Updating early as I will be out of town this weekend. Hope you enjoy!
I keep forgetting this…Disclaimer: I do not own Master Shifu, or anything from Kung Fu Panda. All OCs belong to me, and please do not use them without my permission. Thank you.
Memoirs of a Master
Chapter 21
"…Wait, what?" Po asked. Tigress' face paled, her head feeling light. She felt Monkey's gaze on her. He had been right, Monkey had been right about Shifu mentioning her somewhere in these scrolls. But it was how it was written: the Furious Five first, and then her name written as if it were an afterthought. She had been right. Shifu had never truly cared about her. He did it because he was forced into it, wasn't it obvious? He had never taken any pleasure out of training her. He was forced to train her, and even when he brought her to the Jade Palace, he was distant and cold…
And now Shifu was going to gloat about it, going to completely destroy her through his memoirs, and in front of her friends, and the entire empire, if these scrolls were ever published. Only Monkey knew her full story, and even that was more than she was comfortable with.
"Wait," Po paused, "Shifu…is your dad?"
"No," she said bitterly, gripping the closed scroll. "Shifu is my master." She felt bile rising to her throat; for some reason, she really didn't want Po to know either. Especially not Po. It probably wouldn't hurt for him to know, would it? But there was one thing Tigress could not stand, it was someone pitying her, and that is exactly what the panda would do once he knew. But the real reason she began to feel sick…Tai Lung had said the same exact thing. He is not my father; he is my master.
She risked going down the same dark path, the same mistakes, and all to achieve her father's—no, her master's—love. Or at least pride…would it have killed him to say "I'm proud of you" just once? Without realizing, tears had sprouted in her eyes and it became hard to breathe. Po stopped her as she raced for the door.
"Hey! Tigress, where're you going? Don't you want to know what he—"
"NO!" she roared, "No, I don't care what he said about me, okay? I just don't want to be here."
"Why not?" he pressed. The other Five prudently fell silent, each already knowing the reason for her circumspection. Tigress glared at him, "It's none of your damn business, panda," she growled.
"You're upset," he said sternly, "And as your friend, I'm forced to be worried about you. Don't you want to hear…"
"Hear what?!" she finally snapped, raging at him, "Hear how disappointed he is? How worthless I am? How everything I do isn't good enough for him? How I can bleed out and break every bone in my body, just to have him say he's proud of me, only to get snubbed because I can't be the son he wants so damn much?!"
Po drew back, shocked by her outburst. In ten seconds, he had learned more about Tigress than he thought he'd learn in a lifetime. It hurt to him to hear that, and why? Because he had felt that way about his own dad: how he couldn't seem to make him happy, that he only wanted to be a good son, but he wasn't happy trying to make his father happy. He had spent his entire life playing a part, playing the dutiful son who wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life making noodles like his father, his father's father, and his father's father, and the friend who lost the restaurant in a game of mahjong.
But he wasn't happy. Being at the Jade Palace and following his dream made him happy. But Tigress wasn't. She took in a shaky breath and said quietly, "I have spent my entire life trying to earn his approval…and it never happened. I tried to be a good daughter, and obedient daughter, but he always wanted a son. Ever since I met him, all he had for me was criticism, negativity, and not once did he ever say he was glad he had …" she stopped herself just in time.
"That he'd ever what?" Po asked, gently coaxing her to say it. To his shock, he saw a single tear falling down her cheek.
"I lied when I said I had parents…"
Her friends—except Monkey—gasped. "You…" Viper started. "But why would you lie about…?"
"Because I was an orphan," she admitted sullenly, ears pressed back against her head. Finally, her dirty little secret was not so secret anymore. "Shifu adopted me, but I don't know why, because it's clear he never loved me," Tigress sighed, wiping her stray tears away with the back of her hand. "That's why I don't want to stay for this. I don't want to hear it. Hearing it from him is bad enough, I don't need you to it read to me."
Po looked back over at the Five, catching Monkey's glance. The simian cleared his throat and got up, offering Tigress an almond cookie. She stared at the familiar symbol of their long-standing friendship, feeling choked up that he remembered the first thing he did to welcome her into his life.
"Stay," the primate said. "If something comes up, you can leave. We'll let you know when we finish. You need to understand that, you're our friend, and we love you, and care about you. So even if Shifu never loved you—a big If—you still have us."
Po did the bravest thing he had done by far: he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a tight bear hug. "I'll read it if you want."
Tigress sniffed, taking deep breaths and blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. As petrified as she was of losing his respect, she was happy for the offer. Any time Po narrated, he always read with a soft, nonbiased and understanding way. He wasn't judgmental like Mantis, or looking for scandal like Viper had done. Even Monkey and Crane had scoffed at certain parts of the narrative. But never Po. At that point, he was the best person—the only person—she could trust.
She nodded and sat down next to him, accepting a plate of almond cookies, the tried and true comfort food, and let the Dragon Warrior begin.
After Tai Lung, I felt as devastated as I did after losing Yeying. I showed my mourning—both at my son and at the confirmation of my wife's death—by purging all luxuries from my life. Every piece of silk I owned, gifts from dignitaries and other such items I gave away; I dressed myself in brown homespun robes that I wear to this day, to remind me of my lowly birth and to keep my pride in check. I told myself I didn't deserve the luxuries I had enjoyed before; perhaps I didn't. I truly had very good reason to mourn. All light in my life had been extinguished.
This time, however, I knew better than to wallow in self-loathing and despair. I needed to find focus and inner peace, or I risked being disappointed again. For fifteen years, Tai Lung had been my only student. The simple answer to my problem was, of course, to take on new students, to try and forget…but how could I?
As unforgivable as the rampage was, he was still my son, and I could hardly disown him. I couldn't even meet his eyes when they locked him into his restraints. I couldn't bring myself to go see the place where he would kneel forevermore, until the day he died…I wasn't strong enough. The memory of that pain is still too fresh, like an open wound. Three years after he was locked away in Chorh-Gom, I had still not found new students, and wasn't accepting any applications.
Unfortunately, Oogway didn't see things my way. Just as he had convinced me to eat all of my supper when I was four years old, he—in a roundabout way—got me to take on and raise one more student.
In doing so, he saved my life a third time.
I had a memory of a time, shortly before the rampage, when I encountered a peculiar new arrival to the Valley of Peace. Now, as you are well aware, Tai Lung was so dedicated to his training that getting him to leave the Palace every once in a while was a rather difficult task. On one fine spring day, I decided he needed some new clothes—after all, his promising future as an ambassador required it—and there was only one place in the Valley I trusted with such care.
It was a laundry and tailor shop, recently opened, and the proprietor was a young woman, a tigress, whose work was exquisite. She hadn't been in the valley long, but she already had quite the reputation. The day, I recall, was warm and sunny—horrible weather if one was a snow leopard with thick fur. The tailor's shop was a small establishment built into the side of a small house, with stools outside under an awning for customers to sit and wait for service and a room for fittings and the like.
As we approached, the proprietor and owner stepped out from her home.
