A/N:
Hello, all, Chapter 5 is finally among you. Thanks to everyone for your patience, I know this one took a bit (a lot) longer than the others to release. Hopefully, it was worth the wait! 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.
A thick sea layer settles over Jiangsu like oil atop water. It lingers and spreads vast, deep, and dense in the bowl of the city. When it rises later in the evening, typically as the sun sets, it covers the Topaz Palace and its mountain in a supple shroud.
Ling gallantly soars above the vast expanse of dense forestry strewn across the mountain atop which the Topaz Palace is built. Her white feathers shimmer baby blue in the night's glow as she glides through the foggy overhang of the dusk, her gaze set on the luminous structure of the nearing pagoda.
Qiong watches the goose from his place below the trees' canopy and half-considers retrieving a spear from the weaponry bag and putting it to use—the catlike instinct to shoot the messenger. He ultimately decides against it for modesty's sake, but the thought keeps him occupied as his crew struggles to erect a secure manner of travel to traverse the river rapids.
Qiong joins his first mate at the rapids' edge, wrinkling his nose at the deafening shrieking of the river as it cascades down the mountain with frightening momentum. He eyes the riverbank—more of an accumulation of wet, eroded rock than anything else—with subtle wariness.
"We're almost across, sir!" the she-wolf screeches far louder than need be, to which Qiong winces.
The crew has assembled a series of ropes to resemble a horizontal rope ladder stretching across the width of the river. A stork is on the other side of the rapids, securing the ropes to two healthy-looking trees. Qiong may not be an expert, but he does not think his crew looks "almost across" in the slightest.
"Are we?" Qiong inquires, unimpressed. He places his hands on his hips, declaring, "A goose just flew overhead and she was going to the Topaz Palace."
"What?" the she-wolf inquires, her tone landing somewhere between anxious and confused.
"The goose's robes suggest she is only a messenger," the tiger raises his voice to speak over the howling waters, "But the masters have likely contacted others. We need to be vigilant and efficient!"
"Yes, sir!" the she-wolf says.
The tiger walks a few steps upwards, against the course of the rapids. He aligns himself with the makeshift rope bridge and clicks his tongue.
"Would someone recount exactly what was said about the rapids?" Qiong haughtily asks the crew, his voice barely rising over the snarling swirls of the river.
"You don't want to lose any spoils, sir!" the stork shouts.
"Precisely!" Qiong confirms, "And as such, we check that the rope is secured thrice before applying weight to it, yes?"
"Yes, sir!" the stork replies.
"I trust that you have done so," Qiong says, "and we are losing the light by the second—if you don't want to be arrested and taken to Chorh-Gom Prison come sunrise, I suggest you all start to put your bridge to use."
The first crew member, a boar, begins to make his way across the bridge and Qiong steps aside once more. His first mate takes her place beside him, regarding the straining, twisting ropes with an anticipatory eye.
"The crew is exhausted, sir, we've been hiking up jagged rock for days," the she-wolf says.
"You were all aware of this upon accompanying me on this excursion," Qiong rebuffs, "and I am not a god, I did not create the ground we walk upon."
"I only mean to say we are weak and crossing the rapids tonight is unwise," the she-wolf states, "and doing so at this time of year is particularly perilous. The ice at the mountain's summit is melting—the river is frigid and teeming with blocks and shards of ice."
"We need to be ready to strike the Topaz Palace as soon as possible," Qiong insists.
"Surely one night will not hurt."
"Must I remind you that we are nearly a week behind schedule?" the tiger questions, baring his teeth in aggravation.
"You mustn't, sir."
"I just did."
"Thank you, sir."
"The fires in the village haven't made things any more manageable for us," Qiong says, "between you and me, the weekly arson attacks and factory explosions are unnecessary and time-consuming—and a waste of potential hostages, I mean, really."
"It's garish," the she-wolf agrees.
"It's embarrassing," Qiong laments, "it is not the way I would do things—you know this, of course—but, I digress, it is not my choice to make."
"You can object," the she-wolf suggests.
"I would rather not," Qiong says, "I would likely perish in the process."
With an abrupt yelp, the boar slips and plummets from the rope stretched over the water and falls unceremoniously into the rapids, disappearing underneath the white, frothing coils of foam writhing on the river's surface. Qiong nods in the rope's direction and the she-wolf has the decency to look uneasy.
