Disclaimer: I don't own Kung Fu Panda. All the OCs belong to me, no stealing.
Please keep in mind this is from a parent's point of view, not a child's. I know we all have theories about Tai Lung's childhood; for the most part, I think his was a happy one. But, as is the case with this story, there's gotta be some tragedy.
But enough of my rambling. Please enjoy!
Memoirs of a Master
Chapter 18
Po didn't know what to think. He was sure he wasn't the only one to be completely horrified that Shifu had come so close to ending his own life. Po firmly believed that no matter how rough something got, suicide was never the answer. If you hit rock bottom, there's nowhere else to go but up, his father, ever the optimist, would say.
But now…he wasn't so sure. Shifu had encountered so many blows that the panda wondered how anyone could survive such pain and heartache. The betrayal of Xue Shan was bad enough, but to find that the snow leopard had been tricked and ruthlessly betrayed as well was, in the panda's mind, proof that the snow leopard was not as evil as everyone else thought.
But, Po had thought the same about Tai Lung. And why shouldn't he? Tai Lung was no different than he was—he loved kung fu, and wanted to make his father proud, exactly what Po wanted to do. What cemented this belief was the snow leopard's reaction to the blank scroll: the look of complete shock, sorrow, betrayal, and the soul-crushing cry of "It's nothing!" that informed the panda that he'd felt his entire life was for nothing. Hell, if they had switched places, Po would have been just as devastated.
But that didn't make him evil.
Now that Po knew why Shifu loved the snow leopard so much…it all made sense. Everything…why he was so cold, why he had been so harsh to his other students. Po figured that Shifu didn't want to unleash another monster…
But how could a monster come from a cute, helpless, orphaned kitten? Something didn't add up.
But he was just as determined as ever to find out what made Shifu—and now Tai Lung—tick.
I suppose the best place to start with any story is at the beginning, and in the case of this chapter in my life, it is time that I be completely honest about it. Oogway would never have turned him away, no matter how much the baby reminded us of the one who abandoned his humanity and decency in favor of revenge. I do not believe my master ever truly felt biased towards the child who would someday become the scourge of the valley; I believe he felt as I did, that this was an opportunity we couldn't pass up.
I, of course, had my own theories about him. Once I saw him, it occurred to me that I may be making a mistake in bringing him in. I almost took him to Bao Gu, but as Rong was still out for my blood, if I left the Jade Palace, my life—and the baby's—would be forfeit. My instinct told me that whoever the child's parents were, they were clearly enemies of the new Emperor, and believed their son was not safe with them. I was almost certain they were now dead.
But curiously, as I mentioned before, the babe's swaddling clothes were a rich purple, in a design that was instantly recognizable as belonging to the clan on Mount Tai Lung. That was how he got his name. For the majority of his childhood, however, he was simply known as "Tai".
Once I showed him to Master, it was obvious from the smile on his face that he approved the child staying, but instead of adopting him himself, he offered that honor to me. I had my misgivings, of course, knowing Tai would not be raised with a mother; I felt I had broken my vow to my wife by raising a family without her. But holding that infant in my arms and watching him sleep, feeding him, hell, even changing his diapers were an honor and a privilege. Without realizing it, I came to love him almost immediately.
What a bright-eyed child, so full of wonder and curiosity! How could I not be proud of him? How could I not occupy my days by forsaking my training in order to play with him, hours of senseless and endless sessions of peek-a-boo, which strangely, I never tired of? Tai hardly complained, grinning, giggling and clumsily clapping his tiny paws.
He was an instant favorite with the female servants working in the palace. I have no small delight in saying he was the most adorable little ball of fluff you had ever seen. He was a beautiful baby, and quickly became a rowdy toddler whose doe-eyed pouts got him whatever he wanted.
The terrible twos were…well, terrible. I longed for the days when he could still crawl; he didn't get into half as much trouble. He was still too young to recognize consequences yet, so even if I told him a stove was hot and would burn him, he would touch it anyway. It was how I learned; I figured if it was good enough for me, it was good enough for him.
I cherish the memory of the day he learned to walk. It is one of the proudest moments I have of him. We were sitting in the lily pad garden, and I was feeding him. He was perhaps, oh, 14 months old, and he smiled and reached out to me as the spoon of porridge came toward his mouth. He wasn't a fussy eater, at least when I was feeding him, and seemed to love spending every waking moment with me (what I mean is, every waking moment, which made it nearly impossible to get him to take naps).
In any case, he cooed and purred as kittens do, smiling wide as I fed him, his curious little paws reaching out towards me. That day, I got the first inclination of his strength as he reached out, grabbed hold of one of my whiskers, and tore it clean off my face. Well, it took all the discipline I had not to cry out and startle him; I can assure you, it hurt…a lot.
"No," I scolded him, wincing, and pressing my fingers to the now-bare patch on my muzzle, "We don't do that."
But he just giggled, trying to emulate the face I must have made, stuck his tongue out and squealed. Lets be honest, I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head, "I'll give you this much, kid, it's a good thing you're cute."
I finished the feeding and stood up to wash the bowl in the pond. I had no problem leaving him alone for five minutes; he could only crawl…or so I thought.
"Baba!" he cried. I froze; his first word! I whirled around, and received yet another shock. He had leaned forward, pushing himself up onto his feet. He wobbled for a second or two, but once he was sure of his footing, he looked up at me, squealed and held out his arms. But he didn't stop there. I dropped the bowl in surprise as he took a step forward.
He almost toppled over, but if there was one thing he would be known for, it was determination. He corrected himself, grinned and took another step. I stared in awe, and could only stand and watch as he took two more steps forward, holding out his arms to me. He was so close…
Four more hurried steps, and he fell right into my waiting arms, cooing and looking quite pleased with himself. I couldn't hold back my elation, hugging him, kissing his forehead, which made him happier, nuzzling me and purring in my ear.
He was quick to show off his new-found skill to Oogway, who shared my pride in him.
"What a quick and avid learner! Most boys take much longer to walk and talk…" he stepped out of the way to let Tai pass, the toddler still squealing gleefully at his new skill. Oogway chuckled, catching him just as he started to fall back. Tai just smiled up at him and nuzzled his hand when he received a pat on the head.