The tigress before me was a minority, I surmised as much from her style of dress. Dai nationality, judging from the quietly elegant clothing, close-fitting shirt and long straight skirt, both meant for warm weather. Her dress reminded me of woodblocks I had seen of a country called Siam, their women's clothing strongly reminded me of this female's garb. And a South China tiger…how rare, how remarkable, just as rare as snow leopards, or perhaps rarer still. She cast one look at Tai Lung, in fact, and smiled, as if she saw a kindred spirit in one as rare as she.
"You are here for fitting, yes?" she asked, her Chinese heavily accented. I had difficulty understanding her, but realized it wasn't a separate language, but the Dai dialect.
"Yes, he is," I said. "He needs new clothes."
"Of course, yes. One moment, please, if you will step in back," she pointed to a booth. "I will be right with y—OH!" she yelped, jumping out of the way as an orange and black blur zipped across the floor. Tai Lung's quick reflexes kicked into gear and he caught the blur, immediately halting it, but not without pushing him back about two feet from the force of the impact.
In his hands was a small tiger cub, a little girl, perhaps three years old, with wide, innocent eyes of a remarkable color: a fierce red-orange; quite a lot of fire in that one. Tai Lung shared a look with me, just as stunned from the force of this little juggernaut as I was.
"Jia!" the elder tigress scolded. She took the cub from Tai Lung's hands. "A thousand pardons, sir. My daughter, she is a headstrong one."
"That's fine—I like kids with a lot of energy," he chuckled.
The cub held out her arms to Tai Lung, giggling, "Kitty!"
"No, you naughty girl!" her mother said, sitting her daughter down on the stool next to mine. She shook her finger at her, "You will sit, do not move! He is honored customer, and must be treated with respect."
The cub whined and pouted in the chair, but the matter was decided. The Dai tigress beckoned to my son as she picked up a tape measure and a piece of paper for recording measurements. "On top of stool, please sir. Jia," she turned to her daughter, wagging her finger again in reprimand, "You are going to sit, be good, respect your Elder," she said, motioning to me.
The cub just sighed theatrically and continued to pout. I sat on the stool next to the girl, just outside the door, watching the people pass me by and taking in the energy on the street.
I felt someone's eyes on me. I looked to my right; the tiger girl was watching me, head tilted slightly, as if confused by something about my appearance. I tried not to let it bother me, not bothering to consider that such a "headstrong child" might have ulterior motives…
"OW!" I yelped, snatching away my tail after she had pounced on it. The cub, however, was giggling, reaching her little arms out and wrapping them around me and purring. For a toddler, the hug was almost bone-cracking as she exclaimed loudly, "Kitty!"
Xue Shan's comment from years before resounded in my ears: It's because he looks like a stuffed animal, I bet that's a big hit with the kids. "I am NOT a kitty!" I gasped for air; for a toddler, she had incredible strength. "Now let go!"
"Kitty fwuffy!" she cooed, petting my head.
I did not need this.
"Let go of me right now, young lady!"
"Wanna play!" she giggled, releasing me and clapping her hands.
Oh no, I really did not need this.
But then I heard the two women across from me gossiping. The first said something about "that Dai woman, so strange, clearly not Han Chinese at all!" "A shame what happened to her husband though. Killed during a monsoon, how horrible!" "I know, a widow, at her age, with a young daughter at that. If she remarried, no doubt the girl would be the first thing to go…" "I highly doubt she would allow herself to remarry, not now. She is still mourning, and has one of the most prosperous businesses in the valley—she knows her stuff. I took that old pink dress of mine to her—you know, the one with the wine stain? She lifted it right out, when I had always failed!" "Still, she is rather unusual…" "But my dear, she is a refugee. She likely had nowhere else to go. We came to this valley as refugees too, you remember. Who are we to judge?"
I looked back at the female cub. She was just a tot, and had lost her father to a monsoon, her young mother widowed and poor, despite her thriving business, and just barely scraping by…who knew what horrors these two females had encountered?
"Alright, you want to play, okay, let's play," I said quickly. "How about…"
"Ooh! Buh-fly!"
"A what?"
She pointed with a gleeful shout, getting up and chasing after a black and blue butterfly that had flittered past. I pinched the bridge of my nose with consternation. I must have forgotten that most toddlers had such a short attention span. But I watched her, or watched over her rather, as she chased after the butterfly, stalking it in the very feline way Tai Lung had stalked "prey" when he was a baby. Unlike him, this little cub didn't seem too preoccupied with catching the thing—she thought it was playing a game of tag with her, and she just happened to be "It". She pounced once more, and the butterfly gave flight. The girl cub just giggled and looked over at me.
"Come play! Come play, Kitty!"
"Oh for the love of…" I groaned, "No, little miss. I am a red panda, red panda," I emphasized. She sat looking at me, utterly perplexed, her head tilted to the side in confusion. "Say it with me, red panda…"
"Red panda kitty!" she exclaimed, sounding very pleased with herself.
"Wrong," I groaned.
"Red kitty," she tried again.
"No."
"Kitty panda?" now the poor thing was hopelessly confused. And so was I. I just decided to give up: "Fine. I'm a kitty panda."
"'Kay," she said with a dismissive shrug and resumed stalking and pouncing on my tail. Looking back on it, I'm amazed that I couldn't appreciate how utterly adorable she was. Despite whatever horrors she must have experienced, she still held onto that blissful childhood.
When her poor mother emerged from the store a minute later, she scolded the cub for lack of manners and took her into her arms. "Come along, Jia, its time for your nap. Sir," she turned to me (and it was quite hard to understand given her dialect), "Thank you again for your kindness…and your patience."
"Mmph," was my curt, and rather rude, answer. The mother didn't mind so much, probably used to such treatment. Tai Lung looked like he was having difficulty holding in a laugh. As we left, the Dai woman's daughter waved and called back to me, waving theatrically, "Buh-bye, kitty panda!"
Tai Lung had given me a look. "Kitty panda?"
"Don't ask."
"How old is she?"
"Hmm? Probably three, at the most. Why?"
I could tell from the look on his face that he felt something was…off, about the little girl. "No reason," he said, almost dismissively. I know now, though, that he believed as I did at the time: for a child so young, she was impressively strong.
When I looked back again, the look on that child's face as she watched us leave from the doorway of her mother's business, the brightness in her orange-red eyes and the innocence of her character finally wore me down.
I smiled and waved back.
And two weeks later, her mother was dead.
Such was a memory I had no idea I would come to cherish in my old age. It was the carefree nature of that day, the calm before the storm, which I've since loved above even memories of Tai Lung's cubhood. Because, if you haven't figured it out by now, Little Jia—"Butterfly"—was my future student…and the best one I ever trained.
It came upon me three years after the rampage that Oogway approached me one morning. Zeng, the new teenage Palace messenger, had delivered a letter from the Bao Gu orphanage that morning.
Annoyed I was being interrupted in my meditations; I relented because, after all, he was my master. "With all due respect, Mrs. Gao knows that I refuse to take in any more orphans." Heaven knew what happened the last time I did.
"Oh, she is not asking you to adopt, old friend," he assured. "It seems she has a problem with 'a monster'."
I remember rolling my eyes, "I'm sure—anything bigger than a sheep that has sharp teeth and claws is likely to be 'a monster' to that miserable woman…"
"I think you should go."
