A/N:
Finally, the plot actually starts to go somewhere. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own neither Kung Fu Panda nor any of the characters associated. This work is written for entertainment purposes only and I do not financially profit from it in any way.
The large doors of the Topaz Palace are unceremoniously thrown open in the early hours of the morning. The sky is a dusty shade of indigo, its otherwise peaceful hue juxtaposed by a menacing orange glow mixing with that of the sun; the dissipating smoke rising from Jiangsu only becomes clearer as the sky grows brighter.
A leopard with a lean build and clad in wine-red garb stalks independently down the sumptuous main hallway of the palace. The corridor's walls are painted a luxurious, tasteful shade of vermillion and adorned with a vast collection of priceless kung fu artifacts and memorabilia.
The leopard's strides are with haste but not panic—the feline doesn't appear as though he has ever known the gripping chill of either panic or fear—and his expression is stoney. He does not exercise even the courtesy of mere acknowledgment as temple servants fail to gain his attention. Despite the rude nature of his ignorance, the workers do not seem surprised; some do not even concern themselves with calling out to him.
He sharply turns at the end of the hallway, continuing his efficient gait down a shorter and, while nevertheless quite nice, less extravagant aisle. He turns left again, ducking into a circular doorway. A goose servant is leaving the room as he enters, and the leopard only side-eyes the avian as she meekly excuses herself and passes him.
Three masters of different species and stature are already assembled in the small, official-looking room. A desk packed with pigeon-holed scrolls adorns one of the room's corners, while one of the walls is decorated with a map of Eastern China. One wall is fully absent, and in its place is a semi-extensive open area that allows for a view of Jiangsu, its port, and the ocean.
The leopard silently treads further into the room and opts to stand beside his comrades; himself, an otter, and a cat-like mammal are now situated in a haphazard line, all with their hands woven behind their backs. The otter and cat-like mammal, like the leopard, are young and their ages might span within a mere few years of one another.
The eldest master in attendance is a manul; his expression is taut yet controlled and he carries himself with general confidence. Despite his excessively downy coat and bugging yellow eyes, he has an air of authority about him that would warrant the respect of any warrior.
"Fulin," the manul, Master Han, addresses, "I see you've finally resolved to make an appearance."
Fulin's pretentious demeanor shifts, to a degree, and he has the decency to seem ashamed as he bows hand-in-fist to Master Han.
"I was in the village, Master," Fulin reports, to which Han only sighs.
The manul shuffles to the desk and retrieves a red-rimmed scroll. Fulin recognizes it as an architectural scroll. The blueprints are likely to aid in the renovation of the many homes and businesses that had been reduced to crisps in the recent increase of arsonist forays.
"You've all done well," he praises, but not without a hint of disdain intended for Fulin, "I urge you all to rest—we have much more to accomplish come tomorrow."
The cat-like mammal, Master Civet, relaxes her stance and spares a concerned glance in the otter's direction, to which he purses his lips and averts her gaze. Civet opts to fiddle with the folds of her high-necked vest.
Fulin, through the open wall of the room, is given a clear view of the dreadful state of Jiangsu. He crosses his arms and glowers at the damaged, rubble-ridden village from where he stands. A snarl brews in his throat and his nostrils flare.
The otter—Master Otter, as it were—and Master Civet eye the leopard warily,
"Something must be done," Fulin, says, eventually, "the village has now been attacked four times within the span of three weeks. I will not endure it any longer."
"We have been caring for the villagers to the best of our ability," Master Han tells him, "and that is our duty. We have done our job and done so with success and honor."
"There is no success," Fulin insists, "villagers have been either horribly injured or killed in fires, my—our reputations have been squandered, and the village is in ruin!"
"I mourn for those lost and those hurt," Han says, "but things could be far worse."
"The state of things now is a show of pity," Fulin retorts, "and if Qiong had felt compelled to murder villagers, he would have—!"
"We have no proof to warrant such a claim," Han interrupts, sharply, "Fulin, we cannot simply declare that the most infamous pirate captain on the seas is attacking Jiangsu because you have a vague suspicion."
"It's not a vague suspicion," Fulin argues, "The Fifth Peril has been spotted from our beaches in the past, it would not be outlandish to consider that Qiong has finally decided to plunder us!"