Does it surprise you to think that the "scourge of the valley" was once an adorable toddler who absolutely loved both his father and the Grand Master? His first word may have been "Baba", but he quickly started calling Oogway "Yeh-yeh" and, once I began to train again, the cub emulated the sounds I made. "Hiya" and "Hooah" became instant favorites of his, along with "no" once he got older.
By the time he was two, he was such a little ball of energy, it was difficult to keep up. He learned to run, and made it nearly impossible to chase after him. I don't know where he got all that energy, but he seemed to get up in the morning and run all day, sometimes skipping naps, then about eight 'o clock at night, would just simply curl up and fall asleep wherever he desired.
At three, I began reading to him at bedtime, filling my days by telling him fairy tales and later, stories about great kung fu masters.
By the time he was four, he had quite the vocabulary as a result of our readings and storytelling, and could already read and write a few characters. He asked me what the symbols meant one night, as I was reading to him, and I started pointing them out and saying them, teaching him to read. It was yet another skill he picked up and executed flawlessly, once I taught him.
One day, as I was teaching him to write by drawing characters in the sand with a stick, he asked me, "Baba, are you a master?"
I'm surprised he hadn't asked me sooner. I suppose instinctively he knew I wasn't a normal father (and I wasn't), and that most fathers had careers that were, well, useful to some degree. Carpenters, bakers, soldiers, and the like…and I suppose I could have said "No, son, I am a teacher" but I had not taught kung fu to anyone for five years, so that hardly made me a teacher. Technically, I was teaching my son to read and write, but this was more of a right and necessity, not something that came with my job description, if there was one. So I answered, "Yes, son, I am."
"Why don't you train?"
"I do whenever I can."
"I don't have any brothers," he pouted. I chuckled, catching his meaning. I didn't have any students, almost five years after the Cataclysm, which, truthfully, was still ongoing. Rong Lang had, in the past five years, grown only more ruthless and bloodthirsty, squashing any rebellion, no matter how small, by killing the conspirators and their entire families, and in more extreme cases, entire clans. It was this reason, I theorized, that he brutally murdered as many snow leopards as he could; if they had known about Xue Shan, who had been the hope for their people…well, I have no doubt our next emperor might've had spots instead.
"Would you like a brother or sister?" I asked.
Tai thought about it, and I realized that for the first time, he had few children his age to play with. Something about him seemed more mature than other four-year-olds, probably because he spent so much time with older adults. I had my reasons for sheltering him, of course. I couldn't take him out of the palace, because I feared losing him. Rong's soldiers still patrolled the valley, baiting me to come down so they could arrest me, and probably execute me. I was not about to risk it with my son.
Tai said finally said something that hurt to hear: "I dunno…but what I really want is a mommy."
I swallowed hard and fought the urge to cry, "You did have a mommy," I said.
"When?"
I paused, thinking how to word it. "She…she loved you very much," I said, even though Yeying had never met him. I'm sure she would have loved him as I did. "But she's gone somewhere far away."
"Oh. Can we go see her? Please? I'll be real good, promise!"
I smiled sadly, ruffling the fur on his head, "No son, she's too far away to visit."
"Where is she?"
It broke my heart to finally admit it, "Heaven. She's in Heaven."
I knew he wouldn't understand. He was too young. I knew I would have to explain it later. When it finally dawned on him that my wife was long dead, I remember him being disconsolate for weeks. It hurt me to see him in such pain, no matter how much I assured him she loved him; wherever she was in Heaven, I knew she loved him.
Oogway graciously pulled him aside one day and explained Heaven to him. After that conversation, the cub was in better spirits. My master later told me what he had told him,
"I was honest, and told him Yeying never met him. He was sad to hear it, of course, but I explained that sometimes, the departed come to us in our dreams and meditations. I told him that she is in a better place, where she can easily watch over him and protect him, and that I know she loves him and it proud of him."
I will be forever grateful for that.
He was five. I had no idea what his real birthday was, so we celebrated the day he was discovered as his birthday. I regret to say I spoiled him that day. He got toys, and lots of them, but both Oogway and I were amazed that he shunned the balls, games and even the books he usually loved. Instead, he received a special gift from someone I hadn't heard from in five years.
Though Ochir had left, he apparently had found a niche for himself in Mongolia, and opened a school, just like he'd always wanted; it was the first time I heard that he had recruited nearly one thousand students. Borte lived there too, and suddenly came upon the news that I was a father. So, the day of his birthday celebration, Tai received a gift from the "aunt" and "uncle" he never met.
It was a stuffed panda, nice and fat with all the fluffy stuffing. The bear's monochromatic "fur" was velveteen and it had little black button eyes that shone and sparkled like gemstones. Even the embroidered smile made the toy come alive. Tai grinned and squealed when he got it and hugged it immediately and wouldn't let it go; before long, he took it with him everywhere. That bear, named Tai Ping, "Peace and Security", was well-loved, sharing his bed every night with his favorite blanket, taking it with him throughout the day, the snow leopard cub treating it as if it were a sentient being.
One day, during my training, Tai was sitting under the tree in the courtyard playing with the toy. He was pointing at me, whispering things to the stuffed panda; I smiled at his creativity. They say children who have imaginary friends in their toddler years are much more creative and are capable of accomplishing more as adults because of it. Yes, even when he was five, I should have foreseen all he would accomplish.
I turned away for just a moment, but when I turned back, he was gone.
I panicked, running around frantically, calling for him. Then I feared with ever-increasing dread that he had wandered into the Training Hall, which was forbidden to him. It was simply too dangerous. I raced over. Just as I got to the door, I discovered the panda toy sitting in the doorway, and I heard my son speaking to it…
"Look, Tai Ping! One day, I'm gonna be just like my daddy and do kung fu too! See, I can do it, watch!"
I looked around the corner, saw him smile at the toy, determined to prove himself to it. He turned and started to stalk along the floor; then I spotted the Adversary. Transfixed, I watched closely as he slowly stalked up to the dummy, a determined, if slightly devilish look on his face. He batted it with his paw; when it teetered, he sprung to his feet, and kicked it. It flew across the floor at a speed I had never seen, hitting the opposite wall hard enough to knock loose a couple weapons propped up against the wall. I gaped. He turned round and smiled, seeking approval.
