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The door burst open with a violent crack, splinters scattering across the floor.
A bored sigh left his lips as his red glowing eyes scanned the room.
Empty.
Or at least pretending to be.
He stepped inside lazily, boots heavy against the wooden floorboards. The house groaned under his weight, dust drifting in the air where light filtered through broken shutters.
“They’re always hiding,” he complained, voice low and cold. “As if that changes anything.”
His hat spun once in his hand before settling back against his palm.
“How about you come out,” he called evenly, almost amused, “and we make this easier for both of us?”
Silence answered him.
He sighed again and rolled his eyes.
With a sharp motion, he overturned a table. Wood cracked against the wall. He kicked aside a chair, eyes scanning for movement, for breath, for fear.
He continued tearing through the house, frustration building with every empty corner he found. He finally stopped in front of a closed door, testing the handle. It didn’t budge.
A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
“Locked?” he mused. “One more chance,” he called mockingly. “You should really make this easier on us.”
He tried the handle again, tongue clicking in disappointment when it remained unmoved.
“Oh well.”
With a sharp kick, the door splintered inward.
He stepped through, immediately twisting to the side as a knife flew past him, embedding itself deep into the doorframe.
His head snapped toward the corner.
A figure stood there, another blade raised and ready, eyes blazing with defiance.
He narrowed his gaze, and then his expression faltered—eyes widened as his mouth parted slightly.
“Oh…”
You stood there, weapon clenched tightly in your hand, equally frozen as you took in his revenant form—ashen skin, glowing eyes, darkness curling around him like a second shadow.
“Y/n…”
Your breath hitched at the sound of your name. It wasn’t the same voice you remembered from when he was alive—rougher, colder—but it was still him.
Still Kung Lao.
A faint whimper behind you snapped you out of your trance.
You straightened immediately.
“Don’t,” you warned evenly as he took a step forward, raising your blade again. “I will not hesitate to kill you.”
Kung Lao frowned at that.
His head tilted slightly as he appraised you. You were shielding something—or rather someone.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he murmured, trying to peer around you.
You didn’t move. Not even an inch. Not even when you felt a small tug at the back of your shirt.
“Mama…” came a quiet, frightened whisper. “I’m scared…”
Your expression softened instantly. You lowered your voice, gentle despite the blade still raised. “I know, baby. Mama isn’t going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Kung Lao went completely still.
His face gave nothing away, but something shifted behind his eyes.
“Mama, huh?” he said slowly, a faint, almost cold smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think you’d move on from me that fast.”
A hollow chuckle followed.
“I didn’t,” you replied quietly.
His brow arched, eyes narrowing as if he expected you to fold under the weight of that statement.
He scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.
“Really?” he snickered, gaze drifting to the small face peeking around your side. “You know, you don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”
“I’m not lying,” you said firmly, a frown pulling at your features.
Now he studied you closely, as if considering the words coming from your mouth.
“Mmm,” he continued lazily, though there was something sharper beneath it. “So what? You were so heartbroken over me that you whored around and ended up a single mother? Damn. Didn’t expect that from you.”
Your face hardened instantly. Hurt flickered across your eyes before you forced it down, replacing it with steel.
“Yeah,” you replied coldly. “I whored around with you and ended up a single mother. Funny how that works.”
His mocking smirk faltered.
Just slightly.
His gaze flicked between you and the child clutching at your side.
“Careful,” he muttered, the humor draining from his tone. “You’ll make me think I actually fathered that kid.” His jaw tightened. “It’s cruel to give a man hope like that.”
“Trust me,” you replied just as quietly, “I would have rather given that hope to someone else.”
You stood there facing one another, both unreadable, neither willing to yield first.
“Impossible,” he grunted.
“Don’t tell me you forgot how reproduction works,” you seethed.
“I died,” he snarled, eyes flaring brighter at the reminder. “I couldn’t have knocked you up for shit.”
“Joke’s on you,” you shot back. “I was already pregnant by then.”
Silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“I was going to,” you said, your voice lowering. “I had everything planned out. I was going to tell you after the tournament. You were supposed to win and come home… come back to me.” Your throat tightened. “But you didn’t. You died.”
Your eyes shimmered, the memory still raw even after all those years.
Kung Lao’s racing thoughts stuttered to a halt.
Already pregnant.
