A/N: (Cross-posted on AO3)
By request, I've written a story featuring Po, Tigress, Mei Mei, and the wacky misadventures that ensue when Po takes up ribbon dancing—because, of course, he would.
Thank you for the request, Bernie1273blue. You supplied me with a wholesome concept and inspired one of my fluffiest stories yet! I hope you enjoy the little changes I made to the prompt, as I am very fond of them.
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.
Perhaps it's simply something that occurs with age, but Po has noticed that the holiday season seems to come and go with increasing speed and rushedness as the years pass by. The air leaves him with a greater chill, the wind bites harder, and the late nights almost leave him with more regret the following day than joy in the evenings.
Regardless of the holiday's downsides, Po knows that the village's celebrations will always hold a warm, special place in his heart. The smell of ground jasmine, steamed bao buns, and delectable noodle soup will always lead him home for the holidays, and he will not resist the urge to let the night trickle away when the folk dances begin.
Per Po's request, all of the pandas are invited to indulge in the Valley of Peace's annual holiday celebrations in the season following Kai's defeat. Li is quick to accept the invitation and the other pandas follow his lead, most eager to travel outside the confines of the secret village. The village's resident ribbon dancing extraordinaire, Mei Mei, was especially enthusiastic when approached with the idea of spending the holiday season in the Valley of Peace.
He has long since the defeat of Kai stopped avoiding her like the plague, and Po dares say he thinks of Mei Mei as a friend—though he still opts to keep his guard up when the two of them are in the same vicinity. She is incredibly stealthy for a panda and has more confidence and less self-preservation than Po could ever begin to fathom, which the latter supposes is precisely what makes the former so intimidating—such drastic differences tend to be jarring.
There are folk dances held tonight in preparation for next week's holiday, and Mei Mei steals the attention of the crowd within seconds. Her ribbons are hypnotizingly graceful and poignant against the night's backdrop, and her white fur gleams in the orange lantern light of the village square. Hom-Lee watches from the sidelines, looking positively enchanted.
Po is content busying himself with surveying the valley's vast array of holiday foods, admiring the fragrant dishes, and sporadically snatching a pastry from one of the many willing vendors lining the main street. Needless to say, he's preoccupied and doesn't notice that Mei Mei is approaching him until she's next to him.
"Hello, Po," Mei Mei greets, undoubtedly aware that she has him more or less cornered. He jumps, knocking something from the nearest stand's ledge in the act, and gives a little wave. She giggles, saying, "I take it you enjoyed the performance."
"Yeah, it was awesome!" Po agrees, "Ooh—if you're looking to add a kung fu element to your routine, you should use nunchucks next time!"
Mei Mei purses her lips in contemplation and regards the ribbons folded neatly in her hands. She supposes he has a point—the inherent juxtaposition of the delicate ribbons and the nunchucks would render intriguing grounds for discussion post-performance (not to mention how exquisitely Mei Mei now knows she pulls off the "nunchuck chick" persona).
"I'll consider it," she says coolly. She pauses to scan the village square in all of its festive glory and smiles. "Your village is a wonderful audience, you know."
"Yeah? I'm glad," he says, semi-distracted righting the decoration he'd bumped into upon Mei Mei's entrance. "Everyone has been really excited—no one in the valley has ever seen a dancing panda before."
"Aw, really?" cooes Mei Mei, "well, I'm honored to have been the first."
"Better you than me, that's for sure" Po jests.
"Is it?" Mei Mei inquires.
"I think so," he replies, to which she only hums in consideration. When the unimpressed look she gives him lingers, he asks, "What?"
"I think you should try again," she suggests, "all pandas dance." Po merely shrugs, and Mei Mei promptly concludes that he needs her guidance. "Don't fret, Po, I understand," she drawls. She pinches the silk of her ribbon between deft fingers, picking fabric pills from the ribbon. With a smirk, she coyly adds, "You're scared."
"Scared? What would I be scared of?" Po inquires.
"Well, last time you attempted to handle a ribbon, you managed to get yourself tangled into a knot within seconds," Mei Mei recounts, "I seem to recall a wok being thrown into the mix as well."
"The wok was intentional, actually," Po retorts, "it's part of my artistic expression."
"My apologies," Mei Mei says, "I suppose I just assumed you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself so dreadfully again. To each their own."