Finally, I smiled. Grinned, in fact. I could hardly believe it. Just by watching me train daily to keep up my form, Tai had picked up kung fu…by watching and imitating. This was a discovery I could not take lightly.
Oogway was thrilled. "Wonderful! I had a feeling about that."
"I can't believe it," I said after Tai had gone to bed. We were in the Hall of Warriors, organizing the Thousand Scrolls of Kung Fu; I was hoping to convince him to allow me to train my son in "the family business", as it were. "I mean, he is the right age to start, if he wants…"
"I think he does, old friend," my master said with a smile. "Did you not hear him say 'I want to be just like my daddy'? He looks up to you, and loves you, and like any son, wants to emulate you."
"So you're saying…if I wanted to…"
"You have my blessing. I have a feeling the boy will do well; kung fu seems to be in his blood."
Instead of feeling pride, I felt a chill. So did Oogway. We shared a look, and I finally asked, "You think he's…his son, don't you?"
He caught my meaning; since the betrayal, we never said…his name within the palace walls. "I would, if I thought he looked like him," my master confessed.
"You don't think there are similarities?" I meant physical similarities, like having his nose, or smile, or…something. Of course, that's not what my master meant:
"There is the potential. But there is a key difference between Red Claw's student and Tai Lung. As far as physical similarities, I see none. Psychological, on the other hand…one had been tainted with hate from the very beginning. Tai Lung has received nothing but love and support, and will continue to. If we are careful, instill only the noblest virtues in him, train him and teach him to respect all forms of life and to honor kung fu as a way of life and a way of protection, not force, then I predict Tai Lung may very well be the greatest warrior China has ever seen."
My heart swelled with hope and pride. The greatest warrior in kung fu history…in Chinese history…in world history! And he would be my student…my son! My eyes immediately trailed up the wall and to the ceiling, where an impressive golden dragon was embedded in the ceiling, holding in his jaws the most sacred text of Kung Fu: The Dragon Scroll.
So many legends surrounded it. It had been created by Master Oogway many centuries ago, and was supposed to hold the secrets to ultimate power. Whoever was bestowed the scroll would become the Dragon Warrior, the mythical warrior who was to bring peace to the land.
Oogway saw where my gaze had settled. "I do not advise you to seek false hope."
"What do you mean, master?"
"Do not assume anything. You can train Tai Lung in everything, he could very well master all these scrolls, if it were possible, but he may not be worthy of the title."
"But didn't you just say that if we're careful…"
"The Dragon Warrior needs to be pure of heart and of pure soul. All I am saying is that there are no guarantees. There is the possibility, though. All things are possible; it may not be very probable, but it is possible."
Translation: don't get your hopes up.
But how could I not? Each day, news of the atrocities Rong Lang performed reached the Jade Palace, and I could see that with each massacre, each destroyed village or assassinated official of the old regime, it weighed heavily on my master…and me. The world of kung fu was severely divided, with some warriors loyal to Rong, and many, like us, opposed him and faced almost certain death if caught. Many great warriors either fell in battle with imperial forces or lost their heads in their rebellion.
I shielded Tai from the worst of it, wanting him to keep his childhood as long as possible. Too many children had lost parents and childhoods across the empire, and I was determined my son would not be one of them. I wanted his childhood to be as normal and happy as mine had been.
But how could I not have held out hope? It was all I had left. I couldn't give into despair, not now, not when I had a reason to live. And how could I not dream of it? My heart sunk when my master said only the pure of heart and of pure soul could be the Dragon Warrior—it meant I was out of the running; I had reacted and killed in blind rage and my heart was still heavy with hate and regret…no amount of ceremony and blessings from holy men could ever make me pure.
But finding purity in the time following the Cataclysm was rare—not even monks in the remotest parts of the empire could be considered pure, for even they despised Rong's regime and wished unseemly curses upon that damned wolf's head, breaking a firm tenet of their religion. The Cataclysm—with a capital "C"—was already being called the most violent time in China's history, and sadly, Master Oogway had to agree with that.
So you see, if any time in the empire's history did we need peace, and a powerful warrior to bring it, it was now. The problem was whether or not we could stand to last fifteen more years of Rong's ruthless, bloodthirsty reign. Fifteen years was all I needed to take Tai Lung from a soft cuddly cub into a hard ultimate fighter, so he could deliver us from Rong's wrath.
I started Tai's training the next day. I began slowly, with tai chi and meditation practice. I developed his flexibility. We worked on katas from dawn until dusk. Every day he was exhausted, and I started to pull back a little; I didn't want to strain him and make him regret his decision. Two weeks after his training began, he said to me, "Learning to be you is tough."
"Then try not to be me—try to be you. You're not going to learn everything right away; these things take time."
One day, after he turned six, he interrupted me during meditation. "Baba, what's a cataclysm?"
My eyes shot open, "How did you hear about that?"
He looked bashful. "I overheard some of the ducks talking…it sounded like a bad thing. Is it really bad?"
"I'd rather you didn't ask."
"They said the Dragon Warrior is the only one to stop the bad guys. I heard they did a lot of bad things, but I don't know what they are. No one will tell me."
I wanted to have a stern talking-to with whoever discussed the ongoing war in front of my son. In all likelihood, he had been eavesdropping, but I was still concerned with his innocence.
"Baba, what's 'murder' and 'massacre' mean?"
Oh, gods. He was too young to know. How could I tell him? "You're too young to know," I finally said. "But both of them are really bad things. People who do those things don't go to Heaven."
"Oh." He sounded distraught about this. "Did Mommy die in the Cataclysm?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes."
"Baba," he whispered, "is the Emperor a bad guy? Did he hurt Mommy?" I felt my pulse spike. He was old enough to know that speaking against the emperor was treason. He was old enough to know that the current ruler was a tyrant, and a monster. Theoretically, he was old enough to know what murder was…but I couldn't bring myself to tell him.
"Let's not talk about this now," I said, bidding him to sit for meditation. "Instead, let us think about how the acorn, small as it is, can grow to become a mighty oak…"
"You have a right to be worried," Oogway told me. "But it may be for the best that he knows about it soon."
"I didn't want him to lose his innocence," I confessed.