The vague shape of the boar's burl hurtles down the river and collides roughly with some protruding rocks before vanishing entirely. The river roars as if it were a hungry beast, its thrashing void never satisfied.
"That is why we check the ropes thrice," Qiong announces, unperturbed.
The crew members are off-put but not surprised—the boar had not been the first life so quickly snuffed and would not be the last. The stork solemnly resumes his work of securing the ropes and the next crew member begins to cross the bridge.
The she-wolf takes a step following the course of the river and Qiong seizes her shoulder. She looks at him with wary eyes as the tiger idly thumbs at the sword resting at his hip.
"What are you doing?" Qiong asks flatly, "One week behind schedule will turn into two, at which point we can just as well turn around and sail ourselves into oblivion."
"At the very least, we need to be certain that no master finds him," the she-wolf tells the tiger, "they will surely recognize our emblem on his clothing."
"This river empties into the grotto in which our ship is docked, does it not?" Qiong says, "We will reunite with him soon enough. Besides, if we continue at this pace, we could be sailing away with our takings by tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night?" the she-wolf inquires, "We would have to get ourselves and our equipment across the rapids within the next hour if we want to be on the other side before it gets too dark—the sun has already gone down and the fog is settling."
Qiong, nodding, hardly spares a glance at his gang as he orders, "Faster, please! We do not have all the time in the world, and I would like to see the palace before autumn's end."
"A crew member is dead," the she-wolf reminds him.
"To die is a fool's fate," Qiong declares, "and I am not a fool."
The Jade Palace masters' voyage to Jiangsu consists of two treks through wild mountain ranges, three sleepless nights at questionable inns on the outskirts of farming villages, seven on-the-road meals ranging from delicious to despicable, one encounter with an eccentric tchotchke merchant, and an abundance of dialogue about the Topaz Palace.
Po had only been able to retain so much from the Furious Five's incessant ramblings, but the panda managed to commit to memory the more noteworthy aspects of the knowledge shoved down his throat.
Jiangsu is a beautiful city—if one can bring themselves to overlook the recurring pirate raids—and boasts a wonderfully profitable stretch of coastline. The city is long-standing and was where an emperor's general from three dynasties ago was born and raised.
Po has learned that the Topaz Palace is inhabited by Grandmaster Chun and Masters Han, Fulin, Civet, and Otter, and such has been the case for as long as anyone can recall. Every year the Topaz Palace hosts an extravagant—so the Furious Five collectively recall, though they haven't stepped foot in Jiangsu in twenty years—Qingming Festival celebration.
One of the more personal tidbits of information had been aired mere hours before the Jade Palace masters arrived at Jiangsu; Shifu had revealed to Po in the intimate stillness of an inn's lounge that Fulin had been raised at the Topaz Palace from infancy.
"He and Tigress are like night and day in most ways," Shifu had said, "but they share unknowns to which not many others can relate."
"Good to know," Po had said, "I'll keep that in mind."
Fulin and Otter, surrounded by exasperated palace staff, are disputing over place settings in the dining room when Ling finds them. Upon being informed of the Jade Palace masters' imminent arrival, Fulin and Otter put an aggrieved pin in their discussion—Fulin will not rest until he has the final word and Otter genuinely cares about the place settings.
They manage to make it to the palace's courtyard without conflict, save for a few "accidental" shoves and stray glares that just so happened to be misguided in one another's general direction.
The leopard and otter are the last of the Topaz Palace masters to congregate in the temple's courtyard, but Han is either feeling merciful or is too preoccupied with staring down Shifu from where he stands to make a comment. Chun offers a pleasant smile, as per usual.
As Fulin passes a nervous-looking Civet, he regards her questioningly.
"Are you having second thoughts?" he asks.
"No, certainly not," she replies, "that would be absurd, seeing as I was the one to suggest that we invite them here."
"I agree," the leopard jests, "though you've always known your way around absurdity."
"You've always known your way around being unnecessarily sassy," Civet says.
"It's a talent," Fulin replies, to which Civet snorts. The leopard continues, "A quick wit is nothing to laugh at, Master Civet, I'll have you know my sharp tongue has disentangled me from many a debacle."
