TAKEDA IS BACK :D

Kung Lao and Liu Kang come to the temple in close succession.

Kung Lao arrives wrapped in his father’s tunic, a look of delight on the man’s face as he delivers him to Lord Raiden’s doorstep for a proper blessing. Raiden smiles down at the newborn as he takes him, cradling him in his arms as he traces prayers in arcs of light above his skin.

“You have a lovely name,” he murmurs. “I am sure you will make the Elder Gods proud.”

The child can barely crack his eyes open yet, but still, he reaches, cooing softly as his fingers stretch up and grasp for the heavens.

***

Jaqueline Briggs is born at a hospital in New York City. Raiden does not meet her for several months, but hears stories from Johnathan, and catches a call home from Sonya about having “their girls” meet. The Briggs family takes a long time to ever introduce them. Jackson Briggs has never been one for this life, not after his death, and he seems… hesitant to allow Raiden into another piece of it.

Nonetheless, on one particular summer day when the air is humid and the sky is heavy with summer rain, Raiden visits. It is Johnathan that brings him, of course, to meet the new children and to (confidentially) have Raiden see if there are any… issues with either of them. Their fathers have both been touched by the energy of the Netherrealm, after all, and Johnathan has his worries.

The Briggses have moved out to a farm in the countryside by then, surrounding themself with old vestiges of Americana and making a home for themselves away from the wreckage of war. Raiden feels… oversized in their house. He does not fit here among the picture frames and the scented candles and the discarded, muddy work boots. He does not fit well amongst the living. He stinks too sharply of the dead.

It is Jackson that carries the children out of the back room, one girl swaddled neatly in the crook of each mechanical arm, and Sonya following closely behind. He looks tired and unsure, leaning down to press his forehead to a sleeping Jaqueline’s before holding her out to Raiden. Raiden smiles.

“I will not hurt her, Jackson Briggs.”

His face tenses, knots, his eyes darting down to her before he sighs through his nose.

“I know,” he murmurs.

***

Liu Kang arrives to the Shaolin covered in blood.

He is a small boy, hardly a year old by the looks of him, pulled from the mangled arms of two bodies found at the foot of the sky temple and delivered swiftly into Raiden’s care. His men said it may have been animals. The knife wounds in their necks speak of assassins.

Raiden does not humor keeping him at the temple. It is too cold for a child of his size, and the bouts of rain will only leave him shaking.

So he brings him to the monks. To clean, and raise, and care for.

The trip is short, a burst of light into the inner courtyard, the guards on watch already rushing to meet him and relieve him of his charge. But the child holds on. Raiden glances down when he feels small hands tugging at his robe, smoothing a finger briefly over the dark wisps of hair sticking to the infant’s cheek.

“They will not hurt you, little one,” he murmurs. “You will be safe here.”

***

Human children grow so fast. Raiden has seen it happen countless times, and yet it never fails to surprise him.

In the blink of an eye, Cassandra Cage and Jaqueline Briggs are old enough to walk, then talk, then joke, then fight. They take to the work like fish to water, at first as spectators to their parents’ training, then prospective hires, and then…

“The Shirai Ryu say they have someone for this team, too, the Hasashi Takahashi kid.”

Raiden looks up from the proposal laid out on his desk. Johnathan is leaning back, his feet kicked up on the wood, fingers drumming a rhythm into the tactical cloth of his thigh.

“I… was not aware the two of them had—”

“Oh!” Johnathan sits upright, face surprised. “No no no not uh… like that, just… He’s Takahashi’s son, but grandmaster Hasashi helped bring him up. Name’s Takeda. Hasashi says you’ve seen the kid in action a bit, back when all that kamidogu shit went down. They think he’d be a good fit for our ranks.” He huffs. “And, Cass says Jaqui’s already been smitten with him in his first handful of visits to the training gym, sooo… good for team synergy.”

“Mm.” Raiden looks back down at the report. It is an… interesting proposal. A new group to help ally various factions together via their next generations. It would be the first of its kind, at least since the alliances during the tournament, and poses a powerful threat to their enemies should the bonds work as proposed.

Should they not, however…

Raiden’s brow furrows, but he aims for a pleasant expression when he addresses Johnathan once more.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He smiles. “I will consider the recommendation. Thank you, Johnathan Cage.”

***

Raiden loses track of the number of times he is contacted about Kung Lao fighting too roughly. Not following his forms, breaking protocol for cheap hits, wrestling fellow Shaolin into the dirt. He is talented when he tries, they say, but is too easily angered when his pride is bruised.

It is why Raiden is not surprised when he receives yet another letter with word of the same kind of incident.

He is surprised, however, for that letter to include Liu Kang.

He has never transported himself to the Shaolin temple so quickly.

He finds the two of them sitting on the stone steps by one of the training yards, Liu Kang sporting an awfully purple cheek and Kung Lao nursing a bandage on his forearm. They’re laughing about something with each other, lounged casually in their training clothes, but at the sight of Raiden, they both tense and sit up straight.

“Lord Raiden!” Liu Kang exclaims. He is the first to his feet, bowing deeply. Kung Lao follows, his movements practiced and eyes wary.

Raiden waves for them to relax, removing his hat and leaning down to get a better look at Liu Kang.

“What in Earthrealm have you two been doing…” he hisses.

Liu Kang shrinks, shooting a glance back to Kung Lao. Raiden moves to him next, taking his arm gently to inspect the damage. It doesn’t seem broken, but he can see the spotting of blood beneath the linens. He frowns.

“We just fought too seriously, that’s all,” Kung Lao mumbles. “It’s not a big deal.”

Raiden’s gaze flicks to Liu Kang, who makes a strange face and hangs his head slightly. “It has been a little boring. I’ve already mastered the techniques I’ve been shown, but the masters say I haven’t. Lao challenged me to beat him and I accepted. We didn’t mean to get out of hand.”

Raiden sighs and straightens, taking a moment to find his words.

“I… understand you are not used to being away from family, Kung Lao,” he begins. “And Liu Kang, I know you are being given harder training but you—” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before staring down at them. They are young boys, so old already but still so fragile. Too fragile for the life ahead of them.

“But you are meant for better things than this,” Raiden says. “You are meant to aid in Earthrealm’s protection. By the words of the Elder Gods, and your families, and my own choice, you are to be raised as champions. Champions must learn to follow the rules before they can break them.”

Both boys stare up at him, worry and determination hard in their features. Raiden sighs again and crouches down on one knee, summoning his best smile.

“Focus, that is all I ask. Focus, and you will be great warriors in time, I know it.”

***

Kung Jin is nearly older now than Kung Lao ever was.

It is a thought that strikes Raiden one morning, as clear and piercing as a knife.

What a painful thing, he thinks. What an awful truth to bear.

He makes his way down to the memorial wing after morning prayers, walking quietly past the statues to the more intimate area of personal altars in the back. Liu Kang’s spot has a littering of small gifts, and Kung Lao has a wilted mix of flowers and treats spilling onto the floor of his. His family has not forgotten him, or his loss. They visit the temple regularly, even if their taste for Raiden has soured.

Raiden removes his hat, setting it to the side as he kneels before the inked portraits of his fallen boys. Their expressions do not change now, frozen in time and memory. He takes a breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the same as he has every day before. The same as every day for years past now. The same as he will every day on, forever.

The room yawns, aching and quiet.