"Telling him there is real evil in the world is not a sin. If he knows the difference between good and evil, he will be a better warrior. He needs to know the truth…" he paused. "If you are uncomfortable telling him, I will."
"Thank you."
I eavesdropped on their discussion, hoping that Tai would come to understand, and that my master would not disappoint. As always, he didn't. He had Tai in the Sacred Hall of Warriors, and was taking him on the grand tour. They stopped at each artifact and my master told the story behind it; I watched my son's eyes fill with wonder, then chattered incessantly, asking question after question until he was satisfied.
Then Oogway showed him the Thousand Scrolls, and the Dragon Scroll. I strained my ears to listen closely.
"Will you ever make someone the Dragon Warrior?" Tai asked.
"Someday. The right warrior has yet to come forward."
"Baba says the Dragon Warrior needs to be pure."
"He's right. He also needs to have a berth of knowledge about kung fu, and heed its lessons." He patted my son's head. "You will be a great warrior, Tai Lung. Do you know how I know?"
"How, Yeh-yeh?"
"Because you feel sympathy, you know right from wrong, but there are certain things you need to learn."
"Baba says he's going to teach me to read all those scrolls!" he said excitedly. I smiled; at six, he was already a voracious reader, grasping as many documents as he could. He was as ravenous for reading material as he was for training.
"An admirable goal," my master agreed. "But there are life lessons you need to learn that scrolls cannot teach." He sighed, "You asked what 'murder' was."
"I know it's a bad thing…"
"It is a very bad thing. Murder means to take away someone's life…to kill."
My son was silent for a moment, then he asked quietly, "That means…someone makes someone else go to Heaven, and they can never come back?"
"Yes. It also means that they do something most unforgivable. People say murder is the most unforgivable act a person can commit. But I say the worst crime is theft."
"Why's that, Yeh-yeh?"
"You steal someone's property, you deprive them of the right to own it. Murder steals someone's right to live, and steals a husband from his wife, a father from his son, a brother from his brother. To act selfishly is a terrible sin. But the worst sin of all is pride. Pride will lead to the belief that you can have whatever you want, no matter if you are worthy of it or not."
Tai just nodded, outwardly understanding. He was looking right back up at the Dragon Scroll, and I could tell from the rigid back and laid-back ears that he was thinking of something, and thinking hard. Oogway stood back, waiting patiently for the question that was bound to come.
"Yeh-yeh," Tai said. "The Emperor's a really bad guy, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is."
"One of the servants said he's not the real emperor."
My master sighed, "Unfortunately, child, he is. It may be treason to speak against the Emperor…but he knows me. He wouldn't dare set foot on my property, which includes the village below. But he has sworn to bring harm to Shifu if he were to leave these walls…"
I winced, then was outraged; how could he tell something like that to my six-year-old? Tai gasped and looked at him fearfully, and I had to hold myself back from going over and hugging him, letting him know that everything would be alright. But Oogway was already a step ahead of me. "It is important for you to understand, Tai Lung, why your father never leaves the palace, nor wants you to leave yet. The Emperor's soldiers patrol the village, and have orders to arrest Shifu on sight…if not kill him outright…"
"But they won't hurt him! You can't let him get hurt, Yeh-yeh!" he pleaded, distraughtly tugging on his arm.
"I don't intend him to get hurt, as I do not want you to get hurt. I would not put it past Rong Lang to get to Shifu through you, so promise me, Tai Lung, promise me that you will not leave this palace until you are ready to defend yourself."
"If I stay put, that means Baba's safe?"
"If you do as you're told, your Baba will be safe."
Tai nodded in understanding, looked back up at the Dragon Scroll…and I could see the determination in his eyes. "Just watch, Yeh-yeh, one day, I'm gonna be the best warrior ever, and then I can make sure Baba never gets hurt. Never ever!" he shook his head, putting his foot down in a show of purpose and iron will.
My master chuckled, patting him on the head, "Good. Perhaps I can help you start…" he walked over to the shelves holding the thousand scrolls, scanned the shelf at eye level and took one out. "Here, I think this is a good place to commence…"
Tai's ears perked in interest, and he hop-skipped over to the sage. "What is it?"
Oogway unrolled the scroll on a desk and pointed it out. "Leopard style kung fu."
Tai grinned, clearly impressed there was a style of kung fu named for his species; he hopped onto the stool in front of the desk and listened intently as my master began teaching the cub his first lesson in kung fu philosophy.
I let out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.
At the time, Tai didn't recognize it was strange that his Baba looked nothing like him, and was, in fact, an entirely different species. The day he realized he was adopted was a hard one, particularly because he was so young when he learned it. I told him how we found him; I left out the word "abandoned", instead replacing it with "given to us to keep you safe" to lessen the blow. When I told him the stories about his people, I remember how his eyes shone with wonder, and how his imagination soared with the impressive feats that one such snow leopard—Tai Lee—had been an engineering genius hundreds of years before his time.
"If you liked him so much, why he didn't come here?" he innocently asked me, clearly desperate to learn more about his species. I started to answer him, but then I stopped, staring at the cub. It couldn't be…but then it hit me. Tai Lung looked nothing like Xue Shan—something I was grateful for—but instead, the child bore a remarkable resemblance to the gifted engineer from the Dragon's Lair. Hadn't Shan said Min Lung had been married to…but it was impossible, it had to be. Every single snow leopard on that mountain was massacred…weren't they?
Two years later, shortly before Tai's seventh birthday, my master pulled me aside and gave me some astounding news. Though he was only seven, and had been training only two years, Tai Lung had read…and mastered…over 130 of the Thousand Scrolls of Kung Fu.
"You're kidding," I gaped. "That's…that can't be possible. He'd have to average sixty-six scrolls a year…"
"Precisely," my master smiled. "I think he's going for it."
"He's trying to master all one thousand?" I tried wrapping my mind around the concept. I knew the child was bright, but even the most dedicated kung fu master in history had never been able to accomplish mastering the Thousand Scrolls. At the rate Tai Lung was going…he was attempting to accomplish this by the time he was twenty, at the rate of almost six a month! "Is he trying to kill himself?"
Oogway chuckled. "I wondered the same thing. But I've been watching him. Have you noticed, recently, that he seems so much more dedicated to training in the training hall, on the course you created?"
