(This chapter is dedicated to punkrockdreamer, who I know will love it!)
"What do you think this is?" Monkey said, holding up a gnarled length of wood and eyeing it skeptically. "Another walking stick, or a backscratcher?"
Putting the tip of her tail to her mouth in a puzzled gesture, Viper peered over his shoulder at the item in question, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at it. "You know, I have no idea."
Smirking, Mantis eyed the length of wood up and down in a decidedly suggestive way and chuckled. "That's funny, I thought it was something else. Something really personal, if you get my meaning."
"Mantis!" The serpent was blushing furiously, which only made the insect warm up even more to his subject—it was notoriously difficult to prompt that sort of response from Viper, and he dearly enjoyed every time he managed to do it.
"What? Sure, Oogway was no spring chicken, but do you think he was born old and wrinkly? Why, I bet when he was young, he could—"
"Enough." This came from Tai Lung, who had his eyes squeezed shut and his muzzle twisted in pain, as if he now couldn't banish the unwanted images from his mind and very much wished to blind himself. "Thank you so much, Master Mantis. As if I didn't have a small enough store of happy cubhood memories to begin with, now I can't even think of the turtle the same way anymore."
The insect took a bow, grinning smugly. "Welcome, welcome. I'm here every festival day."
Rolling her eyes in the light of the lamp they'd brought with them to ward away the cloaking shadows of night, Tigress turned away from him to continue rummaging through a cabinet, and Mantis paused to consider, not for the first time since they'd begun their task, just how odd it was. Shifu had informed all of them upon returning from the village, as well as Po and Tai Lung once they came back from dinner, that he wished them to clean Grand Master Oogway's room and catalogue all the possessions within it, so that whatever was in good condition could be prepared for donation.
Despite the immense practical streak he possessed, Mantis had to consider that decision to be rather cold and shocking. It was only just shy of two weeks since the turtle had passed on, and already Shifu wanted to toss his things? Talk about not knowing how to grieve. On the other hand, Oogway would be the first to agree, generous soul that he'd been, that if anything he had owned could be useful to another or would bring happiness to someone in the Valley, it should be theirs—particularly since he no longer had need of possessions.
Then again, the insect was beginning to suspect that Shifu didn't really intend to give anything away at all, that this task had an entirely different purpose. Even if they really would be clearing house, their search and organization was already turning up intriguing things...and prompting reactions just as varied.
From the side of the turtle's narrow, low-slung bed, where a pudgy, black-and-white form was only half-visible as he scrounged beneath the furniture with one paw, Po suddenly let out an exclamation. Tugging up his flaxen pants which had, once again, begun to slide down to expose his rump, the panda slid out something large and very heavy with his other paw. "Hey, guys! Look at this!"
Turning back from the cabinet, Tigress raised an eyebrow. "Calm down, panda. What's got you so worked up?" As she crossed over to his side, the lantern light shone off the shimmering white petals of the orchid perched above one ear, rendering them translucent enough that even the pale violet in its center was made visible. The flower, inexplicably, had been brought up from the village and offered to her...by Tai Lung.
A peace offering, he supposed, but he didn't know which surprised him more—that the snow leopard had made such an emotive and thoughtful gesture, or that Tigress had accepted it, let alone chose to wear it in such an overtly feminine fashion. She'd acted bored, even disdainful, when he gave it to her, and yet she hadn't tossed it aside either. In fact when Mantis had begun teasing her about it, she had pressed her lips together and then deliberately fitted the blossom above her ear, as if made all the more determined to be gracious about it. Something very strange was going on there.
"It's a mahjong set," the Dragon Warrior explained excitedly.
"So?" Tai Lung crossed over from the other side of the room, where he'd been alphabetizing a set of scrolls from the closet. "We've seen those before."
"Not like this. It's got a teakwood case, for one thing. That's pretty rare and expensive." Po lifted the lid, sending up a large cloud of dust into the air—which, unfortunately, billowed right up into the spotted cat's face. Instantly, his golden eyes began watering, and even as he screwed them shut and scrunched his muzzle up to belatedly avoid it, Tai Lung was suddenly, and explosively, sneezing.
"Hey!" Monkey cried, the spray of mucus blasting over him, along with the cloud of dust settling like a gray blanket into his golden fur. "Watch it!"
"I...I...I cahn't help it, Mohnkey...it's not mhy fault I'm ah...ah...ah-choo! Allergic."
"Are you sure it's not work you're allergic to?" Mantis quipped.
"Shut up." Tai Lung rubbed furiously at his leaking nose, then his reddened eyes widened as he too stared down into the mahjong case. "Wait a minute...that's ivory!"
Suddenly the rest of the Five were crowding around to stare down in awe at the beautifully crafted, one-of-a-kind game. Considering ivory could only be found, for the most part, in the tusks of elephants, the only time an item could be fashioned from it was when a pachyderm died or shed his tusks. To find anything carved from it bespoke luxury and incredible honor bestowed on the one who owned it—the amount needed to make the one hundred and forty-four tiles must have cost a fortune.
The artwork painted and etched on the tiles, too, was exquisite, painstakingly hand-crafted by the look of it, and the inks used to do it were so vibrant and glowing even after all these years—for the mahjong set looked quite old—that they must have been available only to the rich elite as well. There were even the rare Flower tiles included in the set.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Crane ran a feather along an ivory piece. "I wonder who gave it to him...?"
Viper was peering at the side of the teak box, trying to read the hanzi inscribed in the wood. Then she gasped. "Oh my—it was a gift from the Emperor!"
While Po looked even more stunned, and even Tigress seemed impressed, Mantis didn't even twitch. After all, he knew that Oogway had been close to the Emperor—in fact, he'd been close to almost every Emperor, having known at least ten of them during his long life in the Valley of Peace. And while the ruler of China did command deference and respect, the insect was not as easily awed as the others since he'd been to the Imperial City a number of times over the years, before the rest of the Five were even born. This was, in fact, how the turtle had first heard of his exploits, and bade the Emperor send him to the Jade Palace for further training.
"That would explain this, then," Monkey said suddenly, holding up something else he had pulled from beneath the bed—something hard and cylindrical which rattled and clacked in his hand, as he slowly unrolled it and presented it to them.
It was a painting, one of such gorgeous and lustrous watercolor, its hues and brightness as fresh and unfaded as the day they'd been applied, that it clearly must have been created by a master artist. Probably one of those commissioned by the Imperial family. Preserved on a long, tightly woven expanse of bamboo paneling, it depicted Master Oogway—looking much spryer of body and sharper of eye, but as bemused and clever as ever—standing beside an Amur tiger who was kneeling down to be more of a level with him. He did not wear the heavy royal robes of the Emperor, suggesting he was either still the Crown Prince at the time the image was painted—or that he was newly ascended to the throne and still getting used to the protocols and formalities. Or perhaps he even didn't set much store by them in those days. Sounds like Oogway's influence to me.