"Declaring such a thing without solid evidence would be brash and irresponsible!" Han asserts.
"I've told you that two security guards have testified that they witnessed a ship sailing into port at the beginning of the month!" Fulin exclaims, "Civet and I even took the liberty of conducting separate interrogations—they recounted the same narrative!"
Civet nods in confirmation, but Han does not bother to look at her for assurance.
"They wouldn't have been able to discern a fishing boat from a shipping vessel through the harbor's fog," Han argues, and while Fulin can't deny the possibility, he does not falter.
Fulin presses, "In any case, the villagers are in danger. They need someone to step in."
"If you've somehow forgotten, we have been in the village daily following the second attack," Han informs, "and the worst of the fires have been extinguished."
"For now, perhaps, but another attack may be on the horizon. Action must be taken," Fulin disputes, "and I will not stand by and allow these people to suffer any longer."
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Han says, "but I will not support your deep-rooted desire to play the hero when we do not require one. How many times must we have this discussion?"
"Oh—shots fired," Otter whispers to Civet.
"We need to act now," Fulin continues, ignoring the manul's words and the silenced giggling of his coworkers.
"What is your plan?" Han inquires. "The criminals responsible, whoever they may be, would not be wise to stick around, and it has been nearly a week following their most recent offense. Their leaving would be the preferable option for all of us."
"Not as far as I'm concerned," Fulin says. "Master, why are we having this conversation? An investigation is surely the only appropriate course of action!"
Han groans; Fulin has suggested such an approach in the past, but his requests were rejected on every occasion—and with good reason, in Han's professional opinion.
"We have no evidence to support a theory of Qiong's involvement," Han retorts. "While I'll admit that the methodical nature of these happenings is suspicious, responding to the situation so fervently is sure to provoke a mass panic within the village. I'd prefer to avoid such things, if possible."
"Are you suggesting that we do nothing?" Fulin inquires. "Han, allow me to investigate, you will not be disappointed!"
"That is Master Han to you," the manul hisses.
Fulin does not blink, opting to cross his arms in childlike defiance. Otter and Civet have long since fallen utterly silent, merely observing the altercation unfold as if it were a harrowing performance in a play.
"Master Chun is no longer fit to pick up after you," Han hushedly tells him, "and she will not be able to fix things if and when they go awry; you gallivanting about in a show of pride helps no one."
"I am perfectly capable of completing a mission without the aid of Master Chun," says Fulin.
"Of course, you are," Han mutters, dismissively.
Fulin opens his mouth to argue, but a stern glare from Master Han condemns him to silence. Civet glances worriedly at Otter, whose gaze is set forward. Otter clears his throat and the sound rings uncomfortably prominent amidst the animosity-filled hush in the room.
"Master Han, what if we called on the aid of other masters?" Otter suggests. "You say that Fulin is unqualified to investigate this matter alone. Why not ask for help?"
"I do not need help, and I am more than qualified!" Fulin interjects, indignantly.
"Someone needs to care for the village and Master Chun, and I agree that while someone should surely investigate, Fulin should not take on this assignment by himself," Otter says, ignoring the leopard.
"Otter!" Fulin exclaims.
"Civet and I are more than capable of looking after things here, but Fulin needs help," Otter continues. Upon glancing at the discontented leopard, he adds, "He needs serious help."
"I agree with Otter, Master Han," Civet offers. When Master Han raises an eyebrow, she adds, "With all due respect, sir, a simple scroll delivered by a messenger could suffice."
"To whom would we send it?" Han says, "I'll remind you that we are surrounded by jagged cliffs and deadly river rapids from any given direction—not to mention the tens of miles of wilderness and ocean that distance Jiangsu from anyone worth contacting."
"There's got to be someone," Civet says, averting her gaze to the map conveniently splayed across the wall to her right.
She approaches the map and considers it. Civet scrutinizes the yellowed and inked rice paper for nearby establishments, and Otter conspicuously looks over his shoulder to do the same. Fulin's eyes are lowered to the floor and he does not humor the antics of his friends.
Han sighs and squeezes the bridge of his nose, the action catching Fulin's attention.
"The Lee Da Kung Fu Academy is within a reasonable distance, I suppose," Han relents.