I had—in fact, Tai Lung had complained that it "wasn't tough enough". To answer his demand for something more challenging, I updated the Gauntlet of Wooden Warriors, adding more of them, more spokes, more limbs, which kept my student on his toes. He'd hit his head on a swinging limb more than once. This only furthered his drive to work on his reflexes, but nothing I came up with—or was comfortable with giving him—suited his purposes.
So I added the twirling serpents over a pool of water. He struggled on them at first, but it helped him better his footing. By this time, he was suggesting things that I felt were unheard of: pits of burning coals to walk bare-footed over…on both feet and hands; swinging clubs that were heavy enough to cause a life-threatening concussion; and a pit of fire that spit up flames at random intervals. Eventually, I caved and granted him the latter two. The reason the training hall is the most difficult in history is thanks to my most talented student.
But there was a stipulation: I would not grant these requests until he mastered 500 scrolls. "No problem," he said, and I surmised he would forget about it, given how long it would take for him to master over 470 scrolls.
Damned if he didn't do it by the time he turned eleven, the little punk.
But Oogway wasn't done with the news.
"I also got correspondence from the Miao clan. It seems that Chancellor Miao has actually kept his position in Rong's administration. He's safe at home, as a magistrate for the province, but it seems that his wife is rather curious as to why you never informed her she had a grandson…"
I smiled; "Grandma Li" was coming for a visit.
"How come Grandma hasn't come here before?" Tai asked as he was preparing a guest room. Part of his training also included a strict schedule of chores. Part of it was my doing; I selfishly intended for him to spend less time studying the scrolls so I didn't have to fulfill my promise of making the training hall that much more dangerous. The chores also had the chance to break down that natural feline arrogance. And you know what? It didn't work.
"Travel has not been safe for the past seven years," I explained as I watched him wash and wax the floor. His next chore was to wash the bed linens and clean out the closet and wardrobe, something that would take at least two days; he was done by the end of the day, of course. Of course.
"Will she like me?" he asked, with just a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"Undoubtedly, she will come to love you as I have," I responded with a smile. This appeared to cheer him up a little, but he wasn't entirely convinced until Miao Li showed up.
She loved him at first sight. He relished in the maternal attention he was getting, having never experienced it before. She had brought a gift from her husband, which made my son ecstatic.
"The Art of War! Awesome!" he grinned.
"Ahem," I reminded him of his manners.
"Oh, yeah," he bowed to Miao Li, "Thank you, honored Grandmother."
"Oh for the love of the gods!" Miao Li griped, "For Heavens sake, child, call me 'Grandma' like my other grandchildren. 'Honored Grandmother', indeed!"
Tai Lung didn't know how to answer to that; I realized how he'd never met any women like Miao Li…or Yeying. Most of the female servants in the palace were not exactly "strong-willed women" like my wife had been. I'm not sure how deeply their influence taught him about Chinese women—I wouldn't know until many years later when he fought Master Tigress at the Thread of Hope; had I known, I would've beaten sense into him.
"Tai Lung, son, why don't you show your Grandma everything you've learned this week?" I suggested. He was only too eager to oblige. He set the treasured tome down and proceeded to show off his perfected moves, and practice the ones I had taught him earlier that week. Miao Li and I sat under the tree, watching him perform katas across the courtyard of the Training Hall.
"He's skilled," she said after a long—and awkward—silence.
"He is," I agreed.
"How old did you say he was?"
"Seven."
"Goodness, he is quite skilled. I don't remember learning those moves until I was at least five years older."
"Same here. Yeying learned it at nine, though—I was always pretty jealous of that."
So there it was, the opened box of chaos, letting out all the fears and evils that had been so careful imprisoned in it, infesting the world with darkness. Miao Li nodded and sighed.
"Seven years," she shook her head. "I can still see her."
"I know; it's the same for me. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think of her, how she'd feel about all of this, how she'd treat our son…"
"Your son?" she asked with a raised brow. "You don't honestly call him your son do you?"
"He is my son," I said firmly. "I adopted him, I'm raising him, I'm being a father to him—he is my son."
"You'd do well to keep that a secret, Shifu."
"Why?" I was holding in my temper. How dare she question the validity of my parenthood!
"Because Rong Lang will use that knowledge to hurt you…by getting to you through him," she pointed at the cub performing kicks and punches, completely oblivious to our conversation.
"He wouldn't dare," I growled.
"Would you put it past that weasel?" she sneered. "He's done it plenty of times before. My husband needs to keep his own feelings about 'our illustrious emperor' a secret, or risk losing his head. We had to disown our youngest son in order to protect him and his family—he was speaking out against Rong, and, well, we had to cut the strings to protect the rest of us. That was the wake-up call he needed, it silenced him."
"You disowned your own son?"
"I see you haven't left the Jade Palace for the past seven years," she sighed. "It's the same story all over the empire; in order to save entire clans, they kick out dissenters in order to save their own skins. Rong's prisons are overcrowded with political prisoners, and the gods only know what they do to those poor people in there. I've heard the rumors…" she trailed off, not wanting to go on. Somehow not knowing what methods of torture and death were used on political prisoners gave me chills as if I had known all along.
"Shifu, as much as it pains me to say this," she said, looking me in the eye, "You may have to disown Tai Lung as well."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
"Baba?" Tai Lung asked. "Did I do something wrong?"
Thank goodness he thought I was critiquing his form; hearing this conversation would kill him. "No, son, you're doing beautifully. But, it looks like you'll be late for your next scroll lesson with Master Oogway—you'd better run along or you'll be late."
"Oh. Okay." He bowed to me and Miao Li, "Thank you, Baba, Grandma. I'll see you at dinner!"
Miao Li smiled and waved at the cub as he rushed off for his lesson, then sighed heavily. "Do you want him hurt?"
"I am not disowning my son! He's all I have!"
"I'm not telling you to kick him out of the palace! I'm not heartless. But I saw the guards in the village; they've heard rumors about Tai Lung. Some say he's just your student, others are a little more suspicious." She grasped my hand, "This is the hardest thing a parent can do for their child…but in public, no one can know who Tai Lung truly is. If you want to protect your son, you need to treat him as your student."
"I can't—"
"It's what Terbish did for Ochir."
"What?"