What was even more surprising, at least to everyone else in the room, was that the tiger, who was quite young—no older than Tigress, and possibly closer to twenty-one—was also in superb physical condition. Not just the sort of well-proportioned, healthily fleshed figure expected for one of the nobility who would become the leader of such vast lands and their numerous people, and who might often need to lead his armies into battle against invaders. Just come right out and say it, Mantis. The guy's BUFF. This was made quite evident by the fact his garb, rich and costly crimson silk with gold trimming, consisted of a sleeveless vest which showed off his bare arms to great effect. The feline was not as bulky and sculpted as Tai Lung, but he certainly gave the snow leopard a run for his money.
After everyone had stared in silence at the painting for many long moments—at how their Emperor's bright blue eyes seemed to spear right through them, how his muzzle was turned up in a surprisingly warm, companionable smile which seemed to invite them in on a private joke, and how his image in fact seemed to ripple on the bamboo as if alive—Tigress finally managed to speak.
"That...is Emperor Chen? I...we met him once, when he traveled here from the Imperial City to witness all of us earning our titles as masters. But I had no idea...he was a stately figure, handsome but so old. I never thought—" Amazingly, she was blushing! Mantis hid a grin behind his pincer and began to laugh, low and wickedly.
He wasn't the only one who had caught on. Gasping in disbelief, Monkey yanked the picture out of sight and began rolling the bamboo up with hurried motions. "Tigress! Are you crushing on the Son of Heaven? Do you know how many taboos that just broke?" The corners of the simian's mouth turned up in a faint grin, but he still sounded rather nervous, as if he expected the gods to be listening in and preparing suitable chastisement.
The striped feline stiffened abruptly, doing her level best to wipe away all mirth and appreciation from her features. "I am not. I was just...startled, is all. It's not every day you find out your sovereign used to be...attractive." A peep of a giggle escaped her lips, quickly replaced by a mortified look and then her typical stern glower.
An annoyed and oddly resentful growl came from the side, and when he turned to look that way, Mantis was puzzled to see Tai Lung sitting on the bed with his arms tightly crossed, his back turned to where the painting had been in blatant rejection. For a moment he thought the arrogant snow leopard was actually daring to disrespect the Emperor because in his superiority he would bow to no one. But then as he snorted, rolled his eyes, and glanced sidelong at Tigress, the insect saw something in his golden orbs he would never have predicted in a million years—jealousy.
"He's hardly all that," the ex-convict drawled dismissively. "And he wasn't when I met him, either." Everyone turned and looked at him, some offended or disbelieving but most merely puzzled. He caught them looking, spread his paws, and shrugged. "What? D'you think I spent my whole life in the Valley of Peace? Oogway always said I needed to 'broaden my horizons.'" His wry tone made it clear what he thought of that proposition, and yet after a moment he added, "Maybe I did, at that. Anyway, we made several visits to the capital in my youth—and Oogway had such clout there, we were always let in without question, even though it was forbidden for everyone else to even gaze at the Emperor's face..."
He trailed off, as if only now appreciating the many gifts and privileges he'd received growing up which he had taken for granted, or even never bothered to acknowledge as worthwhile. But then he snapped his focus back on Tigress, his eyes blazing with an inner fire Mantis hadn't seen since their fight at the Thread of Hope as he ground his teeth together. "Gifted ruler or not, though, he's just another pampered pretty boy as far as I'm concerned!"
The vehemence in his voice was strangely intense...but as Mantis looked from his jutting, quivering chin, to Tigress where she knelt on the floor, staring at Tai Lung in mingled confusion and resentment, the insect felt like smacking himself in the head. And then following up with just as healthy a whack to the snow leopard for good measure.
Dense, dense! How could I be so dense? He's been locked up without a woman for twenty years, and I bet before that he couldn't be bothered to notice if one got right up in his face and shook her—anywho, yeah going without would've been a real challenge for him, he'd have lapped that up in a minute! Not to mention the whole 'I must be the Dragon Warrior!' shtick, couldn't let anything interfere with getting that scroll. But now that's been put paid, and he's free as a bird, and there's Tigress all tempting and luscious in front of him, and is it getting hot in here and WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?
Clamping down manfully on his extremely inappropriate thoughts, Mantis forced himself away from his libido and instead continued to stare in disbelief at Tai Lung—for his urgent shout to himself could apply just as readily to the spotted feline. He's dead. He is so dead. If she even gets one whiff of this—waaait a minute, is that why she won't talk about that night in his...oh man. He's worse than dead. She's going to castrate him, then feed it to him. After she's through, he's gonna wish Po vaporized him. He'll beg him to! There won't even be little pieces left, and I couldn't rouse him even with every needle I've got...
While his somewhat crazed rant continued on blithely in his head, Tigress did indeed look on the verge of exploding. But before she could do so, Po of all people intervened. Whether he'd actually wised up enough to recognize the warning signs, or his insatiable curiosity had gotten the better of him so that he spoke up at just the right moment, was up for debate.
"I dunno, Tai," he said, rubbing his chin as he watched Monkey stowing the roll of bamboo in the basket for 'things to keep'. "He didn't look very wimpy to me. Though now that ya mention it, that is kinda weird...since when do noblemen have bods like that guy?"
For a few long moments everyone looked at each other, perplexed—save for Mantis, who was still panicking at the imminent murder in their midst, and Tai Lung, who looked...uncomfortably knowing. "That would be because...he knew kung fu," he admitted at last, with extreme reluctance.
More amazed stares, and then Po finally blurted out, "Really? Wow, that's hardcore!"
"Who knew..." Viper murmured.
"I guess it figures, him being best friends with the guy who invented it," Crane noted.
"I wonder which style he specialized in," Tigress mused.
"What do you think?" the Dragon Warrior joked, nudging her side.
"Actually," Mantis cut in at last, "it wasn't Tiger style at all. I got to see him perform with Oogway once, when I was in the capital." He paused significantly, as it was rather rare for him to have knowledge none of the others did, especially about such a surprising topic. Then he glanced aside at the avian kung fu master. "It was Crane style."
Everyone blinked, gasped, and marveled to themselves, and then Monkey finally said, "That...makes a lot of sense. Evasion, deflection, cleverness...all marks of a good diplomat, you know." The others nodded in agreement, looking quite impressed—even Tai Lung, against his better judgment. Crane, of course, only ducked his head in embarrassment.
