I own nothing. Done for all those who wish Shifu and Tai Lung could just go back to the beginning. Just got my power back, so if anyone sent me anything, I'm about to check my e-mail, so I'll respond as soon as my homework allows me.

--

It's ironic, really. Here I stand, upon the edge of these stairs that, at one point, would have brought me joy and an irrefutable sense of safety just to see, knowing that I am bound to die for trying to stop a meaningless scroll from getting into the hands of a reckless villain that had been raised here, upon these steps. A villain I created.

My son.

No, I cannot think of him like that, not here, not now.

I must remember my place, my purpose. I must remember why I am fighting, why I have bestowed this death sentence upon myself.

It was my fault.

I loved my son with everything I was. He was all I spoke of, all I lived for, and by the time I realized I was pushing him too hard, forcing him to be something he was never meant to be in the first place, it was too late.

Oddly enough, I always wondered what it would be like, standing atop a whispy cumulous cloud as you are engulfed by a gray giant, a thunderhead, lightning crackling around you, pouring rain filling your entire field of vision as you are tossed about by forces beyond your control.

I never thought I'd get the chance to find out.

Mentally chuckling at life's little ironies, its ways of teaching us, I watch the trail of lanterns and villagers as they evacuate the Valley of Peace like the thousands of peach petals that floated up into the sky as my master, Grand Master Oogway, had ended. How strange it seems, now, to even consider them as one and the same, but both had left, the villagers and my master, for a better place, leaving me to drown within the high waters that continued to rise, the rip tide dragging me into an unforgiving sea of my own mistakes.

So many, many mistakes.

No, not mistakes. There are no mistakes, my master had said so. Which is what vexes me so, that my master could provide me with so much wisdom, yet when he is needed most, he leaves us, leaves me with no help in sight, no dry land in my ocean. I suppose, on some subconscious level, I keep expecting him to appear before me, make everything right, and then tell me that he had said it was his time, but not what it was time for.

Foolish hopes like that are what got me here in the first place.

But, if I'm honest with myself, it's foolish hopes like this that brought me back from the depths of my self-imposed hell twenty years ago when my son - student - was imprisoned. I need those foolish hopes to keep me sane. I need those foolish hopes to convince me that there may be land out in my ocean, despite the tossing waters and gargantuan waves that trail off in the distance in every direction.

So, for now, I'll hold on to my hopes, but, at the same time, be prepared for a fight.

Another crash of lightning, so similar to all its predecessors, brings to my attention the tall, powerful figure that stands before me.

Tai Lung.

For the briefest of moments, I hope - no, pray - that he will call me father, that he will yell at me, tell me I had pushed him too hard, then fall to pieces so I can put him back together again like when he was very young.

"Hello, Master, I have come home."

And now I know it. I have no other choice, no hope for a quick save, no prayer for my son.

He is gone.

All that is left is to clean up my mess, or die trying. Opening my mouth, I seal our fates and end my chances of redemption.

"This is no longer your home, and I am no longer your master."

And so it begins.