Archive of Our Own ^beta

Johnny Cage looped the belt around his waist, paying attention to where the folds went and to not squeeze so tight, and after only one retry, he got it right. Kai spoke truth, he was getting better at this.

He put on his purple aviator jacket, having learnt the hard way that his body didn’t appreciate the cold at this time of the year, when a coat of fluffy white covered the mountains.

As he did, he caught his image in the mirror, and something drew his attention. It took him a moment to realise what had done it, but then he noticed how brighter his face looked: he didn’t know when it had happened, but the dark bags had disappeared from around his eyes, allowing his green pupils to shine once more. The young man in the mirror looked… well, young, and Johnny allowed himself a moment of appraisal, thinking back on Liu Kang’s words: “You are a seeker, not a hunter. The journey is not to the sky, but to your heart. Celebrate your every step, no matter how small it may seem.”

With a steadying breath, Johnny left his room.

Outside, the wind howled a greeting. Burying his hands in his pockets, he walked through stone paths that wound between ginkgo trees and little buckthorns, shivering to try and displace the patches of snow lodged in their leaves. He would need to check on the garden tomorrow, but for now, it looked well, if a little cold.

Standing vigil right atop the White Lotus, the full moon shone with the brilliance of a leading actress, blinding everyone around her with her talent and fame, rendering the lanterns spread across the monastery nearly insignificant.

An orange flame wavered ahead, calling to him, and Johnny gladly accepted its invitation.

“There he is!” Kai cheered as he approached.

“Good night, friends.” He bowed to each of the monks he had come to consider as such an integral part of his life—or, as Lord Raiden said, his new life: Kung Lao, his signature razor hat replaced by a beanie; Sonya Blade, her thin frame cocooned in a parka double her size; and Kai, with his cornrows and arms bare, never seeming to get cold, but despite that strangeness, he had become someone Johnny proudly called his best friend. After the greeting, he took his hands out of his pockets and placed them by the fire, sighing in contentment as the flames licked his palms. “Where’s Liu?”

“He knew you were coming, so he went to grab our supper,” Kung Lao answered.

Johnny didn’t know how the older monk did it, but absolutely nothing got by him—for better or worse. In situations like this, though, he was grateful for that sixth sense: after a day of intense training, one of the most challenging marathons he had completed since his arrival, his stomach had already started groaning more than an hour ago.

“And I hope you will enjoy it, as I made it extra warm today.” Liu Kang appeared carrying a tray with five bowls that he went around the bonfire distributing until he was left only with his own.

Despite his eagerness to eat, Johnny placed the bowl on his lap and waited until Liu Kang pronounced, “First, let us acknowledge those whose labour brought us this food.” The others repeated after him, and then he proceeded, “Second, let us reflect upon our deeds and virtues as we accept this meal. Third, let us pacify our minds so that they will be free from greed, hate, and delusions. Fourth, let us show gratitude for this meal, which nourishes our body and mind. Fifth, let us take this food so that we may continue our work and attain our way.”

Once the echo of their voices vanished into the valleys of the Songshan, they started eating. Johnny wasn’t the biggest fan of spicy food, but his throat welcomed the burning sensation as he pushed the braised noodles into his mouth and crunched crispy mushrooms.

Kai hummed his appreciation of the taste. He swallowed his portion, then pointed his chopsticks at the others. “Anyone got any stories to help warm us?”

Kung Lao clicked his tongue. “I saw a leopard today.”

“A leopard?” Sonya squinted at him. “Where?”

“West of the Zhongyue. It was getting a little too curious, but it went away after it saw me.”

“With that scary face, it’s no wonder,” Kai quipped, drawing a laugh out of the others.

“I’ll show you who’s scary! A fight tomorrow on the bridge?”

Kai raised his fists in mock challenge, and Kung Lao couldn’t resist joining in on the laughter.

