Once Upon A Mountain

Raiden's hands were surprisingly steady as he worked on the singing birds perched nervously around him. For a guy who could barely hold onto sobriety, let alone his composure, the act of pruning feathers and channeling Qi was a far cry from his usual rugged, careless demeanor.

"Alright, little feathery-monsters," Raiden muttered, holding up a brilliantly plumed bird that stared at him as if he owed it rent. "You either let me prune you without biting my fingers off, or I'll start calling you all 'Shiro's underling' which you technically are."

Behind him, the Blood Phoenix himself leaned lazily against a tree, his yellow kimono catching the sunlight like a flame in the wind. Shiro's signature smirk was in place as always, though it carried a glint of triumph today.

"I'll have you know," Shiro said smoothly, "those birds are the pride of the Crimson Forest. It's an honor to tame them."

"Oh, an honor, is it?" Raiden drawled, holding up a stray feather. "Because it feels more like a punishment for, I don't know, existing. Honestly, I could be three drinks in right now, but noooo, you're all about spiritual growth and sobriety."

The bird in his hands chirped, and Raiden could've sworn it sounded smug. He scowled. "Even you're judging me, huh? Figures."

"You're not wrong," Shiro said, his smirk widening. "But I've gotta admit, you're doing better than I expected."

"Don't patronize me, birdbrain."

It wasn't long before the birds began to trust Raiden, mostly because he had the patience of a saint—or a man who was very, very tired of Shiro's constant nagging. When they finally allowed him to channel his Qi energy, something strange happened: their feathers shimmered, their eyes glowed, and suddenly, they weren't just chirping anymore.

They were singing. With actual words.

One of the birds fluttered onto Raiden's shoulder and crooned, "Thank youuu, oh rugged oooone~!"

Raiden blinked. "...Holy bird, fu-."

But before he could escape, a flood of Qi energy surged through him, almost as if the birds had siphoned it back. The world spun for a moment, and then the nightmares hit.

Raiden woke up drenched in sweat, the chill of his recurring nightmare lingering in his bones. It was always the same: an endless expanse of snow, an ominous wind howling through the void, and the faint sound of something—or someone—calling his name.

"Raiden…"

He shook his head, trying to banish the image. No matter how much he drank or didn't drink, thanks to Shiro's new sobriety rules, the nightmare only grew stronger. It was as if the snow wasn't just a dream but a memory clawing its way back into his consciousness.

And Shiro, of course, was no help. "Nightmares are just your subconscious processing unresolved issues," he had said with infuriating calmness, this era's freud. "Maybe try meditating instead of drinking."

Raiden had responded with a pointed glare. "Maybe try shutting up instead of talking."

But deep down, Raiden knew Shiro had a point. Not that he'd ever admit it.

The Dragon Palace was as grand and intimidating as ever, with its towering jade columns, golden dragons coiled around every pillar, and a faint, ever-present hum of energy that made the air feel alive. Shiro strode through the halls with his usual confident grace, the kind that made everyone else feel like background characters in his movie.

Yui was in the middle of berating a hunched, elderly psychic when Shiro entered. Her icy blue eyes narrowed immediately, locking onto him like a predator spotting prey.

"You!" she hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "This is your fault!"

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Don't play coy with me," Yui snapped. "We lost track of that beast tamer because of your incompetence!"

"Ah, Bao," Shiro said, his tone light but with a flicker of irritation beneath it. "That little oblivious human. Remind me, was it my fault he decided to leap into a space rift, or was that just his insufferable optimism?"

Yui growled, the air around her crackling with wind energy. Before she could retort, a figure emerged from the shadows behind her.

"It's you," Armin said, his voice low and steady. He stepped forward, his serious gaze cutting through the tension like a blade. "Where is Raiden?"

Shiro's smirk faltered for a split second—something only Raiden ever seemed to achieve—but he quickly composed himself. "He's right behind me."

Sure enough, Raiden sauntered in, looking as unbothered as ever despite the dark circles under his eyes. He grinned when he saw Armin. "Well, if it isn't my better half."

Armin's stoic expression softened, just a little. "Raiden."

Without thinking, Raiden pulled his best friend into a bear hug, something he'd never have done in his usual drunken state. But now, sober and raw, the gesture carried a weight he wasn't used to expressing.

Armin returned the hug, though his brow furrowed slightly as he pulled back. "Something's wrong."

Raiden chuckled, though it lacked his usual bravado. "Oh, you know me. Always wrong about something."

"Raiden." Armin's voice was firm, the kind that demanded honesty.

With a sigh, Raiden jerked his head toward the door. "I am not gay, I swear. Just got lot on my mind."

The cool night air was a welcome relief as the two friends stepped outside leaving the beasts to bicker. For a moment, they walked in silence, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, Armin broke the quiet. "What's wrong, dude?"

Raiden hesitated, running a hand through his unruly hair. "It's… the snow. That damn snowy place. It keeps showing up in my dreams, and it feels—real. Too real."

Armin listened without interrupting, his calm presence grounding Raiden in a way nothing else could.

"And Shiro," Raiden continued, his voice tinged with frustration, "has me off alcohol. Says it's messing with my Qi or whatever. But honestly? I think being sober is worse."

Armin's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "You've always been dramatic."

"I'm serious, Armin," Raiden said, his tone uncharacteristically somber. "I can't shake this feeling. Like the snow… it's trying to tell me something. Or warn me."

Armin placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

Raiden looked at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You've always had my back, huh?"

"Do I have a choice?" Armin said simply.

Raiden's smile grew, though it was tinged with nostalgia. "You remember the Qi mountain? The time you pulled me out of that place frozen?"

"How could I forget?" Armin said, his voice tinged with dry humor. "Never thought ice could preserve human meat that fresh."

Raiden laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness in his chest. "Yeah, well, maybe I was lucky, extremely at that."

They stood there for a moment, the weight of their shared past settling between them like an old, familiar cloak. Whatever the snowy nightmares meant, he wanted to know the exact happenings, "Tell me about it."