"Didn't you know? Terbish had many enemies, and if they saw his one weakness—his son—they would hurt him much more than if they had killed him outright. Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to a parent—no parent should ever bury their own child…" her eyes welled up with tears and her voice broke. She quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed, "Forgive me…"
"No, do what you need to do," I said, patting her hand comfortingly. "Losing her almost destroyed me. Tai Lung gave me a reason to keep going. Raising him is a blessing, but honestly, I want to honor her memory too…"
"You mean a daughter?"
"Could you blame me?"
"No. Not at all." She paused, then glanced off in the direction her grandson had gone. "He is mastering the scrolls?"
"He's up past 135 now."
"He's WHAT?" she gaped. "One hundred thirty-two?! That's…that's unheard of! It's impossible! He's so young! How…? That can't be possible…he started when he was five?"
"Yes ma'am."
"So…he's seven now, with 132 scrolls…that's an average of sixty-six a year, with five to six in one month, almost two a week! At that rate, over a span of…180 months…oh dear Jade Emperor in Heaven…" She held her head in her hands; clearly, figuring out the mathematical calculations to my son's quest for glory was dizzying, and giving her a headache. I know it did for me.
I smirked, "If there's one thing I can safely say he shares with his mother and grandmother, its determination."
"And how."
Miao Li stayed for a week, during which she also taught Tai Lung some moves. Many of them Yeying had learned and taught herself. The boy was enraptured with the stories of his mother, and endlessly asked for more. It hurt me too much to talk about her at length; fortunately, Miao Li explained to him why I never spoke about my Yeying. He understood; such a smart boy.
The day Miao Li had to return home, I had not seen my son so depressed. Here was a family that he had never known before, and now that she was leaving, he was already starting to miss her. We stood at the entrance to the Arena, and we hugged her, Tai Lung holding the embrace as long as he could.
Say what you want about him, but that child loved his Grandmother.
"I want to go to the village," he said one day after breakfast. "I've never been, and I want to know whats down there."
He was ten, and dangerously close to having mastered four hundred fifty scrolls. This seemed to give him the idea that he was entitled to certain privileges, for which I was quick to remind him otherwise. Certain things, like staying up later some nights, having the occasional extra dessert, or giving him time off to play were about as far as I allowed myself to spoil him.
But this was out of the question. "Absolutely not."
"But why not?!" he asked, his temper rising. "I know enough kung fu to protect myself if I need to! Those stupid guards can come and get me if they want! I'll show them!"
"No!" I snapped. "We've had this discussion, Tai Lung. Kung fu is only to be used in defense, not attack. If they attack you, then it is permissible. Don't go looking for trouble."
"But if I get someone to go with me, can I still go?"
"I don't know, can you?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes, "May I go?"
"No."
"Come on!"
"No! I am not risking anything happening to you!"
"Baba, I'm ten years old! I know more kung fu that even you knew at my age; Master Oogway said so himself! I can handle myself!"
"I don't care what Master Oogway says. You are forbidden to leave the Jade Palace until you can prove that you're ready to do battle."
"When?" he challenged. I was absolutely aghast. He had never spoken out of turn or talked back to me before…what had changed? "When and how? When am I going to get the chance to prove myself if I never leave?"
"Enough!" I snapped. "This discussion is over…"
"This isn't a discussion," he said, crossing his arms, "It's a negotiation."
"And what you've put on the table is not enough to convince me. Go to your desk, learn your scrolls."
"But…"
"Now, young man."
He huffed and stormed off, and I groaned. His temper rarely abated, even after a few hours; he put my temper and Yeying's to shame. Knowing this, I knew I'd be in for it later. I had no idea how right I was.
When I went to check on his progress an hour later, he wasn't at his desk. I sought out my master, thinking Tai Lung would be with him. To my horror, Master said, "He hasn't been studying at all today. He asked to go to the village for the day."
"And?"
"I let him."
"WHAT?"
"He said he had your permission."
He had said this so calmly, as if it were no crisis at all, but I was…what is the term? "Flipping out"?
"You can't be serious!" I roared. "You let him go, alone?!"
"Shifu, he'll be fine."
"FINE? With Rong's guards hounding my every step?! With his life hanging in the balance, and everyone in the valley knows he's my son, my student? And you're telling me he's going to be FINE?!"
"Shifu, stop," he said calmly. "You're making a scene."
"I'll give you a scene! When I find that boy, I'll tan his hide so fast…"
"Shifu, relax," my master said firmly. "You don't have enough faith in him. If he gets into a scuffle, well, he's stronger than most of those soldiers anyway. Besides, if he does get into trouble, he has the good old stand-by to get him out."
"What stand-by?"
He chuckled, "Did you not see the last scroll he was working on?"
Then I remembered: Tiger style kung fu. That knowledge alone should have told me he'd be just fine on his own…but it was his first time outside palace walls.
What could happen to him down there? How many soldiers were still patrolling? What were they armed with? Were they out for blood, ruthless killers, child killers, with no morals who would do horrible things to my cub? Where was he? What was he thinking?! I need to go down there!
But I stopped myself at the door. If I stepped out…how did I know they weren't waiting for me? How did I know I wouldn't be ambushed?
I was cowardly enough not to pull open those doors. Instead, I waited by them, my flute in hand, ready to rap it over his fuzzy little head when he got back.
If he got back.
It was well after sundown when the doors finally pushed open. I was worn out from endless worry and anger at him having disobeyed me. My heart jumped, and I waited. Was it a villager come to tell me he was hurt, dead, or worse? Was it a guard defying Oogway's threat having come to arrest me?
Fortunately, it was neither of these things. Tai Lung walked through the doors, just as the servants were ready to lock up for the night. When he turned around and spotted me, he froze.
I'm not sure how I looked at that moment, but rest assured, I was pissed.
"Um…hi?" he said.
I was ready to scream "did you have any idea what you were doing? How dare you disobey me! I raised you better than that, you ungrateful little spoiled brat!"
Instead, I dropped my flute and hugged him.
My son was safe at home, my Tai Lung, as precocious as a young adolescent as he had been as a toddler…and I had nearly lost my mind thinking I had lost him. I hugged him and only let go when he hissed, "Baba, c'mon, you're embarrassing me… I didn't get into any trouble…"
I gave him "the look"—most people know it; it's the look a parent uses on their child to extract truths. Every time I used it on Tai Lung, it worked.