Civet finds it on the map and considers it—the building looks small, but its reputation proceeds it as one of the finest kung fu schools in the land.
A large structure on the map, one far bigger than the Lee Da Kung Fu Academy, catches Civet's eye and she grins knowingly, gesturing at the image of the temple to Otter. He nods conspiratorially and Civet stifles a giggle.
"What about the Jade Palace?" Otter suggests, coolly, to which Fulin's eyes widen.
Civet contributes, "It's only miles from Lee Da, and—!"
"Lee Da will do just fine," Han interrupts.
"Master, the Dragon Warrior trains at the Jade Palace!" Otter exclaims, to which Civet nods.
"I'm aware."
Civet meets Fulin's eyes and tilts her head in an encouraging manner, urging the leopard to participate in the discussion; when Fulin does not comply, she repeats the action more aggressively.
Fulin shakes his head and crosses his arms, even straightening his posture to cement his stance further. Civet narrows her eyes and mouths an empty threat, to which Fulin appears somewhat taken aback. Disgruntled, the leopard attempts to look elsewhere, but Civet is persistent.
The larger of the two ultimately relents with a noncommittal eye-roll, much to the delight of Civet.
"I'm quite familiar with your reservations, Master Han, but Master Shifu and his students are exceptional warriors," Fulin offers.
"Fulin, that's enough," Han says. Fulin only shrugs.
"Master, you must acknowledge their eligibility," Otter presses.
"We do not call on Master Shifu unless it is absolutely necessary," Master Han insists, "a life or death situation."
Civet takes the opportunity of the discourse to side-step herself to the nearby open wall. She leans into its opening and winces at the chaos that lies outside; there are buildings still on fire and others reduced to ash, and scurrying amongst them are townspeople gathering supplies and belongings.
"I feel like 'absolutely' is kind of subjective," Civet murmurs.
"You haven't met with him in twenty years, Master," Otter tells Han.
"Twenty years well-spent," Han counters, "and twenty more will do just fine."
"He and his students could be of great help to us," Otter adds. "Master, do you truly despise Master Shifu enough to turn down an opportunity to work alongside the Dragon Warrior?"
"The Dragon Warrior is undoubtedly a valuable asset," Han admits, "but his services are not needed."
"Respectfully, sir," Civet interjects, earning a scowl from Master Han. "He's way more than a valuable asset. He's a master of chi and some have even gone as far as to say that he's a spirit warrior! A spirit warrior!"
Otter warily glances in Civet's direction—he supposes that something new can be learned every day, after all. When he pivots his attention to Fulin, the leopard looks half-ready to escape the conversation via the nearest window.
"The Dragon Warrior is one of China's greatest soldiers," Han says, his resolve faltering, "and he need not be concerned with matters such as ours."
"I hear he hasn't much going on," Otter remarks.
"Master, could it be that you are averse to calling upon the Dragon Warrior because he is a student of Master Shifu's?" Civet inquires, to which Han narrows his eyes.
"No, that would be ridiculous," Han retorts.
"More ridiculous than what's going on outside?" Fulin asks.
"Inarguably," Han declares.
Civet and Otter exchange glances as Han makes his way to the circular doorframe on the opposite side of the room. Fulin is visibly discouraged.
"Master, what would it take for you to consider reaching out to Master Shifu?" Civet inquires.
"An act of the universe," Han dutifully replies. "If you will excuse me, I'm going to tend to Master Chun. The fires and distress of the villagers have weighed heavily on her."
Han's students, while dejected at their master's lack of consideration, merely nod their heads in understanding. The manul rounds the doorframe and shuffles out of sight, leaving Fulin, Otter, and Civet standing silent and listless.
Fulin makes a sound, something between a groan and a growl, and kicks at the ground. He places his hands on his hips and stalks around the desk, pensively staring at his feet.
"Fulin, I know that you don't agree," Civet starts.
"How could I? It's insulting!" Fulin snaps, "Were you not listening? Master Han blatantly told me that I am incapable of leading a simple investigation." He stops pacing and glares daggers at Otter. "You were of little help."
"What would you have preferred?" Otter inquires, indignantly.