"I think that would be a bad idea…"
Typically, he only nodded and responded as if I had agreed from the beginning, "Wonderful, I will see you when you return. Dinner is at seven, you recall. We'll be having your favorites."
I sighed and blew out the bank of meditation candles.
I didn't realize until I walked up to the gate that I had never been to Bao Gu before. I knew where it was, and how to get there, of course, but had never visited. I had no need to. Tai Lung was my child, but now that he was gone, my life was empty once again. Of course, Yeying was also at the back of my mind. I quickly reminded myself that we had chosen to adopt just before her death…and afterwards, the thought of raising a child without her hurt too much to put into words. I had vowed never to adopt from Bao Gu without her by my side.
And here I was, on a visit to that accursed place, breaking my vow.
An ewe opened the doors to the orphanage, and admitted me inside quickly. The courtyard, which was littered with toys and various playthings, was empty—apparently it was time for the children's daily schooling. So she took this opportunity to tell me why I was beckoned. I walked with her, tripping over toys, then grabbed up a few domino tiles in an attempt to clear a path. Seeing no box with which to put them in, I stored them in my sleeves, resolving to find a place for them on my way out.
The poor ewe—Mrs. Gao, she was called—was stuttering so much I had to offer her a drink of water, in her own domicile, to calm down. She still shook, which I knew had nothing to do with the slight chill on the early-Spring breeze.
"I understand you have a need of my, ah, services?" I asked her. I had no idea what I was getting myself into; Master Oogway had not exactly been specific. All he had said was that "it would be good for you to get some fresh air, Shifu. A change of scenery, a walk, ten-mile hike, perhaps to Bao Gu and back. Oh, while you're out there, if you wouldn't mind checking in with dear Mrs. Gao? It has been a long time since we have heard from her; news would be lovely."
One could always accuse him of being vague, but he was that person whose ambiguity was forgivable…sometimes.
She only nodded, looking about fearfully. "N-not here, inside, please…this way, Master."
I sighed; I was used to people being slightly intimidated by me, but this sheep had to be the worst by far. None of the villagers ever quaked in my presence. Not even Zeng, grandson of my good old friend Zhou, ever feared me that much…at least I don't think he did. The ewe led me inside the orphanage, through the courtyard where ducklings, bunnies and piglets played and laughed together. The majority of them, however, were huddled together in various corners, looking around fearfully.
"Madam," I asked. "May I inquire as to the reason for this…?"
"Yes, yes of course," she muttered distractedly. She reached inside her coat and pulled out a set of iron keys on a long string; unlocking a door, she led me inside and down the hall.
At the very end of the hall, I stopped, gazing in amazement at an expertly crafted door. Now, it would be more fitting to say this door had carved relief scenes of children playing or of benevolent gods watching over happy families, or even a mural of various mythical beasts and fairy tales…but that was not the case.
This massive door was reinforced with iron and steel, and a lock that looked as heavy and as thick as a rhino's fist…and had clearly been recently replaced. This door looked like it belonged in a prison, not an orphanage, especially not an orphanage like Bao Gu.
"What am I looking at?" I asked quietly, sensing that the stillness in the air was there for a reason. I couldn't help but feel a chill.
"This is…her room."
I glanced at the ewe. "Her room?"
"Yes!" she said fretfully. "She escaped just a few days ago, fortunately after the monthly adoptions…"
I cut her off. "Madam," I said sternly. "Do you mean to tell me you keep a child prisoner in there?"
"What choice do I have?!" she cried. "No one will come adopt any children, because they are all afraid of her! She is a monster…a monster!"
I had heard enough. I silenced her with a look before she could fall into hysterics. "We'll see about that."
"W-what will you do?"
I pressed my hand against the cold iron lock, frozen. A feeling of déjà vu fell over me as I remembered, nearly trembling, that I had seen my hand against the locks that kept my son completely immobilized, miles below earth inside a hollow mountain. I had placed him in prison, and now Heaven saw to further mock my loss by forcing me to bring someone out of a prison…just not him.
I sighed and said, "I will do what must be done."
She wordlessly handed me the key which I shoved into the lock. The ewe leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Her name is…" she paused, as if invoking the name of the little girl was blasphemy. "…Tigress."
Well, I wonder what species this child was…
I turned the lock and pushed open the door.
My eyes took some time to adjust to the dim light, but as they did, little details about the confined space told me what I should expect.
There were deep claw marks in the plaster, which crumbled to piles of dust on the floor. Broken floorboards looked like they had been smashed to pieces by a dozen gorilla bandits; I surmised as much by a broken toy chest across from a rickety bed. The mattress had cuts in the canvas, and bits of straw were poking out here and there between rumbled sheets, also bearing scars from sharp claws. The bedposts were by far in the worst shape, looking like someone had used them as scratching posts.
And finally, huddled in the far corner was a small cub, perhaps no older than six, hugging her knees to her chest, her striped tail wrapped around her in an obvious show of self-pity.
She was as typical a tiger cub as any, I suppose, clearly a peasant's daughter if the rough, homespun clothes were any indication. When her eyes adjusted to the light, I was struck by how…strange they were. I had never seen eyes like hers. Her irises were a fiery red-orange set on a sea of golden yellow, so very cat-like, with a sharp shrewdness that told me this kid knew a lot more than she let on.
But I was struck with a terrible feeling; I knew this tiger.
"Tigress," I said, feeling the name on my tongue. "I am Shifu, and I am…"
"Afraid?" she snarled, turning her head to hiss at me; her eyes were showing just a flicker of the raging furnace behind them.
Little Jia.
Merciful gods…it was her! But how? After her mother died, Oogway had said he had taken care of the girl…I thought he had taken her to someone's house to adopt, to raise as their own…had he brought her here? Had the happy cub I had played with three years ago been reduced to a pathetic orphan living in squalor, purely because her own caretakers were afraid of her?
Needing a way to release my anger at my master, I boldly slammed the door behind me, locking us both in. "No."
"Well you should be!" she snapped, the fur on the back of her neck rising. "I am Tigress! Tigress the Monster!" and there it was, the moisture suddenly flooding in, extinguishing the fire in her eyes. She turned her head away from me, probably to hide the hurtful tears. "…The monster no one wants."
How could my heart not go out to her? I wanted to yell, to scream, "You are wanted! You are!" Instead, I replied, "You are not a monster. You are just a little girl."
She wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand, looking at me in wonder. I can only imagine what she was thinking: who is this creature and why is he not afraid? He's as small as I am, no claws, no sharp teeth…why doesn't he cower like everyone else does?
Well, at least I had her attention. Now, I needed to find a way to get through to her. Once again, memories of Yeying resurfaced. It was as if her spirit was telling me how to proceed, and I wondered why I had not heard that voice guiding me when I was raising Tai Lung. This voice spoke like a gentle breeze through blossoming spring branches: tread carefully with this one.
Of course; raising girls had to be much different, and more difficult, than raising boys. Girls' feelings were hurt much more easily. If I said or did the wrong thing, I would lose Tigress, and in effect, she would lose any chance of being adopted by a deserving family, and the other orphans would also lose their chances at happiness if I failed.
But no pressure.