"Honest!" he stammered. "I got lost in the market, but I met this villager who took me in. He was very kind, and he let me stay for supper, and he brought me back here right after."
"So you were never in any danger?"
He shook his head, "No, Baba, I just got lost. But he helped me find my way back."
I sighed, relieved, Thank the gods…"Good, excellent. Can you remember his name? I'd like to thank him personally for helping you…"
"Who?"
"The villager who helped you," I reminded.
"Who?"
Now I was worried. Had he hit his head, and didn't remember? "The villager who found you lost in the crowd, and took you home."
"Who," he emphasized, looking confused.
"Tai Lung, the name of the villager who brought you into his home, fed you dinner and brought you back to the Jade Palace…"
"Who!" he yelled.
"That's what I want to know!" I shouted.
He sighed in that theatric way young adults are apt to, then crossed his arms stubbornly, rolling his eyes as if I were an idiot. "No, Baba; that was his name!"
I groaned, running a hand down my face.
Not Who; Hu.
Ochir was right, it was a rather stupid name.
And Li was right too; that joke was going to last centuries, at this rate.
"Baba?" my son asked. "Can I go to bed? I'm really, really tired."
"I don't know, can you?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes again, "May I go to bed early tonight?"
My heart was still hammering, my ears still sounding like gongs, so entrenched in my panic of losing him, that I barely heard him. A part of me was absolutely aghast that he had the sagacity to be so calm when I had spent the better part of my day fearing an untold number of horrendous ends to that boy's life! But as he tried to hide an exhausted yawn, it calmed the rage inside me as my instincts kicked in.
No matter how frightened I was, his fear had to have been worse. It was his first time in the village, and getting lost in the crowd, all alone, with the ever-present threat from the patrolling troops, and not knowing a single person…perhaps it was that fear that had drained so much energy from him.
I took his hand and we walked back to the bunkhouse, my boy dragging his feet. He didn't even change into nightclothes; he fell right onto his bed, curled up and went to sleep.
I stayed there, watching him sleep, and smiling. I shouldn't have coddled him—he was eleven for heavens sake—but I admit, it was hard to admit I would have to let him go eventually. He was perfect, I thought. As his tail and ears twitched in his sleep, sure physical signs of dreaming, tears sprang to my eyes as I thought of how lucky I was.
Then I caught myself wondering what Yeying would think if she could see this.
My son. Her son. Our son. Would she be standing here with me, watching our son sleep? Would she be the one to wake him in the morning, with breakfast ready and then begin training? Would she have been the one to teach him to read and write? Would she have been the one to cradle him in her arms when he was a baby, kiss away any bumps or bruises as a toddler, and teach him everything I could not?
I imagined her cheering him on when he perfected a move he had been practicing, celebrating every time he mastered a scroll, and making sure he always remembered to kiss his mother's cheek. I could see her teaching him manners, reading to him as he fell asleep at night, and tucking him in with a sweet kiss on his forehead.
The more I thought about it, the more my heart ached for her. The more I wished she could see our son. For that was how I saw him—Tai Lung was her son as much as mine. Had we not spoken of adopting a child soon, right before I lost her? She would have loved him, of that I'm sure.
And, perhaps, had she lived long enough to adopt him with me, to raise him side by side, Yeying would never have allowed our son to descend into darkness. You see, I am still so foolish as to blindly believe my wife could have ensured our boy became the Dragon Warrior; I was foolish enough to believe that had she lived, Tai Lung would have had a heart pure enough to have been granted the Dragon Scroll.
Such is an old man's folly.
But Miao Li was right. I was startled by how I acted when he had gotten lost in the village. If I had actually gone down there, and had the guards patrolling it had seen how panicked I was, they would not have thought twice about hurting him. As she said, they would have gotten to me through him, but my fate was nothing compared to what those sick bastards might have done to him.
I turned away from the doorway, utterly conflicted. I couldn't stop loving my son, I couldn't stop being proud of him…but if I wanted him to be safe, I had to. I had to put up thick walls around my heart; I had to toughen myself up. He had been learning mostly philosophy, and few practical applications of kung fu. If he was going to defeat Rong Lang and bring peace back to China, he needed to be harder than the wolf. He needed to be stronger, better, faster, the world's greatest warrior.
And in order to do that, I needed to become, as Li had put it once, "A total and complete hard-ass".
As much as it hurt me to do, the next day, when Tai Lung awoke, I told him that things were going to change drastically. I told him if he wanted to be the best warrior in the history of China—which he did—he had to stop calling me Baba. From then on, I was to be his Master. He was no longer my son; he was my student. We went from father and son to master and student. It broke my heart to see his heart breaking, but I think we both knew that, hard as it was, it needed to be done.
Be that as it may, I will never forgive myself for bringing such an abrupt end to his childhood.
Nine years later, right after Tai Lung celebrated his nineteenth birthday, we received some of the worst news possible. Rong Lang had completely squashed a peasant uprising somewhere in Nanjing, but instead of killing just the conspirators, he was taking it out on all peasants…and slowly, his path of destruction was coming our way.
"He wouldn't be stupid enough to come here," Tai Lung said. "Right, Master?"
"One can only hope," I said. "Personally, I've had so much of his nonsense that I'd welcome him here, just so I can beat the tar out of him myself."
"What, and not let me get in a few punches?"
I shared a wry smile with him, "A single punch from you might very well kill him."
"And that's a bad thing, how?"
"Shut up and go to the training hall. I want to see you pulverize the Seven Swinging Clubs of Instant Oblivion."
"Master, no one can do that…"
He should have stuck around for twenty years…
We were on our way up the steps to the training hall when a sharp cry overhead rang out. We barely had a chance to look up when a large brown shape sped down towards us.
Tai Lung reacted instantly, his instincts kicking into a higher gear than I had ever seen, attacking the flying menace with as unrestrained fury as I could ever expect. He jumped high in the air, swiping his claws at the flying beast, which screeched and dodged every strike.
