their welfare and wellbeing is a very clear sign bi-han is worried (at least for his brothers, who are often at the other end of the question). tending for wounds and aiding with training unprompted are also possibilities, while less common. openly admitting worry is the final and rarest event, only reserved for his late mother.

for bi-han, worry and doting are a display of affection. not that he realizes it consciously, since he rarely dwells on the reason why he acts like this with specific people. but ensuring their safety and wellbeing is how he shows people that he cares, even if he can't verbalize it properly. (he doesn't verbalize it at all; bi-han does not do feelings).

bi-han may not be conventionally affectionate - but he worries plenty for the ones he loves. and that is enough, at least for him.