"I don't know, Fulin, the Dragon Warrior might be the one to challenge you," Otter muses, "I wouldn't be surprised if he's learned a thing or two from Master Tigress. Remember when—?"
"I do not," the leopard declares, interrupting the otter.
"I didn't even—!" Otter begins.
"I do not."
Otter rolls his eyes with an air of weariness and looks at Civet, who merely shrugs and purses her lips.
"He doesn't," she offers.
Fulin is not listening, instead opting to mentally catapult himself into a series of hypothetical scenarios in which he is made a fool at the hands of a particular black and white master of the Jade Palace. It's a ridiculous notion, surely, but considering everything, he supposes it could happen, and he must be prepared for any crisis with which he is faced.
After all, the Dragon Warrior is a panda, of all things—nothing is impossible.
Po thinks over what he knows of the masters of the Topaz Palace—primarily the "day and night" piece, thanks to Shifu—as he and his comrades approach the pagoda, weary from climbing a mountain's worth of dastardly stairs that closely resembled those at the Jade Palace. The panda greatly appreciates the coolness provided by the evening's chill and the sprawling canopy of trees looming over them, but stairs are stairs.
Even through his blurring vision, Po can see the steadily developing forms of five masters perched atop the uppermost step of the stairs. As the Jade Palace masters come nearer to the top, Mantis's heckling begins.
"There he is," the bug declares, "our favorite guy."
Po knows Fulin instantly. The leopard's posture is unbending, geometric, and likely perfected by kung fu gods—no, even gods are not that cool. He appears as though he belongs in an ancient martial arts scroll and Po might suspect that his skills are just as flawless if the concept of such hadn't been banished from his psyche long ago.
"He looks like a statue," Po muses even so, in reference to Fulin, "he would make a good one."
Monkey laughs at the absurd and arbitrary nature of Po's words, despite the truth that most of the things that leave the panda's mouth follow a similar pattern.
"No, no, he has a point," Crane says, "I mean, it's not like he'd be at a loss personality-wise."
"The palace mirrors would miss him, I'm sure," Monkey says.
"Okay, there has to be something nice to say about him," Po interjects, "no one's that irredeemable."
"You would be surprised," Shifu offers, "but Po is correct, Fulin does have good qualities. They're simply overshadowed by his remarkable inability to read a room."
"Yes, I'm sure there are many good things about him," Viper agrees without conviction, but when she is met with expectant gazes, she says, "They're on the tip of my tongue."
"He is a very talented and passionate warrior," Shifu recounts, "and he has never known life outside the Topaz Palace, and as such, he is fully and utterly devoted to kung fu."
"If I were to compliment Fulin, I would say that his habit of obsessive record-keeping is invaluable," Tigress relents, "but I would never say so to his face."
"He takes compliments well!" Viper exclaims. When she is met with questioning looks from her friends, she says weakly, "That's something."
"Po, do you have the gift?" Shifu inquires.
"Yep! It's right here, Master Shifu, ready to go!" the panda replies.
As if to prove his prowess as a proficient gift carrier, Po presents a sizable fruit basket with ornate weavings adorning its sides. It had previously been strapped to his back, largely out of sight and even more so out of mind if the realizing expressions of his peers were anything to go by.
"Please be polite and on your best behavior," Shifu instructs, "you are kung fu masters and adults, please act accordingly. Trust that there will be consequences if my expectations are not met and succeeded."
"It'll be fine, Shifu, c'mon," Po says, "we were invited, we have an awesome gift, and we're going to bring justice to awesomely bad pirates—right?"
"Precisely," Fulin contributes from the top of the stairs. He isn't far away at all, ten steps at most. The leopard grins complacently, saying, "You see, Master Han? The panda knows what is truly afoot and hasn't so much as reached the mountain's summit."
Master Han—just as fluffy and oddly threatening as Crane had described between bites of bad congee during the trip to the palace—scowls at Fulin's words. To the manul's right stand two masters, Otter and Civet. To his right stand Fulin and Chun.
"Imagine all that he'll know by the time he reaches us," Fulin continues, tone slightly hushed.
"Wow," Otter deadpans.
"That is enough, Fulin," Han declares.