I inwardly sighed, burrowing my hands inside my sleeves, fingering the hidden pockets. That's when I felt them. The domino tiles. I cursed myself for forgetting they were in there; but then I got an idea.
I pulled them out, casting them in a neat row on the floor. I held up one of them for her to see, I asked, "Let us play?"
She stared at the dual-sided tile like it was a mystical object. Dear lord, had she never played with anyone else before now? She looked up at me for a mere moment, silently searching my face for permission to take the thing from my offered hand. Slowly, she reached her hand out, wrapping her fingers around the wooden tile…
SNAP!
I jumped at the sharp sound, my reflexes kicking in to grab the shattered tile as it flew over my head. It was a clever ruse to hide my alarm as I stared at the tile's remains in my hand. "Mmph, you must learn to control your strength."
"How?"
"What?" I glanced at her.
"How do I control it? You think I haven't tried?!" she roared, sinking her claws into the floorboards. I guess that explained the broken floor…
I tapped her nose with my finger, shocking her out of her rage; it had worked for Tai Lung, so I thought it would work for her too. Sure enough, she blinked, wrinkled her nose then looked back up at me quizzically.
"You also need to learn to control your temper," I told her.
She appeared deep in thought. I suppose if one spends most of their time alone, there's very little else to do but think. When she looked back up at me, she asked, "So…if I control my temper…can I play?"
"I don't know, can you play?"
"May I play?" she corrected herself, without the eye-rolling or long-suffering barely concealed disdain Tai Lung was known for. Well, at least she had some manners.
"If you complete your training, and do it well, then you may play."
"Training?" her face fell. All she wanted was to play with other children her age, and instead, it sounded like I was going to make her do chores.
Well, technically, I was.
"You'll see," I said. "Training can be just as fun."
I have a feeling that if my seven-year-old self could have heard my fifty-something self say that, I'd never hear the end of it. And Tigress—such a smart girl—saw right through my ruse; that childish scowl said enough. She wasn't buying my bull.
"Do you agree?" I asked.
She stared at me again. It was starting to become uncomfortable. When she spoke, there was no trace of "the monster"…she was just a little girl, eager to please, and eager to be loved. "If I say yes…you train me, and I won't by scary anymore?"
"If I train you, I can make you better than you are now…and you will be better. It's your choice to stay here, in this prison you've made yourself, or allow me to train you so you can be a normal little girl, just like everyone else."
She barely let me finish. "That's what I want!" she cried. "I want to be like everybody else!"
Easier said than done. I parted ways with her after promising to return the next day. She didn't appear to believe me; how many times had she been lied to by an adult, that she no longer trusted them? On my way out, I instructed Mrs. Gao to give Tigress a double-ration in her supper. She would need all the energy she could.
On my way home to the Jade Palace that night, I was deep in thought, turning the broken domino tile over and over in my fingers. The broken wood scratched against my palm, the splinters sharp and rough. I paused in the path, holding up the broken half, finally letting it sink in.
I almost dropped the piece in my shock.
I had trained Tai Lung since he was five years old. He would never have been able to do this, not at that age. Not even Ochir had ever had this complete, unrestrained strength. I could see why the ewe and other orphanage workers were so terrified of the girl: this kind of strength for anyone was remarkable, even impossible, especially at her age.
That someone so small and so young could possess such strength…
That was when I remembered. When Tai Lung was about fourteen or so, he had a sudden burst of strength, like some experience a growth spurt, his was a strength spurt (that came with a growth spurt, of course). For a solid month, as I mentioned previously, I was spending more time filling out work orders than training him, he had broken so many things. With meditation—and a two week retreat on Wudan mountain alone with Master Oogway—we had helped him gain control.
That was exactly what Tigress needed.
Unfortunately, I was held back by certain limitations. For one, I couldn't take her to the mountain. Her status as an orphan—a female orphan—put her at a greater risk for abduction by slavers, and I wasn't going to risk that. Secondly, she was not interested in kung fu. She just wanted to be a normal child. But she wasn't normal. This kind of strength wasn't normal. The conundrum was figuring a way to make her normal, or appear so.
"So, how did it go?" Master Oogway asked upon my return. I popped the domino piece in his hand, and instead of looking shocked, he only smiled and chuckled. "Ah, how charming!"
"Yes, that's the word," I muttered.
"So you will help her," he stated. So he had sent me out with every intention of seeing Tigress.
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I asked.
"We always have a choice, Shifu," he said, placing the broken tile back in my hand. "This girl has made hers, and you need to make yours."
"Once I train her, it is done. Once she is 'normal', I am done."
"Are you?"
It was only two words, but it was the way he said it, I think that made me stall in my step. The rhetorical question still lingered in my ears, ringing like a thousand gongs.
Was I done?
As promised, I returned to Bao Gu early the next morning. Tigress was still abed, after I had been up for hours. Waking at the crack of dawn was normal for me. There was no one to discipline her, and who would? Who, in their right mind, would discipline a creature that could rip them limb from limb? Who was really that stupid?
Allow me, if you will, to damn myself as I raise my hand.
I normally prefer subtlety, but in this case, there was only one way to get through to her: tough love.
I "gently" roused her from sleep by slamming open her door and yanking the covers off her sleeping form. "You are late! Up, up! Make your bed, quickly!"
She looked at me as if I had lost my mind. After having lost my wife, then my son, and all of my friends…perhaps my sanity was the last thing to go. When I didn't back down at first, she started to glare. I didn't budge...and remarkably, I won our glaring contest. With her tail between her legs, she got up, sloppily made her bed, then splashed water on her face. I handed her a towel, "Make your bed."
"I did!"
"That? That is atrocious. No student of mine lives in such squalor. While we're at it, you will also clean up this room, pick up the toys, the dirty clothes, all of it."
Mrs. Gao and her attendants were just outside, and gasped in horror as I gave my orders. Tigress was just as shocked. No adult had ever spoken to her like that. They had all been too afraid of her. I wasn't. I had seen real monsters, and fought them. I had seen such horrors that even the most fevered nightmares couldn't compare. No, I was not scared of this girl. But so help me, if I needed to, I would make her scared of me.
Eyes wide, she blinked in confusion.
"While I'm young, Tigress; oops, too late," I said smartly.
She started to giggle, then stopped abruptly when I glared. After another moment of silence, she asked me, "How am I supposed to make my bed?"
I wanted to rant and rage at her caretakers, for lack of better word; as far as I was concerned, they failed miserably at their jobs. I sighed, "Start at the foot, tuck the covers under the mattress. Smooth the covers over the top, perfectly straight. I want that bed so tightly made I can bounce a coin off of it. Tuck in the corners, nice and sharp…"
She followed my instruction, easily lifting the mattress to tuck the covers under it. In a few minutes, the bed was made, but not impeccable. But it was a far cry from what it was. I cast another look around the small room as she picked up the worn clothes and put them away in a clothes hamper, then start to retrieve her broken toys. The claw marks on the walls, the creaky floorboards, and what appeared to be mold and cobwebs on the walls…
"When was the last time this room was cleaned?"
She didn't answer, looking sheepish. I was having altogether different thoughts about a different sheep…
"What about washed sheets? Scrubbed floors? Windows, dusting, general maintenance?"