After they recovered their sobriety, Sonya shared her progress in her training. A particular type of magical affinity she had, granting her a more direct connection to the energy of the chakras. Lord Fujin had explained the heights she could reach one day with due dedication, leaving Johnny frankly astonished. So far, though, she had only honed one of those skills: enhancing her own physical prowess through the root chakra. Following the instructions of the Goddess of Wind, she had been dedicating some time to the sacral chakra and its bond with emotions to… varying degrees of success.

Not that Johnny judged her. He recognised the affliction of dealing with emotions all too well, particularly one’s own. Perhaps, once Sonya learnt the techniques of the sacral, she could give him some more tips. If he could make her stop hating him, that was. First, of course, he needed to solve the mystery of why she hated him.

The end of her report brought a new lull to the conversation, filled by the slurping of noodles.

“I want to say something.” Johnny rarely spoke much during these encounters, and when he did, it was usually in passing, such as Kung Lao and his encounter with the leopard. But he wanted—more, he needed to be more present. And the amiable gaze of the others, except the one sitting beside him, gave him the courage to do that. “Today was an arduous day. Lord Raiden told me to climb to the nearest peak, and more than once, I feared I had got lost in the mountain with nowhere to go but up, so up I went until I could barely breathe. And when I got there, he made me stand still at the edge of the peak and just… stay there for two hours.”

The amused expression in their faces told him they understood his pain like no one else would. “Better get used to these,” Kung Lao said with a knowing smile—he, who helped train the younger monks alongside Liu Kang, and would likely put Johnny through that himself.

“My legs hurt so much.” Johnny took a sip of his tea, his mouth drying just thinking about the trek he had to brave to reach the peak and then to return to the White Lotus. “But I also feel… light. Seems like my training has officially begun now, and I’m ready for it, or I hope I am, but let me tell you, I was deadly wrong when I thought this would be like practising for a martial arts role. No, my friends, no. I’d have sued any director who tried to put me through this under charges of attempted murder!”

The mountain came alive with the sound of their laughter, and even Sonya let a snicker escape.

“Can I ask you something?” Liu Kang brought his still steaming tea up to his nose. “You do not need to answer if you do not feel comfortable.”

“Of course. Hit me.”

“What inspired you to become an actor?”

Johnny copied the older monk, letting the tea’s perfumed steam billow before his eyes. And in that screen of smoke, he watched scenes that marked his childhood and early teenage years: Jean-Claude Van Damme never surrendering in Bloodsport, Marlon Brando’s camouflaged face in Apocalypse Now, the blend of reality and madness in Persona. “I’ve loved films since I remember myself. For the action, for the story, for the ideas it inspired me to contemplate. And as I encountered the same actors playing different characters, I also started wondering how that would feel.” He sipped his tea, then lowered the cup, his gaze lost in the crackling flames. “I… I never felt like I belonged. A-and I don’t want to seem like I’m blaming my parents, that I wish I had been adopted by a different family, no. This is on me. I couldn’t fit. So many times, I looked in the mirror, and I couldn’t recognise who I saw there.” Reflexively, he lifted his hand to touch his ear but regretted it as a pang spread across the right side of his face. Cold always made his scar sensitive. “And one day I thought: what if I become an actor? Maybe, if I played as many roles as my idols, I’d one day find myself in a character, and through them, I’d understand who I am.”

“Did you?” Sonya asked with none of the gentleness the others afforded him, just a sharp curiosity.

“For a time, I believe I did. I played this superhero, and it was so goofy…”

“Garish leotard and all?” Kai smirked.

“Yes, every silly and extravagant thing I could’ve hoped for!” Johnny smiled at the recollection. “And with all that ridiculous apparel on me, I saved people. I know, I know, it was all make-believe, but it felt good. It felt… true.”

“Soon, you will join us in keeping the realm safe.” He found Liu Kang’s kind eyes, brimming with certainty. “It may not carry the glory of a hero, but it will be real.”

Johnny nodded, infected with that confidence. “I know. You can count on me.”

