(My apologies for the lateness on this chapter. For various reasons parts of it were very hard to write, so I didn't get it finished until very late last night. Then I still had to have it proofread and such. In future, I should warn you my chapters may end up being late again, posted on Tuesday or even Wednesday. Depending on how things go, I may end up updating every other Monday instead, to give me more time. Also, there is a slight time jump at the start of this chapter, but I backtrack a bit to explain, so I hope it's not too confusing. Finally, yes this chapter is very very long. But a lot of very important stuff happens, and upcoming chapters will be quite long too, so... Anyway, on with the story.)
With a gorgeous, coruscating flood of lambent majesty, the sun rose over the eastern cliffs, sending its brilliant golden beams spearing straight down across the gorge, the farm fields and forests, the river valley and outlying homesteads, and the ledges of the mountains which climbed higher and higher into the rugged, mist-swathed peaks ringing the Valley of Peace.
It also picked out the three forms hiking up into the cool, brisk air of the towering range, as they had been since the night before—two of a fairly massive size (in muscle and girth, respectively), and the one in the lead extremely tiny and unprepossessing; the former laden with enormous backpacks stuffed to capacity with all manner of cookware, weaponry, foodstuffs, and even an appreciable selection of scrolls, the latter conspicuously unburdened, simply strolling along the pathway with his large ears pricked attentively and his goateed chin lifted so he could inhale the crisp alpine air.
Behind him, Master Shifu could hear Po's whimpers and grumbling, and while Tai Lung's measured, even breathing and unwavering tread on the stone showed he had no difficulty with the terrain or the load, every once in a while he thought he caught a sarcastic mutter or two from the snow leopard as well.
But he ignored both of them, and not just because he was by now used to the panda's protests whenever anything involving physical activity he couldn't handle came up, or because even now he still expected a certain reluctance on his son's part. It was because he knew, more than ever, this journey and the training which would come of it were absolutely essential—not just to stopping the Wu Sisters and that rampaging killer, but to finishing Tai Lung's lessons…saving him from himself.
It had all begun, or at least come to his attention, after they had all returned from Yunxian. Understandably, everyone in the Jade Palace had been upset, even infuriated, by the horrific killing they'd discovered, and while Tai Lung had been the most vehement and his desire to see justice done the most visible, every member of the Five, even sweet-natured Viper, had wanted to see the insane murderer locked away or better yet executed for his crimes.
But the wild, tempestuous rage the snow leopard had taken out on a tree when they'd discovered the goat had, it turned out, only been the start of something just as troublesome. For during the weeks that had passed before deaths began occurring in the Valley of Peace, Tai Lung's anger had not, it seemed, ever truly faded but become a constant simmer just under the surface—and he wasn't the only one being affected.
There was Tigress's nonsensical and uncontrolled pursuit of the Wu Sisters into the forest, a course of action that had badly injured her and almost taken her life—and one apparently motivated not just by goodwill or a desire to protect and defend, but a very real and inexplicable hatred and contempt that had nearly consumed her. Monkey, in turn, had grown more and more volatile and vicious the longer he had to put up with the snow leopard's presence and the clearer it became Tai Lung wouldn't be going anywhere; several times, Shifu had caught the primate glaring at the feline behind his back when he thought no one was looking, and with such malice and bloodlust in his eyes the red panda was beginning to doubt his own sanity at seeing it.
Even Crane, the most level-headed, calm, and logical of the Five, had begun to eye Tai Lung askance, eyes narrowed and gleaming with a faintly cold light from beneath the brim of his dou li, as if he suspected foul play and was ready to leap in to slash the spotted cat's abdomen open if he crossed some invisible line. Why that should be, he had no idea.
As for Tai Lung himself, while the last month and a half had shown a remarkable and blessedly welcome cooling of hostilities between him and Tigress, Shifu had resolved to watch his son much more closely than he had been. And everywhere he looked, there were signs…the way he growled, snarled, and rumbled under his breath as he paced the Sacred Hall of Warriors anxiously awaiting Zeng's return…how his fur bristled whenever the Wu Sisters or, oddly, the Emperor, were brought up…how he snapped at Shifu, the temple guards, and even the servants whenever one of them reminded him of his chores and daily tasks, as well as if it was suggested he should take a little time off to rest and center himself.
This could all be written off as mere irritability, worry, and even (though Tai Lung would never admit it) fear—if not for what had taken place in the training hall the previous afternoon. It had seemed like a sparring session like any other, one where the snow leopard and the Dragon Warrior had battled back and forth across the kwoon, Po employing the techniques he'd been taught while the feline attempted to use his own kung fu repertoire as well as the devices of the training hall to distract, confuse, or otherwise undermine the panda's defenses.
Thanks to learning the Dragon stance and taking it to heart, Po had succeeded at last in maintaining his balance atop the Spinning Serpents—but Tai Lung had released the Swinging Clubs, and as he stood at the edge of the tank, he would turn without warning, darting out with Mantis strikes or whirling about in a spin-kick to send a club flying right back at the black-and-white bear. When Po succeeded in dodging them, or else punching with enough force to shatter the wood, Tai Lung had leapt adroitly upwards to catch hold of one of the Seven Talon Rings; there, hanging inverted by his feet, he swung back and forth across the kwoon, coming at the Dragon Warrior again and again to deliver one punch after another—but Po managed to block every one of them.
Finally, when the panda leapt off the rotating wood, performed a perfect split to avoid the arm of a Wooden Crocodile, and then flipped atop it with the aid of a single finger, the snow leopard had seemed to become fiercely intense and determined to bring his student down. Also leaping onto the Crocodiles, he had sprung up to deliver a kick to Po's belly, only to duck low as he landed so as to sweep out with one leg.
The panda had danced aside to keep from being spilled ignominiously on his backside (and crushed by the greased training devices), but Tai Lung had pursued him—punching and kicking repeatedly, as if he were trying to beat the Dragon Warrior into an unmoving mass of bruises and broken bones, with each strike Po blocked only leading to another that did connect, knocking him backwards several feet.
By the time Shifu had rushed forward to intervene, the snow leopard had sent Po sailing to land with stunning force in the no-man's-land fronting the Field of Fiery Death—and even as the red panda had in turn landed on Tai Lung's broad back, the feline had become a frantic blur of fists and feet, pounding again and again into Po's downed form.
Only when Shifu had jabbed his fingers in a Crane strike to hit the snow leopard's pressure points had he desisted…oddly enough, shaking his head rather violently as if emerging from a rainstorm, a dazed and uncertain look on his face. And then he'd immediately begun apologizing profusely to Po, hurriedly checking him for any injuries as he begged for forgiveness and claimed he 'didn't know what came over him'.
Needless to say, those members of the Five who witnessed this little debacle—Tigress, Monkey, and Mantis, unfortunately—were all set to believe this was a clear sign the feline was reverting to his old tricks, that he was like a firework rocket kept too near an open flame, and if he were allowed to stay at the Jade Palace, Tai Lung would eventually launch into another berserk rampage.
Or at least, Monkey thought this; Mantis simply grumbled about having to be up at all hours of the night mixing up medicines for those who happened to fall under Tai Lung's sights at the wrong time, while Tigress, surprisingly, looked not only distrustful of the leopard but openly hurt and frustrated.
But Shifu had an inkling what was going on—he'd always known of the cat's explosive, volcanic temper, and ever since their battle in the Hall of Warriors and the revelation that Tai Lung could channel his chi into fire, the red panda had suspected his son would need special training…not only to harness this power, but to redirect it so as to finally get a handle on his hair-trigger fury.
What had set him off this time wasn't exactly clear—except, perhaps, the fact Po had evaded everything thrown at him no matter how hard Tai Lung tried to trip him up, perhaps reminding him too closely of their humiliating encounter in the village square. But in any event, Shifu had known at once that the only way to prevent a recurrence was to teach Tai Lung what he had promised.
For if the feline could control his anger, consume it in the literal fire of his chi, he would have both a potent weapon against his adversaries and a certain means to retain a cool head and unflappable calm during combat. And then the chance of him descending into an insane bloodlust again, particularly one that could harm his comrades and those he cared for, would be next to nothing.
Which was why, after allowing Po to recover and Tai Lung to meditate until sunset on what had taken place, Shifu had decreed that he was leaving Viper in charge of the Jade Palace while he, the Dragon Warrior, and the ex-convict made the half a day's journey to Wu Dan Mountain. For what better place to achieve one's spiritual center, to gain mastery of chi and finally rise above the suffering and conflict of life into a state of enlightenment, than at the birthplace of kung fu?
Besides, after what Tai Lung had done to the poor panda, making him scale the heights of the cliffs carrying such an overstuffed backpack was only the beginning of a proper punishment.
In any event, with the Wu Sisters still out there, Shifu felt safer having Po where he could keep an eye on him, just in case. Having the one who had been the target of the snow leopard's wrath here with him as he learned his next lesson would also reinforce the bonds of friendship that had been forged and hasten his son's understanding. And with what he'd learned about the panda's birth year from Mr. Ping, there was a certain symmetry in having Po and Tai Lung train together on this…
By the time the sun had fully risen, and the entirety of the river gorge and the mountains looming over the valley were bathed in such brilliant hues of orange, gold, and lemon that only an eternal pessimist could fail to be inspired by their beauty to find his center, the party of three had at least reached the summit. Poised upon a rocky promontory, as still as the surrounding boulders and as fresh with energy as if he performed this hike every day, Shifu gazed down at the grassy, windswept shelf of rock that protruded from Wu Dan's northern face, where even from his vantage point and at this distance, he could see the peaceful, undisturbed waters of the Pool of Sacred Tears, as well as the eroded, menhir-like monolith where Oogway had first practiced kung fu, and he in turn had called Po to join him in the same honor-bound tradition.
His students approached on either side, the panda still gasping and staggering despite being in better shape than he was the first time he made this trip—perhaps, to be fair, due to the thinner air at this high elevation. Tai Lung, of course, showed no signs of being winded at all and if anything looked…pensive and humble. Shifu thought he knew why.
The snow leopard had rarely been brought to Wu Dan, since (most likely erroneously, he could see with hindsight) the red panda had always viewed the study of kung fu as one of rigid discipline, repetitive exercises, and endurance gained through physically taxing and demanding (some would call it torturous) lessons to master. And all of these aspects were ones he believed best suited to, perhaps even limited to, the kwoon rather than the natural world—in other words, a place where he could control everything as he saw fit.
Then, too, the Sacred Pool of Tears was typically reserved for the most spiritual and introspective of training, the sort of thing Oogway was wont to teach—what Tai Lung had rarely displayed interest in while growing up at the palace, which he had certainly washed his paws of once he was denied the Dragon Scroll. In retrospect, he should probably have received more such intense, personal training as a boy…now, though, with him no longer blinded by the title of Dragon Warrior, his reconciliation with the turtle's ghost, and the need to gain control of his temper and chi to combat the threats to the Valley, the snow leopard just might be able to achieve what he sought here.
