Tigress got up gasping. Her throat was lumped with stones, and she jerked and shook thinking that the bamboo prints on the walls were coated with red oozing liquid. Fire surrounded the endless plains, she felt her fur singe and her flesh melt and her head swerve like a tsunami had hit her. Smog and decay stuck to her lungs, and Tigress saw an unfamiliar white corpse tainted with blood. Po. Limbs scattered in her view, chunks of flesh lost from his body, bones sticking out, and the fleeting image of a mysterious tiger plunging an arm into him. The tiger purred, yanking out something that she dreaded were the panda's guts. Tigress's heart slammed violently against her ribs. In the bright moonlight, she saw the clear face of the killer. Herself. Tigress ran forward, screaming Po's name, unsure what she was even doing—
Then everything vanished.
"Shit," she swore under her breath. She glanced around, realizing that the oak desk was there at the corner of the small room, she was sitting on a soft mattress and the dagger she kept under her pillow was in her grasp. The bamboos were mere paintings that had faded over the years. This was her room. No fire, no blood, no corpse. Tigress didn't release her dagger. She kept it in her paw, as if scared that the scene would reappear. Her heart continued to pound. Sweat beaded down her face, drenched her sleeping clothes, and a lingering pain infested her head.
Tigress closed her eyes and bit down, hard. She winced at the pain of her own canines, piercing through her lips. She opened her eyes again and looked around. Normal. She let go of the dagger.
Tigress hadn't seen something like that for a long time. 20 years, roughly, and she was convinced that they had gone for good. She was emotionless. Stiff. Nothing like that would ever haunt her again.
"Dammit, Po…" She hung her head back, still able to see the image of the corpse clearly. After 3 weeks out of the palace, she was glad that she had skipped dinner and headed straight to bed—otherwise she'd be splayed with her own regurgitation by then. She got up, frightened by the notion of going back to sleep, and slipped into a casual shirt and pants.
In moments she was out of her room, far from everyone and everything else. She found her way to the crevices of the palace, where large, ironwood trees stood in complete blackness. Even though it had been a while since she had seen them, she remembered where each and every one of them were positioned, where she had thrown her punches and the very slight dents that decorated the barks. Back then, master Shifu had taught her to be in control of her emotions, to keep them in check because that way the pain would be dulled, the risk of accidents would be minimized and she could carry on with more resistance.
But master Shifu wasn't here.
Tigress was in control of what she would do and would not do, and at this moment, this was a very dangerous power she had to wield. Her emotions consumed her whole. Her head numb, the whirlwind of fear, anguish, pain robbed her of her senses and she slammed her knuckles ruthlessly against the bark. The different levels of pain welded, becoming just that. Even as her paws bled, her mind ignored it. All it sensed was the odour from Po's corpse.
Someday, Po is going to die because of me.
Gradually her blows become harder as she saw past images, past scenes of people who had died by her hands, those people she could not save and let die because she was frightened and weak and useless. Then a woman, a tigress with the same amber eyes as hers, guts bleeding and half a tail missing. She staggered, staggered so hard to bring her to safety, then in the end her body wilted and disappearing like wisps into the sky. And what good did that do?
Monster! She's a monster!
Those days of being isolated, kept away from the other children because she was dangerous and problematic and only given a place to stay because of her mother's deed and title in the world. Those days of being alone, of not having anyone to call a friend, of being cast out by all of society as a monster.
You see those fangs? The fangs of a monster.
The force that controlled her movements began to create bloated bruises, cracks in her bones, other things that she could not and did not bother to perceive.
I am…a monster.
One final, violent thrust to the bark, sent her faltering, panting, barely able to stand. Her emotions were finally satisfied. Exhaustion took over and no longer did her loud echoes haunt the eerie night. The pain, though, only became sharper as her conscience returned to her. She couldn't see exactly what she had done to herself, but trying to curl her trembling paws had her making a weird, pitched sound. She thought that maybe there were a few minor wounds, and that she should go back and try to treat them as best as possible. No one would find out, and that was for the best. Scurrying back to her room, she tiptoed lightly through the hallways sure that the rest of the members were asleep.
"Oh hey, Tigress!"
