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Your hands were trembling violently though no one seemed to notice, thankfully.
Today, you had been forced to tag along with the rest of the champions for a group training session. Liu Kang had insisted it was important for you to participate, that building bonds within the team mattered just as much as honing combat skills. You could learn something new from one another, he’d said.
A technique.
A perspective.
Maybe even a friend.
You had tried to excuse yourself. You told him your presence wasn’t necessary, that the others would do just fine without you, but Liu Kang, calm and unwavering as ever, had gently shut that down.
So here you were.
Sitting rigidly on a bench at the edge of the training grounds, hands shoved deep into your pockets to hide their shaking. Your shoulders were tight, posture drawn inward as if you could make yourself smaller. Invisible.
Johnny’s voice filled the space beside you, loud and animated, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside your chest.
“—And can you believe the guy?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Had the audacity to try and sue me over movie credits. The nerve—”
You hummed softly in response, nodding when he glanced at you, clearly expecting sympathy. You weren’t entirely sure what you were sympathizing with, but that didn’t matter. It was easier this way. Easier than speaking. Easier than drawing attention to yourself.
Your heart was beating too fast. Your thoughts were already racing ahead, worrying about what you might say next, or worse—what you might say wrong.
You hummed again, noncommittal, eyes fixed somewhere over Johnny’s shoulder. Your responses came easily when they didn’t require words.
Nods.
Small sounds.
The bare minimum to pass as present.
Inside, though, your thoughts were racing.
You were painfully aware of where everyone was positioned around the training grounds. Who might look at you next. Who might speak to you.
Johnny eventually drifted off, distracted by Kenshi calling his name from across the yard. Relief washed over you so suddenly your knees nearly buckled.
You exhaled slowly and shifted on the bench, fingers curling deeper into your pockets as if you could anchor yourself there.
You were strong—everyone knew that.
You had proven it across timelines, battles, worlds that had ended and restarted. You had fought gods, monsters—fate itself. You had never hesitated on the battlefield.
But unfortunately, strength had never helped you in the social department.
A familiar presence settled beside you, unhurried and quiet. The heat that radiated off him was gentle, like standing near a hearth rather than a firestorm.
“You are thinking too loudly,” Liu Kang said softly.
You flinched despite yourself, shoulders tensing before you could stop it. He noticed immediately.
“I’m sorry,” he added, just as gently. “I did not mean to startle you.”
You shook your head quickly. “No— it’s fine. I just… wasn’t paying attention.”
A lie. A small one. But lies were easier than explanations.
He didn’t call you out on it.
Instead, he folded his hands together and looked out over the training grounds with you, giving you space rather than scrutiny.
“You do not have to speak if you do not wish to,” he said after a moment. “Your presence alone is enough.”
You swallowed, gaze dropping to the ground.
“I know you want me here,” you murmured. “I just… don’t know how to be. With everyone.”
Liu Kang turned slightly toward you then, his expression calm, eyes warm with something that felt dangerously close to understanding.
“You have always stood alone,” he said. Not as an accusation, not as pity. Just a simple truth. “Even when you were surrounded by many.”
You nodded, your gaze dropping briefly before lifting again.
He continued, voice steady and gentle. “Strength is often mistaken for solitude. For discipline. But it does not have to be.”
You looked up at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes.
“And what if I don’t know how to stop?” you asked quietly, the words barely more than a breath.
A small smile curved his lips.
“Then,” he said, “we can start with something simple. Something small.”
He gestured to the bench, to the space beside him.
“Sit. Breathe. Let the moment pass.”
You blinked, eyes following the movement of his hand before drifting back to his face. His gaze held nothing but patience and kindness—two things you rarely allowed yourself to believe were meant for you.
Slowly, you nodded.
You scooted closer, inch by careful inch, forcing your shoulders to lower, your muscles to unclench. To simply exist in the moment rather than brace against it.
Liu Kang lifted his hand then and offered it to you, leaving the choice entirely yours.
Take it, or don’t.
No pressure.
No expectation.
Just an invitation.
You stared at his hand for a moment longer, heart thudding quietly in your chest. Then, slowly, you unfurled your fingers from your pockets and slid your hand into his.
Liu Kang’s smile was immediate but subtle, like he’d been careful not to startle you. His fingers curled around yours with gentle certainty, thumb moving in slow, grounding circles against your skin. A moment later, his other hand came to rest over the top of your joined hands, warm and steady.
You shivered at the heat of him as you let yourself relax into the sensation.
The tightness in your chest eased. Your breathing slowed. For the first time in a while, the noise in your head softened.
This felt… safe.
Like maybe speaking wouldn’t always be so hard.
Maybe being alone wasn’t something you needed to cling to—especially when someone could stand beside you like this. Quietly. Without asking you to be anything other than what you were.
“Thank you…” you whispered.
Liu Kang looked at you with that same calm warmth and hummed softly.
“Always.”
And for once, you believed him.