After another awed silence had passed, Po at last looked down at the mahjong set again, then closed the lid and carried it over to the same box as the painting. "Huh...learn something new every day. I wonder if Oogway played with my dad, or maybe my grandpa? Bet that would've been almost as fun to watch as a kung fu tournament!"
The snow leopard sniffed, but Tigress chuckled darkly as she got to her feet and went back to resume her own cleaning. "I doubt it, and that's probably a good thing. I watched him play Master Shifu many times when I was young, and he won every single time. If he had played any of your family, Po, you'd have a turtle for a grandfather."
To that, the panda had no reply—perhaps because he was blushing furiously while everyone else laughed.
After that, another fifteen or twenty minutes passed before anything truly interesting turned up. Very little seemed worthless enough to discard, except for some moldy, moth-eaten books and scrolls, and of course the turtle's minimal clothing—while it was all, for the most part, adorned with the sacred symbol of the Yin-Yang, it was also sized for him and there were very few turtles in the Valley. But not everything amongst what they were keeping was that remarkable either, so that time passed silently for the most part, save for the sounds of sweeping and folding, and the wind whistling outside the shutters which caused their lantern to flicker and sway from time to time.
Then, as he took the last of a set of books down from a shelf, which was high enough along the wall that Mantis wondered if Oogway'd had to perch atop his staff to reach it, Crane let out a soft exclamation. "Well, you don't see one of these every day."
"What?" Monkey asked him, peering over his shoulder.
"It's a book of haiku."
"You mean that weird poetry from Japan?" Po raised his eyebrow with a skeptical and confused look. "I've never been able to understand that stuff. But I guess that sounds like something Oogway'd like."
Tigress looked over Crane's shoulder too as he opened the small book and randomly flipped pages. "Down by the old pond, a small frog leaps off his pad; the sound of water." She furrowed her brows. "I don't get it. But he did put a nice lily in there to go with it."
Indeed, as Mantis hopped up on her shoulder to look, he saw that flowers had been neatly pressed between all the pages—and while most of them were native to China, there were many others he had heard of through his herbal lore as hailing from far-away lands...and others he didn't recognize at all.
"The winds of Tibet," the insect read slowly, "come knocking on my doorstep; I must grow a peach." He paused, then shook his head. "What the hell?" If that's the kind of stuff he liked to read, and write, no wonder he lost his marbles near the end there. Except...he always talked like that.
Even as he wondered why Oogway had placed a peony next to that page, Crane was reading a third poem. "The first cold shower—even Monkey seems to want/a small coat of straw."
"Wait, that one I do get," Mantis chuckled.
Even as he was explaining about Japanese rain-gear to Crane and Tigress, Po rubbed the back of his neck, looking from the book to the rest of them. "Huh. Guess that just proves what I always heard, growin' up. Oogway liked to travel a lot, didn't he?"
Viper giggled. "That's something of an understatement, Po. He wasn't even from China, was he? Where did he say he was from..."
"Somewhere across the ocean," Monkey offered, as he started digging through an ancient chest in one corner. "An island...Galapagos?" He frowned, as if not sure he'd gotten the name right.
The Dragon Warrior scratched his head. "But...how'd he get here?"
"By ship?" Tai Lung ventured, rolling his eyes at the panda's obtuseness. "Unless you think the old codger swam all the way to China."
Po crossed his arms defensively over his chest and stuck his tongue out. "You never know, he just might have. What I don't get is why he stopped here in the first place."
"Maybe his arms were tired?" Monkey joked. Everyone laughed again.
As Crane thoughtfully placed the book in the 'to keep' pile, he said, "From what he told me, I think he just liked to travel, and this is where he let the winds take him. Maybe this was the first place that called to him to stay. Or he just loved the beauty of the Valley."
Tai Lung snorted as he took down an old stone planter trailing kudzu and placed it near the door, to be taken out to the Jade Palace gardens. "If you ask me, travel is overrated. The people are never polite, your feet get sore, the accommodations are terrible, and the only good thing about it is, when you get back home you suddenly appreciate just how wonderful it is."
Po grinned and waggled a finger at him. "But what about all the different cuisine, huh? Someday I'd love to sample all that, see if I can get some really good recipes out of it."
"That's it, panda, always thinking with your stomach."
"Oh!" Viper suddenly exclaimed from another corner, as she peered down into the drawer of a sandalwood desk she'd opened. "Oh my goodness..." As the others watched her, the serpent plucked a package of rolled up parchment from its cubbyhole, untying the silk ribbon that had been holding it shut. As she opened the first scroll and began to read, she immediately smiled, then chuckled, her cheeks starting to tinge pink.
Mantis, who had finally fully recovered from his shocking discovery about the two felines, scuttled over and hopped up on the desk, peering down at what she was reading. "What is it?"
The serpent smiled rather dreamily as she looked up. "Love letters."
There was a pause. Then, from Po: "Ewww."
Viper looked offended. "No really, this is beautiful, listen! 'You are truly a garden of sweet fragrances, a cherry grove blooming at the height of spring, jasmine wafting up with your every step, an orchid's fragile petals in your touch, and the peony exhales with your every word. Who could compare you to a lotus blossom? I only need you to ensnare my mind from the cares of the world.'"
Behind him, Mantis could hear Tai Lung mimicking the sounds of retching, and he was fairly certain those were the signs of nausea on Tigress's face as well. And Monkey was wondering to anyone who would listen who the lucky lady was. But he couldn't be bothered with that; instead he hurriedly began shuffling through the other scrolls, searching madly. "C'mon, where's the good stuff? I know it's gotta be in here somewhere..."
The serpent hissed at him warningly, but he ignored her, only snatching away the letters and darting across the desktop out of her reach. And after discarding one sappy, poetic ballad after another, he finally found what he was looking for. "Ah-ha!" He scanned the lines...paused...and then let the scroll fall from his suddenly numb pincers.
"What? What is it?" Monkey asked curiously, reaching over. Viper tried to intervene, but the langur was too quick for her...and as he read with Crane looking over his shoulder, both males gasped openly, the bird swallowed hard, and the simian covered his mouth with his free hand to choke back a laugh. "Oh...I see..."
Tigress rolled her eyes and grabbed the letter away. "Oh for goodness' sake! It can't be that bad, this is Master Oogway we're talking about..." When her eyes scanned the document, however, they widened in disbelief as she bit her lip and cringed visibly. "No...that can't mean what I think it does..."
"Not listening!" Tai Lung cried loudly, clapping his paws over his ears and singing (deliberately off-key) mindless syllables to drown her out. "La la la, I'm not hearing this!"