"I could be persuaded to try again," Po shoots back, "unless you have doubts. I'm a fast learner, and I wouldn't want to steal your thunder."
"Please, as if anyone could show me up," she boasts good-naturedly, "I'm just looking out for you—it's what good friends do, after all—but I won't stop you if you've made up your mind."
It seems that Mei Mei has rather expertly identified one of Po's most fatal flaws: his constant strive for victory.
"It is," Po confirms, "and I have. When do we begin?"
Friendship is a far more intimate ordeal than many desire to admit, and after years of it, the individuals will oftentimes know one another more deeply than anyone else. The holiday season tends to bring this phenomenon to the glaring surface in more ways than one.
Po and Tigress have been friends—comrades, colleagues, and within the last year, some unspoken alternative that neither dares to verbalize—for what will soon be six years. As such, Tigress is privy to the fact that Po enjoys wandering.
He likes to roam, to meander about with no set destination in mind. He has always been more for the journey than anything else, Tigress supposes, but even so, she doesn't see him sauntering around any of the various vendor-lined streets.
When she consults Mr. Ping and Li Shan (the two have seemingly merged into a singular parental unit, which is perhaps for the best), they giggle and point her in the direction of the noodle shop.
"He's in the back alley," she hears Mr. Ping call out as she departs, "watch your step when you walk in!"
The goose's warning initially confuses her, but when she turns to inquire about it, he has already been swallowed by the holiday crowds. Tigress off-handedly wonders if Shifu had shared a tidbit of his dramatic entrances and exits with the gander.
Mr. Ping had been correct, as per usual—when Tigress rounds the corner to the back of the noodle shop, she is met with a clutter-riddled alley, an exasperated Mei Mei, and a flustered, ribbon-wrapped Po. The scene is certainly one to behold and Tigress is almost sad that Mantis and Monkey are unable to bear witness.
Po and Mei Mei's eyes snap to the perplexed tiger.
"Hello, Tigress," says Mei Mei, brightly.
"Hello," Tigress replies slowly. Her brow furrows and she watches Po as he rights himself. "You've taken up a new hobby, I see," she observes wryly.
"I guess you could say that," Po admits upon righting himself, "I think I'm getting better!"
He twists a green ribbon in such a way that almost resembles a successful twirl, but promptly winds the fabric around his leg and stumbles into an empty washbasin. He tries to regain his footing but fails miserably—Tigress just manages to suppress a grin—and only tangles himself further.
Mei Mei covers her mouth in an ineffective attempt to conceal her giggles.
"Here, you try," Po all but groans. He unceremoniously hands the ribbons off to Tigress before seating himself between two crates of vegetables and leaning against the stone wall that conveniently lies behind him. After a few deep breaths, he adds, "I need a minute."
"Tigress, would you like to try?" Mei Mei asks, "Something tells me you'll be a bit more rhythmically inclined."
Tigress lets out an amused huff, saying, "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'll have to decline."
"Oh, don't tell me it's because you think you wouldn't do well," Mei Mei reproaches.
"Dancing has never been a particularly strong suit of mine," the tiger admits.
"I think it could be," Mei Mei encourages, "I think you need a little guidance, that's all."
"You should go for it," Po says from his spot on the ground, "your style of kung fu is based on smooth, calculated, and acrobatic movements, right? I think it would compliment ribbon dancing pretty well."
"I think so, too," Mei Mei agrees, "and if you used my darker ribbons, they would look positively enthralling with your stripes!"
"Plus," Po adds, nodding, "if you learned, then we could do it together! Oh, and we could come up with cool moves, too, like the Double Death Strike!"
Pandas have a surprisingly effective persuasive quality, as Tigress has recently discovered, and it seems that Mei Mei and Po are well aware of this and have decided to use it to their advantage. The tiger will admit to herself—never to anyone else, of course—that she is almost convinced.
"Perhaps another time," Tigress declares.
Mei Mei gives a dramatic sigh and gazes disappointedly at her ribbons.
"If you insist," she says woefully, "deny the world another artist."
Po scoffs at Mei Mei's theatrical antics and demonstrates a simple twirling motion as if to prove his artistic prowess, to which the latter rolls her eyes.
"I'll leave you to it," Tigress tells them, "you clearly have a lot of progress to make."