Certainly Tai Lung would view this blessed place with much more reverence and honor than he had in the latter years of his training, when he had sneered at meditation, philosophy, and anything else he felt made him weak and blocked his path to the scroll. He might not now feel worthy of it, but if anyone besides Po was, it was his son. All he needed was a reminder of what kung fu truly meant…and with the panda as an example for him, living and breathing 'excellence of self', coupled with the snow leopard's dedication to and knowledge of the skills…
The silence was suddenly broken as Po at last looked up from where he was bent over, paws planted on his knees. "Okay…so. This is the birthplace of kung fu, I got that part the last time I was here. But why do I gotta come here again? Didn't I learn enough last time? Couldn't we've done this, I dunno, somewhere down in the Valley? Or in the gardens, like Tai and I were doin'? 'Cause I gotta tell ya…that hike's killin' me."
The panda blew air out of his cheeks, then rose to his full height and glanced back the way they'd come, across the vast, forested expanse to the mountain where the golden roof and crimson timbers of the Jade Palace were clearly visible. His paws twiddled and wrung nervously. "And I really don't know if it's such a good idea, leavin' the Valley when we know all those bad guys are out there. Not that I don't believe in th' Five, y'know, but…what if somethin' happens?"
At any other time, Shifu would have found it admirable that the panda was so selflessly concerned for the innocent citizens of the village, as well as his fellow kung fu masters, and would have commended him for it. But now, he could only sigh and gently shake his head. "It is not that I did not teach you fully, panda, nor that I am deliberately attempting to punish you. There is something special about this peak, Po, an extreme saturation in life energy. It is why Oogway communed here so often, and how he was able to unravel the secrets of harmony and balance, how to develop the body into a honed weapon and supply it with a spirit, mind, and heart to properly guide and strengthen it.
"I chose to train you two here because I wish to tap into this sacred and unusual power. We will need all the help we can get if we expect you to master advanced chi techniques, especially in such a short time. Here on Wu Dan, it will be much easier for you to concentrate, to feel the flow of your chi, to draw upon the life all around you. It will also be quieter and easier to focus.
"As for the Five, Dragon Warrior," the red panda added, partly with aspersion and partly with rueful affection (for how could he truly be angry at Po for his gentle nature and big-hearted ways?), "they will be perfectly safe. Tigress has nearly fully recovered, and she will have the cleverness, insight, and calm of both Viper and Crane to assist her." At least, Crane is usually the intelligent and logical one. I don't know what's gotten into him lately! Into any of them, really…this goes far beyond simple personality clashes or lingering resentment of Tai Lung. Something is wrong, but what?
"Not to mention Mei Ling," the snow leopard drawled casually, although his tone wasn't fooling anyone, least of all his father. "Besides, d'you really want to run the risk of me hurling fireballs around in the Valley, where I'd have so many tempting targets? Like, I don't know, Master Monkey? That arrogant bully Chang? Or perhaps the lovely Xiulan?" He drummed his fingers on his spotted arms significantly.
Po winced. "Uh…good point." Groaning under his breath, the panda turned and gazed across the distance to the plateau where the crystal-blue spring waited at the top of the winding ledge. "All right…let's get it over with then…"
When the Dragon Warrior had recovered his breath and pronounced himself fit to continue, Shifu led the way up the craggy, sloping cliffs until at last, after circling the entirety of the bowl cupped between the insurmountable mountains, they crossed the final rocky bridge and arrived at the same broad plain at the edge of the forest where he and Po had made their camp, what was only a little over two months but now seemed a lifetime ago.
There, once Tai Lung proved he had not forgotten how to survive in the wilderness by erecting their tents, laying out their sleeping pallets and clothing to protect against the chill mountain night, and digging a fire pit over which to cook their meager but wholesome meals, the red panda led his two diametrically opposed yet still fittingly matched students to the shore of the Pool of Sacred Tears. Under his direction, each of them adopted the lotus position, and with eyes closed, paws resting loose and relaxed on their knees, and not a word spoken, they both did their level best to enter a tranquil, detached state—receptive to hearing his words.
Of course he knew Po would soon be restlessly squirming and wondering aloud when it would be lunchtime, while Tai Lung would likely be heaving high, dramatic sighs, scoffing openly, and sardonically questioning the wisdom and purpose of the entire venture. But hopefully, before they reached that point, he would reach them.
Quietly, in an even, measured tone, Shifu began to speak. "Tai Lung: as you are well aware, your element is Fire. It is the element of life; it brings heat and power; without it, the sun would not burn and we could not survive. It can destroy, consume, ravage, just as you did twenty years ago; but it can also create, for where it turns all to ash, this also makes the land fertile so it can produce life once again, and it can refine and purify, as when metal-forgers use it to shape iron and cleanse silver. It is all in how you wield and direct it. And it is tied to your emotions.
"If you can pour them into your chi, allow it to engulf and incinerate your rage, your hatred, your bloodthirsty love of battle, then these things will no longer affect you…you can step beyond and around them, remain calm and cautious, guiding your passions rather than being driven by them. Where once you would have recklessly and cruelly slaughtered, instead you will remain untouched by your enemy's attempts to anger and provoke you. Your temper will be tamed, and you will be left with a formidable weapon indeed—one which can cleanse and make way for goodwill to supplant evil, one which comes from deep within you."
He paused, allowing this last statement to sink in, making it quite clear to the snow leopard that his master was well aware of the lessons Tai Lung had been giving Po regarding depending on the self before any outside weapon. Then, as he listened to his son's ragged breaths rasping in his throat as the true import of what he had spoken penetrated his understanding, Shifu moved on to Po without turning his head or even opening his eyes.
"Dragon Warrior…whether by fate or chance, your element is Water, the opposite of Tai Lung's. Which means rather than channeling your chi by running roughshod over it, forcing it into patterns and molds it is not used to occupying so you may then wield and control it, you must instead give into it. Forgive the choice of words, but you must…how would you say it?…'go with the flow'. Water is the element of change. While the others may take different forms, it is the only one which moves, rearranges itself, and has a constant cycle as part of its nature. It can be frozen, or it can dissipate into the very air; it too purifies, but it can also become tainted and poisoned. Like water, you must be willing to change, as well as accept all sides and aspects of yourself, for you can never know before the fact which you will need to prevail.
"You have already shown you know how to adapt, to think in innovative manners, to become more than the sum of your parts, and you taught me the same when I understood how to train you. But now you must go deeper…find the well at the heart of your being, and plumb it. Release what is kept within you, and allow it to course throughout your body. Unlike Tai Lung, who must refrain from dwelling on his emotions, you must feel them, more intensely and truly than you ever have before. Let them guide your thoughts and actions, and you too will be capable of things you have not yet imagined."
Opening his eyes at last, but only turning his head the barest fraction needed to observe his students through his peripheral vision, the red panda saw almost an identical expression on both faces: one of puzzlement, frustration, and discontent…gradually turning to awed realization. When he saw this, he smiled; that was the first step, not merely to grasping the nature of the chi and the lessons through which they would control it, but simply recognizing their own affinity.
Accepting that this was who they were, what they stood for, how they interacted with the world. That the snow leopard had ended up in the place that he had because he was endlessly driven by a need to conquer, to claim, to control—because he had such a passion for life, for knowing, for making a mark and acting on his courage. That the reason Po had always felt so limited and depressed, aching and yearning for something beyond his father's noodle shop, wishing more than anything to have the freedom to be what he wished, to be himself and study the kung fu he loved, was because like his element, he could not stand being contained for long—he had to be set loose, allowed to rush and churn, ebb and flow, wash across the Valley and leave it and the lives of everyone in it forever changed by his touch, as he himself would never be the same thanks to achieving his destiny.
They have much still to learn. But knowing and accepting that is half the battle. From here on out, it will be both fiendishly difficult…and gratifyingly easy. Nodding to himself, he clapped his tiny hands together once, making both of the warriors flinch. "That, then, is the theory behind the journey we are about to undertake. Spend as much time as you need centering yourself, and when you are ready, we'll start applying this in actual combat."
"About time," Tai Lung muttered in annoyance.
"If you say so," Po also muttered, dubiously.
Shifu closed his eyes and gently shook his head. The learning curve will be steep, I see. Well, they cannot say I didn't warn them…
However, it seemed he had once again underestimated Po—something he had sworn not to do again after witnessing his acrobatics in the kitchen but which he habitually fell into—as well as forgotten how truly talented Tai Lung was at mastering anything kung fu-related. Granted, this was not in the same skill set as anything they had learned before, and required a complete rethinking of their focus and direction.
And neither of them was exactly adept at it from the beginning—the snow leopard in particular became increasingly frustrated and furious with himself, for while of course it proved terrifyingly easy to summon up his anger and hatred, it was painfully hard to redirect it into his Fire…and even when he succeeded, the flames then turned out to be incredibly perverse and resistant, almost with a will of their own.
So when Tai Lung wasn't exploding in violent roars that echoed off the cliffs and slopes of Wu Dan, he was gasping in pain as he lost control of the fire and it singed his palmpads, leaving them smoking. This had befuddled a quietly watching, won ton-munching Po, since he had expected what Tai Lung did once before would come easily to him. But Shifu knew better: during their fight in the Sacred Hall of Warriors, his son had been possessed by his rage, and all he had done, especially his usage of fire, had been by pure instinct. To call on such an ability again outside of battle, when he was free of insanity and passion, when he had to think about it instead of doing what felt right, was a very different and difficult matter entirely.
Similarly, although the Dragon Warrior had been learning to redirect his chi and make it flow throughout his body as Tai Lung trained him in the nerve strike—something which was essential to controlling Water—Po also wasn't used to being so assertive and dominating. All his life he had been a humble noodle chef, used to waiting on customers, washing and drying dishes, and quietly following his father's orders; in other words, knowing his place and never stepping outside those bounds, no matter how his dreams urged him to. So to make decisions, issue commands, pursue an aggressive attack, act quickly and without thinking—these were all outside his realm of experience.
Telling the water what to do, let alone directing it through his kung fu, met with laughable failure more often than not…if he even got the water to behave at all, it usually escaped his control the moment his attention wandered. Which, naturally, usually happened whenever the coiling rope or sphere of water was directly above Shifu's head, or the panda's own. And as regular as clockwork, this inevitably led to Tai Lung laughing uproariously, clutching his sides and leaning against trees or boulders as he took in the sight of the two bears standing there, drenched to the skin and glaring flatly at the snow leopard.
