He dreamed of falling.
He dreamed of blue skies tumbling around him. He dreamed of passing clouds and small flocks of birds.
The ground seemed so close, and yet so far. It seemed like the closer he came to dying, the farther away the ground would move away.
When he woke up, he could still see the world falling apart around him. He could still hear the screaming in his ears.
He was fine. He was not falling to his death. He was in his room, with his straw hat placed carefully on the side.
He blinked sluggishly and looked around in amazement. He didn't remember being here earlier. Wasn't he out sparring with the others or something? But that was in the late afternoon to early evening, if he remembered correctly, and it looked like early morning. . .
He sprang up. Oh, God. If it was early morning, that meant that training was going to start soon. And if it was going to start soon, then that would mean he was going to be late. And if he was late, then that would mean disappointing Shifu, and he really didn't want that.
Hastily, he picked up his hat and stuffed it onto his head. He threw open the door and flew up and out into the world.
Or at least, he tried to.
He let out a rather indignant squawk as he tumbled to the ground, his left wing screaming in twisted pain.
He blinked the tears out of his eyes and looked down at his wing.
It was wrapped firmly in multiple bandages, held up in a proper place by a sling, made out of some stiff fabric.
Huh. He didn't remember breaking it. But it wasn't like he had enough time to dwell on it, either.
He was going to be late, and that thought alone occupied his mind. He didn't want to be late. He had enough insecurities as it is.
So he picked himself off, brushed off any dust that lingered, and ran as fast as he could. Even on the ground, flightless, he was still faster than average, running at roughly 26 miles per hour.
He slipped and slid on the glossy wood floor, nearly falling into multiple heirlooms of previous Kung Fu masters.
He ran towards the training room, his breathing ragged and coming out in short, little puffs.
He reached it in record time. And he didn't break anything, which was a pretty big plus. He'd have to tell Shifu later; that was a new record.
He burst through the doors, startling the occupants inside.
"MasterShifuI'msosorryI'mlaterit'llneverhappenagainIjustsleptinthat'sallIpromiseI'llwakeupearliertomorrow-"
The red panda said nothing and held up a paw, silencing the bird.
Crane breathed in and out, trying to regain control of his breathing. Running so fast for so long had taken a toll on his poor lungs, and saying so many things at once wasn't really the best solution to it.
After a few moments, his breathing evened and the stitch in his side vanished, simply leaving a dull throb in its place.
He straightened himself and bowed hastily to Shifu. After a few seconds had gone by, he quickly stood as straight as a yardstick. He swore he had heard something crack as he did so. He wasn't too sure.
"Master Shifu, I-"
"I understand," interrupted the red panda. "You overslept."
The winged master winced. Somehow, it sounded worse in the red panda's voice. "I-"
"It is quite alright," said Shifu, with the faintest trace of a playful smile curling up at the edge of his lips. "You needed the rest. Your injuries required you to do so."
Crane blinked confusedly, until the scratchy sound of shifting fabric reached his ears. "Oh. Uh, that, that really explains a lot. Everything, actually."
Monkey looked as if he were going to say something, going as far as to open his mouth, before closing it and looking at his feet, shuffling them every few seconds or so.
Crane remembered something that was hiding curled up in the back of his head. "How long was I out?"
Po, much like Monkey, had developed a very deep interest in his fingers; he waggled them in front of him as if he were playing the piano in a very un-piano like way. "Three days."
"Three-" The bird nearly fell backwards, but caught himself just before he did. He rustled his feathers in a kinds of nervous manner. "That-That makes a lot of sense, actually."
Viper coiled in on herself, just enough to give her a little bit of a crescent moon look. She pursed her lips and looked at Crane with a bit of a sad look. "You did have a pretty bad concussion."
That makes sense, Crane thought. He didn't say anything, though, and simply nodded. He already said "That makes sense" twice, and he felt that he didn't want (or need) to say it a third time.
"So, uh," Mantis said, a look of uncomfort on his face, "are you okay? You seemed really out of it. You actually collapsed, dude."