You were going to tell him.
The day of the tournament.
The day he died.
“…What?” he breathed.
You let out a weary sigh, lowering your blade. Gently, you brought your child from behind you, kneeling down to hold them as they clung to you, fear still shining in their eyes.
“I was already two months pregnant by then,” you whispered. “But you were so focused on the tournament. I didn’t… want to distract you. I didn’t want to break your concentration.”
You looked up at him sadly, your heart twisting at the lost expression settling across his face as he processed your words.
“I thought it would be easier to tell you when you came back,” you continued softly. “Surprise you with a box of baby things…”
Your eyes drifted to a box tucked away in the closet—one you hadn’t been able to touch since that day.
Kung Lao followed your gaze.
His steps carried him toward it before he even seemed aware he was moving. He knelt and picked up the box, opening it slowly.
Inside lay a tiny pair of baby shoes. A pacifier. A folded onesie.
He reached for the card.
‘Congrats on becoming a Papa!’
His breath caught as he flipped it over, reading your handwriting.
‘Two months pregnant! Congrats baby, I can’t wait to raise our little one with you by my side. I love you so much, my legendary champion <3
Love, your favorite girl
P.S. — Congrats on the tournament too! I knew you’d kick everyone’s ass :D’
A droplet of water landed on the card.
He blinked in confusion.
Another drop followed.
Slowly, he lifted a hand to his face.
Wet.
He was crying.
He sucked in a shaky breath and closed his eyes.
His mind flooded with memories from when he was still alive—the way he used to hold you in his arms, the laughter you shared, the stupid jokes, the playful arguments that always ended with one of you apologizing first just to pull the other back in.
He imagined it.
Coming home victorious that day. Smile wide, chest puffed with pride. You running into his arms. Breaking the news to him.
He imagined the way his grin would have grown impossibly brighter. The way he would have spun you around. The way he would have dropped to his knees in disbelief.
A broken breath left him.
He slowly turned back to you.
To the sight of you clutching your child protectively in your arms.
His gaze flickered down to the hat in his hand.
Executioner.
Father.
Soldier.
Partner.
His heart and mind tore at each other, struggling between what he was meant to do and what he wanted to do.
“Don’t,” you said softly, recognizing the war written across his face. “It doesn’t have to end like this. Please.” Your voice trembled, but your eyes stayed steady. “We can still be a family.”
“I… can’t,” he said quietly, jaw tightening. “I’m not the same anymore. I’m a revenant now. An executioner. I have duties I must follow.”
You shook your head gently. “No, you don’t. You’re Kung Lao. The descendant of the Great Kung Lao. An incredible man who followed in the footsteps of his ancestors and made them proud. A man who gave everything he had and will be remembered for it. A man who loved me so much he gave me a child…” Your voice softened. “A man I’m still very much in love with.”
His head dipped lower, refusing to meet your eyes, his body trembling faintly beneath the weight of your words.
“You can still do the right thing,” you whispered. “I know you still love me. I can see it.” Your voice wavered just slightly. “Please, my love.”
You stepped closer, slowly lifting your hands to rest on his shoulders. You felt them tense beneath your touch.
His hands moved to your waist instinctively, as if muscle memory had taken over before his mind could stop it.
“I love you so much, Lao…” you breathed. “Let’s choose the right thing.”
A small shuffle pulled your attention away. You turned your head to see your child slowly stepping toward you.
You beckoned them forward, bending down to lift them into your arms.
“Baby… this is your papa,” you murmured softly, brushing your fingers through their hair.
They hesitated at first, still clinging tightly to you, unsure as their eyes traced over Kung Lao’s darkened features.
His chest tightened painfully.
Slowly, almost afraid, he lifted a hand and gently brushed his fingers along their cheek.
His breath caught when they didn’t pull away.
A soft, fragile smile touched his lips.
“…Okay,” he whispered.
His arm came fully around your waist, pulling you and your child against his chest.
“Okay… we’ll do the right thing,” he breathed.
Relief flooded through you.
“We’ll find a way to restore you,” you promised quietly, melting into his hold. “We’re finally going to be a family. The way we were meant to be.”
He held you both tightly, his chest feeling lighter now that he had chosen.
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “One step at a time. We’ve got this.”
His grip tightened just slightly.
“I love you. Both of you.”
“We love you too.”