Ironically, this ended up leading to Po's breakthrough…for after one long look at the giggling snow leopard, the panda threw all of his will into his chi—and instantly, a ball of water the size of his belly heaved itself up out of the Pool of Sacred Tears and flung itself through the air. The laughter ceased abruptly, only to begin again from the Dragon Warrior's direction as he took in the sight of a stunned, dripping, utterly soaked Tai Lung.
From then on, Shifu was able to produce increasingly amazing and reassuring results simply by giving Po something to focus on—not Tai Lung, since doing so would only infuriate him more and completely defeat the purpose of training him in Fire, but on the very threats facing the Valley. And by focusing his growing righteous anger toward the disgusting killer, and the image of the hated Wu Sisters in his mind, the panda was able to hit these imaginary targets with unerring accuracy—flat, shimmering planes, rippling orbs, sharp spears of clear liquid, they all obeyed his commands implicitly. He even succeeded in redirecting the flow of an entire waterfall once; only a small one, of course, and only for the time needed to spray outward and strike the sticks and stones Shifu had hurled in the air for him to aim at. But still…it was encouraging indeed.
As for his son, after yet another failed attempt to channel Fire had left one palm severely burned and the other merely seared, the red panda had sat with him, offering silent commiseration as he applied a healing salve of Mantis's to the blisters and reddened flesh. "It's all right, Tai Lung," he soothed. "These things take time. You can't expect to master it in one day."
"Why the hell not?" the spotted feline snarled, his voice somewhat muffled as he tied off the bandages around his other paw, using his teeth to tug the knot into place. "Isn't that what I do? Isn't that what I've always done?"
"This is not like mastering the thousand scrolls," Shifu explained, doing his level best to remain patient and calm. "It's not the same at all. There, you were memorizing the steps and stances, training your body to remember them so it became second nature. You were studying a static set of teachings—learning to apply them through your own creative innovations, yes, but still they were what they were. They could not be changed, and could only follow the dictates of the human body.
"Channeling your chi has more to do with feeling the pulse of life and becoming one with it, reaching out into the world around you and bending it to your will; you are not dealing with something that only uses muscle and bone, but something outside of yourself, with a will of its own. At the same time, you are dealing more with yourself than you ever have before—with your soul, your spirit, your inner nature. And these are things which are even less easy to manipulate than an element."
"It's not fair!" Tai Lung sounded far too petulant for Shifu's liking, but also despairing. "We don't have time for this, I have to learn this if I'm going to be of any use when we fight our enemies. Don't you understand, Master?" He held out his paws imploringly, clenched them as best he could around their wrappings. "I'm finally getting everything I ever wanted. I have you back. I know now that Oogway did love me and believed in me. I have friends, companions, people who believe in me, people to protect, people to l—"
He cut himself off. "But I'm still so damn angry all the time. That's why I lost it with Po yesterday. And if I can't learn to control this…I won't just be useless, I'll be a danger to you." He shook his head. "Was I ever this bad as a teenager?"
Shifu, who had begun to soften his expression, snorted derisively at this. "Please don't remind me."
He was at a loss himself, though, to explain this sudden resurgence in his son's temper, but before he could attempt it or offer further reassurance, the Dragon Warrior walked over from the campfire where he'd been scooping up lunch for them. He handed a bowl to Shifu, took one look at Tai Lung's bandaged paws, and then thoughtfully held the second bowl while carefully feeding the snow leopard dumplings from it. The feline, of course, looked extremely sullen and ashamed at having to be catered to in this fashion, but with his paws still in pain and barely able to bend let alone hold chopsticks, he really had no choice.
As Po lifted another dumpling up, he proved however that he'd heard the last of what they'd been saying. "I know fire isn't like water," he observed, "but maybe your problem's that ya don't have anythin' t' really focus it on, y'know? For the longest time, ya had nothin' t' think about but the fact ya got denied the Dragon Scroll. Now ya don't have that anymore, so your anger got…scattered. Ya gotta pull it back together, aim it at somethin', before ya can channel it down an' burn it up in the fire. See what I'm sayin'?"
Shifu paused—then swallowed whatever he was going to say along with his own dumpling. "The fat one has a point," he deadpanned. "I may have been going about this the wrong way. It would not be the first time. As soon as you're done eating, let's try Po's method, see if you have any better success."
So when the food was consumed and the Dragon Warrior was occupied with washing and stowing away the dishes and cooking pot, Tai Lung and Shifu retired to the corner of the field where they had been practicing—as evidenced by the prominent scorch marks on the trees and the enormous burn marking one end of the grassy expanse. "All right, Tai Lung," Shifu intoned, pressing his hands together. "We're going to do this the easy way. I want you to think of something that makes you mad."
"D'you want the short list or the long?" the snow leopard drawled. "Let's see, there's the panda, you, Tigress, Monkey, Vachir…"
The red panda narrowed his eyes—something in the harsh, biting way he'd uttered the rhino's name seemed significantly different from the others he named. What was his son hiding about his time at Chorh-Gom? While fairly hellish, it was still only a prison…and for all that Vachir had good reason to hate Tai Lung, he was also an honorable man. Surely there was nothing he could have done to the snow leopard that was truly that terrible…
"That's not what I meant," Shifu interrupted. "Something deeper, more visceral than petty annoyances and grievances. Something which truly angers you, something besides our enemies or the Dragon Scroll."
Tai Lung paused, leaning back on one foot and with both paws doing his best approximation of Tiger Fists…and then something dark, painful, and decidedly disturbing entered his golden eyes, twisting his face into something more ominous and upsetting than he'd seen since their fight in the Hall of Warriors. "I know exactly what you mean, Shifu. Got something in mind already."
Warily, Shifu nodded, also adopting the same stance. "Very well then. Come at me with all you have, and let's see if you can—"
Without warning, the snow leopard lunged—and though he couldn't use his paws directly, he made up for it by striking just as hard with the wrists, elbows, and forearms as well as, of course, the powerful blows of his feet. Caught by surprise, and unable to withstand the sudden onslaught of attacks, Shifu fell back—literally hurled up in the air or tossed across the grass by some of the more bone-cracking strikes. Each time Tai Lung hit him, he heard the cat's growl lower another notch, become all the more menacing and terrifying, and the air around them became more blistering hot than even the summer's day could account for. "Tai Lung! What—what are you—why—"
"What's the matter, Shifu? Isn't this what you wanted?" Another roundhouse that Shifu barely ducked, and the whizzing foot still struck his shoulder and sent him flying sideways. "Aren't I angry enough for you? I don't know about you, but I feel downright pissed off!"
"Obviously," the red panda retorted. "But why? What has you so riled up?"
Tai Lung stabbed a thumb at his chest. "Hmm, let me think. I'm nearly forty years old, I've lived my whole life in the Valley of Peace with you and Oogway for company—except when I was in prison, of course—and d'you know what? I still don't know who my real family is, where they are, what happened to them, why they abandoned me at birth. And damnit, I have a right to know!"
Is that what this is all about? Shifu marveled. But why now? Why, after all this time, is he fixated on that again? I thought he'd put it behind him. Not that it was the sort of thing a person could get over or forget very easily, even in the best of circumstances, and being teased mercilessly for being an orphan for much of his youth hadn't helped any. But it had been years since he'd heard such bitter, whining complaints from the snow leopard…
Brushing the matter aside, he snapped, "I don't know why you're bringing that up now, you know there's nothing more I can tell you—"
"Is there? Are you sure?"
"Yes!" Now Shifu was the testy one. "But this is good—take this anger, use it, my son! Push it deep down inside you, down into your stomach…can you feel it?"
Something once again twisted Tai Lung's face, this time with an obscure pain, as if his guts were literally turning themselves inside out…sweat burst out over his body, soaking his fur, and he stumbled to a halt, bringing his paws up instinctively in a defensive stance. His fists clenched, and he hissed in pain. "Y-yes," he stammered, gritting his teeth. "I…do."
Shifu slid to a stop as well, eyeing him closely—to make sure it wasn't a trick, out of concern that his son was all right, and to gauge his progress. Something…shimmered, a faint ripple of blue energy that coursed down over Tai Lung's body, making his fur stand on end and then lay flat. The heat in the air intensified. "Focus…focus…don't let the anger control you, Tai Lung. Master it. Fuel the fire. I know you can do this."
Something was gathering in the air, in front of and to the side of the snow leopard. Shifu sidestepped to avoid it, watching closely. The heat was drawing together, gaining substance and power, taking oxygen from the air in order to burn…and as the flames began to flicker and become visible, Tai Lung slowly rose upright again, his expression clearing.
It was startling, almost worrying, how quickly the fires of resentment left his eyes and instead poured into the fireball forming above the field…how his jaw relaxed, his face went slack, and his claws retracted back in their sheaths. He looked—serene. At peace. Calm, and unsurprisingly confused.
The fireball grew larger, roiling, churning, surging now and then with prominences of flame as if it were a miniature sun, but otherwise remained perfectly tame and under control where it hung. Shifu watched this, both awed and pleased, and finally relaxed, beginning to applaud slowly. "Tai Lung…you did it. Look at that! Now tell me: how do you feel? Where did your anger go? Are you walled off from it?"
"It's there…in the fire." The snow leopard sounded stunned, and more relieved than he'd ever heard him. "I can still feel it…I'm not just empty of emotion, thank the gods…but it's outside me. I can manage it now…it isn't in charge of me anymore." There was something very definitive, determined, and fierce about those last words that made Shifu's heart swell.
Not that he believed this meant Tai Lung had fully conquered his rage, or dealt with whatever lingering fury he felt at not knowing his parentage; not by a long shot. But it was a beginning; a very good step in the right direction…and with further training…
"Very good, Tai Lung," he said at last, bowing in proper kung fu fashion to the snow leopard. "Now you are learning a different lesson." If only I'd taught it to you sooner…instead of twenty years too late.
A long pause answered him, and then a warm, rather soft smile curled up the corners of his son's lips. With an artful gesture of one paw, he sent the fireball wafting across the grassy plain to the river, where it plunged downward into the water and was doused in a large cloud of steam. He then bowed deeply in return. "Thank you…Father."
Several days later, after both Po and Tai Lung had made incredible progress in their chi training, Shifu called a much-deserved and needed halt, instead sitting down with them to eat a very filling and companionable dinner of stir-fried vegetables, noodles in Sichuan sauce, and of course—dumplings. He could not possibly put into words how good it felt, not only to have this respite from all the dour faces and upsetting gloom that had settled over the palace since the siege began, but from the harsh, disciplinarian attitude that had always prevailed there by his own paw.