"Fulin," Civet begins calmly, "I understand your goal in all of your interactions is to receive as much attention as possible, but if you embarrass me, we're going to have a problem."
"Yes, ma'am," he says, and while he isn't truly frightened, he knows that Civet can last for a disturbingly lengthy period without a wink of sleep; it's all the more time she can spend hunting him should he anger her.
The Jade Palace masters align themselves in a line and bow to their hosts, to which the latter follows their example. They all bow too deeply and the moment lasts too long, but no one will say so—things are uncomfortable enough without forced, shallow conversation.
When everyone rises, not a word is spoken—Po is half-certain Shifu hadn't been joking about taking on a vow of silence for the duration of the mission. No more than five seconds of painful silence tick by before Han sighs.
"Welcome to the Topaz Palace," Master Han says. He steps forward, smiling cordially at the Furious Five and Po, continuing, "You've all had a long journey, please let our staff take your bags to your suites."
They obediently hand off their belongings to an awaiting horde of geese and ducks, politely thanking them.
"I can only assume you're hungry," Han entices as the palace servants waddle away. He tells them, "Dinner is ready whenever you are."
The dining room is what one would expect of such a lavish—tacky, per a certain red panda—palace, boasting high ceilings, ornate columns, and waxed marble floors. If the Dragon Warrior opts to pull a face or two at his remarkably spotless reflection, no one comments.
The dinner itself matches its surroundings; some of the most complex dishes in Po's mental food glossary number in the tens and the amount of dumpling platters is striking. For the first time in years, he wonders if the food will taste as good as it looks; if so, he may have to renounce his chef-hood because the food looks good.
The pesky awkward silence only returns to wreak havoc once everyone is seated and has started eating, and once again, Han only sighs.
"Thank you for coming," the manul says with faux nonchalance, "all of you. We are pleased to have you here, your presence is greatly valued and appreciated."
Po clocks Shifu's eye twitching and nearly cackles at the idea of Shifu being more irritated by a manul than the big, fat panda himself—whatever happened to the "The day you were chosen as Dragon Warrior was the worst day of my life" sentiment? Is nothing sacred?
"Of course," Shifu says through grit teeth (so much for the vow of silence), "Thank you for contacting us. My students and I aim to provide you with the best possible aid in your investigation."
"Yes, well," Han says, "let us hope."
Po's eyebrows shoot up and he rights his expression just as quickly, but a mere glance in Fulin's direction tells him that the fabled master is just as observant and judgmental as the Furious Five had claimed. Po smiles but the leopard only glares, and while Fulin and Tigress may seem as different as can be, the panda is reminded that the sun and moon share a sky sometime in a day.
"It's truly wonderful to see all of you," Han says—presumably to the Furious Five, "I haven't heard the end of your exploits. Congratulations on your impressive victory at the Battle of Weeping River, by the way; it will surely go down in kung fu history. You should be very proud of yourselves."
"That happened, like, five years ago," Mantis mutters.
"Thank you, Master Han," Tigress interjects, "we plan to bring about a similar resolution to Jiangsu's current plight."
"We will discuss everything in depth tomorrow morning," Han tells her, "once you have all regained your strength. I imagine you all feel very weak."
Chun, largely unbothered by the poorly disguised uncomfortable tension present at the table, catches Po's eye and returns his reflexive smile. She looks him up and down from her seat as if trying to determine what she thinks of him.
The pangolin tilts her head, saying, "You're much younger than I had imagined."
Po laughs good-naturedly, jesting, "Yeah, I get that a lot. It's an honor to meet you, Master Chun."
"The honor is ours," Fulin declares. He nods, saying, "Dragon Warrior."
The arrogance in the leopard's expression and the sureness of his posture have been curated to intimidate, the panda is sure; however, Po shares a long history with insecurity and would know its stench anywhere.
The panda coolly smiles and nods, and the leopard's face falls.
"Well, if you insist," the panda jests, earning a few chuckles from some of the masters at the table.
"Speaking of insistence," Civet begins, raising her cup, "I insist we make a toast to the Dragon Warrior: Congratulations, Dragon Warrior, on getting married. I wish you and your beloved happiness, health, and good fortune in your marriage."