As he took the letter from Tigress and very carefully hid it back in the desk drawer, Crane muttered. "That was more than I needed to know."
"What?" Po said blankly, as his raging curiosity finally overcame his good sense and initial disgust.
"Trust me," Mantis averred, "you don't wanna know. Let's just say, there are some people who shouldn't read the Kama Sutra..."
On that note, the seven of them hurriedly went back to their chore, desperate to find anything to take their minds off what they'd just learned. Sadly, there wasn't much left of the room to catalogue: a map of some distant land none of them were aware of; what looked like a recipe for a sweet, brown dessert that would reputedly melt in one's mouth which Po latched onto immediately; a pair of nunchuku that Monkey thoughtfully appropriated; a battered set of wooden tiles that Tigress stared at in shock before wiping her eyes and complaining of all the dust still floating in the air; and an ancient, well-preserved manuscript that, incredibly, seemed to be an original copy of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
This last was practically pounced upon by Tai Lung, which didn't surprise Mantis in the least; the novel was notorious for its lurid scenes of bloody battles and complex warfare, political intrigue and terrible treachery—all things the snow leopard would either love to be a part of, or might have wished to stamp out, once upon a time.
Finally there was nothing left except for one cabinet. Po was about to open it when Tigress intervened. "Don't bother, as long as I've been here it's always been kept locked."
"Not anymore," Mantis interjected, holding up a large iron key about half his size that he'd been concealing under his carapace. "Master Shifu gave this to me..." And he had a sneaking suspicion why, too...
By now everyone was either slightly traumatized by the things they'd learned about the Grand Master, or feeling decidedly ill at ease for prying into his privacy, despite or even because of his death. But Mantis, figuring they'd better get this over with or else Shifu would tan their hides, urged Monkey to unlock it, and so he did. When he reached inside, however, the first thing he pulled out was the last thing any of them expected.
The Dragon Warrior recognized it right away, since he had five just like it back in his room above the noodle shop and he'd always wanted one growing up. Made of carved and polished wood with articulated metal joints and brightly painted in true-to-life colors, it crouched low to the ground, one leg extended while the powerful upper body leaned back, perfectly balanced to whip around in a devastating combo that would bring fists flashing or a leg driven down from above. It was, incredibly, an action figure of Tai Lung.
For several more moments everyone stared at the object as if it were a sacred relic. Then, slowly, the stunned snow leopard reached out and took it from Monkey's hand. "I...I don't believe it. I thought they were all destroyed, long ago. After what I did, they certainly wouldn't be giving their children toys of me..."
"Looks like Oogway saved one. Or maybe Shifu," Crane said just as softly.
"But why?" Monkey actually sounded a bit resentful, which made Mantis peer at him suspiciously. All of them had been defeated, humiliated, and paralyzed by Tai Lung at the Thread of Hope, yet only the golden langur seemed to take it as a personal affront, or hold a deeper grudge than the rest of them. Why this should be, the insect didn't know...and he hated unanswered questions.
Speaking of which, no one seemed to have an explanation for why the Grand Master, the one who had predicted Tai Lung's fall to darkness and in the end had been the one to singlehandedly bring an end to his rampage, would have kept a figure of him like those the Furious Five had inspired. Except, of course, that he was a senile old turtle.
"Maybe," Crane ventured at last, speaking to the spotted feline, "he knew you'd come back, that Master Shifu would try and help you, and he wanted to remind you of who you used to be."
For a moment, Tai Lung bristled visibly, though whether at the implication he needed help or the reference to how far he had fallen since his days as a student wasn't clear. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping. "Perhaps so." He paused, then chuckled lightly as he turned the figure around in his paws, making the joints bend with soft, unoiled squeaks as he put it through stances and poses he'd probably memorized until he could perform them in his sleep. "I suppose, if I'm to be a hero again, I'll need my badge of honor..."
Next to him, the panda looked fairly fit to be tied, however, bouncing from one foot to the other as his paws wriggled in eagerness. "Really, Tai? 'Cause...I was kinda thinkin'...I could add it to my collection, y'know? It's, like, really rare, and I always wanted one growin' up, but of course Dad couldn't find any..."
From the look on the snow leopard's face, he was absolutely mortified, even disturbed, at the thought of Po owning a facsimile of himself, let alone playing with it. Mantis couldn't blame him on that one.
"...or, maybe not?" The bear backed away nervously, smiling lamely.
After a few moments of discreet silence—maintained by Viper glaring daggers at Monkey to keep him from making the teasing barbs he surely had on the tip of his tongue—Tigress then broke it by reaching into the cabinet to find the second item contained within. This proved to be a roll of silk that, when unfurled, brought a furious blush to Tai Lung's cheeks and made all the rest of them dissolve into much needed laughter, and more than a few heart-warmed 'awwws.'
Once again, Oogway had been depicted in soft pastel watercolors, this time looking much as they had known him, but he was sitting down so as to hold someone in his lap—the utterly adorable, and quite unmistakable, form of Tai Lung when he was only a cub. Huge, twinkling eyes, a broad smile that displayed his little predator's fangs, and silver-gray fur that made him look even more like a puffball waiting to happen. The way he was so studiously attempting to adopt the same pose as Oogway was even more hilarious, and even Mantis had to admit the little guy was cute, to the point he could hardly believe they were the same person.
"Good grief," Tai Lung muttered, trying to avert his eyes and yet somehow unable to look away. "I don't even remember the day that was painted...well, none of you get any funny ideas about me, you hear? Don't believe everything you see, I was a little hellion back then, believe you me." He seemed rather proud of that declaration.
"Somehow, I think I can believe that," Tigress smirked.
Crane nudged her arm with his wing, however. "You should. From what I heard from Master Shifu, you weren't much better at that age."
For a moment she stiffened, and Mantis was afraid she had every intention of lashing out furiously at the avian for daring to reference her days at Bao Gu—or just as bad, bringing up yet again how Shifu had always remained aloof and critical, generous with correcting faults but miserly with praise. But then, she forced herself to relax, shook her head, and only smiled sadly in acknowledgment. "You may have a point there."
Po, meanwhile, had apparently recovered enough to risk life and limb yet again. For this time he did reach out to lay claim to the painting, holding it in both paws as he stared down at the sweet, tender image before he glanced decisively at Tai Lung. "Okay, you've got to let me have this one then."
"Why?" the snow leopard asked guardedly.
The Dragon Warrior grinned triumphantly. "So I can show the whole Valley, of course, why else? I mean, there's no way they could keep on hatin' ya and distrustin' ya if they saw this...who could turn on a face like this?"