After being far too lenient with Tai Lung, spoiling him and giving him far too much leeway in his training, he had retreated, deciding that his deep and intense love had been the problem—that he could not afford to love that strongly again, or at least that he could not show it. In the process, of course, he had gone too far in the other direction, and the end result was having a bitter daughter who gave her entire life to kung fu to the point she didn't even seem to have any hobbies, talents, or interests…like the snow leopard, she too had only wanted his pride and love. He had shown this to Tai Lung at a young age, only to cease when he grew older and seemed to outgrow such tender affection…but he had not shown it to Tigress at all, something he now deeply regretted.
Po's coming to the Jade Palace had changed everything, helped him to realize what a stubborn, crusty, moribund old curmudgeon he'd become. How he had driven away any ounce of caring and devotion from his life, sealing his heart away so it wouldn't be hurt again as it had been by Tai Lung's betrayal and loss. How this had made the palace such a lonely, hollow place that it was a wonder people like Mantis and Viper could ever find it habitable, let alone retain their sense of humor and kindness, respectively. Shifu was learning to loosen up, to relax and allow himself to feel again…and now the same thing was happening with Tai Lung.
It all started when the panda told an over-the-top and obviously wildly embellished tale of a wolven thief from Zhejiang province who was also a lousy tipper, something Shifu had the feeling Po had told many times before, each more grandiose and ridiculous than the last. Once the laughter had died down over the panda's daring comments only being in his mind, the snow leopard had reached across the flat stone they were using as a table to pat Po reassuringly on the paw.
"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, panda," he said a trifle smugly. "Because now that I know what he looks like, I have his number. If I ever run into him, I'll break his arm in three places, smash his kneecap, and crush what makes him a man. He won't be causing trouble again, believe you me."
"Oh...uh...thanks." For some inexplicable reason, Po didn't look pleased.
"Anytime." Tai Lung munched on a dumpling, by contrast looking quite satisfied with himself.
Feeling feisty, contrary, and just a tad disapproving since he would never stoop to such random acts of violence, let alone brag about them (even if the fellow did deserve it), Shifu pointed a chopstick at the snow leopard. "Be careful what you say, son, or I might just tell Po about the time I took you into a candy store when you were five."
Tai Lung looked openly horrified, and tried to none-too-subtly indicate the red panda should desist by waving his arms wildly behind Po's back, but the Dragon Warrior was grinning widely and leaning forward on his elbows. So with a wicked smirk, Shifu launched at once into the story.
"Picture, if you will, a darling little tyke just about the same size as I am, but with three times the strength. So there he is, yanking on my sleeve, almost knocking me over and pulling me onto the floor, staring up at me with those enormous eyes no one could ever resist."
Po snickered, then flicked his eyes aside to the snow leopard. "So he liked sweets even then, huh? But I bet you had a heart of stone, didn't ya?"
Shifu chewed another dumpling thoughtfully, then adopted a stern glower. "I certainly did. A future kung fu warrior, begging for food like a common street urchin! What would the Valley say, or the Emperor, if they knew? No, of course I had to put my foot down." He paused, then allowed his mouth to twitch slightly. "That day, at any rate. Other times…I simply had to give in. He wouldn't shut up, you know."
"No, he didn't!"
The red panda winked. "Let me see, how did it go…'Baba, I wanna sugar date! Baba, I wanna that cookie! Baba, I wanna ride horsey!'" When Po gave him an odd look, he added, "The clerk was a horse." The Dragon Warrior collapsed on the boulder, laughing uncontrollably.
"All right, that's it!" Tai Lung slammed his mug down on the rock, thrusting himself forward to stab a finger at his father. "Just for that one, I'm going to tell Po all about the time that foppish idiot from the Imperial City came to the palace to make a report on your teaching methods to the Emperor…"
Now it was Shifu's turn to stiffen. "You tell him about that, and so help me…you're not too old for me to paddle, you know."
"You wish," the snow leopard snorted with a smirk. "Now let me see, I was what, nine or ten I think…one of the last things I did for the joy of it, before I started training in earnest for the Dragon Scroll. What all did I do, now…"
Po listened raptly, of course, as Tai Lung related every terrible way in which he had misbehaved, acted out, or otherwise made Shifu's training out to be a laughingstock, ranging from very seriously and soberly explaining how the red panda smacked him around every day ("with stone blocks"), to feigning awful injuries in the kwoon (which he claimed had been created solely by Shifu, without any demands and orders from him at all), to running around the palace gleefully clutching one of the thousand scrolls to his chest and then telling the functionary tearfully that he was so happy because this was the first time he'd gotten a gift since he was five.
By the time the snow leopard had described with relish how he had arranged a practical joke for the snooty panther involving the door of his room, a rope and pulley system, and a bucket of wash water from the laundress's, the Dragon Warrior was in stitches and Shifu could swear his face had turned the color of a pomegranate.
"Serves the old fogey right!" Po gasped at last, when Tai Lung told how he'd hightailed it back to the capital in the middle of the night with a huffy flight down the steps and a shouted demand that the Jade Palace owed him a new set of court robes.
"Indeed." Tai Lung raised his eyes heavenward and clasped his paws behind his head. "Of course, the best part was, when Master Shifu went to investigate the idiot's claims, I had somehow neglected to remove my little prank…"
"Oh no!"
"Oh yes."
"I'm glad you find this so amusing, my student," Shifu snapped. "I seem to recall you being very severely punished after that little episode."
"That's funny. From what I remember, Master Oogway didn't seem to have a problem with it. In fact he said it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen and he hadn't laughed so hard in years."
"Yes…well, his sense of humor was always rather strange."
"So now you finally admit he was more than a bit daft?" Even as he said this, Tai Lung abruptly reached out with his chopstick to snag another dumpling—from Shifu's bowl.
The red panda blinked…staring down first at his bowl, then narrowing his eyes and watching his son calculatingly. The snow leopard raised an eyebrow in artful innocence, as if to say 'What? You didn't see anything'—an expression that had never worked on Shifu—even as he chewed and swallowed the fist-sized morsel. Deliberately, with a superior air, Shifu reached across and skewered a dumpling of his own from Tai Lung's bowl.
A pause…and then the feline grabbed another. So did Shifu.
For several minutes they kept up this exchange, each eyeing the other with flaring nostrils and curled upper lips as if the thievery of dumplings was the most heinous breach of etiquette imaginable. Then, just as one or the other was on the verge of dissolving into laughter, both father and son reached down with their chopsticks—to stab into empty ceramic.
Startled, since their bowls had been full to start with and they knew they hadn't been stealing from each other for that long, panda and snow leopard slowly turned and looked at the only other possible culprit. Po's bowl was still full—as the cook, he had of course served himself the largest helping—but so were his cheeks. He chewed, tried to swallow, and grinned sheepishly at them as he mumbled a reply. "What? You guys were doing it."
Tai Lung and Shifu exchanged another long, wordless look, one that spoke volumes: He's going down.
Both of them leaped for Po in the same moment, chopsticks lunging for the bowl—but the panda snatched it up at the last second and danced out of reach, so that the cat and his father practically slammed headfirst into each other. As Shifu tried to blink the stars out of his eyes, the Dragon Warrior finally swallowed his stolen booty and smirked at them. "Ah, ah, ah! Ya didn't say 'Panda, may I'!"
He was still laughing when Tai Lung ducked under his arms, caught the rim of the bowl with the tips of his chopsticks, and sent it flying ten feet above their heads, the dumplings gleaming almost like gold in the sunlight. "Hey!"
"He who gloats, loses the upper paw," the snow leopard snickered. But as he in turn pushed off with one foot from their boulder table, reaching out to full extension to claim his prize, something very small and exceedingly fast zipped up his spotted back, sprang onto his head, and deftly snatched the bowl out of the air.
Shifu smiled down at him, even more smug than when he'd played this game with Po, and as he somersaulted neatly to the side, artfully keeping the bowl upright so it lost none of its contents, he called back, "Follow your own advice, sonny-boy!"
And so it went. Back and forth across the clearing the three of them wove, darted, dodged, and flipped, and for a wonder, Tai Lung didn't seem angry, or even to contemplate making the competition ugly by employing fists and feet in his most savage and violent attacks. Instead he was grinning and laughing as much as the other two, and whenever he missed an opportunity or had one taken away from him, the most he did was grumble, or perhaps curse softly to himself. He truly was learning; he had changed.
As Po tried to hide behind a tree (and failed miserably, his white-furred paunch sticking out from the side and easily giving him away), he leaned back to beam at Shifu. "Man, this brings back good memories! Right, Master?"
"What is he babbling about?" the snow leopard asked as he leaped in for the 'kill', only to have the red panda beat him to it by grabbing the bowl away again. "Have you two done this before?"
So as he did his level best to keep the prize away from his best student by scampering into the upper branches of the tree—forgetting that leopards were far too suited to scaling such heights—Shifu explained how he had trained Po here at Wu Dan, and precisely how the crash course had ended. Even as he was intent on reaching the highest limbs, Tai Lung was listening closely, and by the time he was only a few feet away from the red panda, a very different look was on his face. Crafty, cunning…but also a bit put out.
"Well now, that hardly seems fair, does it? Both of you have a distinct advantage on this one." The snow leopard paused, and then he chuckled as he reached out with his chopsticks, catching Shifu's trailing foot—just as Po had, damn it all!—and yanking his master back so that the bowl of dumplings toppled toward the ground. "Good thing I'm a fast learner, eh?"
With that, he released Shifu and leaped straight down after the bowl. But just before he could get his paws on it, the Dragon Warrior sailed in from the side after springing off another limb lower down—how had he gotten up there, with all that bulk, without anyone seeing it? "Hah-hah! You snooze, you lose, big guy!"
"As if!" Continuing his descent back to the ground, Tai Lung snatched hold of Shifu's staff where it had been leaning against the boulder, and with practiced ease whirled it about, sending the other end smacking with stunning (but not bruising) force into Po—catching him in the side, the shoulder, the rump. The panda, crying out in mingled annoyance and pain, wasn't prepared when his adversary rotated the bamboo around, bringing it about under the bowl and then flipping it upwards.
One more jab with the staff back into Po's belly, and then the feline had caught the pottery before it hit the ground, then leaped with incredible speed and reflexes to catch each of the dumplings in the bowl.
However, even as he was congratulating himself, Shifu, who had landed adroitly and with barely a whisper to disturb the grass several feet behind him, slipped under his son's plane of vision and snatched the staff out of his paw. "What did I tell you about touching my things without permission, young man?" Inverting the stick, he gave the bowl a healthy whack to send it skittering sideways, and once again the race was on.
None of them had any idea how long their impromptu battle lasted, or the number of times the bowl changed paws. But gradually, as time passed, the dumplings within the bowl slowly reduced in number as each of them managed to obtain a souvenir of victory before one of the others got it away from them again. And as the supply dwindled, the fight of course intensified.