"At least he tried to compromise," Civet interjects, "and in any case, there is little chance of Master Han thinking of the Jade Palace as a viable option—you heard him, it would take an act of the universe."
As promptly as the words leave her mouth, in an almost comic cliché fashion, a distant boom trembles the temple and topples many of the trinkets atop the nearby desk. The sudden quivering of the ground startles the masters, but they quickly regain their bearings and adopt battle stances.
Fulin, Civet, and Otter survey their surroundings with professional precision and alertness; the source of the explosion becomes evident when they—all at once—catch sight of a rising mass of fire and black smoke from a large building in the village. The masters freeze in their tracks at the sight, each nauseous at the implications of such a devastating blast.
Master Han re-emerges from the circular doorway, this time joined by a frightful, elderly pangolin woman. The manul's face is twisted into a grimace. When Civet opens her mouth to speak, Han holds up a silencing palm.
The universe, it seems, has impeccable timing.
Neither Fulin nor Han has ever been especially skilled when it comes to political communications. Drafting a message to send to the Jade Palace had been a far more time-consuming task than either of the masters had originally anticipated, and the act of putting aside their pride paired with general preoccupation delayed the final rendition of the message to nightfall.
The frames of Han and Fulin's figures cast stark shadows over a light-cast courtyard that sits before the Topaz Palace. The leopard and manul look on with equally displeased expressions as they watch a messenger goose fly away with a scroll addressed to the Jade Palace tucked into her robes.
Fulin's jaw is clenched and his arms are crossed, while Han's rigid posture suggests that he's feeling surlier than usual. The leopard's tail flicks, giving light to his general annoyance at the situation; he considers his current standing to be above requesting assistance, among other things.
"Shifu is punctual," Han grumbles, eventually, "expect him within the week."
When Fulin only grunts in response, the manul wordlessly turns and retreats into the luxurious confines of the Topaz Palace. The shuffling of his footsteps soon wanes into synchrony with the otherwise typical sounds of the night, and following a fleeting glance over his shoulder, Fulin breathes an exasperated sigh.
The leopard's shoulders relax, perhaps in relief—though he'll never say so—and he subsequently rolls his neck. When he does so, he is startled by the sudden presence of Civet. She appears to be amused by his surprise if her satisfied smirk is anything to go by. She laughs at the undignified noise he makes when he jolts.
"Master Han seems grumpier than usual," Civet remarks after a moment.
"Where have you been?" Fulin wryly inquires. "You missed all the excitement."
"If you must know, Otter and I were browsing the palace's inventory of household amenities," she replies, "we were searching for an appropriate wedding gift."
"I beg your pardon?" the leopard says, half-wondering if he has somehow forgotten about someone important's marriage again.
"For the Dragon Warrior," she tells him, "one of the villagers we spoke with last week told me the Dragon Warrior was married this past summer."
"To whom?" Fulin asks, "A master at the Jade Palace, I presume?"
"Otter and I have bets placed," Civet says. Conspiratorially, she whispers, "Do you want in?"
Not without pausing for a moment of consideration, Fulin says, "No, thank you."
Civet only shrugs in a casual way that suggests she had expected the answer. She starts to walk to the right side of the courtyard, where lies an ajar gate that leads to a well-landscaped path. Fulin wordlessly follows his friend and catches up to her as they reach the gate; the hinges squeak when he pulls it open further and Civet cringes at the sound.
"We'll have to have that fixed," she notes.
The leopard pulls the noisy gate back to its original position once he passes through its threshold. The gate's troubles are forgotten, however, once the path on which Fulin and Civet tread takes them further downward, and the precarious placing of the trail to their barracks—mounted in a manner that has it nearly sliding off the side of the mountain—requires a mere morsel of their attention.
They tread in silence, as per usual, but Civet seems to fidget more frequently than what Fulin considers normal. He is not worried—of course not, what a ridiculous notion!—but he cannot deny that he is getting impatient in his wait for her inevitable ramble of the night.
When he hears Civet clear her throat, he quirks an eyebrow.
"We haven't had guests in a minute," Civet muses, not without a hint of excitement. "We have to get their rooms ready—seven of them, right? If they're going to be in the suites, we may have to make some adjustments."
"Their rooms?" Fulin mirrors, utterly horrified. "Surely, they're not staying here."