Her ears flattened against her head. I sighed, "Stay here." I stepped outside, glaring right at the ewe, duck and pig. "Once I take her out of there, you will go in and clean, you will make all necessary repairs, and you will treat that girl's room the same way you treat the other rooms in this establishment. If that room is not spotless by the time I return with her at sunset, I will personally have this entire place closed down for manifest child neglect. Do I make myself clear?"
All three were visibly shaking. If they had not been scared of me before, they were now. I walked back into Tigress' room and beckoned her to follow me. She dropped what she was doing and followed me out. The ewe shakily held out a spare key to an empty room for our use. I took it and we continued on our way.
Tigress was quiet that whole day, unsure how to answer to me. I decided it was best to just have her call me "Shifu" instead of "Master". I told myself that I wasn't her master, and she wasn't my student. Besides that, using "master" might intimidate her…though I doubted it.
When we were alone, I held up the box of domino tiles I had brought with me. Holding up one tile, I stared her down. "This game requires precision, a steady hand, and steady heart…"
She tried mimicking my movements as I taught some tai chi. In doing so, she punched right through the wall, scaring the attendants on the other side.
I had to hold in my impatience. "Focus," I sternly ordered.
Disappointment flooded her features as she stammered a quick apology.
"Now, are you listening?"
She nodded, eyes glued on the tile in my hand. She was as eager a student as any I had ever met. I sighed and put the tiles aside. "Let's begin."
In case you were wondering, by the end of the day, when I escorted her back to her room, the caretakers had done everything I had ordered. The floor was repaired, the walls newly spackled, ready for painting the next day. Tigress's window was wide open to let in a cool breeze, and a new trunk for her clothes and few toys was sitting at the foot of her bed, which had a new mattress, and fresh clean sheets and blankets. A new candle burned on a table set next to the bed.
Tigress looked as amazed as I felt, gingerly preparing for bed as if she felt she didn't deserve such kindness. I vowed that, with Heaven as my witness, she would never feel unloved again.
Though I had at first refused to be intimidated by her, Tigress soon started to scare me. Her unrestrained strength, coupled with her raging temper as fierce as a wildfire, did nothing to assuage my worry that she may never learn. Over the coming weeks, no matter how hard I tried to teach her grace and precision, she wouldn't listen.
"Tigress will not overcome the obstacles set before her if she does not have someone to guide her," Oogway told me one night after a particularly grueling day. I had initially offered the Jade Palace pay for repairs that would undoubtedly be required during Tigress' training, but she had since made me regret that offer. Like Tai Lung, I was spending most of my nights filling out work order forms and signing the checks.
It had been eight weeks, and there was absolutely no progress. I was beginning to give up. I had used every trick, every tool, every tactic that I had ever used to teach, and all of it failed. Either Tigress was more hard-headed than Tai Lung (a tall order, I might add), or losing my greatest student had robbed me of my ability to teach.
One day as I brooded over my options, watching Tigress try and perfect the graceful katas I had taught her, I studied my student. Something wasn't right; I had to be doing something wrong. Had I not gotten through to her, had I not taught her anything…?
She stopped what she was doing, so abruptly that it shocked me out of my meditations. I was about to demand an answer until I saw why she'd stopped.
Sitting on a blade of yellowed grass was a black and blue butterfly, its iridescent colors glinting in the late afternoon sun like a piece of lapis laced with polished jet. Tigress stood there, watching…and then I saw the most remarkable thing.
Slowly, tenderly, gracefully, like a dancer, she twisted her wrist, palm up, and slowly lowered her hand, her body tilted downward into a poised arabesque, inching closer, closer, to the beautiful insect. I had very little time to make an expectation, for as soon as her hand was level with the insect…it hopped right onto her palm!
Tigress smiled, slowly raising her hand and straightening her body to have a closer look. Her curiosity was matched only by the winged bug in her hand, which miraculously stayed put, idly flapping its wings from time to time. It crawled around her hand and up her wrist to her elbow, past her elbow to her shoulder, Tigress giggling as the tiny feet tickled her skin. When the insect reached her shoulder, she brought up her other hand, allowed the thing to rest on her outstretched finger. Once she had accomplished this, she lifted her hand high above her head, and the butterfly took off, fluttering away on the wind, its iridescent blue glinting in the setting sun.
Mother's love, she had done it.
But just to be sure…
"Hah!" I flung five domino pieces into the air. As if instinct, Tigress saw all five and pounced, somersaulting in mid-air and landing with just a small puff of dust kicked up at her feet.
I waited, holding my breath.
She opened her hand.
There were only two broken tiles; the other three were intact. In one instance, she had come much farther than ever before…and she knew it.
"WOOHOO!" she jumped up in celebration.
"Ahem."
"Oh," she stopped, bowing in respect, "Sorry, Shifu."
"You are forgiven. Next time," I picked up one of the dropped domino tiles. "Crouch lower on the ground, when you spring up, you'll get more height."
She nodded in understanding and crouched low like a cat ready to pounce…which she was. I repeated the throw; she caught all five tiles, again, three intact, two broken. Again, and again, ten times to be sure…
Each time, the same result. But I was proud of her accomplishment. Any accomplishment, especially this one, was proof that she had been following my instruction.
But I was also perplexed. How had she done it? Did she…no, that couldn't be possible. She had been three, too young to remember…there was no way she could remember me.
It was near dinner time for her, so I led her back to the orphanage, silent the whole way. As I left her at the door, I told her, "You have done well, Tigress."
She stopped and stared at me. After a moment, a grin bloomed on her face, and she turned to bow to me, saying "Thank you, Master."
I was torn. I was so torn. How could she say that; did she have any idea how that affected me? In that instant, the smile on her face, the gratitude in her eyes…I didn't want to leave. My conscience beat that thought down, and I reminded myself of my promise. I was to train her, help her control her strength, and now that I had achieved that…I was done.
Three months later, by the middle of that summer, Tigress was ready for her final test. Just before, I kept drilling her, making sure she worked on her grace, balance and posture. At this point, I had ceased worrying about her controlling her strength; now I was grooming her to be adopted. I figured no prospective parent would adopt a child with little manners or education. She was such a bright girl, picked up everything I taught her.
One night, after I returned her to the orphanage, Mrs. Gao pulled me aside. "I wanted to thank you. I have never seen her as happy as when she is around you."
"I am merely giving her something to do. Once she is adopted, she will be happier still," I reasoned.
"You don't understand—you don't know the girl like I do," the ewe sighed. "I knew her mother too, poor thing…her mother was Dai, originally from Yunnan—she married a man from Siam. But he was killed in a monsoon, five years ago."
I had known who Tigress was ever since that first day. I knew she was that tiny little hellion who pounced on my tail and giggled as she chased a butterfly. "What happened to her mother?" I asked.
"She opened a laundry and tailor shop, but that was destroyed three years ago during…" she trailed off, then started again, "When they brought Tigress here…well, no one knew the girl's name, so we just all called her Tigress. I didn't even know her mother's name, now that I think about it. Her mother," she sighed, probably knowing how I would feel about what she said next. "Her mother was killed in the rampage."