Eventually, at a moment when Shifu had narrowly evaded Po's paw to once more leap nimbly across the clearing, landing with an almost delicate touch to perch on the tip of his upright staff, the Dragon Warrior threw his chopsticks at the old master in what seemed a fit of desperation.
But the slender lengths of wood had actually been carefully aimed, stabbing right through the sleeves of Shifu's robe and carrying him backwards with the force with which they'd been thrown—and abruptly, the red panda found himself pinned to the tree, dangling from the chopsticks. Damn. He's good. Too good.
"I'll take that," Tai Lung said as he snatched the bowl from Shifu's hands, taking advantage while Po turned back to the table for another set of chopsticks.
As the snow leopard ran the other direction and began wolfing down as many dumplings as he could, Shifu considered his options. After only a moment he began wriggling and squirming on the tree trunk, working his way down out of his robe so he could drop freely to the ground. Unfortunately, Po saw what he was doing and made a faint gagging sound. "Ewww! Gross!"
Well really! It wasn't as if he were naked under this robe, and he did in fact used to be quite the looker in his day… And if I can actually think that, it proves I'm too old to think it.
Luckily, perhaps, for everyone involved, Tai Lung seemed to be of the same opinion, for when he turned back and also saw what Shifu was doing, he quickly hurled his own chopsticks. And, with exactly the same accuracy and power, they speared into the legs of Shifu's trousers, effectively making him a rather pathetic scarecrow on the tree trunk.
"Nice one, Tai," Po chuckled.
"Not so bad yourself, panda," the snow leopard said with an artful bow.
Grumbling as he was so summarily taken out of the fight, the red panda watched as the two remaining combatants grinned, congratulating each other on having dealt with their old master so readily—and then, as the new state of affairs settled in, narrowed their eyes and leaped back into the fray with their bare paws and feet.
Somehow, though, Shifu couldn't be disappointed, except in one thing: as he witnessed the former enemies battling it out for one dumpling after another, laughing and crying foul and actually playing together, he couldn't help but think, Damnit, I wish Tigress and the others could see this.
Eventually, of course, after Po had grabbed Tai Lung by the ankles and left him sprawled in the dirt, and the snow leopard had retaliated by bouncing deliberately off his belly so as to snatch the bowl out of the air again, both of them had gone back for spare chopsticks—and then the fight became even more strange, and more, well, awesome.
Having worked on his ambidexterity during their nightly lessons, the Dragon Warrior used a pair in each paw to grab the dumplings from the bowl whenever it flew past him in free fall. But Tai Lung had two pairs as well, and soon enough they were having an all-out brawl…their arms becoming blurs of motion, dumplings flying this way and that as each snagged one after another.
At times they were literally wrestling with each other, catching arms, necks, and chests in various kung fu moves to hold each other back while the other lunged for a dumpling. Other times they merely outwitted each other, as when Po made a feint in one direction, only to leap up and do a backflip to land behind Tai Lung, there to catch a falling dumpling in his mouth, or when the snow leopard in turn bounded on one paw in a handspring, caught hold of a tree branch with his tail to fling himself still higher, and then scooped three or four dumplings from the sky while the panda was still huffing and puffing to catch up.
At the last, after Tai Lung had released a wave of chi from his chopsticks to send the bowl skittering across the rock table, then leapt after it to catch it in the crook of his arm, there was only one dumpling left. And when Po got hold of the bowl again with an impressive tuck-and-roll, fetching up against the table and hurriedly stabbing down with his chopsticks, the snow leopard's were right there to stop him. For several breathless minutes, the two fought with their chopsticks the same way Shifu and Po had, the slender rods flickering, snapping, angling and blocking as a full-sized warrior would be.
Then, with a triumphant cry, the Dragon Warrior caught the dumpling tightly between his chopsticks—but as he lifted it to his mouth, one of Tai Lung's paws abruptly came out of nowhere, unsheathing its claw to stab into the dumpling and pull it free. The leopard crammed it into his mouth and chewed reflectively, smugly, as Po stared at him in disbelief.
"Hey, that's cheating!"
"You bet it is," the ex-convict chuckled darkly. At Po's hurt look, he added, "What, you think the Wu Sisters and that psychotic murderer out there will be fighting fair?"
"Well no, but…"
"And you cheated several times to defeat me, now didn't you?"
"That was different! You were gonna kill people, I had to win any way I could."
"Exactly!" Swallowing, Tai Lung crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the panda candidly. "You were doing what had to be done, by any means possible, using the situation and your surroundings to your advantage. We're going to have to do the same thing against the sisters if we expect to win."
Po looked distinctly uncomfortable, as well he might. "But…that's not really very honorable, is it? Real kung fu warriors don't fight that way."
Tai Lung sighed, looked away for a few moments. "No. No, they don't. This was just a game though, panda. All in fun. And when it comes down to stopping our enemies, well…sometimes the ends do justify the means. If it'll save lives, protect the Valley, then…" He trailed off and shrugged.
"Sometimes cheating is a necessary evil. All you have to remember, Po, is to use it as a last resort. To take your opponent by surprise, do the unexpected to win the day…but don't get used to it, don't make it a way of life. Then you'll do just fine."
The panda's expression cleared, and he smiled eagerly as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I gotcha. I'll try that sometime…thanks."
From the tree where he was still pinned, Shifu grumbled loudly. "Very clever, yes, very insightful. Now, could one of you get me down from here, please?"
As Tai Lung crossed over to do the honors, though, he seemed unable to go without getting the last word—for he added under his breath, where only his father could hear it, "Well, at least I managed to top the panda in something."
Shifu didn't know whether to laugh or groan aloud.
In the scroll room of the Jade Palace, where not only the thousand scrolls of kung fu but also tracts on philosophy, science, art, architecture, and any subject one could wish to study were housed—the life's work of Oogway, a gathering of more knowledge than most could read in a single lifetime—Crane lowered the parchment detailing yet another of the terrifying slayings which had now begun to encircle the Valley of Peace, as if surrounding and trapping its residents in its ring of death.
Shuddering visibly as he forced himself to disregard the details that were now burned into his mind, the bird instead set the scroll aside and crossed over to the large, beautifully rendered map of the Valley which completely covered one wall of the chamber. There, searching among the watercolor swirls which indicated forests, rivers, and hills and the hanzi that identified roads, isolated homesteads, mills, and bridges, he finally found what he was looking for and pushed another flagged pin into the bamboo board on which the cloth was hung. Then he sighed and hung his head.
He was attempting, of course, to try and discern some pattern in the killings—having failed to deduce the murderer's identity, motive, or even reasoning, Crane had finally, in a sense of grasping at straws, hoped that perhaps simply marking where each of the bodies had been found…or the homes of the deceased, if nothing recognizable had been left behind…might provide some sort of clue that could crack this case.
Since none of those who had died had anything whatsoever in common, other than all living in the Valley of Peace and all being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he had thought, a bit desperately, that perhaps instead of being of the same occupation, having the same set of friends and acquaintances, or knowing something about their killer, simply plotting out the locales of the murders might reveal something. Sadly, as yet it had not. They all truly seemed to be random.
It wasn't as if he had anything else to do, though. With Po gone off with Master Shifu and Tai Lung to Wu Dan Mountain, there were no lessons to give in the kwoon, and somehow he didn't feel like training himself. Tigress was still sulking in her room at not being given a completely free bill of health from Mantis—he knew, of course, that they couldn't chance her throwing herself back into her usual slave-driver routine when she wasn't fully healed, and thus put her back out of commission again when they could least afford it, but she seemed fully recovered to him.
Monkey was also in hiding, which all things considered was probably for the best as far as he was concerned; although the simian had finally been coerced into bathing by an 'intervention' of Tigress, Viper, and Mei Ling bodily dragging him to the steaming tub and dunking him in whether he wanted it or not, he was still far too surly, on edge, and constantly simmering like a boiling pot about to explode. Crane understood, of course, that for whatever reason, Monkey still resented and distrusted the snow leopard; that whether it made sense or not, he was convinced Tai Lung was behind the killings, with the bloody messages meant to throw suspicion off of himself, the one person who should have been first on everyone's list since he had been a murderer twenty years before. The avian also knew that having all this slaughter continue unchecked, and knowing that the Wu Sisters were still out there, would upset anyone. But the primate's behavior was still…deeply disturbing.
Mei Ling herself, of course, had been avoiding him ever since the 'incident' in the training hall with Tai Lung…and surely that was also why Viper had been giving him the cold shoulder, and why Shifu had placed her in charge at the palace in his absence, not Crane. Not that he sought a leadership role or even believed himself particularly suited for one, but…being rejected still hurt.
Yet he understood exactly why, and it was the same reason he was now sticking pins in a map in an attempt to feel useful. Because ever since he had witnessed the two felines kissing, his heart had become as painfully searing as a fiery coal yet also as cold as the mountain snows…and this was directly responsible for how he now treated the snow leopard as if he were the bearer of a deadly plague, and this in turn had prompted the serpent's attitude toward him—and most likely, the red panda's lack of faith.
He couldn't help it though, he loved Mei Ling with all his heart. Nothing would ever change that fact, it was like knowing the sun would always rise in the east and set in the west. Even if their relationship was doomed before it began, he would always yearn for her, and no other would ever take her place in his thoughts.
Of course, he reflected bitterly, he should have known this would happen. What, after all, could the mountain cat see in him? When they had first met, he had only been a worthless janitor, the lowest rung on the ladder, a menial laborer no one, not even the kindly but often thoughtlessly blunt Master Hu, had bothered to notice most of the time. When they did, the best he could hope for was a sheepish, 'Glad it's you and not me!' grin, or a few exchanged greetings if he was particularly lucky. True, Mei Ling had always seen more in him than anyone else, had spoken to him from day one as if he were a person and not just part of the furniture—thanking him for his work, asking him about himself, laughing and joking with him during off-hours from training.
But he had chalked that up to the feline's overall generous and caring nature, not an especially deep connection on which he should place any hopes. Her encouragement had helped make him what he was today, but that had merely been a good heart helping someone achieve his full potential. Surely she had met many men since then who were more in line with her tastes, more in her league—simply, he thought with a wince, compatible with her physically. Not that Mei Ling had ever shown a desire to have children of her own, never mind what a wonderful mother she would make (when she wasn't out righting wrongs and eliminating evildoers). But almost all women wanted that someday…and even if she didn't, they still could never work as lovers.
That hadn't stopped him from futilely praying and hoping for it, even fantasizing about it on many an occasion. Many a time he had considered sending Mei Ling an anonymous letter, declaring his unsung love, when he heard she was near the Valley of Peace—since he knew she would recognize his style of calligraphy which she had taught him herself. Other times, when he felt extremely bold and at his most confident, he considered throwing caution to the wind and actually signing his name—or better still, going off to meet her in person, with or without Shifu's permission.