"Aren't they?" Civet inquires. "I seem to recall—no less than ten minutes ago—you sending an invitation to their address, asking for them to assist you in your time of need. Should they accept—and they will, no doubt—the least we can do is house them."
The leopard does not immediately respond, and someone who does not know him might suppose that he's considering adopting his friend's perspective. Civet, however, knows otherwise.
"In a time of need," Fulin corrects, eventually.
The other only sighs.
"Of course, my apologies," replies Civet, apathetically.
The two masters opt for silence, each for their own reason, and continue to make their way down the path to their barracks. Civet turns before Fulin is expecting, and he raises a brow when she sets off on an alternative trail—the one that leads to the Orchid Suites.
"Where are you going?" he asks, despite the fact that he already knows.
"To alert the workers there that they will have guests soon," Civet says.
"Tonight?" Fulin inquires.
"Well, yes, we should assume that they'll arrive sooner than later," Civet says, "and Ling is efficient."
A confused pause ensues as Fulin blinks once.
"Who?" the leopard says, dumbly.
Civet only narrows her eyes in scrutiny, as if trying to decipher whether or not the leopard was making another pathetic attempt at telling a joke (the last had been a few years ago, at least, and it had been painful enough to warrant such an extended period). When she comes to the realization that Fulin is completely serious, she slumps and laughs incredulously.
"Ling. The—The messenger, the one who's been here since—I don't know, since forever!" Civet exclaims. She pulls her hands over her ears, pressing them against her head. "Fulin, really."
"Oh, yes, of course," Fulin says, noncommittally, "I knew that."
Civet shakes her head, exhaling forcefully through her nose as if to expel her frustrations.
"This is exactly the kind of thing Master Han was referring to, you know," Civet tells him, relatively gently. "The shows of pride, the gallivanting; you're so busy basking in the light, you don't even bother to wonder where it comes from."
"I'm fairly certain we'd call that the sun."
"You know what I mean."
Fulin's formerly humored expression reverts to a more disgruntled state as he crosses his arms.
"I quite obviously don't," he says.
"I was using a metaphor," she retorts, "not that you would know anything about those. They're likely below you."
"Not necessarily, I just don't prefer them. They complicate things that don't need to be complicated."
"They encourage thought," Civet says, "and imagination. Creativity."
"Creativity is a pointless endeavor," the leopard declares, "lest it be applied to anything other than battle strategy."
"Have you no soul?" Civet jests.
"I haven't," Fulin replies, not without a tinge of indignance, "nor do I seem to have an ounce of respect to my name, and both of which can be personally accredited to Otter and Han respectively."
"Oh, Fulin," groans Civet. The leopard only shrugs, as if to boast his certainty. "You know you'll have to temper your remarkably cynical nature when our guests arrive, don't you?"
"I will," he relents, "though I rather resent the 'remarkably cynical' description."
"You resent everything," Civet says.
Fulin does not reply, but while his expression is guarded, Civet can detect an underlying sense of sensitivity somewhere beneath the leopard's steely exterior. She is not at all prepared for (or particularly keen on conducting) an impromptu therapy session tonight, though, and opts to escape to the Orchid Suites in the silence that befalls the two masters.
Only when she reaches the zenith of the path does Fulin speak again.
"Goodnight."
She turns to face him as she says the same, but he is continuing on the trail to the barracks and disappearing under the thick canopy of an ironwood tree before she can finish the words.
Fulin is a generally brusque individual, but there had been an undeniable tinge of vulnerability in his tone that was just prominent enough for Civet to want to think it over.
She might spend a bit more time than necessary tending to the Orchid Suites tonight.
A/N:
It's always the chapters an author doesn't anticipate being hard to write that end up being the most difficult. Such was the case with Chapter 3, obviously, because it's being posted a week later than I had originally planned. Oh, well!
Fulin and Civet's interactions are such a joy to write—I hadn't originally intended to feature Civet much at all, but she proved herself to be a fun (and important) aspect of this chapter. I understand that this chapter was a bit less fun and silly than its predecessor, but never fear, for Po and the main cast will return in the next chapter.
I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this newest addition to the story. Please do not hesitate to leave a review/comment if you have any thoughts that you'd like to share.
Until next time!