Shifu resolves to himself that he must have simply envisioned Civet looking between Po and Tigress while making the toast. He tries to ignore the small pang of panic that drums at his chest when he realizes that no one has asked where Po's fictitious wife is—perhaps they are all under the guise that she is already here.
Po blinks owlishly at the formal well-wishes regarding his less-than-real wedding. Monkey claps a hand over his mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle his laughter and Mantis nearly falls from his chair. Viper and Crane gawk and Tigress raises her eyebrows.
Fulin, socially inept as he may be, recognizes what is happening and almost opts to rescue Civet from utter humiliation. Alas, he cannot deny that the interaction unfurling before him will be enormously entertaining. Can a man be blamed for being curious?
"You really don't have to do that," Po tells Civet.
"Oh, I must," Civet counters, "it isn't every day that such prestigious warriors marry."
"It's not any day, actually," Po asserts, "because—funny thing—I'm not married." When Civet's eyes widen to a concerning degree, the panda rambles, "I mean, I'm not married at the moment. I haven't sworn it off or anything, you know, it's not like I'm against it. I mean, given the right person and circumstances, I'm sure I'd want to. I'd at least consider it, you know. I wouldn't do it today because that's a little fast, but—well, it's not like I've never thought about it. I've thought about it."
The glittering amusement formerly present in Fulin's eyes dies out of sheer pity. Viper and Crane look at one another in wonder and Chun is idly arranging the ingredients in her half-eaten noodle soup to resemble the yin-yang symbol. Tigress contemplates her decision to accompany her comrades to Jiangsu.
"Okay," Monkey drawls.
Civet nods slowly, saying, "Well, know that the sentiment stands. I'll save the speech for when you really get married—to whoever that may be."
Po only nods and pretends to find the meal on his plate simply bewitching, even though he's not nearly as hungry as he had been before.
"Dragon Warrior, Furious Five, Master Shifu," Chun says, "it truly is an honor to have you with us—and how I have missed you, Shifu, we must speak over tea."
"Of course, Master Chun," Shifu agrees with fond sincerity.
"Now, I am going to my room to meditate," the pangolin says, rising from her seat, "goodnight, everyone. I will see you all tomorrow at breakfast."
All of the masters at the table bid the pangolin goodnight as she shuffles away. A sympathetic-looking goose servant accompanies Chun out of the dining room, seemingly relieved to escape the draining essence of the dinner.
The goose spares an observational, curious glance in Po's direction before disappearing behind a corner. The panda, far from a stranger to the collection of bewildered expressions that people get upon meeting him, pays it no mind.
"I'm very sorry for the behavior of our staff, Dragon Warrior," Han says once the goose is gone, "but you must understand that none of them have ever seen a panda before."
"Oh, no worries!" Po says, "I'd never seen another panda until a few months ago! Go figure."
"A panda warrior wasn't a topic of conversation last we worked alongside the Jade Palace," Otter recounts, "I take it you were introduced to fame after receiving your title?"
"Yeah, I lived in the village before being chosen," Po tells him, "I was just a fan, then. It's crazy how much time has passed."
Fulin nods once in consideration. He has been waiting for a time to insert himself into the conversation semi-innately and is on the cusp of finding an interlude in the dialogue. Tigress discreetly watches the leopard as he continues to be oddly engaged in the conversation.
"That must have been quite the adjustment," Otter says, "living in the village compared to living in the Jade Palace must have been unfathomably different."
"Yeah, they're pretty much as distant as you can get," Po confirms, "I mean when I was chosen, I was still living with and working for my dad. He owns a noodle shop in the valley, it's a family business."
"I'm sure that divide prompted some comeuppance," Fulin says, skewering the conversation as expertly as Tigress had feared, "surely the citizens of the Valley of Peace were unaccustomed to those from such humble beginnings being elected to protect them."
Civet sits back in her chair as if to estrange herself from the discussion, regarding Fulin with an incredulous glare. He shoots her a look that communicates how pleased he is with himself.
"I don't know, maybe," Po admits, not without a hint of reservation, "I like to think it was inspiring for a lot of them."
"'Inspiring'," Fulin muses, "that's a tall order, isn't it—?"
"Dragon Warrior," Otter interjects, to which Fulin delivers what Po would confidently call the most pernicious glare he has ever witnessed. He continues, "If I may ask, is it true that you went to the Spirit Realm? We've heard no end to the rumors in Jiangsu."
