Cong could feel the eyes of the lesser thieves on him as he demonstrated his skills at the behest of Fu. Fu watched, pleased at his speed and agility as he walked through the room, adjusting each member's fighting stance. Not even the croc could see the moment the monkey swiped small items from each thief, despite his eyes being locked on Cong the whole time. And Cong could feel his master's pleasure, which made his heart warm; it was rare that Shifu was ever truly pleased with him, and Cong had been raised to desire much praise and approval.
When the training session was over, the new recruits began to realize that they were missing things. They began to accuse each other before Fu stood and walked over to the bickering underlings.
"You are all wrong. It was Cong who stole from you. Cong, please display your take."
And Cong pulled from a small pouch at his hip the various items he'd swiped. There were several lucky coins, a few pieces of jewelry, and other little things. The recruits gaped at the monkey as Fu placed a heavy clawed hand on his shoulder, pride gleaming in his dark eyes.
"You do well, Cong. I see your skills have not dimmed at all. You must have stolen much in your time away." Fu squeezed his shoulder, his claws digging in just enough to cause discomfort; it was a threat, a claim of ownership, but Cong didn't flinch. Instead, he bowed low, groveling as he was expected to.
"Thank you, Master," he said.
Fu nodded and removed his hand, placing it behind his back as he strode in front of the recruits. "As you can see, you all have a long way to go before you become a good thief. And much, much longer before you become one as good as Cong. I expect you to train hard, and perhaps you will one day be something to be proud of."
The pleasure that filled Cong's heart was countered by a stab of guilt and shame. What would his other master think? He clenched his jaw, reminding himself that he had no other master. Shifu would deny him because of what he was, and he could not bear the pain of hearing of Shifu's anger thrown in his face. And that was why he left. The thought of disappointment from Shifu and from the friends he had so faithfully loved and shared so much life with sent agony through his very soul. And he knew he was a coward, but if he saw their disapproval at the shameful behavior he loathed so much, he would be destroyed, and there would be no picking up the pieces.
Fu dismissed the others after they had retrieved their stolen goods, but he asked Cong to stay back for a moment. Cong was unafraid of Fu, and he began to replace the training staffs against the wall as the others filtered out. He could feel awe and amazement from some, but he also felt burning jealousy that was all too familiar to the thief. There had always been those jealous of his place in Fu's favor and his skill, but none of them were slaves. None of them knew that he was, either. Fu wouldn't share that information with anybody besides his most trusted and highest gang members. It would be dangerous for others to know. And they might think that they could afford him. Fu wasn't stupid, and Cong was much too valuable for just any offers.
"Cong," Fu said when the others were gone, the door firmly closed behind him.
Cong turned to face the crocodile. "Yes, Master?" Cong asked, letting his voice drip with admiration even as his stomach churned at the title; Shifu was a master to be proud of, but Fu was most definitely not.
"Where are you sleeping?" Fu asked casually, tilting his head so that his eyes fell into shadow.
"Where I belong, Master. I have brought shame to you for daring to run, so I sleep in a lowly spot."
Cong didn't need to elaborate, and Fu clicked his tongue. "That won't do. You are still better than those fools. You will be moved to more appropriate quarters. You must be well-rested to be at your peak."
The monkey bowed low, touching the ground with his forehead. "You honor your lowly servant, Master. Where would you like me to sleep?"
Fu's eyes glittered when Cong looked up to see him; he loved to be in a position of power, and his position of power was more concrete with his slave than with any other gang member. A small smile curled the scaly lips, and Cong felt his heart flutter. He told himself that he wasn't afraid of Fu, and it was mostly true. He did not fear punishment or pain, the things which Fu loved to dish out to those who broke any rule. What he was afraid of was that his master knew where he had been after he'd run away. Fu crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.
"Tell me something," Fu said slowly. "Where did you go, Cong?"
"Master?" Cong asked, keeping his voice steady and humble.
"When you left here, where did you go? We could not find you anywhere in the city. We searched for you for years. Yet you were gone. We found many monkeys, but not you."
Cong studied his master's face. To his utter relief, there was true confusion in his eyes. He didn't know! Bowing low again (he shouldn't stare at his superiors too long), he shook his head. The thought of where he'd been made tears of sadness spring to his eyes, and when he looked up again, Fu blinked in surprise.
"I went far away, Master. I traveled much. I am so ashamed of myself, Master. I stole many things, but none of great value. I was afraid you would track me, afraid to come back. I knew what awaited me when I did. I was a fool, Master. A fool."
"Why were you a fool, Cong?" Fu pressed.