The snow leopard kicked up suddenly, surprising the bird which admitted a loud squawk. Righting itself, it dove for my student, who dove for the ground, waited for the bird to get close enough, then pounced, pinning the animal to the ground. The bird drew its talons and sank them into his paw, which made him wince and fall back enough for the bird to free itself, and clip the cat with a sharp wing beat. Tai Lung reacted in kind, punching the bird up and over the wall, which he scaled easily.
I slammed open the doors to view the amazing aerial battle before me, cat and bird fighting furiously for dominance. Tai Lung took his chance and grabbed the bird one more time and finally slammed it into the ground.
The bird coughed, then…smiled…and laughed!
"Ha! Well done, young master Tai Lung! Your father's taught you well!"
Tai Lung lessened his hold a little, "How do you know me?"
"Your father and I go way back, to the Battle of Red Claw Ridge."
I finally saw the familiar plumage, and the fierce golden eyes. Like Ochir had said almost twenty years before, I had never been happier to see her.
"Borte!"
Master Oogway gave me time alone with Borte, who, I am pleased to say, looked just as radiant as I remembered her. However, the news she brought to me that day was anything but good.
"Rong Lang is gathering his forces for a major campaign. Kublai has told me that his spies in the Imperial City have stumbled on his plan: that damned wolf is coming for your head."
I swallowed hard, but resisted, "He's insane."
She smiled wryly, "Tell me something I don't know; Ochir knows, which is why he's coming here."
"What?! Is he out of his head? He'll surely be killed!"
"Not with the Anvil of Heaven at his back."
"The what of where?"
She chuckled, "That is the army of students he has trained. He calls them 'The Anvil of Heaven'; oh they are such a sight to see. He believes they are ready to finally rebel against Rong. One thousand soldiers total, to take down a tyrant."
"One thousand is a small force compared to the Imperial Army…"
"What if I told you they were one thousand rhinos?"
"Then I would recant my earlier comment." One thousand regular soldiers—bears, wolves, and various felines—were not much to stand against the emperor's personal guard. One thousand rhinos—that had been trained by Master Flying Rhino himself—well, it was no contest.
Borte smiled, "He and I are proud of those boys as any parent would be."
I caught something in her eye that astounded me. But, in some way, it also brought me some peace. I should have seen it sooner, perhaps when Tai Lung had received the stuffed panda bear for his fifth birthday…the letter that came with it had been signed by both Ochir and Borte.
"So, how long have you…?"
She smiled fondly, "A few years now. You know, at Red Claw Ridge, I wasn't much older than you at the time. I remember how…calm he was, how shrewd, a better soldier than any warrior I had ever met. I should have known then, but, what fools we are, you know?"
Oh, I knew. I had married outside my species and publicly celebrated it, but she gave no indication that she and Ochir had tied the knot. She sensed the question—she had a sixth sense for that. "We are, if you are curious. It was done in total secrecy. Only two other people know—Dong Li and Jian Ren."
How she'd found them when I hadn't heard from them still boggles my mind.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"We couldn't—we couldn't risk the news falling into the wrong hands. If our enemies knew, they would take it to their advantage and use it against us. Much the same way as you not referring to Tai Lung as your son—to protect him."
"To protect him, as well as myself; completely selfish, I know."
"Not as selfish as you might think. Why would we not want to keep our loved ones close? The key is to keep our enemies closer. It is cruel to look at it that way, but think: if Rong knew how you felt about your student, how quickly do you think he'd dispatch his guard to come and kill him? There, you see, you understand now."
"What else did you intend to tell me?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.
"Only that the battle is to occur soon. I saw the troops on their way to the Valley now, just a couple days away. Your 'Thread of Hope' will slow them down considerably, of course, but it won't stop them. They will come, and they will not leave until either they are dead, or you are."
"And what about Ochir?"
"He's already left, three days before I left Mongolia. He's making excellent time, and should be able to hold them off at the entrance to the bridge, on the other side of the Great Chasm."
"Will the thousand warriors be enough?"
Borte smirked, "You clearly haven't seen my love for a few years…"
When we left my personal study, Tai Lung was nowhere to be found. This didn't bother me as much as it should have. He wasn't training in the Training Hall, so I figured he was off meditating, or perhaps having an early dinner before resuming his studies in the Hall of Warriors. He had only ten scrolls left to master, and the one he had been saving for that evening, he had asked about earlier that day: Nerve Attacks.
He wasn't in the kitchen, or his room, but I still wasn't bothered. I was curious, yes, but my mind refused to assume the worst. Since he had mastered 990 scrolls already by age nineteen, I didn't worry about him as much. By the time he was sixteen, I had no qualms sending him on errand trips to the village. He was safe—besides, like Rong's guards would dare attack a snow leopard that size, that strong, with a temper to rival my own? I don't think they would have dared.
I finally went to the Hall of Warriors. Even if he had eaten early, his presence at the dinner table was mandatory for every meal. It wasn't unusual for him to be late; sometimes during his studies he became so embroiled in his work he lost track of time.
When I pushed open
the heavy doors, I saw the Sacred Hall was empty. On the opposite wall, underneath the shelves of scrolls, was his desk, littered with papers, used brushes, and personal notes, with a single white candle still burning atop it.
I walked over, scanning the room for him. Sometimes he meditated after reading a scroll, thinking over what he had read and trying to decipher deeper meanings…but he wasn't anywhere to be found.
I finally hopped up onto the stool he usually occupied—it was still warm, as if I had just missed him. On the desk was an open scroll.
Nerve attacks—How to disarm an opponent with the least force.
Strange, hadn't I already taught him that strategy? No, this one required extensive knowledge of acupressure points and the flow of a person's chi. Sure enough, there was a manual for an acupuncturist's kit open on top of this scroll…and on top of that was a note.
Master,
I mastered the 991st scroll. Don't look for me. I'll be home soon.
At the bottom, written tentatively as if he almost faltered in writing it: I love you, Baba.
My heart skipped a beat, and I swore it stopped. Tai Lung must have overheard my conversation with Borte.
He had gone to fight Rong's army.
Whoo, this was rough. I'm not sure I captured Tai's childhood as I wanted to, but I think I can get away with it, considering this is from Shifu's POV. I think it might've been a little rushed but, well, I didn't want this fic to go on for twenty more chapters, so I need to draw the line somewhere XD.
Read and review, please!