She drew in a sharp breath when she heard that voice. Po. Tigress had been so fixated on getting back quietly that she had disregarded all possibilities of the panda and his midnight snacking tendencies. How clumsy of her. In the one hands of the panda were a candle, and the other, a tray of pastries. From the flicker of the orange light she could see that Po was well. No bones sticking out. Body completely intact. A few scratches from the long campaign they had returned from, but otherwise unscathed. She was glad, for a second, that she saw him alive and well.
"Yo, is that you, Tigress? What're you doing up so late?"
Then her situation hit her again. She put her paws behind her back.
"Nothing much. Just couldn't sleep."
"Is something wrong?" The panda knew it wasn't normal. For years since he started staying here, not once had the tigress ever come out while he was having his snacks. Tigress dismissed his thought, and Po guessed that he was just too cautious. He gestured at the tray in his arm. "Well, if you want, we could always—"
Po's pupils shrunk in panic. The tray fell and the candle extinguished, leaving them in a familiar darkness that Tigress had just been in. She was confused for a moment, before an old memory hit her. Sometime during a sunny afternoon: you know, Tigress, us pandas have a kickass sense of smell!
"Tigress—" Po stepped out of the kitchen door and started towards her.
"Stay. Away." Tigress dropped all effort to maintain her composure and she hopped back a few steps, her voice having turned wary.
Po pursed his lips. Tigress watched him carefully as she thought of her escape.
"Tigress, why…do you smell like blood? What did you…?"
Tigress was still thinking of the most efficient, explainable way to get out of this when she suddenly just made a run for it. She turned her tail on him and raced around the corner, knowing that she would be faster than the panda screaming for her to stop behind him—
"Tigress."
A snake appeared in front of her view. Glancing at the sliding door on her left, Tigress realized that she had run right into Viper's hallway. Her long body blocked her exit, and when she turned back, Po had caught up. His loud panting filled the silence.
Tigress immediately held her wounds to her chest, choosing to hide it from Po rather than Viper. This wasn't new to the old team, after all. With sharp eyesight, Viper saw each definition of the damage, certainly more than Tigress had made of it, and cringed in shock.
"Oh dear, Tigress," she took a moment to recollect herself. "We have to go get Mantis."
"No. I can clean up fine—"
Though fangless, Viper let out an intimidating hiss, "don't be ridiculous. Can't you feel just how bad they are?"
"What's going on?!" Po dashed forward, as if fearful that Tigress would somehow run off again.
"Po, I'm warning you!" Tigress snarled at him, her head already in an utterly drained state. Po, hearing the slight desperation in her voice, pulled to a halt. The Tigress he knew had never sounded like that. "Please…go back to your room. Everything will be as usual tomorrow." Her jaws strained in an attempt to smile. "Okay?"
Tigress wished that this was one of the times when she could call him a moron, but he wasn't moving and she felt that nothing she said would make him do otherwise.
"No. Not okay."
"Po, for the last time. Get out of here."
"I'm not going anywhere, Tigress! Why can't you tell me what's up? Where's the wound? How did you get it? Why do you trust Viper but not me? I thought that we were friends!"
"We are!" Tigress gritted her teeth, her amber eyes fixed on the wooden floorboard. She couldn't gather the courage to look at him. "We are...and it's just…you can't know about this …"
A grimace formed on Po's face. He felt betrayed, even sort of angered that Tigress was pushing him away like this. He opened his mouth to retort, but then caught glance of Viper's sympathetic expression.
"I'm sorry, Po, but I need to get her to Mantis right now. If she really insists, then I don't think there's a choice. You have to go. Just sit tight—I promise I'll fetch you once she's patched up."
Viper had always been the one to settle conflict in the team, and Po acknowledged that most of her decisions ended up quite well. Besides, the panda was now very sure that Tigress was hurt somewhere on her arms, and every second he spent arguing, the longer she would have to hold on. His brows crooked, Po spun around and headed to his room.
As if his presence had prevented her from breathing, Tigress heaved a lengthy sigh. Viper opened her mouth, about to say something, then her eyes squeezed shut, "I'll save my lecture for later. Now come on, let's go."