Cong lowered his eyes to the floor as tears fell freely from his eyes. The tears were good. Fu would think he was truly repentant for running away. Why was he a fool? Fu wanted to know the details. So Cong gave them to him.
"I belong here, Master. I belong with you and the Serpents. I belong to you, Master. You are my everything, and I feared coming back. I was a fool for not coming back sooner to beg your forgiveness." He added in his head, 'I was a fool to think I could stop stealing.'
Fu considered the monkey, a slave that he'd bought and trained from before he could walk. The slave that had dishonored his gang amongst the other city gangs for daring to run. He clicked his tongue again, a rare softness appearing in his eyes. Cong nearly stopped breathing. He knew that look. It was one that was bestowed upon him in rare moments where Fu truly felt for the boy he had raised. It was the closest thing to a fatherly look he had ever received, and Cong basked in the warmth that filled his soul.
"I agree, Cong. You were a fool. You know that you belong here. I am going to be lenient with you. You have brought us shame, but that egg you brought has given us a great opportunity for more gain. You are forgiven, little treasure. But do not test me again."
Fu held his arms open, that soft look still in his eyes. With his heart pounding, Cong stood and walked over to the crocodile. He knew the croc could be cruel and vicious. He knew that he was a feared gang leader and a known murderer. He knew that Fu could switch from happy to angry in a second. He knew all of these things. But as Fu wrapped his muscled arms around his small body, tugging him close and holding the monkey, he felt for the first time in fifteen years that he was home. He sobbed softly into the scales on the croc's belly, pressing close and melting into the embrace.
Thirty minutes later, settled into his old room, Cong lay on a soft mat, staring up at the ceiling. He was conflicted about what had just happened. Fu had embraced him like a wayward son coming home. Yet that soft look was contrasted with the fire that had been in the crocodile's eyes when he had come strolling into the gang's headquarters. Was Fu really happy to see him? Or was he only happy because of what Cong had brought to him? The simian didn't know.
What he did know was that the tears had not meant what Fu thought they meant. He was ashamed. He was repentant. But those tears were tears of sorrow. Two weeks gone, and he already missed his friends. He missed the life he had built around himself. He missed the hours of training with his friends. He missed meditating peacefully with Shifu, eating Po's fantastic noodle soup, taking strolls with Mantis, watching Crane paint, playing games with Viper, and talking with Tigress about form and strength.
But, he thought to himself, did he really know much about the others? Sure, he knew the basics, but they never discussed the important things. He knew their favorite foods, training exercises, and how they became students of kung fu. Thinking harder, he knew what little things meant. When Tigress's eyes shone, she was amused. When Viper's tongue incessantly flicked in and out, she was irritated. When Crane ruffled his feathers, he was content, and when Mantis chirruped, he could distinguish between his different moods. Po was easy; his emotions were plain on his face, and he never hid what he was. And he even knew Shifu's moods from watching his ears and nose.
He knew all of these things, but he felt he knew as much about them as they knew about him. What events had defined them growing up? What had made Tigress so stern and disciplined? What did Crane do for fun as a child? What difficulties had Viper had because of her lack of fangs? What was it like for Mantis to have been smaller than he was now? And Shifu…He knew nothing of Shifu's childhood.
Once again, it was easiest to know Po. The panda had gone through so much during Shen's attempt at domination. Once everything was done, they sat around a table, feasting and celebrating their victory. But things had turned serious when Tigress asked Po for the whole story. He had told them of his inner journey, as well as his childhood growing up with a goose for a father. The Five and their master had sat and listened to the panda's journey of pain and discovery, and the whole time, Monkey, for that was who he was then, had desired to speak of his own upbringing. But the chance passed before dessert, and the topic had turned to lighter subjects.
Now Cong was sure that his alias as 'Master Monkey' was just that: a false name to conceal his identity. Because over the long two weeks that he'd lived with his thefts hidden under a board in his room, he had realized just how futile it was for him to run from what he was. He hated the word with a fiery passion, but it described him perfectly. He was a thief.
He knew what his companions…No! Former companions thought of thieves. They thought them to be dishonorable, shameful. And he had gone along with that for over ten years. But in the back of his mind, he had always wondered what made this crocodile or that ox a thief. Were they raised as he was? Or did they have a choice in what they became?
Cong shook his head, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. He needed to stop thinking about his old life. That life meant nothing to him anymore. Unfortunately, his heart disagreed so much that more tears fell down his furred face.
"Please," he thought to whatever deity would listen to somebody like him. "Please make this pain stop soon. Let me just be what I was and forget them. Please, gods, have mercy on me!"
And he curled up, his body quivering with guilt, shame, and so much sorrow that he couldn't process it all. It was with great relief that he slipped into a troubled sleep. Anything was better than this.