A welter of conflicting emotions flitted across the feline's blocky features, so fast Mantis couldn't place them all—though by the way Tai Lung's paws twitched and flexed as if seeking a neck to throttle, he judged most of them weren't very good ones. When he finally spoke, his eyes narrowed to slits so that their bright gold seemed even more ominous in the shadows beneath his brows, it was in a very soft, almost conversational tone. "Is it that you think you're so wonderful that the universe can't survive without you, or are you so dense you don't know how close to dying you really are?"
Po's face fell, and Mantis couldn't blame him—Tai Lung seemed far too sensitive about anything which made him seem more human and less of a badass. On the other hand, the people of the village surely saw the snow leopard as he was growing up, and it hadn't changed how they felt about him now—what good would one picture do? Still, at least he was trying...and despite the venom in the snow leopard's voice, Mantis had the odd sensation his heart wasn't truly in the insult.
Which is a real shame, that was a classic. Have to remember that one...
Viper, meanwhile, had crawled over to the cabinet and peered inside...and what she found there seemed to startle and shock her as much as the action figure had Tai Lung. Slowly, she reached in with her tail and withdrew something wrapped in her coils, something small, soft, and fuzzy which she held up mutely to the ex-convict. The mix of shame and annoyance he'd been displaying since the picture was unveiled vanished into perplexity...and solemnity, as he reached over to quietly take it from the serpent.
It was a stuffed animal, the sort any child would play with, meant for hugging, squeezing, cuddling...sleeping with at night to ward away fears of darkness, and carrying during the day as a constant companion. Though quite old—Mantis had a feeling it was almost as old as Tai Lung himself—it was still in very good condition, its fur complete and whole, if a little dusty. It was also a snow leopard.
No one said a word; no one seemed sure what to say. The toy could mean any number of things, or nothing. After several long moments had passed, Tai Lung finally looked up, shook himself, and glanced around uneasily. "Eh...am I the only one starting to get a little...disturbed by all this? It's as if Oogway had...a shrine to me. I knew he was off his rocker, but..."
But Viper, who was always the most insightful of them all when it came to matters of the heart, shook her head and peered up at him beseechingly. "No, I don't think that's it at all. Don't you see? He loved you."
Tai Lung froze.
"Maybe not as much as Master Shifu, or in quite the same way," she pressed her point. "But he did all the same. I think he kept all these things because...he hoped one day you'd change, that you'd repent what you did and ask for forgiveness...and then he would have released you from prison so you could come home."
Behind her, Monkey looked indignant as well as contemptuous, but thankfully Crane smothered whatever he would have said with his wing. Po, watching from one side, soon sported a trembling lip and tears running down his cheeks. Even Tigress looked a little overwhelmed at this revelation and its extremely likely interpretation. And as for the snow leopard himself...Mantis couldn't believe the depth of naked emotion on his face: disbelief, denial, confusion, anger, and finally...infinite sorrow. For opportunities lost, perhaps, and regrets of the past...or perhaps something more.
At last, after shaking himself visibly Tai Lung turned away abruptly, though whether he was placing his back to them or to Oogway's collection wasn't apparent. But he didn't let go of the snow leopard toy either—in fact he clutched it tightly in his paw. "That...that can't be possible. It's probably just an old gift Shifu was going to give to me but never got around to it, and he asked the turtle to hold onto it. Oogway...he couldn't have felt that way."
Po started to reach out a paw to rest it comfortingly on Tai Lung's shoulder, then for once seemed to think better of it, drawing it back and curling it uncertainly against his chest. As he bit his lip and shuffled back, Tigress of all people took his place. "I know what you mean," she said uncomfortably. "I feel the same way, a lot of the time, about Shifu. How could someone so disciplined, so distant, ever feel something like that? Sometimes, though...what we think we see, and what is fact, are not the same."
The snow leopard didn't answer...which was at least better than him lashing out, as Mantis was afraid he would. Then again, perhaps it was because he didn't trust his voice, as the insect could see something wet gleaming at the corners of his eyes, and heard a faint sound that might have been the feline sniffling. Rubbing his nose with the back of his paw, Tai Lung at last mumbled, "Damn allergies."
Monkey placed one fist on his hip, smirking openly, but before he could set off a truly violent attack with one of his thoughtless, mocking remarks, Mantis intervened. "Well, that seems to be everything, so why don't we get this stuff to the storeroom like Shifu wanted? And Tai Lung...we'll let you..." He almost said 'pull yourself together.' "...clean up here. Right, guys?"
Everyone agreed, even the simian once he saw which way the wind was blowing and that no one was about to allow him to torment the feline as he so wished to do. With a few soft grunts of effort and the scraping of stone and wood, they gathered together the boxes and chests of possessions and, one by one, began to file out of the room. Other than Monkey, each of them looked introspective, saddened, and bemused by turns. Tigress seemed the most shaken; Po, of course, the most sympathetic.
But as Mantis stopped in the doorway and looked back...watching as Tai Lung sat listlessly on the bed, gazing down at the figure and the painting while he held the stuffed toy tightly against his chest...he realized, at last, why Shifu had given him that key and what this lesson was supposed to teach. He wondered if the red panda were making this up as he went along, or if he'd planned each step out some time ago. All he was sure of was, their master had to be the cruelest man he'd ever met. Or the kindest. Possibly both.
Either way—there was a lot of pain to be dealt with, there. And seeing that made Mantis wish, suddenly, that even though the odds were stacked high against him, the snow leopard could get what he sought with Tigress. Because he didn't know how else to ease that ache in Tai Lung's heart. It was certainly nothing the insect could fix, whether with needles or herbs. And that made him feel helpless...something he wasn't used to, and didn't like one bit.
The pain was what brought him back to consciousness first—and once he stirred, it became so agonizing, so excruciating, he had no idea how he couldn't have noticed it before, how he could have stayed dead to the world at all.
He wished he had. Not that he was any stranger to pain, of course, it was part of his job description—literally—something he had come to view as a companion if not a friend as he had trained himself in the arts of kung fu, and in the end, an indelible part of life that could not be avoided. Something which had to be tolerated, accepted, even embraced. But that view had not taken into account something as constant and unrelenting as this. It felt as if his every nerve ending were exposed to the air, his skin abraded and scraped down to the bone, his flesh stinging and flayed until there was nothing left of him but the pain itself and a long, endless scream.
And that was just in the first few seconds he became aware of it.