If nothing else she said made me feel bad, that last revelation made me feel like the scum of the earth. I was certain Tai Lung would never have cared that he orphaned a three-year-old girl, so I naturally channeled all that guilt onto my own shoulders. I had unleashed him onto the valley…so in a roundabout way, I felt Tigress' predicament was my fault.
Mrs. Gao wasn't finished, "They said they found the girl in the ruins of the house, her mother lying on the floor, and Tigress shaking her, telling her to wake up…poor little dear." She shook her head. "Poor, poor thing…"
"If you pity her, then why was her room in such disarray?" I accused.
"You didn't know her before you came along," she retorted. "No one could control her. She seemed to know no one wanted her, and that made her angry…very angry. It has nothing to do with her species or her strength—they don't want her because she is a girl."
The wind very suddenly rushed violently through the leaves above us, kicking up dust devils and blinding us. Mrs. Gao shouted in surprise; I smelled peony blossoms on the wind. I stared up at the leaves in the giant tree towering above my head. Could it be…?
"No one wants to adopt a girl child," I finally said, "because girls are raised for other families, and have little economic effect on the family. Girls are worthless in our society."
"No, not worthless," Mrs. Gao said, brushing herself off. "The late Master Yeying—Heaven bless her soul—proved that women were worth just as much as men. Tigress is one such a girl who will prove everyone wrong, I'm sure of it."
Well-behaved women rarely make history.
I could hear the words resonating as if Yeying had whispered them in my ear.
I looked back over my shoulder towards the hallway leading to Tigress' room. Again I smelled peony blossoms in the air.
I made my decision.
The day of her final test came and went, and I don't think I could have hidden that proud smile if I tried…not that I wanted to. In four months, Tigress had accomplished many things. She had successfully turned seven, channeled her strength into something positive and constructive, and began to control her temper. As news of her training spread amongst the other children, I saw in their faces that they believed her to no longer be scary or frightening at all.
I watched as she carefully set the domino tiles on the ground, with the grace of a dancer and the gentleness of the butterfly she was named for. Placing the tiles in a large spiral, backing up carefully and laying tile after tile, I reflected on her training.
There was more than just pity. She was—and still is—a wonderful student. She had such a brilliant, sharp mind, inquisitive and curious, and never stopped asking questions. At first, this annoyed me, but now I realize that was how she learned, always by questioning. I had foolishly thought those who asked many questions were just not getting it; Tai Lung hardly ever asked questions, and learned everything himself…but I could hardly use him as a comparison anymore.
Moreover, Tigress had so much fire in her personality, it reminded me of Xue Shan in a way, but the more I saw of her the less I thought her fire was an inferno, and more like a candle that had been carelessly knocked over. Fire has a dual purpose: it can keep one warm in winter, and provide light in the darkness; but it can also burn down a house, and burn a hand that gets too close. And yet…after a fire, a forest still grew back. As I felt my life had been ravaged so easily by the fires that burned half the valley to the ground, Tigress was that lone flower, that single sign of life peeking through the ashes that gave me hope for a better future.
She set down the last tile and looked up at me. I fought back the sigh, I didn't think she still needed my approval to do anything, but I suppose I was wrong. I smiled thinly and nodded. With that, she pressed her finger against one domino and the rest fell in sequence. In the summer sunlight, the painted tiles glittered like gold, the two tones making a perfect yin and yang symbol on the orphanage floor.
She had done it. The other orphans rounded up around her as the other adults applauded her. Some came by to pay their respects to me, and Mrs. Gao thanked me once again. I barely heard her. I was watching Tigress and marveling at the transformation I saw.
She was smiling, and for the first time, I saw the carefree toddler I remembered, laughing and giggling, rough-housing (gently) with the other children. A group of girls invited her to play hopscotch and jump ropes with them; a group of boys wanted her to play a ball game. She looked back at me once more, as if asking what to do. She had achieved what she wanted the most…and now she had choices she didn't know what to do with.
I turned away, leaving her to her own devices, and made my way home.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I dreamed. I was back in the hilly fields outside Bao Gu, watching Tigress…and to my amazement, I was watching her grow. She was first the little toddler, then the child, then pre-adolescent, adolescent, and finally an adult, who was performing incredible feats of kung fu; the adult suddenly stopped and looked back at me with an expectant look. I felt someone beside me, and I expected Oogway. Instead, it was Yeying, who looked just as amazed to see me as I was to see her.
I awoke with a start, sucking down air and willing myself to calm down. I was haunted by what I had seen. At the time I believed it to be just a strange dream brought on by too much oolong tea before bed. Now I know better. It was a vision.
Meditation didn't help me relax, or help figure out the nature of my vision. I finally gave up and sought out my master. I had decided he probably never actually slept anymore, or if he did, I never saw it. I found him in the Sacred Hall of Warriors, leaning on his staff and gazing into the Moon Pool. As I approached, I caught the reflection of the golden dragon overhead, the Dragon Scroll in its teeth; Oogway smiled at my approach.
"I was wondering when you would show up."
"I couldn't sleep."
"What a coincidence, neither could I."
"Do you ever sleep?" I was serious, but he chuckled.
"I have been having visions rather than dreams. Something compels me to ask if you are truly done teaching."
I stared at my reflection in the Moon Pool. I saw the wrinkles that were slowly becoming etched deeply into my face, the crow's feet forming at the corners of my eyes, the dark circles, the frown lines by my mouth. Former grey hairs now turning as white as the rest of my face, worry lines on my brow…when had those appeared? For the first time I truly acknowledged that I was getting old…and it hurt. Most men were lucky to live until they were fifty. I was fifty-six, so I had already exceeded the life expectancy of most Chinese men at the time. The quality of life has since improved, and now many were living ten, fifteen, even twenty years longer if they were careful.
After Tai Lung's rampage and imprisonment, I felt the weight of years upon me, but for some inexplicable reason, training Tigress had…made me feel younger. Much younger. Like I had another ten years to live, maybe more. Was it her youthful energy, and I had just absorbed some of her chi by association? Or had the training simply reawakened my love for teaching? Maybe that was it, I reasoned. That I had forgotten why I got into teaching…for that grateful smile and the success of a student.
Oogway was smiling at me again. "What is on your mind?"
I told him about my dream. His smile widened. "What do you think Yeying is telling you?"
I went back to bed and woke before dawn to begin my journey back to Bao Gu.
Unfortunately, my journey was anything but enjoyable. I kept running into troubles along the way, and as a result was running late. Very late. It was mid-afternoon when I finally caught sight of the orphanage in the distance, but my heart fell when I saw the crowd of parents and newly adopted children. I was too late!
But as they passed, bowing to me in respect, I noticed that Tigress was missing from the crowd. She had not yet been adopted…I hoped. I asked one of the new fathers about her, and the pig just gave me a fearful look.
"Are you kidding? I wouldn't adopt her for an Emperor's ransom!"
"Why not?"
"Why not? Why do you think? How could I control someone who could easily kill me?"
This was both heartening and disheartening. While the children loved her, all the adults were still afraid of her. All but one.
I ran the rest of the way to the orphanage, panting heavily as I pounded on the door. There was a pause, long enough for me to catch my breath, and then the door opened. Mrs. Gao stood there, surprised to see me.