His gaze strayed upwards, to a dark corner of the mountain. He couldn’t see it from here, but he knew the Cavern of the Pure lay there, waiting. A place for introspection, the monks would sometimes climb up there to give offerings to the Elder Gods and meditate. But the cavern served an even more meaningful purpose: deep in its heart lay the chamber where the monks went to cultivate, unimpeded, for as long as they could. Before Johnny arrived, Liu Kang had once stayed there for six months. Six months without food or water, without moving a muscle, uttering a single word, or opening his eyes to daylight, only cultivating his Breath. Kung Lao had gone as far as four months—and his ancestor, according to Lord Raiden, nine months. Kai, two weeks, and even that impressed Johnny, who still struggled to meditate for more than an hour without getting fidgety.

He had no delusions of ever getting close to Kung Lao’s level, let alone Liu Kang’s, but would he ever be there by Kai’s side? One step at a time, he reminded himself. Four years ago, he had been chasing doses of poisonous bliss, downing bottles of false hope. Three years ago, he had been atrophying in a hospital bed, unsure if he would ever get up again. And now here he was, not only out of bed but climbing mountains, practising real martial arts, and learning to control something he never knew he had: magic.

Magic he barely understood yet, and the Crimson Scales tournament approached fast. Lord Raiden said he would likely stay out of it, but Johnny wanted to fight for his realm and, more importantly, for this community that had welcomed him with no prejudice, no judgement, only friendship.

A soft melody brought Johnny back to the present. Kung Lao plucked at the strings of his guqin, the narrow body of the instrument resting on his lap. Quietly, his feet making no sound against the stones, Liu Kang set his bangu down some distance away from his brother, took the two bamboo sticks, and joined Kung Lao.

It should be disastrous. Under normal circumstances, the bangu would easily shatter the quiet symphony of the guqin and crown itself the reigning sound. Yet it did not. Liu Kang struck the head of the drum with masterful precision to create an almost dull beat that glided beneath the placid but resonant waves of the guqin. Beside him, Sonya silently tapped her foot to the rhythm, eyes closed as she tilted her head to bathe in the moonlight.

“Pale moon

O, pale moon.”

Kai’s lyrics vibrated within Johnny’s heart, warming him with their deep resonance. He smiled as he always did when his friend sang, the most beautiful voice he had ever had the pleasure of listening to.

“Watch over these night-kissed hills

As we march on

And for your light we croon

O, pale moon…”

He hummed, and while Johnny wouldn’t dare let his voice out and disturb the song, at least he could drone along. He’d need to choose an instrument to learn, too, but… that would have to wait.

“O pale moon

Pale moon…”

Time passed with the crackling of the fire, and when the wind started getting too cold, a new instrument joined their composition.

They all looked up to watch as Fujin, Goddess of Wind, floated towards them, sitting cross-legged on a pillow of clouds and playing their flute. Without breaking their own arrangement, Kung Lao and Liu Kang welcomed the new tune into their midst, and they made beautiful music until the goddess touched the ground.

“The wind carried your harmony to me, and I couldn’t help but join you for the finale.”

“We are glad you did, Lord Fujin,” Liu Kang said as they bowed to one of Earthrealm’s Protectors and their mentor.

Fujin looked at each of them with one of their smiles that brought a surge of peace even to heavy hearts. “This gives me an idea. Tomorrow, our training will revolve around music.”

“I have yet to choose an instrument, Lord Fujin,” Sonya said.

“So do I, I’m afraid,” Johnny added.

Fujin placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “There are many ways to make music, young pupils. With instruments, with your voices. With your hearts. Tomorrow, I will teach you.” They glided away from the monks, their braided hair blowing with the wind. “For now, do enjoy the moon for a while longer before you head to sleep. I will do the same. She is especially lovable tonight.”

She is, Johnny smiled at the celestial entity. Indeed, as he gazed upon her light, he thought the moon had never looked so lovable before.

Alt text: Digital illustration of Johnny Cage, from Chronicles of the Realms, by me. It's a front-view portrait of him wearing his sunglasses and purple overcoat over his green monk suit. He has the appearance of a human in his thirties with brown hair and beard and sandy skin.