"Uh, yeah, it's true," Po replies, not without a tinge of hesitancy due to Fulin's decidedly murderous aura. He elaborates, "It wasn't for very long, though, so there's not much to report—lots of floating stuff and, you know, a general lack of gravity."
"Were you alone?" Han inquires, surprising the masters seated at the table.
"No, Master Oogway was with me," Po tells him.
"Grandmaster Oogway was with you?" Han asks, "He accompanied you? In the ordinary way he might if he were in the Mortal Realm?"
Po nods and Han stares in astonished disbelief. The manul's gaze drifts to Shifu, to which the red panda merely shrugs.
"I simply can't believe you went to the Spirit Realm and returned just as you had been," Otter muses good-naturedly, "it's amazing, Po, truly. I would not have assumed you to be a spirit warrior."
The Furious Five's hushed clamoring falls silent and Shifu guardedly considers Po, whose expression is chaste puzzlement. Tigress leans forward to better observe the panda's face and Fulin catches it instantly. He is beginning to create an image of how the rumors of marriage might have originated.
"Oh, I—I'm not a spirit warrior," the panda says, to which Otter nods, bemused.
"Truly?" Otter inquires, "That's fascinating. Is it because—?"
"Aren't you?" presses Fulin, speaking to Po but glimpsing at an indignant Tigress, "You fit the criteria, unless I am mistaken."
"He isn't a spirit warrior," Shifu asserts, "which, as I'm quite aware, is very disappointing to curious minds, but it is the truth." Fulin momentarily stills at the red panda's stern statement, to which Shifu asks with mock candor, "Do you have any more questions for my student?"
"He doesn't," Han interjects, "and, Shifu, if you are satisfied with your meal, would you care for a tour of the art gallery? We recently had some new items added to the collection."
"Indeed I would," Shifu confirms, not without a hint of surprise at the invitation.
"Very well," says Han as he rises from his seat. Upon considering the decidedly skeptical faces of his students, he tells them, "I trust that you can manage without my surveillance."
"Absolutely, Master," Fulin hisses, "take your time."
Shifu meets Po's eyes as the former abandons his seat beside the panda. Po gives him a nod—it says "Don't worry about us, we're fine" in not so many words—and Shifu returns it before following Han out of the dining room.
A door closes somewhere farther away, and Po looks at Tigress from across the short space of Shifu's now vacant chair and shrugs. A quiet that borders on being uncomfortable grips those at the table with both hands, prompting less talkative masters to fiddle with their chopsticks.
"Master Han is a collector at heart," Otter says to no one in particular, "he will never say so, but he can't pass up an opportunity to add to the gallery in the Hall of Fine Arts. He's neurotic about it, too."
"Master Shifu and Master Han are two sides of the same coin," Monkey says.
"That's doubtful. Han has gone soft over the years," Fulin laments, "and conceited. He's not what he used to be."
"Fulin," Civet groans.
"Do you say such things to his face?" Tigress asks, "I can't imagine you regularly express such displeasure to work staff and guests and Master Han has heard nothing of it."
"I'm sure he's aware," the leopard snaps.
"If it's any consolation, Master Shifu has adjusted his way of doing things significantly since Po became the Dragon Warrior," Viper recounts, not without a tinge of indignance.
"Has he?" Fulin inquires, unimpressed. He glances sidelong at a disgruntled Tigress, the action pronounced and pointed, saying, "Well, at least he isn't alone."
Po stills. Tigress stifles an irritated growl and Viper's tongue flicks out in a hiss. Crane's break drops open and he hurries to snap it shut just as quickly. Mantis and Monkey look to one another for some kind of resolution, but neither seems to have an inkling of what will happen next. Civet is visibly mortified and Otter is aggrieved.
"I saw a training hall when we were on our way up the stairs," Po tells Fulin with subdued animosity, "I'd like to use it if it's alright with you. It's been a long journey and I should probably train before tomorrow. I wouldn't want to make any mistakes, hit too hard—you know."
A palace worker cleaning empty platters from the table pauses and looks at the dumbfounded expressions of the masters present. The duck retrieves as many plates as he can carry and retreats to the kitchen, but not without casting an approving nod in the panda's direction.