Master Oogway, for whom he had always felt a greater kinship and affection, and with whom he had spent many more hours meditating on philosophy, spirituality, and the empirical search for knowledge, would surely have understood and allowed it—even given his unconditional blessing. But somehow, when the moment came, Crane had always been overcome with cowardice and fear of rejection, and had thus stayed at the Jade Palace where it was safe, secure…and lonely.
Now, when Mei Ling had appeared in his life again after so many years apart, he had been certain this was a sign. Completely aside from how her coming had spared Tai Lung the ignominy and cruelty of accusation and re-imprisonment (or worse), or how she brought information and skill to bear against the Wu Sisters right when they needed it, it had seemed the gods themselves were granting this union. That if he simply overcame his uncertainty and worry, to come right out and tell her how he felt, then all would be well, and all his dreams would finally come true.
But then Tai Lung had entered the picture.
A sharp crack penetrated his brain, and Crane abruptly refocused on what he was doing to discover, to his annoyance and distress, that he had pushed a pin so hard against the map it had completely snapped the bamboo backing behind it. Discarding it with a muttered curse, he leaned against a bookshelf and ducked his head as far beneath his hat as he could.
All displays of anger aside, he had to have known this would happen. That was what he kept telling himself. Tai Lung was handsome, undeniably masculine, powerful, and driven—all things Crane was not. He had more skill in kung fu, more mastery of the scrolls, more innovation and creativity, than the bird had in the hollow of one wing feather. Yes, he was the master of deflection, when it came to words as well as actions, and could avert bloodshed, hatred, and countless deaths through his diplomacy and tact—things the snow leopard was certainly not capable of and might never be. But he was nowhere near as direct, strong, or determined as the ex-convict.
He did not speak his mind, put his neck on the line for who and what he believed in, or even take the initiative most of the time—all things he had learned growing up as a member of a traditionally gentler, weaker species; from only finding work through menial, unprofessional, thankless tasks that had taught him subservience; or from being outclassed and overshadowed by the much more dominant, take-charge personalities among the Furious Five.
But there it was…however it happened, whether it was the fault of circumstance or his own choices, he was not nearly assertive enough to gain what he wanted—or, at least in his estimation, to be worthy of it. What woman like Mei Ling would want a doormat for a husband? Tigress might, he thought a bit uncharitably, but the mountain cat was too sweet and self-effacing for that.
Worst of all, of course, was that the snow leopard was doing his very best to turn his life around, to atone for his numerous sins and redeem himself as a true hero and noble fighter—and was so far meeting with admirable success, for the most part. Something Mei Ling could not fail to find inspiring and brave. And…he was a fellow feline, much more likely to be attractive to her. How could Tai Lung not be the perfect match for her?
He wanted to hate the spotted cat for it; in fact, something dark and ugly deep down inside his heart seemed to be pushing him to, demanding he give in to this rage and desire to lash out and hurt, and only his great familiarity with calming techniques and meditative trances kept him from tearing Tai Lung's golden eyes out with his talons. But in truth, he knew it wasn't the snow leopard's fault. It was his, and his alone.
After all, how could Tai Lung (or Mei Ling for that matter) possibly have known of his feelings, that he secretly viewed the mountain cat as his soul mate and had always assumed one day they would be together, when he never gave voice to his desires to anyone, let alone either of them? He couldn't even say Mei Ling should have figured it out by now, picked up on his signals…because in his shyness and wariness, he had made certain to squash any seemingly flirtatious or seductive expressions and turns of phrase.
He hadn't wanted to embarrass himself, or worse end up laughed at the way Tigress had treated Monkey all those years ago, if it turned out Mei Ling indeed had no interest in him whatsoever and only saw him as a dear friend. And so in the end, he had doomed himself; he had assumed too much, waited too long.
Now it was too late, he had lost her.
"Crane?"
Jumping several feet off the floor, and flapping his wings to swiftly regain his balance and keep from landing with a jarring thud on the stone floor, the avian kung fu master jerked his head to look. It was Mei Ling—almost as if his thought had summoned her, that she in her contrary feline way had decided to prove she was right there to be found whenever he wanted her. She stood in the doorway…and to his surprise, suspicion, and disbelief, she looked upset, bleak, and pained. Not with him, he sensed, but with herself.
"Yes?" he said, a little more testily and snapped off than he would have liked. But if she had finally come to apologize for her unseemly display of several weeks ago, he didn't want to hear it; she was a grown woman and could do as she pleased. And if she had belatedly realized his true feelings and were now attempting to make amends, that would be even worse. He didn't want her pity, and refused to listen to the sympathetic 'we'll always be friends' talk; it would just break his heart into even more miniscule fragments.
She winced, but then fixed on him her usual openly frank, unwavering gaze. Whatever else changed about her, whoever lay in her future, she would always be direct and aboveboard with him (which was yet another reason this sudden pursuit of Tai Lung had hurt him so, for it had come completely out of nowhere). And on some level he privately appreciated it even now.
"I…I just came to tell you, I am so sorry for what you…had to witness. I didn't mean to be so forward in front of you, it just sort of…happened."
Crane alighted on the floor, and made some show of inspecting and folding his wings, ruffling and flattening his feathers, even preening himself, before he finally turned and gave her what he hoped was a flat and penetrating glare. "I see. And why should that be of any interest to me? You can pursue and romance anyone you like, you don't need my permission for that, Mei Ling. I'm not your father."
At the last moment, right as those words escaped his bill, he realized his horrible mistake and squeezed his eyes shut; no matter how much heartache he was suffering, and how strained their relationship would now become, he'd had no right to bring up Wu Xuan in that context.
Indeed, the mountain cat did look stricken, shaken, and badly hurt for a few split seconds—ones that seemed eternally long to Crane's anguished mind—before she seemed to snap out of it, sigh, and look away. "No, you're not; but you've always looked out for me, the same way I did you. Your opinion, and respect, matter to me. In which case, I suppose I deserved that."
He blinked briefly at that admission; was she implying he was sitting in judgment of her choice in a mate? If anything, he'd only been disparaging the manner in which she'd announced her claim. But now that he thought about it, he did take issue with her choice—not because he hated or distrusted Tai Lung, although that little display with Po in the kwoon had been…disquieting, to say the least, but because he couldn't be certain why exactly she had chosen him.
So after crossing his wings and regarding her silently for several moments, he half-turned away dismissively. "Only you know whether that's the case, Mei Ling. No one else. But that doesn't matter now. All I want to know is, why? Why him, and why now? Don't you think there are better times than when we're in the middle of a siege?"
In spite of himself, he felt the passion breaking through in his voice, cracking it with the strain of trying to rein his temper in, and he was soon flapping his wings to emphasize his points as he paced the room. "People are dying out there, Mei Ling, and your sisters—remember them? The ones who killed your father?—they're here too. And you're worrying about making a love match?" He shook his head. "I have to say, I never expected something like this from you. I'm…disappointed."
Mei Ling's jaw dropped, and then she gasped as she strode forward. "What? No, you've got it all wrong! That's not what's going on here."
"Could have fooled me. I think Tigress said it best." Crane regarded her coldly, distantly, even as part of him wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake sense into her, slap her out of this shallow lust she was feeling for Tai Lung and tell her how much he wanted her, needed her.
The mountain cat, meanwhile, was clutching at her temples with both paws and shaking her head from side to side, slowly at first and then with more vigor as she moaned softly. "No…oh damn it all! This isn't how it was supposed to happen, I didn't think—"
"Now that's something we agree on."
"I was only trying to—I just wanted—"
"I think it's fairly clear what you were wanting." He couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice, and didn't try. "And I'm sure Viper could give you an earful on what's under those trousers…assuming you haven't already found out for yourself by now."
"Crane, stop it!" Mei Ling's cry came out more like a snarling yowl that seemed to startle even her. Yet even as he was staring at her, shocked into silence, she balled her fists and took a step toward him—and he was even more stunned by the genuine pain and loss in her brown eyes. "Listen to me. You have to listen. This isn't…" She swallowed hard, licked her lips.
"Okay, we're all in danger, the whole Valley is in danger. But I happen to think that's exactly the time to think about the future, to plan for love and romance. Isn't that we're fighting for? For everyone to have the chance to keep living, loving, celebrating? What good is defeating the villains, if we just become heartless killing machines who don't have time for anything but dealing out death and pain? There's a real chance for hope here, for peace and a new beginning. And I'm not going to rest until I know for sure it's not only possible, but actual!
"As for why…" She hesitated, then plunged onward. "I really wish I could tell you, but you'll just have to trust me when I say I'm doing the right thing. If I told you, Tigress might find out, then she'd throw a fit, and Tai Lung would get caught in the middle, and we'd all be even worse off when the battle sta—"
"Wait, what?" Crane was confused—and furious. "What does Tigress have to do with this? Since when do you care what she, or anyone else, thinks about what you choose—" He broke off, and suddenly an insidious thought came to him, one he wanted to shake aside but which he was certain, with growing despair and resentment, was the absolute truth.
"Oh, I get it. I see it all now! She's been against Tai Lung since the beginning…she was the one who never trusted him, the last holdout, the one he had to convince if he was going to have any peace, let alone change his life. He put you up to this, didn't he?"
"What? No! It was my idea. Well okay, I kind of got it from Viper, but—"
"Viper? She's involved in this too?" His head spun. How far did this conspiracy go? How many people had the snow leopard convinced to help him? Or was it really all just in Mei Ling's head? Either way, it was wrong and he aimed to tell her so. You didn't use love—or more precisely, lust—as a tool to make someone look better, no matter how much they might need to be cast in a better light.
"Forget it, it doesn't matter. You do what you think is right, you always have. If you really think that you and Tai Lung becoming an item is going to make Tigress change her mind about him, fine. If you believe the fact someone like you can take a shine to him will prove he's changed and deserves everyone's trust, be my guest. But leave me out of it!"
He turned away again, crumpling the nearest parchment with his wing feathers. "Though I suppose I should feel lucky you even bothered to tell me at all. If Tai Lung were still here, instead of at Wu Dan, you'd probably be all snuggled up with him in his room, wouldn't you? And I'd still be in the dark."
Mei Ling stared at him for many long moments, thunderstruck; he couldn't tell if she was angry or about to burst into tears, confused or guilty at his insights. Then, slowly, her jaw hardened and she stalked toward him with an implacable gait. "I can't believe it. You really think all that? I thought you were smarter than this, Crane. This isn't what you think at all. I love—"
Before she could say the final words, complete the hateful phrase with the name Crane didn't want to hear, there came a sudden bang from the room's only window, making its shutters rattle and clatter, and both of them whirled about to stare at it, dumbfounded. A few moments passed, as they eyed the wooden slats and adopted kung fu stances to combat whatever might lie without. Then the shutters banged again, even more loudly and violently.