"Am I too late?" I asked, with as much dignity as I could muster. I also begged the silent question: was she still here?
Mrs. Gao smiled knowingly. "Not at all. Come inside, we'll finalize everything in my office."
A few minutes later, everything was done. I excited Mrs. Gao's office, the signed paperwork stashed in a pocket. All that was left was to find her…
She was in the courtyard, sitting at a picnic table under the tall tree. Her head was resting on her crossed arms, and from what I could tell, she was very disappointed to have been rejected by potential parents. She sighed, turning a domino tile over in her fingers, then placed it on the table, staring blankly at it. It broke my heart to see her so depressed. I picked up a discarded domino tile on the ground and without a word, walked over and placed my tile next to hers.
The effect was immediate. The sullen, somber expression brightened and lifted, her eyes wide and sparkling like precious rubies. I had never seen her so happy to see me. "Shifu!"
I folded my hands inside my sleeves, wondering how best to say it. Judging from her expression, I think she expected me to offer more training, if she desired it. Mrs. Gao had said how much Tigress looked forward to training with me, and that she cherished it. Well, I was going to give her what she wanted.
I turned, "Come, let us go home."
It took a minute for it to sink in; first there was confusion, realization…then elation. That smile lit up the entire courtyard, and the memory of it, of that smile, the expression on her face and the light in her eyes, is something that I will always treasure.
Of course, hardly anyone ever knew her as Jia. Only Oogway and myself knew; Oogway became very fond of calling her Mei Jia—"beautiful butterfly"—as a nickname. I continued to call her Tigress.
The first thing we did when she made the Jade Palace her home was give her a room with lots of windows. The one she had occupied at the orphanage was far too dark. Next, she received new clothes; the ones she had were threadbare, and not worthy of one of my students. Third, I doubled her rations; she was always far too thin for my comfort (I should have seen it coming though; as an adult, she has the metabolism of a hummingbird—keeping weight on her is a team effort).
Lastly, of course, I began her training in kung fu. Training her to control her strength, I would have been a fool to ignore that natural talent. She was always sharp, always attentive, always asking questions, and was capable of things that Tai Lung never was. Recall the fifty flawless run-throughs of my obstacle course? Two days for Tigress; two months for Tai Lung. She picked up things faster than he did…further convincing me that women were just as intelligent as men—if not more so.
Oogway taught her reading and writing, and most importantly, critical thinking. She was good at it. She was—and still is—an excellent debater. I'm certain that if kung fu never worked out, she'd have made an impressive lawyer.
However, her training was drastically different than Tai Lung's. I made sure of that.
The minute she arrived in the Jade Palace, I encountered something that could only be called a good omen. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, I heard a chorus of nightingales warbling. It didn't sound mournful, it sounded…joyful. Somewhere, wherever she was, Yeying was celebrating her daughter. And so was I…and that worried me.
I could not make the same mistakes I made with Tai Lung. I was not going to spoil her, coddle her, or make her believe she was set out for something she was not worthy of. I would keep her pride—and mine—in check. I would make her work for everything she did, I would make her self-sufficient, disciplined, humble, everything Tai Lung was not.
Looking back, I realize that while I didn't repeat my mistake with Tai Lung, I made another mistake I can never forgive myself for. It wasn't until Tai Lung escaped from prison and tried to kill me that I realized what I had withheld from Tigress for so long.
I never told her I loved her. I never said I loved her, or was proud of her, and I'm going to have to live with that forever. If I knew how to tell her, how to put the words together in such a way that she could forgive me, I would have told her already.
Instead, as I watched her grow, I became aware of how detached she became. By the time she was a teenager, she had all but completely detached herself emotionally from me. I thought it was teenage rebellion. But Oogway knew what the problem was; if not for him, I don't know how Tigress or I could have survived those turbulent years.
Oogway had made plans for repairing Tigress' spurned soul. He did for her what he did for me: he invited new students to join her, as her friends.
The first one arrived in the form of a golden languor, someone Oogway had personally recruited. He brought with him a boisterous personality, and impressive skill with stealth and wielding a staff. And I was amazed, and grateful, how quickly he became an older brother to Tigress, picking up her spirits, protecting her, and always there with a kind word (and an almond cookie or two, his specialty). Monkey quickly became my second student.
The next person was one closer in age to Tigress, a green tree viper. The daughter of Grand Master Viper, and an expert ribbon dancer, even at such a young age; I thought Oogway was joking, he had to be…until I saw young Viper in action. I knew potential when I saw it. She became my third student.
Next was a recruit from the Li Da Kung Fu Academy. He came highly recommended, even if he was a bit skinny. I knew better than to judge by appearances by now. Crane had impressive grace, even for a member of his species, and I instantly recognized the potential of teaching him Yeying's fighting style. The speed at which he picked it up astounds me to this day; it was as if it were tailored to him.
Last to join us was a praying mantis, the strongest of the five, next to Tigress of course. He had already been a master beforehand, but lacked the discipline to really get somewhere. He had come to the Valley of Peace, not to join us, but as a pilgrimage to the birthplace of kung fu. After a few days of watching my other students train, he decided to accept our invitation to stay.
Before I knew it, I had amassed a quintet of the best fighters China had ever seen. They made my friends and I pale in comparison to their skills. What they lacked in camaraderie, they made up for by working as one body, though they were five individuals with their own personalities. Unlike my friends, all the elements were present.
Tigress was fire, Crane was earth, Viper was water, Mantis was metal and Monkey, surprisingly, was wood. Together, though their personalities sometimes clashed, their teamwork was undeniable.
By the time my daughter turned sixteen, Oogway knew the time had come: he bestowed the title of "Master" upon her. It was an honor Tai Lung never received. Even if Tigress never attained the title of Dragon Warrior, the fact that my daughter became a master a full four years before most people…well, you're damn right I'm proud of her.
But again, I never told her so. If I have one last thing to do before I die, it will be to tell her that. If it's the last thing I ever do, it will be to tell her I love her, and to finally—finally—call her my daughter.
Tigress had been named a master at the tender age of sixteen…but "tender" was the last word anyone would ever use to describe her. That unrestrained strength of her childhood had been so carefully controlled that she wielded it like a sword, knowing just the right time to take it out, and just the right time to set it aside. That control was further developed through hour after hour of intense meditation…and when she didn't get that full hour, that legendary temper would flare.
She did, however, accomplish something Tai Lung had never been able to do. The first time I told her to train on the obstacle course, I expected her to either go for the Gauntlet of Wooden Warriors, or perfect her balance on the rim of the Jade Tortoise. Instead—much to my horror—she went right for the Seven Swinging Clubs of Instant Oblivion. I thought for sure she would get herself killed…until I needed to dodge the debris of one destroyed club. In less than one minute, she had successfully smashed all seven brutally dangerous clubs, all whilst balancing on the twirling serpents above the pool of water beneath her. And she landed on the other side, bowed to me, without a single drop of sweat on her body.
With such natural talent, is it any surprise why I was devastated she didn't get the Dragon Scroll?
A year after she had become a master, she and my other students decided to do something my friends and I had done years before: they left, in the middle of the night, without my permission, to heed the call of a village in need. While not there for the battle, I am assured that it was where my students received their title: The Furious Five.