"I know," Fulin muses complacently. He grins, saying, "Of course, Dragon Warrior, I'll have the palace staff prepare the hall for you."
"Much obliged," Po shoots back.
"It's my pleasure," Fulin retorts.
"The pleasure is all mine."
"Fine," the leopard says.
"Fine," the panda counters.
Tigress, thoroughly unimpressed and remarkably annoyed, prepares to excuse herself from the table. She is pointedly evading eye contact with the Dragon Warrior—something of which he's vaguely aware but too bothered by Fulin to fully recognize—when the leopard speaks again.
"Okay," Fulin says—as if it elevates him somehow.
Tigress closes her eyes in a feeble attempt to quell her headache and Civet sighs. Everyone opts to focus on their dinners—dialogue is too dangerous, now—and dines in bleak silence, the hush interspersed only with the sound of utensils and shuffling.
Monkey abruptly stops eating and asks in unadulterated bewilderment, "Wait, the Battle of Weeping River was five years ago?"
The Topaz Palace's training hall is, much to the Dragon Warrior's chagrin, twice the size of his own and almost more awesome. It bears furnishings, devices, and weapons that Po could only dream of installing at the Jade Palace, and what must be twenty-ish auxiliary bells and whistles reduce Po to a vigorous fanboy—not unlike how he was upon entering the Jade Palace for the first time.
After the kung fu fanatic sowed inside him is pleased and his overzealous training is complete, Po takes to traipsing around Topaz Palace grounds. He quickly finds himself back in the dining room and develops a powerful urge to wash dishes after he sees a mountain of dirty ones stacked in the kitchen like an offensive game of Jenga.
There isn't a staff member in sight—and surely if there was, they wouldn't have an issue with him helping out—and Po takes it as an opportunity to endear himself to the flighty geese and ducks.
He's washing a peculiarly large bowl when he hears the creaking hinges of one of the kitchen doors. He turns around, adopting a defensive stance and wielding a cloth as his weapon, but is only met with the gentle presence of Master Chun.
"Goodness," she muses, "and to think I thought myself a night owl."
Po smiles and rights himself, feeling a bit silly for being so jumpy; though with Fulin having free will and the ability to go wherever he pleases, one can never be too mindful.
"Is everything okay?" Po inquires, abandoning the few dirty dishes to drip in the sink.
"Yes, quite," Chun replies, "I am a light sleeper. The littlest of noises startle me."
"I hope I didn't wake you," the panda says, "I have a bad habit of doing chores at weird times—Shifu always tells me to work on that. I'm sorry."
"Chores?" Chun inquires as if the mere notion were blasphemous, clutching her robes, "I should hope no one has given you any chores, my dear, you are a guest."
"Oh, no, I just saw how many there were and—not that your staff isn't great, I'm sure they were going to get to it soon," Po stammers, "I'm just used to taking care of dishes since I cook at the Jade Palace. It's a routine."
"I see," the pangolin muses, "well, brewing a pot of tea when I am unable to sleep is a part of my routine. Would you like some?"
Po smiles, nodding, and says, "Yes, please."
Tigress, contrary to what some may assume, does not believe asking for help to be a strong suit of hers. Even so, she finds it within herself to swallow her pride and request access to all investigation material gathered thus far.
She reminds herself that her mission and objective come before personal grievances no matter how extraordinarily vexing Fulin is as he leads her to the study—a room with a circular doorway, a desk swarmed with scrolls, a map of Eastern China, and a large open space facing Jiangsu.
Upon entering the room and being presented with the appropriate records, she wordlessly begins to examine the maps and documents.
Despite not being asked to attend her analysis session, Fulin takes it upon himself to stand in the doorway of the room as if he's some kind of chaperone. He does so for longer than what would be considered typical, seemingly contemplating something he deems important. Tigress occasionally glances at him from where she sits at the study's desk but pays him little mind.
"You were eager to leave the table," the leopard eventually muses, "I hope the food was to your liking."
"It was very good, thank you," Tigress says.
"Yes, well," Fulin says, "only the best for such esteemed guests."
Tigress wants to retort something brazen and sore but manages to hold her tongue. She concentrates instead on one of the maps laid out on the desk, searching for a pattern in the dark markings strewn across its etchings of Jiangsu.