Such was its intensity, and it was so uniform and all-encompassing throughout his body, that it took him several more minutes before he realized there was more to it than the never-ending, marrow-deep claws which dug into his every fiber until they sank even into the sluggish channels of his brain. There was a lesser pain, one physical rather than mental or spiritual—what felt like cold, hard metal digging into the flesh of his wrists, his own weight making it increasingly unbearable as his arms, in turn, seemed to be slowly wrenching from their sockets.
It was a pair of manacles, with chains rising to the wall above and behind him to unseen fastenings, and he hung from them with arms suspended over his head and his toes barely touching the floor, thus aggravating his position all the more. How he could have been maneuvered like this, he had no idea—while he obviously couldn't have struggled against them, his unknown captor must be incredibly strong to manhandle his dead weight.
But it didn't matter. He'd weathered torture before, and would do it again until he could repay the atrocity with justice. That was what he did. He always found those he sought no matter how they tried to hide, and made sure they suffered for their wrongdoings. The guilty would be punished, always.
He'd remember that thought later...with hatred, but also with stark fear.
He had no idea where he was, how he had gotten there, how much time had passed since he was last awake. He only knew there were walls and floor because he could feel the rough stone touching him; otherwise all was lost in darkness, with not even a single torch to cut through the gloom. And while the musty staleness to the air, as well as the lack of air currents and daylight, suggested he was indoors somewhere, beyond that he hadn't a clue where. Although there was something about the oppressive silence, the feel of thousands of pounds of rock crushing down on him from above, and the scent of the place that seemed upsettingly familiar...
Only after many long minutes of forcing himself to adapt to the pain, so that it had dulled down to a throbbing ache in the background, did he realize he wasn't alone.
Movement in the shadows before him—or was it the shadows themselves moving, coalescing together to create a physical form? Whatever it was, it made his skin crawl, and if he could have, he would have reared away in revulsion and terror. When it finally manifested before him clearly enough to be seen, the fact it could be pinpointed somehow didn't lessen its disturbing nature in the slightest.
The figure was large, easily his height and maybe a few inches taller, broader in the shoulders and even more barrel-chested—whoever he was, he was either extremely vain when he drew upon magic (for what else could explain the way he'd appeared?) to fashion a body, or he had spent much time on labor and exercise—although there was also a sinuous litheness about his frame, as if he could move exceptionally fast should he wish it. But it wasn't his size that made him so intimidating and inspired such fear. It was...something else about him, an aura of sorts that only grew more pronounced the longer he felt it.
Even though the shadows seemed to form a cloak around his captor that completely hid his identity, there was no sound of swishing fabric as he approached...it was as if he didn't really exist, though the prisoner knew better. He was damn real, all right... Lurching upright as best he could in his bindings, he glared out into the darkness, trying to focus on the mysterious visitor who somehow seemed to slide out of view whenever he looked directly at him. Fading in and out of sight, evading him as easily as if he were a crane in flight, never in the same place twice...
"Wh-who are you? And what the hell do you think you're doing with me? You let me outta here this minute! When Master Shifu hears about this, he'll—"
"You're assuming he'll ever know anything about this conversation or your ultimate fate," his captor cut him off, his voice low, soft, and strangely compelling, as if he were a storyteller who knew how to captivate an audience. He also had an oddly urbane tone, as if the two of them had sat down together for an afternoon of hobnobbing at the local tea shop. "You're assuming he even cares...or that he even matters. No, I'm very much afraid Shifu can't, and won't, do anything to help you.
"As for who I am...I am someone who can give you what you most desire."
The prisoner snorted derisively, even as he slumped back against the rocky wall in defeat—the bastard was right, no one knew where he was or even that he was still alive. "And what would you know about my desires?" he asked rhetorically, trying as usual to bravado his way through.
For answer the cloaked figure lifted a hand to gesture—and suddenly a tendril of black mist wafted toward him...and as soon as it brushed his cheek, he stiffened, back arching and every single muscle wrenching out of alignment as sensations coursed through him he couldn't put a name to. Except to know they were intense, uncontrollable...and despite their frightening nature, inexplicably appealing. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, scream...or let out moans of a much different bent.
By the time the mist receded, allowing him to once again droop in his cursed chains, the prisoner was shuddering from head to foot, panting and sweating even though every inch of him also trembled with a chill so bone-deep he didn't think he could ever get warm again. And from the large wet patch in his trousers, he knew he'd been made to soil himself. Either that, or a more depraved alternative he didn't want to think about...
Casually, as if nothing untoward had just occurred, his assailant observed, "I think I know a great deal about them. Wouldn't you agree?"
Before he could muster up any sort of reply, let alone the sarcastic one he longed to make, the figure continued in a more direct and authoritative tone. "But I expect you were wishing a more informative answer. So, to be more straightforward—I can give you Tai Lung."
As soon as that name was hissed out of the shadows—as if by thousands of tongues in overlapping echoes, as if the walls themselves were speaking it—he stiffened again, though not due to any malefic power being brought to bear...as twenty years of memories coursed through him...
Those golden eyes. Those blazing, insane, loathsomely wicked golden eyes. They had always been there, haunting and tormenting him, whether asleep or awake. He'd first seen them from the shadows of the Hall of Warriors, when he'd achieved captaincy in the Anvil of Heaven and had been brought to the Jade Palace to be congratulated by Master Oogway himself. His father and grandfather, and who knew how many generations back, had been close friends with the tortoise, and it had been the Grand Master himself who trained him in the arts of kung fu, trained all of them ever since his great-great-great-and-then-some-grandfather Master Flying Rhino. And it had been standing before the sage, kneeling by the Moon Pool to receive his blessing, that he'd spied the bright yellow orbs fixed on him from the darkness.
The best student Oogway and Shifu had ever trained, they said. Master of all the thousand scrolls of kung fu even though he was not even yet eighteen—which meant he must have been reading and mastering them at a rate of sixty or seventy a year, a feat never matched before or since. A snow leopard, handsome, cocky, with a devil-may-care attitude and a pretension toward sophistication (even though he rarely left the Valley of Peace) which had rubbed him the wrong way the moment they met. The fellow'd been polite enough, had even honored him with a bow after Oogway's introduction, after he'd ceased leaning nonchalantly against a pillar and graced them with his presence. The Dragon Warrior hopeful, everyone said, a kung fu fighter like none the world had ever seen. Only two years older, and already a hero throughout the land for his numerous great deeds.
But something in those eyes had chilled him. Not outright darkness or evil, that would have been too obvious. More the sense that the feline would do anything—absolutely anything—to get what he wanted. Or to right a wrong done him, however slight. Something the two of them shared in common more than he cared to admit.
