I no own, you no sue.
"You should, Shen. You gotta let go of that stuff from the past – because it just doesn't matter! The only thing that matters is what you choose to be now."
Shen snorts and turns to the panda standing hopefully beside him. "You truly believe it is that easy, panda? That, here and now, I could denounce my wicked ways and be welcomed back with open arms?"
Red eyes lower themselves to the ground, a harsh, choked voice continues, "No. Don't you understand? Panda, that is not how the world works. The bad guys don't change because society justifies itself by their wickedness. I am just as necessary to the continuation of civilized society as you are, because with me there would be no scapegoat.
"When I am gone, they will find a new evil to lay their own wickedness upon, and another after that, because they cannot face the truth and would rather romanticize it away into a made up world where good and evil are clear as black and white." At this, Shen gestures to the startled panda before him, emphasizing his point against Po's fur. Shen's gaze softened for a brief moment, before he met Po's own eyes with fear and an absolute resolution.
"Panda," he began breathlessly, as if breaking some great, unspoken taboo, "we are animals."
And, having said this, he vanished into the air.
Po started, gasping slightly as he gazed around. The tatami mat beneath him was smoother than he remembered his own being, but he was not going to complain. A full, dull ache settled in his mind at one point or another, and now refused to leave him. It was that same, damn dream he had every night since defeating Lord Shen. The eerie familiarity of it was beginning to grow tiring, and Po could feel himself letting go of something one moment – a movement, a memory, a pair of chopsticks – only to grasp frantically at it the next, as if his entire life depended upon him being able to recall how to walk on two legs or hold chopsticks…
And that ache! It had been there since the first night, tormenting him in subtle ways. That ache only seemed to disappear when Po let himself forget walking on two legs, or using chopsticks…
Something was happening, that much Po knew, but what? He sensed that the others, the Furious Five, could feel it, too. Some overwhelming instinct that would not leave without their minds in its clutches and them as mindless anima-
That word. It was forbidden. There was no law against it, per say, but it was forbidden. To speak it, to say what they were, seemed a crime worse than murder – for murder was justifiably the most non-animal thing one could do.
Po got up, ignoring the ache once more, dressed himself, and went outside for a walk before morning.