One step at a time, the avian inched closer to the window, dread and adrenaline surging through him in equal measures. He sincerely doubted either the Wu Sisters or the unknown killer would announce their presence so openly and without subtlety, but he couldn't take any chances.
Exchanging a quick glance with Mei Ling, he waited until she had her paws raised, ready to strike with blinding speed, then with equally rapid movements grabbed hold of the shutters and yanked them inwards so whoever or whatever was on the other side would stand revealed.
The last thing he expected, though, was for the intruder to actually have been leaning against the shutters—and therefore fall into the room, landing with a thud and a cloud of gray feathers on the floor. It took Crane several seconds to process this, several more to realize just who lay at his feet—and as soon as he did, all other thoughts were driven from his mind by the fellow's identity…and his condition.
"Zeng!"
The messenger goose, such a familiar staple around the Jade Palace, so reliable and prompt in carrying out his service, he who had been sent to the Imperial City a month and a half ago and had never returned, was of course still clad in his golden uniform—but aside from this, everything else was so shockingly different about him, his appearance was changed so drastically, that Crane could barely recognize him.
For one thing, the bird's clothing itself was ripped and tattered, smudged with dirt, sweat, and what looked like dried blood so that it seemed more a muddy brown than gold. Somehow he still retained his hat, but it was so battered and dented it looked more like a scarred and pitted battle helmet. His feathers, greasy and gummy with who knew what, seemed to be permanently ruffled and ragged, as if he were in a state of perpetual molt—in fact a large number of them were missing, showing bare flesh underneath.
Flesh that looked bruised…slashed…even, Crane could swear, branded. There was a certainly a terrible mix of clotted blood mingled with charred black skin… The poor fellow was also pathetically thin, even more so than usual, and seemed unable to stand on his own two feet for long without collapsing. His entire body, in fact, was trembling constantly, and a nervous tic had developed in one bulging eye.
"Oh gods!" Mei Ling clapped a paw to her mouth, her eyes wide in horror. "What happened to you? How did you…"
"Crane?" Even Zeng's voice was different, gone straight past a raspy, scratchy cough to a faint, barely audible whisper. He rested his wing feathers weakly on Crane's, leaning on him for support. "Is that you? I…I tried so hard to get here…"
"Yes…yes, it's me." The waterfowl longed to call for Mantis, or send Mei Ling to fetch him, but somehow he couldn't move and his throat locked up. "Please, you have to tell us, who did this to you?"
Agitation warred with stark fear in the goose's eyes, and despite his weakened state he struggled valiantly in Crane's grip. "No! No! I…I can't tell you, he'll kill me if I tell you…he said he would, he'll kill me…"
Mei Ling exchanged a worried glance with Crane. "But Zeng…there's no one here but us. And we'll protect you, he'll never hurt you again. I promise! It's all right for you to tell us…"
Yet squawks of terror still escaped his bill, and the bird's fear in fact seemed to escalate rather than be reassured by this. "No, he'll know! I can't tell you how, but he'll know! Please don't make me say his name…I don't want to die…" He whimpered. "You won't be able to save me…or yourselves. Believe me…you don't know what you're dealing with…"
Now Crane was becoming frightened himself; who or what could possibly have made him so frightened? Swallowing hard, he managed to say, "All right, all right…you don't have to tell us. But you obviously do have something to say, or you wouldn't have come to us. What is it?" He flicked his eyes to the scroll case on Zeng's back, which no longer had a finial and roller protruding from it. "Did you get Master Shifu's letter to the Emperor?"
Zeng shook his head sadly, apologetically—as if they could blame him for failing, after what he'd been through! "No…never made it there. But…I do have a message. For Tai Lung." His eyes glazed over slightly, tracking unfocused from one face to the other. "I heard…did you say something about Wu Dan?"
While Mei Ling explained where the snow leopard had went, with whom, and why, Crane gently extracted the scroll from its carrying case. It was hardly the same quality as the one Shifu had sent—roughly-woven, smeared with dried mud and blood, torn in several places and looking like nothing more than a filthy rag.
And when he unrolled it to read what had been scrawled onto it, he saw the hanzi characters were barely legible, having been written in haste and smeared to boot. But he could just make it out…and what he read made his blood run cold. He read it again to be sure…then he glanced over his shoulder at the map he'd been marking.
Somehow, where before he had seen no pattern, now it was as stark and clear as day, as if he'd merely been looking at it from the wrong angle before. With the name on the parchment to guide him, he could see, so plain he felt like an idiot for missing it, that together the locales of each of the murders formed a gigantic arrowhead. One uneven, staggered, and lopsided to be sure…but quite obviously pointing to the northwest. Of course. Of course! But then that must mean…how? It still makes no sense…
Interrupting his train of thought, he turned back to Zeng. "You did well in bringing this to us, you're right about how important it is. But you're in no condition to fly…so I'll take you to Wu Dan myself." He paused, looked at Mei Ling who seemed ready to protest, and then ignored her; if Zeng was so terrified of his kidnapper even knowing he'd identified him, then leaving him with a healer would also be protested, and possibly truly unsafe. And from what he'd just learned from the map... "I don't want to leave you here, in case…he…does show up. And Tai Lung…he has to know about this…"
Cradled on Crane's back and held in place by a leather harness the waterfowl sometimes wore to hold supplies and weapons for long-distance traveling—its straps fixed around him as loosely as could be allowed to keep from aggravating his wounds—Zeng could feel the other bird's wing muscles flexing and bulging powerfully beneath him and felt somehow comforted.
Though he would never dare to broach the subject, he had always wished to go flying with the kung fu master sometime, not to race or touch the vaults of the sky but to enjoy the simple pleasure of flight, the freedom of the air and the brief escape from duty and loyalty before returning to their proscribed roles at the Palace. Never had he imagined that one day he'd get his wish…but not at all in the manner he would have wished.
Gazing at the clouds drifting by so peacefully high above him, he found his own thoughts drifting with them whether he wanted them to or not. He kept trying to keep them fixed only on things of a pleasant nature, but somehow whatever he contemplated kept taking him back to the nadir…to his private torture…the imprisonment that had broken his spirit. His wife and children, the family he adored and treasured so dearly—he had prayed for their good fortune, that day at Chorh-Gom when he'd been certain he would die with all the rhinoceros guards, begged the gods to take care of them and ensure a bright future lay in store for them.
But now, though as yet they had not suffered any hardship or calamity, or even knew yet what had befallen him—the terrible threat still hovered unseen over them. That was what his captor had used to procure compliance, repeatedly and with sadistic relish stating exactly what he would do to them when he found them. Things which could not be spoken, or even thought of. Things that would make them beg for death. Things he would sooner die himself than experience…and the Evil One had promised him he would indeed suffer them, if he did not fulfill his role to the letter.
He tried to think of how he had always lived to serve, as had his father before him, and his before that, all the way back to when Grand Master Oogway first came to the Valley of Peace. The tortoise had been so impressed when that first goose had brought him a detailed map of the valley long before he reached it; how he had delivered a letter to the Emperor in record time, explaining Oogway's desire to settle in Hubei and commune with the wealth of natural chi to be found there; how he brought back from the Son of Heaven the schematics of various palaces and temples in and around the Imperial City, which were used as the basis for constructing the Jade Palace; and even that his sharp eye had observed the glint of sunlight off of exposed deposits of the rare and valuable stone, so that it could be mined from the mountains for the purpose.
With his characteristic wit, Oogway had commented that the goose 'seemed to be something of a messenger' and had then requested Zeng's ancestor make it official, becoming his personal messenger at the Jade Palace when it was completed. But even such oft-told legends from his family could not remove the stain of failure and weakness from Zeng's mind…for it had been his feather that had allowed Tai Lung's escape and led directly to the slaughter of the Anvil of Heaven; he had not delivered the message to Emperor Chen—it had been confiscated and destroyed by his captor, so now no garrison would be coming.
And even at this very moment, by giving a message to Crane which the kung fu master had insisted be flown to Wu Dan, and which he had also agreed had to be done, he was an agent of the enemy, making it possible for his diabolical plans to come to pass. It was all a trap, he knew it was…and yet Zeng was helping him do it because he had no choice.
Even the knowledge that he had been doing so many good deeds prior to being captured—patrolling the perimeter of the Valley on the lookout for anything unusual or troublesome, directing the pigs and horses of the palace guard in setting up roadblocks and checkpoints for anyone going into the Valley, warning the populace of the danger and calling the isolated families from the most outlying settlements into the center of the Valley where the Furious Five could look out for them—meant nothing.
Because it was on one of those mercy missions, coming to bring Wei Chang and his family into the village, when he had been caught in the first place. If he had not been such a fool, if he had not allowed himself to be distracted by the miracle of Vachir's survival and instead had probed more closely into how such an impossibility could be, then he would not be in his dire condition…he would not have had to witness, bound and gagged and weeping piteously, as the little elephant boy had been slain and gutted before his horrified eyes…and then seen the former commander march into the house to take care of the unsuspecting parents, too.
Where they were now, if they still lived, Zeng didn't know…on the one hand, he didn't want to think of more blood on his conscience, but on the other hand, it would be more merciful if they weren't alive and in agony… He should have known, should have realized, should not have trusted…
Finally, after what seemed hours of flight but was in truth only twenty minutes or so—it was much easier and swifter getting to Wu Dan by flight than on foot—he felt Crane's body shift and angle in a sharp descent. Peering over one gray-feathered wing, he spied the glittering waters of the Pool of Sacred Tears, the forested slope, the snow-covered heights of the peak, and then at last the grassy plain where only the most dedicated and advanced students of kung fu trained. There was a tendril of smoke arising from a campfire, and Crane was winging in straight toward it.
Before Zeng knew it, they were spiraling in for a landing, the avian kung fu master quite skilled at handling the alpine updrafts despite having someone tied to his back, and it wasn't long before more features and details came into view. He could see a small, red-robed form perched on a rock, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the training with a critical eye and determined, no-nonsense confidence. He spied the Dragon Warrior off to one side, sparring with empty air—and, to his shock, sending whips of water through the air from the nearby stream with every Tiger Fist or Dragon Kick.
And he caught sight of the gray-pelted figure of Tai Lung on the other side of the field, twisting and gyrating about in one roundhouse, drop-kick, and flying leap after another—and with each punch of a fist or blow of a foot delivered to nothing, a ball of intense flame burned and rotated lazily in mid-air.