Reluctantly, Tigress followed behind the snake, her graceful movements slightly hitched after seeing the wounds on her comrade. It had been long since the last time Tigress lost to her emotions, and this time far more severe than previous incidents. Mantis felt the same way when he managed to get over his shock. In the light of a dozen candles, things were much more apparent now, and Tigress herself was somewhat put off by her bloodied paws. Mantis searched in the compartments of his cabinet for antiseptic, cotton, needles and a bottle of liquid to rectify the small fractures in her bones.
"And here I thought you finally stopped," Mantis mumbled subconsciously. Both Tigress and Viper picked up the subtle disappointment in his voice.
"Mantis, watch your tongue!" Viper lurched forward, losing her temper for the second time. It was a chain effect, and as something in the praying mantis's head snapped, he recognized the magnitude of his words.
"I'm sorry," Tigress apologized before Mantis could take back his words. "I'm sorry I failed you guys. It's my fault that you guys are awake. I'm sorry. Really."
There was a slight waver in Tigress's voice, especially when she reminisced her failure to save Po. It was a dream—she knew that much—but even so, she feared it. The dream, to her was like a prophesy of the future, and she feared that one day the corpse of her ally or allies would lie around her and it would all be her fault. She didn't want to be alone, to live with the guilt of failure for the rest of her life like that. She was scared. Tigress, as hard core as she always pictured herself, was scared. She was scared because she didn't want to be a monster, rejected by everyone. Recollections of her past came back to her. Those days in a damp, muddy, dark cell locked away by an iron barricade.
Mantis looked up to see the discreet glint of a tear on the lid of her eye.
"Look—that was stupid of me, Tigress. I didn't mean it that way," With Viper's help, mantis rubbed away the dried blood and tossed the cotton wisps endlessly into a bin. "It's just that this is…really, really bad. And it's hard on me to fix you up knowing that you did this."
Tigress gazed away, letting Mantis carry on with some stitches where the rough texture of the bark had ripped through her dermis.
"So what was it this time?" Mantis asked. Viper shot a glare at him, her ire stacking up because of the praying mantis's lack of empathy. The weakness Tigress was trying so hard to hide was falling apart already—but Viper knew from his eyes that Mantis was genuinely worried for his friend. "Was it another nightmare? Because if it was, then remember that they've—"
"Po died."
The sharp end of the needle went off in the wrong place.
Not many words were exchanged after that. Both Mantis and Viper knew the details, the things she would see in those nightmares. But she had only spoken of her mother, and those people she had never known—never once had she told of a comrade's death, and especially not a comrade she had become so close to since the battle with Shen. The only sound in the room was that of liquid being poured over, and Tigress herself merely sat on the stool and waited for Mantis to finish. Moments after her hands were wrapped in sterile bandages, she rose, thanked and apologized to Mantis again, and left the room without so much as a glance at him. Mantis looked at Viper, who seemed conflicted with a decision, and shook his head. Just leave her alone.
Tigress, fearing that she would encounter Po again, wandered on the outskirts of the palace. Her sense of feeling coming back to her again, she realized just how cold the air nipping at her fur was; she had been so numb that she felt nothing when she walked out before. The winds howled, and each step on the soil froze her feet. She looked around, seeing nothing, no moving figure, nothing but the leaves swaying with the wind. Tigress didn't like the cold. She didn't like how dark it was, how there was no one around her. Huffing to keep herself warm, she dawdled and slid behind the closest stairs, where the sturdy cement provided some protection against the cold.
Tigress huddled at a corner, her throat dry, her body musty from the sweat and blood. At one moment, a strange hope crossed her head. Po, I wish you were here. Tigress wished that the panda would hold her, provide her warmth, like he had held her hand in the freezing ocean at the harbour. She wanted to pretend to look up, to see Po run towards her and bury her in his arms. Tigress had always believed that optimism was blind, but perhaps she wanted to be blind for a while—even if it was just an illusion. But Po wasn't here.
Tigress gazed at the sky, looking for some form of comfort, some form of that warmth, but not even the moon or stars kept her company. A weak, exasperated groan escaped her lips. The only company she received was a reminder of that lone cell, the name monster they penned her, and her days spent crying and hurting on the inside.