Well, after that battle where my students came out with not a single scratch, word of their heroics spread across China. By the time they returned from that battle—clearly expecting me to chastise them—all five were shocked when I handed them a list of the other people who wanted their help.
So many battles…they all string together for me. The Weeping Willow Skirmish, Battle of the Frozen River, The Encounter in the Devil's Bog, Combat against the Five Hundred Tartar Wolves (I have no clue what the hell a Tartar is, so don't bother asking). There was the Clash of the Furious Five versus the Followers of the Death God, and later against the so-called Children of Heaven.
Then there was the battle against the most feared assassins China had seen in generations: the Wu Sisters. Five against three should have been no contest, but those sisters put up an impressive fight every time they squared off against the Furious Five. Those girls, snow leopards, I am told, were likely descendents of the clans Rong Lang and Emperor Yi had destroyed two generations before them; if I had to put a finger on it, I bet those sisters were out for revenge. And indeed, their favorite targets were Emperor Xian Xin's loyalists.
Tigress, the unofficial leader of the Furious Five, never backed down from a fight, especially against them. To date, there have maybe been five or six skirmishes between the two groups, with the Five victorious every single time. The last time, Tigress even received honors from the Emperor, and an offer to join him at his court as an ambassador.
I forbid it. I was going to stay true to my word and never allow her to sully her reputation like Tai Lung had. No, not a chance in Hell. My student—my daughter—was going to stay in China, where it was safe. Well…fine, relatively safe. No matter how strong or how capable she was, I would never have let her be corrupted at the Imperial Palace. I was going to force her to train, daily, without any rest, to study the Thousand Scrolls of Kung Fu, to become better, faster, stronger.
But I had repeated my earlier mistake. I made her too fast, too strong, and yes, too hard. I had stripped away any and every chance she could have at happiness, and I didn't realize this until it was much too late.
This newfound realization of my treatment—or ill-treatment—of my daughter Tigress weighs heavily upon me. Everything she has accomplished, every battle she's won, it should have brought me peace. It didn't. For every honor she received, it only further reminded me of what I had lost. I don't mean Tai Lung…not fully. As she grew, I saw more and more of Yeying in her.
Though she reminded me of what I had lost, I was too blinded by the grief that still felt fresh in my heart, forty years later. It was impossible for me to move on, especially with my students reminding me so much of my friends who I felt had abandoned me in my hour of need. You would think the Furious Five would have instead brought closure, but that didn't happen until the year Tigress turned twenty-three…when Oogway finally named someone the Dragon Warrior.
He was not what I expected, not by a long shot. But as is the story of my life, I have always depended on others to save me from myself, which is exactly what Po did for me.
Tigress had been so overcome with emotion that she couldn't speak for the entirety of Po's narration. Her voice became lodged in her throat, she had started crying and was unable to stop. Po still sat next to her, an arm protectively wrapped around her. She spent the whole of the narrative with her head on his shoulder, silently reading the characters on the page, tears cascading down her cheeks. When Po was finished, he rolled up the scroll and hugged her. She didn't pull away; she hugged him back, quietly crying.
"Its okay…it's okay," he assured her, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Didn't I tell you? I knew he loved you, I knew it."
"Tigress," said Viper, slithering over and coiling around her friend. "Its okay…you're okay."
"I know," she sniffed, wiping away her tears…and she was smiling. "I've wanted to know for years if he regretted adopting me…I swore he did. I felt I could never measure up, that he hated me, that I was a burden."
"Hate to say I told you so," Monkey smirked. She smiled back, accepting more reassuring hugs. "He is proud of you, and he does love you, isn't it obvious?" the primate noted.
"He's as proud of you as we are," Crane said, "and nothing's going to change that."
"He might seem heartless…" Mantis started. "But in the end, he did it to help you. You could've turned out like Tai Lung, but thanks to Shifu, you're the girl we know and love."
"You wanna know something else?" Po asked.
She wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand. "What's that?"
He gave her a friendly squeeze, using his thumb to wipe away another tear. "We love you too."
Everyone had gone to bed already, but Tigress couldn't sleep. Po decided to keep her company, sitting up to enjoy some green tea with her in the kitchen so they wouldn't disturb the others. Tigress poured another cup, sighing heavily. There was so much swirling around her mind, everything Shifu had said…it was the answer she had been looking for. He had cared about her…he had always cared, even before she could remember. He was right, she didn't remember pouncing and stalking his tail when she was a toddler, but strangely, she did remember one thing…
She started laughing softly.
"What is it?" Po asked.
She smirked, "…Kitty panda."
Po grinned and laughed with her. Once again, he was taken aback by the beauty of the wide smile on her face. Once her giggle fit was over, she sighed happily. "I didn't think…I never expected…I thought he loved Tai Lung more than he loved me…"
"Yeah, but this proves that he does love you, and more than he loved Tai Lung. He gave up on him, but he never gave up on you. Sure, he went a little overboard in protecting you, but at least he did protect you."
She nodded and fell silent. But Po had to ask, "So…I guess you're Dai nationality?"
"Is that a problem?" she asked defensively.
"No, not at all! Actually…it makes you cooler than ever. At least I think so."
"Really?"
He nodded energetically. "But I don't understand why you didn't want anyone knowing you were an orphan…"
"Isn't it obvious?" she sighed dejectedly. "You know how orphans are treated, how they're looked down upon. When I think of where I came from, it hurts…it hurts to know where I came from, to have come from that to this."
"But 'this' is great! Sure, maybe you started out as a nobody, like I did, but you and me…we're somebodies now! Everyone loves you, everyone thinks you're the greatest thing ever! And you know what? I bet, if Yeying were alive, she'd be proud of you too."
She sighed, "I don't remember my mother. I've been to Yunnan, sure, but…I always wondered why I felt so at home there. I've always wondered what happened to my parents, and why they abandoned me. But I'm not sure its better to know they're both dead instead of what I thought before."
"Your dad was a hero, and died for you."
"I know. And my mother…" her voice hardened, "If I didn't hate Tai Lung already, and if he weren't dead…I would have killed him without any remorse. None whatsoever."
"But would that have meant anything? Would that have made you happy? My dad always said that 'the problem with an eye for an eye is that both eyes end up blind'."
"Just like Xue Shan," she nodded. "Shifu was right…he was blind."
"But you're not. No matter what, now that I know about your past, that doesn't change how I feel about you."
She looked at him, "It doesn't?"
"Nope. In fact, it only makes me like you more." He smiled at her, and she finally smiled back. But there was something behind that smile, and she saw finally that she had been so foolish not to see it sooner. If the revelation of her master's—her father's—true feelings about her had never been revealed to her, the look on Po's face and the smile on his lips would have made her happier than ever before.
"You know something, Po?" she said, a faint blush on her cheeks and a sweet smile on her lips. "I…I like you too."
Hmm, looks like someone's no longer in denial :)
Special note: Mrs. Gao's name literally translates to "lamb" in Mandarin. Good times. Next chapter is, you guessed it, the movie's events from Shifu's POV. Get ready to feel da thunder! Oh, and please read and review!