Crane shrugged; he wasn't too sure himself. Saying that he was fine would probably be a lie, and saying that he wasn't fine would definitely be a lie.
The others exchanged glances. Maybe they were questioning his judgement. Maybe they thought he said he was fine but secretly had an injury that he wasn't telling them about. Or maybe they were just wondering what they should say next. One or the other. Both could be right, though.
Shifu gave him a look, one that he couldn't quite describe or place, and waved to signal the others to stop. It seemed like he was giving them the day off.
Tigress and Viper hesitated, stealing a glance at Shifu as if making sure they saw right. The others weren't as patient, nor had the same respect for training as the tiger and snake did.
They ran towards him, stopping a few feet away. He was secretly glad; he didn't want to be smothered right now. He just wanted his space.
"So, uh, where-what do you want to do today?" Po asked, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Crane hesitated, before saying quietly, "Maybe a movie? Or something, I don't know."
Mantis said something in agreement (he wasn't really paying attention, but he knew that the bug had made some sort of sound of agreement), and the others nodded, happy smiles gracing their normally stoic faces. Po's face looked as though it had been everyday since Crane had met the giant panda. He never knew how someone could stay so positive all the time.
And so they walked out, together, side by side, like any other family.
Family.
His brain momentarily froze, and back reeled a couple steps back.
He'd spent so long, so many days and months and years, with them to ever think about them in a different way.
They'd always be family to him.
Always.
They reached the theater and stepped inside.
They were swarmed by excited fans, of course. They always were everytime they tried to walk out and into the village.
Fortunately, they didn't hang around a lot. Maybe it had something to do with the quiet whispers Po said to the kids. Maybe it had something to do with how Tigress stood protectively next to him and his broken wing. Maybe it had something to do with how Monkey discreetly shifted the attention to him, or how Viper slithered up to anyone who came near, flashed a fanged smile, and quickly explained something he could not quite catch. Mantis remained on the top of his rice hat, just like always.
Were they being too protective of him? Yeah, he thought so, but he didn't say anything. He knew the others needed this, after he had looked after them for so many years. They needed to return the favor, and he would gladly allow them to if it meant that they were happy.
They paid for their snacks (the bartender very politely said that they didn't have to, but they insisted) and headed towards the theater, multiple pairs of eyes staring holes into their backs.
Sometimes, he hated being famous.
It sure was a whole lot better than being a lowly janitor that nobody liked and constantly made of, but for once, just once, would he like to go out and be a normal teen for once. Just blend in and be one with the flow, and be an average teen. Just. Once.
But, if he had a choice between choosing being famous and having his friends, and being not famous and not having his friends, he'd always choose his friends, no matter how tedious his job could be.
He couldn't imagine a life or world without him. They were all his rock, one of the only things anchoring him to the mortal world. If he were to put himself in any of the other five's shoes, he knew, no matter how deep down, they would feel the same. Always.
They found some empty seats somewhere in the middle of the sea of chairs, and sat down.
As the movie played on, they laughed and joked and argued (he heard someone sniffle. The question was, was it Po, or Monkey?). Mantis had slammed a fistful (Mantis sized, of course) into Monkey's mouth for the sake of shutting him up, and Tigress had half-scolded-half-yelled at them to stop, we're watching a movie and that means silence, so shut up or so help me I will personally arrange your murder and kill you while you sleep.
Crane had never felt so happy in his life.
And afterwards, when they walked out and stretched up high into the sky, the feeling remained.
He knew, now, that they would always have his back. Always catch him when he falls. Always help him back to his feet.
He smiled serenely, the music of the others gentle bickering and cheeky responses and silly teases filling his ears.
They'd always have his back, he thought, because, in all honesty, it was just a trust fall, wasn't it?
fRICK I HAD TO REWRITE THIS BECAUSE I FORGOT ONE OF THE MAIN FRICKING PLOT POINTS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
Thanks to that one person who reviewed and followed this. You rock, man.
Also, there WILL be a sequel to this. It will be called 'Free Fall', so stay tuned for that.
See y'all in the next story! Bye!