Po and Tigress share a look—a throng of intent, one that is both sarcastic and sincere, that promises to spend time together later, that wishes the other luck, that recognizes the humor of the situation—and Tigress bids them farewell.
Perhaps Shifu will not be busy.
A game of checkers with Shifu is never only a game of checkers, and Tigress knows this all too well. Even as a jovial tune serves as background music for their game, she finds the inherent contradiction humorous. Shifu looks at her from across the two-top table at which he sits, gesturing to the checkered panel in front of him.
"When you commit to a game, you accept that you will persist until the end," Shifu instructs, donning a tone that is usually—that was once—reserved for teaching. "That is what I taught you."
"Yes, Master," Tigress replies.
"Do you wish to play?" Shifu inquires, the challenging tilt to his voice softened by a tinge of playfulness.
"I do," Tigress says.
"Very well, then," says Shifu, and he motions for Tigress to occupy the seat across from him.
She obliges and settles into the chair's wooden frame. Shifu regards her thoughtfully as he prepares the board, and with all checkers in place, makes the first move.
"How are you enjoying the company of the pandas?" he inquires.
"They are all very kind and hospitable," Tigress replies, "if not a bit overzealous."
"They're enthusiastic," Shifu concurs.
"Perhaps it's a shared trait among them," Tigress suggests, "Po may not be as uniquely excitable as we had assumed."
"Where is Po?" Shifu idly inquires as he pushes a checker, "I have not seen him in a long while. I assumed he would be accompanying you, though it appears I was incorrect."
"He and Mei Mei are ribbon dancing," Tigress explains, to which Shifu raises a brow, "I am not sure why."
"I see," the red panda muses, "Po has always been very open-minded."
"It's a strength," Tigress tells him—the click of a checker being placed fills her momentary silence—, "by all means."
"I agree," says Shifu, "and it's a good quality, one which I see you deem noteworthy."
"I suppose," Tigress concedes, choosing to overlook Shifu's questionable choice of phrasing.
"Is there a reason the two of you are separated?" Shifu asks, "It's rather unusual, it seems you're hardly without one another as of late."
"I disagree," the tiger replies serenely.
"You would," the red panda tells her, "and I understand. Please do not feel the need to explain it to me, not if it's not what you would prefer."
"I would prefer that you tell me what it is you understand," Tigress retorts.
"I only mean to say that I would not admonish you," Shifu says, "should you harbor certain sentiments."
Ah, there it is—the true motive.
"May we change the subject?" Tigress inquires, her alacritous tongue a sword unsheathing.
"I would like to continue discussing the Dragon Warrior, actually," Shifu counters, "and our game has not yet concluded."
As if to solidify his perspective, the red panda pointedly—theatrically—moves a checker and sets it down in a new square. He tilts his head challengingly.
"Our game has not yet concluded," Shifu repeats, much to Tigress's chagrin, "please, it's your turn."
Tigress moves a checker, though not without delivering a silver-steel glare that could chill the most seasoned of icemen in Northern China to the bone. She is acting like a child, and the thought only frustrates her further—especially when Shifu candidly smiles as if nothing is amiss.
"I can imagine what you see in him," Shifu says, "of course, I don't understand him, but I doubt that many ever will."
"Master," Tigress tries and fails to interject.
"He has many admirable qualities, as we've established," the red panda continues, "and his priorities somewhat align with what I know of yours, so I suppose, considering everything, I have little reason to disapprove."
Tigress only stares in response to Shifu's rather direct presumptions, and half-wonders if he has ever heard of insinuation and if he would consider applying it in the future.
"I would have appreciated it if you had been more forthcoming," Shifu continues still, "but I can also see how some trepidation might have taken root."
Her mind feels numb, sanded down to the ever-smooth bone. The ability to formulate any sort of comprehensive response would be a godsend, but alas, she is not so lucky.
"That all is to say," the red panda finishes, "I am happy for you. Congratulations."
A hint of cognition reappears, and she holds fast to its saving grace.
"Master, I appreciate your candor, but you must understand that you are mistaken," Tigress says, "greatly, greatly, mistaken."
Shifu only forces a smile and nods. He mourns for her the time she—and Po, he supposes—will spend in this limbo, this intricate realm between realms of friendship and whatever lies just beyond its strict lines. He knows almost nothing of it, but he's heard it's a nuisance.