As they landed, all three kung fu warriors stopped what they were doing, turning to stare at them in mingled puzzlement, confusion, and worry. Shifu, Zeng noted, looked rather cross, though whether at being interrupted or Crane not going through the proper channels, he had no idea. When the red panda saw the goose, however, he immediately widened his watery blue eyes and rushed forward. "Zeng, is that you? Good heavens, what happened to you…"
In spite of himself, the goose had to manage a weak, lopsided smile; while he had never faulted Shifu for it—he was, after all, the greatest kung fu master and teacher who had ever lived, save for Oogway, and compared to that, what was a lowly servant?—the red panda had rarely if ever shown any concern and caring for Zeng in all his years of service. Again, not that it had been justified, expected, or even required. For while the goose might have been the de facto head of the palace's scribes and other mundane functionaries, he had always been content to remain in the periphery, toiling away at his numerous unnoticed tasks and being on-hand whenever a message had to be dictated or delivered.
His role was to grease the cogs, so to speak, to make sure everything on the Jade Mountain went as smooth and efficiently as possible, so that Shifu and the Furious Five would be free to focus on defending the Valley of Peace, not such frivolous matters. He counted himself a success if he wasn't noticed, and was displeased when anything made him the center of attention…although being timid and meek might also have something to do with disliking that…
In any event, all of this notwithstanding, it was somehow appropriate that the only time Shifu bothered to care about him was when he had been terribly mistreated. Maybe I should try getting kidnapped more often…
"What, this?" he croaked out at last. "Oh, it's nothing, Master Shifu. Just a little torture, abuse, and enforced starvation. All in a day's work for me. Nothing a nice big bowl of stew won't fix right up…"
Aghast, and ignoring his attempt at sarcasm, Shifu was at his side at once, working on undoing the leather straps holding him in place. "What? I don't understand, who would want to—" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Does this have to do with the letter I gave you?"
Zeng flicked his eyes away guiltily. "Heh, about that…sorry, M-Master Shifu…I'm afraid I didn't make it to the c-capital…in fact I kind of lost the letter…"
Amazingly, the red panda waved the matter aside. "Forget that, I'm more worried about you! Who did this to you? Where have you been, and how did you…"
Before he could speak further, however, an enormous shadow suddenly blocked out the afternoon sun from the other side, and then Tai Lung loomed over him. Tearing free the last of the harness, the snow leopard knelt beside Crane—and to Zeng's shock, his face was as white and drawn as Shifu's, his golden eyes filled with disbelief and anguish, and a real sense of helplessness quite unlike him. Reaching out with shaking, tremulous paws, he scooped the goose up off Crane's back and lifted him to rest almost tenderly against his furry chest, almost as if he were a baby.
At any other time Zeng would have found this disturbing, or at least mildly offensive—despite the size difference, he was certainly no child to be coddled! But now…now it felt extremely good to know someone cared, wanted to look after him and ensure he was well. The fact it was Tai Lung was something of a shock, but the more he thought about it, the more unusual sense it made. It hadn't been intentional, but in a way, it could be interpreted that he had aided the snow leopard's escape.
While some might doubt that the scourge of the Valley could ever feel any positive emotion, let alone gratitude, Zeng understood. He had seen the conditions in which Tai Lung had been held—for the first time, since the few times Chorh-Gom had been inspected over the last two decades, it had been other temple guards who had done the deed. He had learned what exactly the spotted cat had been through, the inhumanity of his imprisonment.
And he had witnessed firsthand the sort of abuse from Vachir that he was fairly sure had been a regular occurrence. Anyone would want to escape such treatment…anyone would be grateful to the person who helped them escape it, albeit inadvertently.
After only a month and a half under Vachir's tender cares, Zeng knew he himself could not have withstood twenty years of it. If the snow leopard hadn't been insane going into Chorh-Gom, being so upon emerging from its shadows was utterly justified. Suddenly, somehow, at least some of the atrocities he'd committed during and following his escape were more forgivable.
Gazing up into the leopard's concerned face, he felt the massive paw stroking his head, a mirror to the gesture he'd made almost three months before when he'd flung him into the snow-flurried, cloud-packed Mongolian sky to tell the Valley of Peace of his coming. And this time, he realized Tai Lung meant it.
Still, that didn't keep him from swallowing hard when the cat suddenly clenched a fist and knotted the muscles in his arm and shoulder, a perfect counterpart to the trembling, rigid set of his jaw as he stared with flashing, hateful eyes at something no one else could see. "I don't know who did this to you, and I don't care. But I promise you, Zeng: they…will…pay."
Even though it heartened him to know someone like Tai Lung could become that much of a protector, the goose shook himself and tried to sit up. "I don't…that doesn't matter right now. You…you have to read the message I brought for you. You have to know."
He hated having to lie like this, to misdirect the feline into what might well be his doom—or the Valley's, if the one controlling Vachir were to bring him under his foul influence. But this was the only way he and his family would be safe…would not end up like Wei Chang's. It was why he'd insisted on Crane being right to bring him here, not to bother with healing...because he knew the message not only had to be delivered if he wanted his family safe, but that the manner of its delivery was also key, and only his presence could lead to the interpretation his captor wanted. That terrible shadow was likely lying of course—he would still harm Zeng and his loved ones anyway. But at least this way, there was a slight chance he wouldn't.
And perhaps…if Tai Lung did know, really know, who was doing this…if he figured it out before it was too late…then there was still a hope they could all be saved.
While he was feverishly thinking this, Tai Lung had already taken the note from Zeng's scroll case, holding it in one paw while he supported the goose with his other arm. He scanned the lines…and the messenger bird watched with trepidation as the blood drained from his face.
The snow leopard looked even paler than he had been after twenty years of being denied sunlight and fresh air, and his chest heaved as if he'd just run the entire distance to Wu Dan, his breathing ragged and uneven. Zeng couldn't believe it, if anyone had told him without him seeing it for himself, he'd have assumed them out of their mind. But Tai Lung was afraid.
And having seen the sadistic, cruel side of Vachir as he showed off the countless weapons, restraints, and disgusting implements he used to keep his prisoner docile and harmless…having encountered the rhino again now on the outskirts of the Valley, where there was something even darker, more hateful, and wrong about him…he didn't blame the snow leopard in the slightest. He should be afraid. They all should. There was something even more wicked and heartless set loose on the empire…it had found a welcome home in the commander, transformed him into something even worse…and whatever it was, it would not stop until it had consumed them all.
Shifu, who had been caught up in grilling Crane on why he had flown here with a badly injured and starving Zeng instead of turning him over to Mantis's care, and who also seemed angry the bird had taken matters into his own talons instead of turning it over to the one in charge at the palace, Viper, glanced over now—and noticed the look on Tai Lung's face. "Son…what is it?"
He leaped up onto a boulder and snatched the parchment from the leopard's slack grip, then began to read it aloud. Zeng, of course, already knew what it said…had heard it recited to him, read it over countless times, committed it to memory in case something had happened to the message. He knew what it said…and what it meant.
"Tai Lung,
I hope you've been getting my notes; I'd hate to have gone to all that trouble, only for you to miss 'em. By now, you've gotta know what they mean, where I am, and what I want. But just in case ya weren't smart enough, or you've had your head up your ass all this time playing at being the flower-lovin' Zen master—and face it, we both know that ain't you—let me spell it out for ya.
I know where you are. I know who you are, no matter what you try to tell everyone, and yourself. And I know ya still owe me for what you did, all those years ago. You took my father, my brothers, my whole damn family from me. You got punished for your crimes…but nowhere the hell near enough.
You're gonna keep findin' more markers from me, till you do what's right. Come and face me once and for all, and we'll settle this man to man, the way it oughta be. Maybe you'll kill me, add another crime to that list you could paint all along the Great Wall. Or maybe I'll kill you, and everyone else can rest easy in their beds—and I can have some peace, too.
Either way…meet me at a little place near Qinghe, I think you know the one. Means a lot to both of us. I ain't gonna tell ya not to come alone, 'cause I know you work best that way. And if you are dumb enough to bring along your new 'friends', well…do what ya gotta do. But before you decide, you better know: one of 'em's gonna betray ya.
I'll give ya a week, two at most, to get there. After that, the killing starts again. Sleep well, Tai Tai.
And don't try and get anything outta my messenger. He don't know nothing, and wouldn't tell ya if he did. Not if he knows what's good for him, anyway."
It wasn't signed. It didn't have to be.
The red panda lowered the note, mouth slightly open and working soundlessly while his clenched fist looked as if it wanted to crumple and shred the parchment to bits. On his other side, the Dragon Warrior, Po, had been standing silent all this time, his green eyes as wide as saucers as he looked from the bedraggled goose, to the shell-shocked Tai Lung, and finally the message in Shifu's hand. Then at last, in a very small voice, he said, "I…I don't get it. What's goin' on here? Where's Qinghe? I never heard of it before…"
Zeng knew of course. So did Tai Lung, to judge from his expression which still mixed fear with hatred and despair. And if Shifu knew, he wasn't telling. So in the end it was Crane who turned and looked at the panda, morose and somber, before flicking his gaze to the whispering grass blades.
"It's a town in Xinjiang, northwest of here," the bird said quietly, as if to speak louder would disturb the dead. "The last village before the Tavan Bogd range…near Chorh-Gom."
(A/N: Just a few notes this time. The bit with young Tai talking about Shifu disciplining him "with blocks" is a shout-out to Lilo & Stitch, while the courtier running away and saying the palace 'owes him a new set of court robes' is a shout-out to Mulan. *grins* It shouldn't be too hard, reading this, to figure out my fave books and movies... The part at the end of Tai's Fire training when he and Shifu bow to each other is indeed a deliberate echo of Po and Shifu's bow at the end of his training. As for the three-way dumpling fight, and especially how it started, that was inspired by the directors' commentary in which they said originally the dumpling fight was conceived as being between Tai Lung and Shifu. So, here's my take on it!
I tried very hard not to make the chi training scenes be too reminiscent of Avatar, hence why you didn't see a whole lot of actual work with the elements. Don't worry, I deliberately held back cooler moves so they can show up later in actual combat. ;) I also made sure to reference Crane being close to Oogway, since like Peter the Muggle I think that idea makes a lot of sense. You should also now be seeing that I intend to keep circling back to the issue of Tai's family, as well as Shifu and Tigress's relationship.
Finally, now you know at least some of what happened to Chang and his family [you'll learn more later], as well as what happened to Zeng [and seen things from his POV!]. As for where things are going from here...all I can say is, aside from the observations you've all made on who to watch and why, just pay attention not only to Tai's temper, but whenever anyone seems to be acting OOC...that is a big red flag that Chao's influence is on the rise. I should also warn you...the next chapter and the one after it will not only be a climax in my story [although not the climax], there will also be quite a lot of fighting as well as more disturbing horror elements. So...be prepared. R/R!)