Of course, the next time he'd seen those eyes was a few scant months later, after Tai Lung had been denied the Dragon Scroll and gone on his rampage in the village. He'd stood on a bridge, defending the helpless townsfolk fleeing behind him and keeping the snow leopard from reaching the stairs to the palace. And no matter how many rhinos had been arrayed against the feline, he'd tossed them aside as if they were no more than cherry blossoms—his father, his uncles, even his elder brothers had all been smashed through mercilessly, murdered without a second's thought simply because they were obstacles. And as the rest of his troop was decimated, and he was left groaning and collapsed on the bridge planks in a pool of blood, he'd seen those eyes staring down at him in contempt.
Several days later, after the insane snow leopard had been demoralized, utterly defeated by Oogway with only five simple nerve strikes, and a restraint had been devised by the clever turtle to hold Tai Lung, he'd been carted off to Chorh-Gom to serve his lifelong sentence (at least so far as the Valley had been concerned—Oogway and Shifu had always been rather evasive and tight-lipped on the subject, respectively). And the entire journey to Tavan Bogd, as he'd sat on the running board and clutched painfully at his bandaged side, he'd felt those eyes on the back of his head...boring in relentlessly with hate, malice, and cruelty, most likely inventing all manner of shocking ways to do violence upon his warden once he was free again.
He never was, of course. Not for twenty years. But for all of that time, while the snow leopard languished and rotted in the fortress armory that had been converted to a prison solely to hold him, those eyes had never stopped staring at him. Whether smoldering like molten lava; half-lidded when given in to despair or boredom, or on the verge of sleep; or resolute with the belief that he was superior to his jailors in every way and would one day escape from them...those eyes never wavered. They tormented him, burned into the back of his skull so he could never escape himself.
What they told him was, even though he held the keys, the weapons, the traps and the authority...he could never sleep easy. Because he would always fear, as well he should. Because even though his prisoner seemed docile and controlled, he was anything but the sort. Because no matter how often he abused Tai Lung, with word or with whip, he knew he could never truly break that indomitable spirit.
And that fear had been realized, the last time he saw those eyes. It was for that reason, not the collapsing stalactites and bridges, nor the ignited explosives being flung in his direction, that when Zeng shrilly asked if they could run, he had agreed in a most-unmanly squeak.
Because he knew Tai Lung had marked him for death. And that the way those eyes flared up at him, as the spotted feline hurtled down from the heights of the cavern, he would never rest until he knew for certain he had achieved his revenge...
Shuddering violently as he snapped out of his reverie, Vachir gasped and snarled under his breath for several minutes—for those few moments which had seemed like an eternity, it had been as if he'd truly relived his memories. Glaring again at his tormentor, the rhino somehow managed a sadistic chuckle. "Tai Lung? Is that what all this is about? What, you want me to capture him, kill him? Why the hell didn't ya just say so, instead of all this crazy smoke and mirrors shit? I'd have gladly done that for you!"
Even as he said it, though, he knew why. Whoever or whatever this...thing...in front of him was, it was well and truly evil, rotten to the core. Which meant that even if its ultimate goal was something he would hardly disapprove of and might even support, its methods would leave something to be desired. Surely it would ask of him something he did not wish to give...something which would be against his code of honor. Something truly despicable—the fact it had trapped him in his own prison, after all (for thanks to his memories, he had at last discerned he was somewhere in the depths of Chorh-Gom), didn't bode well at all...
Indeed, when the figure spoke again, in a sardonic tone that would have been accompanied by a lopsided smirk if he could have seen within the hood...if there was even a mouth to see...what he said sent both a chill down Vachir's spine and made his temper begin to boil.
"Kill him? Why would I ask you to do a disgraceful thing such as that? Tai Lung is a work of art...I'd hardly wish to discard him so cavalierly...no, that would be a terrible waste. Capture him? Perhaps, if it comes to that—if you believe you can manage it." The dark mist, which had been swirling sluggishly around his feet, now churned up in extreme agitation, as if it too were excited about these nefarious possibilities.
"What I do wish of you is for you to lure him. Bring him to me...so that I may complete what I started twenty years ago, and make him wholly my creature."
A long pause, while the rhino tried to come to terms with this, stared incredulously at his captor, and then finally gritted his teeth. "Let me think about that...uh, no?"
He expected the creature to fly into a towering rage, but he actually laughed—and that was almost worse, as the laugh in question was both dry and hollow, like hearing a corpse laughing from its grave...and genuinely regretful, as if the thing really pitied him for the limitations of morality. "Come now...are you telling me, and do you expect me to believe, that you don't wish revenge on Tai Lung?"
"Of course I do!" he retorted instantly. "He made me look like an idiot, cost me everything I've worked for, and killed almost all my men. And I'll be damned if I let him destroy the Valley of Peace again. But I ain't gonna do it at that price. I wanna stop his evil, not help him give in to it even more! And I won't be a stooge for nobody..."
Something seemed to shift in the shadows—not a movement, but a change in aura or intent. A decision had been made...and it didn't feel very pleasant. "I see. I'm sorry you feel that way. I had hoped an accommodation could be reached, that we could work together for mutual advantage. But it seems I must be more...persuasive."
The cold tone in that voice, as well as the choice of words, told Vachir what lay in store for him—and he drew himself up to his full height, clenching his fists as he nerved himself to face what was to come. "Torture, huh? Real cute. I've seen it all before, mister. Ain't nothing you can do to me that'll make me help you. Do your worst, but it ain't gonna do you any good. Guess you'll just have to kill me."
Later...when he could manage to form a coherent thought, when even a trace of his former self could trickle through and focus its scattered bits together, he would regret those words, and his big mouth. Because in truth, he was only a babe compared to what he faced—torture could not even begin to describe it.
"That could be arranged at a later date. But I don't think it will." A tone of self-satisfaction filled the dark voice. "You see, I don't have to kill you..."
Once again, the dark spirit did not move, only sent its serpentine onyx fog in his direction...but this time, it kept coming, more and more of it building up like a thunderhead expanding, ready to explode with streaks of lightning to reave the heavens and incinerate hapless fools caught without shelter. And as the cloud surrounded him, teasingly touching him as if with a lover's caress, he stiffened again—he could feel himself...drifting. Rising. Being drawn away from his body.
He dared to look down—and choked back a scream. Slack-jawed, drooling, its face twisted into a caricature of life, his body lay below him, slumped against the wall. His consciousness, the part which was staring at this sight in horror, hovered amorphously in the air...and he could see something—what looked like misty light, golden like the sun but intermixed with dark spots and patches like some repelling disease—connecting him to his body.
Somehow, his captor had latched onto his chi, and drawn out his soul.
"No...I don't have to kill you at all..."