"Of course," he eventually says, "my apologies."
Somewhere nearby, Mei Mei claps as Po completes his first ribbon dancing rehearsal at her hands. She is proud of his progress, and while he will never be quite as talented as she, Mei Mei is happy to dub him her student.
His form needs work, of course, but he will improve with time. With the best ribbon dancer in the world as his instructor, he'll be leaps and bounds ahead of the rest within weeks—Mei Mei can already envision the crowds.
"Well, Po, I don't know about you," she says, "but I think you're ready for your debut."
Upon growing bored of checkers (and Shifu's ulterior motives being more or less settled), Tigress and Shifu migrate to the outskirts of the semi-designated folk dancing area. Mei Mei appears to the masses for the umpteenth time of the night, much to the crowd's delight, and she is more than pleased to regale them with another performance.
As Mei Mei dances, Shifu turns to Tigress.
"A significant portion of a warrior's strength lies within their ability to be versatile and adaptive," Shifu chides, "perhaps the foreign nature of ribbon dancing would be beneficial for you."
"Perhaps," Tigress says dismissively.
"Mei Mei took to kung fu rather quickly, so I hear," the older master offers, "I believe the two arts are more similar than not."
Shifu lets his words marinate in Tigress's thoughtful silence as Mei Mei's show continues before them, and he does not miss the flicker of consideration in Tigress's expression as other dancers begin to join Mei Mei in the open space she inhabits.
"You have never settled well with failure," Shifu laments, not without a tinge of guilt-ridden irony, "though we both know all too well who is to blame for that."
Tigress agrees, and yet there isn't an ounce of malice in it, despite the unfairness of her upbringing. For as much as one would think she would be resentful, no anger can be found. If anything, there's the buried grief of a lost childhood.
Their relationship is more than complicated, and she knows that anger would be justified, yet it is not something she harbors. She has witnessed firsthand the pain of bearing the burdens of bad things.
A high-pitched giggle full of life pierces the air, and Tigress smiles at the sight with which she is met; she watches an ecstatic Lei Lei twirling through the folk dancers, her holiday clothes flowing merrily around her short legs.
Tigress looks around the village square from where she stands and thinks it is the closest possible thing to perfect—and she could not be more right.
"You've been happy," Shifu muses, "and not in the sense of being void of negative emotion, or of being satisfied. You're content. Will you do me a favor?"
"Of course," the tiger replies.
"Allow yourself to feel it," the red panda says, "to embrace it, to live within it—to be it. The pursuit of peace is a worthy one."
As the words leave Shifu's mouth, another panda joins Mei Mei in her ribbon dance, and Shifu does not bother to contain his amusement. The smile that spreads across his face is not with meanness, but rather genuine delight and interest (and perhaps a hint of puzzlement).
Other partygoers giggle and cheer at the sight of the Dragon Warrior joining Mei Mei in an entertaining—to put it diplomatically—performance. Po is ostensibly an amateur, and Mei Mei is far ahead of him in every sense of the phrase, but for some inexplicable reason, no one seems to mind.
Tigress sees Po, a shimmering beacon of newfound experience and (in a sense) artistic liberty, and observes him as he dances. He is slowly becoming accustomed to the way of the ribbons, and while he's not necessarily "good" at it in the traditional sense, Tigress cannot help but watch.
Perhaps she will not find what she is looking for today, but her pursuit starts now—and it is more than worthy—and if she decides to join her friend in the village square sometime in the night, what she seeks will surely not be far away.
A/N:
My first story since the trailer! Granted roughly half of it was written beforehand, but it feels like a checkpoint. Speaking of words with "check" in them, I'm almost certain that checkers did not exist in ancient China, but I was too busy watching ribbon dancing videos to look further into it—if you haven't gone on a ribbon dancing video binge, do so!
A prominent flaw I have as a writer is that I tend to stray from prompts when faced with them. I'm always happy to take requests, and I've always followed through on writing them (albeit some are incredibly delayed), but I can never seem to stick completely to one idea. For some reason, I always have to add something else. In this fic's case, it was the woes of our favorite dysfunctional family.
A big thanks to Bernie1273blue for both the request and for being so patient. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!
I'll see you all in 2024! Happy Holidays and until next time!