He only had time for a desperate prayer to the gods, and a fervent wish that he had better studied matters of chi under Oogway, before the pain flared anew. Deeper, more keening and agonizing than any before—for this was not pain of the body, but of the spirit. It wasn't merely that his soul was where it wasn't supposed to be, or that the dark filaments of mist were sliding over it as if strumming the strings of an instrument. Something seemed to lurch inside him, prompting the same sort of feeling that would normally make him release the contents of his stomach. Except for this, there was no recourse, no relief. It was as if he were vomiting the essence of his self out.
Darkness enveloped his senses. There was something out there, peering at him, judging him, salaciously hungering for him to be ripped asunder from his body so that it could claim him and feast upon him. The gods, demons, his own men's ghosts craving payback—he had no idea. But they terrified him. Somehow, he knew they could see straight into his heart, see his greatest sins, his most deeply buried insecurities, his most hated weaknesses. Their eyes bored into him like his captor's mystical fingers, probing and teasing...scraping and impaling, giving the very sickening sensation that someone had taken hold of his innards, as through an open wound, and were stroking things which should never be touched.
Above all, a foulness surrounded him...penetrated him...filled his every pore and orifice, until he felt literally unclean. That he could never be free of this taint, no matter how he might bathe or frantically abrade himself to remove it. He felt violated, in every sense of the word, and it drew at last from his throat a strangled, shrieking scream—then another, and another, echoing and resounding in Chorh-Gom's empty vaults and tunnels.
What was worst of all was, on some level...buried deep down where he refused to see it...a part of him enjoyed it.
Hatred boiled up within him, pure and surging like an avalanche on the slopes without—not directed at the wicked being torturing him, but at Tai Lung. It was his fault, all of it! It was because of his rampage Vachir had been relegated to worthless guard duty for twenty years instead of being out there, defending China and protecting the people as he had sworn to do. The snow leopard was the one who had murdered his platoon, his kinsmen. It was him that this bastard wanted, it was for his sake he was being subjected to this horrific fate. He would not even be here for the creature to attack if not for Tai Lung...
And it was this burning desire for revenge, this unholy, obsessive wrath, that gave his captor the inroads he needed to corrupt him.
It started insidiously at first, a gradual darkening of his vision, a slowing of his heartbeat, and a vague sense that the connection between his body and soul was becoming attenuated. But then the pain within him...shifted, changing until it leaned toward the other end of the spectrum. The longer he experienced the shadow's touch, the better it felt—the more he wanted to give into it, to draw it into him. In fact the more time passed, the more he felt a sickening urge to smile and chuckle, to groan in appreciation, and to open his arms wide to his abuser.
Part of him watched this in mounting disgust and despair, but it was a very small part...the rest of him seemed to be taking control of the shadows and siphoning them in—even getting off on them. It felt like when he would lord his superiority over Tai Lung, bullying him with words as well as fists and some fairly sadistic devices. Only better—he felt a tightness in his trousers, and this time it only made him grin cruelly to himself. There was power here, power like he'd never tasted before, more than he'd ever felt even leading the Anvil of Heaven. With this, he could finally make Tai Lung pay. And if his...benefactor wished to twist the snow leopard, as he was doing to Vachir?
Well he'll just have to get through me first. I'll lure him in, all right. But because I want to, not 'cause he does. No matter what he thinks, I'm still my own man...I'll use what he gives me, but fight him every step of the way so I can get just what I want.
The blackness swirled up around him, only this time it was his to command. As his soul suddenly snapped back into his body, a darkling aura sprang into being around him, and on some level, he felt an even deeper and more paralyzing fear as he saw that the cloaked figure had somehow moved when he wasn't looking...that it now stood directly before him, so that not even an inch separated them...and it was pressing closer, closer, grinding up against him, and then into him. Merging with him. Becoming him. Burrowing in like a parasite latching its fangs into his gut. Horrifying...and yet strangely absorbing.
One way or another, he thought...even as he realized his thoughts were no longer his own, that another voice echoed sometimes beneath, sometimes above his own, saying exactly the same words...Tai Lung will be mine. He'll be mine.
Unnoticed, the manacles holding him snapped free, dissolving into rust and dust as if dunked in acid—smoke rising from his wrists where the black mist had broken him loose—and he stepped forward on the ledge...gazed up toward the pinpoint of light which was the exit to the surface...and began to laugh.
(A/N: And another surprise! This is the last villain of my set, and as you can see he's not precisely willing, although on another level he is. How he fell under my Big Bad's sway is also skirting the boundaries of an M rating...if I keep going the way I intend to, I may eventually cross that line. Won't that be fun? ;)
Anyway, several points. Yes, I did a little research into mahjong to make sure I described the set correctly. Emperor Chen, I admit, was created solely because I felt so bad for what happened to the Emperor in Luna's "Memoirs", and the fact we never even got to meet him. [Of course then she turned around and saved one heir, and made him know kung fu too—I guess we keep inspiring each other.] If you want an idea what he looks and acts like...picture him as having Shang's appearance and Dalang's personality. ;) And yes, he will factor into the story later at some point.
If anyone is up on that sort of thing, two of the poems from the book of haiku [the first and third] are very well known, ancient poems by Matsuo Basho, tweaked a little so as to fit the 5-7-5 scheme in English. The second poem Mantis reads is my own invention. Three guesses what it refers to! Though apparently it's not as obvious as I first thought, and it does have a double meaning... Also, I know "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms" was written quite a few centuries after when we've guessed KFP takes place in Chinese history—but like Luna, I think it's too hard to pin down the time period, probably on purpose on Dream Works' part so that the China we see can be more representative and symbolic. And I just wanted to include a reference to it because it's so famous.
The line Tai says to Po after he wants to show the cub pic of him to the village is swiped from the ridiculous 80's film "Ice Pirates"—about the only good thing about it, and it just seemed to fit Tai far too well. ;) And if it isn't clear, the tiles which make Tigress act like she has dust in her eyes are the same ones Shifu used to train her at Bao Gu. The bit about Tai Lung having to master 66 scrolls a year is of course simply mathematical common sense, but the idea for it originated with Luna, obviously. Thanks again for all these little tidbits you feed me! :) And finally, you may have noticed I decided to retcon a bit and say Chorh-Gom was not built specifically for Tai Lung, and when you think about it how could it have been? A place that massive, carved out of the very rock, would have taken a long time to build. So unless Oogway prepared way ahead of time before the rampage, or Tai Lung was held somewhere else for years until it was finished, it had to already be there and simply converted into Tai Lung's prison. I'll touch on this more later in-story. Whew...R/R!)