"Is this a charting of the raids thus far?" Tigress inquires, inspecting the map.
"You're close enough," Fulin says, "that map is a diagram of the gunpowder attacks specifically—we have a written listing of all of the raids in chronological order if that's of any value to you."
"Yes, actually, that would be very helpful," the tiger replies. She inquires, "How likely is it that you would have a record of the addresses and times of the attacks?"
"Very," Fulin tells her, retrieving a black-rimmed scroll from a nearby shelf, "but you knew that."
"I did," Tigress confirms.
The leopard nods and hands the scroll to the tiger, eyeing her as she unfurls the paper and analyzes its contents. Her eyes dart across the assorted markings made on the scroll, assembling a map that only she can see.
"They're trying to evade you," Tigress muses, though Fulin had known this, "seemingly avoiding confrontation when it's possible."
"Well, they're free to enter through the front door," Fulin suggests, "it's there for a reason."
"They don't seem the type," Tigress counters, "hardly any master worth mentioning is."
Fulin side-eyes the tiger at the latter's claim, internally compiling a list of instances—all of which have taken place twenty years ago, but that's neither here nor there—in which Tigress had been very forthright in her approach to contending villains. He decides on an alternative path.
"I'm sure your other half would disagree," the leopard drawls, "he seems to have a penchant for dramatics. He tried to fight me, you know—you were there."
"I do not want to have this conversation," Tigress declares.
"I do," Fulin retorts. He considers her and adds, "You've changed."
"I agree," Tigress tells him, "and it's for the better."
"Is it?" the leopard inquires, "The things I said at dinner were tame—albeit distasteful, but that's nothing—and yet you're offended. Years ago, I wouldn't have upset you in the slightest."
"You lack the courage to say anything to my face," Tigress tells him, "and this I expected—but by entertaining the impulsivities of an inexperienced ally, you have only made a fool of yourself."
"We were having fun," Fulin says, "it's all in good spirit."
"I can recognize 'good spirit'," Tigress says, "but you were trying to embarrass Po and me, and I do not appreciate it."
"I was not," Fulin pouts.
"You were," Tigress counters.
"You would know if I were trying to embarrass you," the leopard rebuffs.
"Enlighten me," the tiger presses.
Fulin rolls his eyes at the prompt but, perhaps against his better judgment, doesn't reject it. He tongues his teeth and purses his lips, making a show of entertaining the thought.
Tigress glares and readies for the onslaught of comments regarding her far-from-perfect youth, shaky, tearing-at-the-seams relationship with Shifu, pitiful lack of knowledge concerning her roots, etc., but it does not come.
"If I were trying to embarrass you," Fulin begins, "I would have said that while the Dragon Warrior may have earned his place among you, it does not change the fact that the power he holds today is the result of stupid luck, glorified prophecies, cosmic favoritism, and quick, easy solutions handed to him when the universe gets impatient.
As for you, well," Fulin considers Tigress, looking her up and down in such a way that would make anyone feel small, "maybe that's just your speed."
He's in her face by now, but by some miracle of the universe, Tigress does not end Fulin on the spot (and the universe knows she could do so with her eyes shut and hands bound).
She must be imagining things as his face takes on a look of something akin to regret, and she must be imagining things as he remembers himself—looking at his feet like some scared little boy—and takes a step back.
Tigress wants to hit him. Instead, she stands from her seat, balls her fists, and walks out of the room without another word.
"Thank you for helping with the dishes, Po," Chun says for the umpteenth time, "you really must be so tired after your long journey—oh, the water is so cold and the cliffs are so steep!"
The pangolin pours the panda a cup of freshly brewed, steaming green tea and passes it to him over the width of the dining room table with a trembling yet sure claw. Po graciously accepts and smiles, to which Chun giggles and sips her tea.
"It's my pleasure, really," Po says, "my dad owns a noodle restaurant, so doing kitchen stuff kind of reminds me of home."
"That is very sweet," Chun cooes, "my mother would make noodles for me when I was a pangopup, rest her soul." Po smiles at the image and she asks, "Has everyone been treating you kindly?"
"Oh, yeah," Po assures as he pours the pangolin another cup of tea. She doesn't need to hear about his and Fulin's little dinnertime dispute—what she doesn't know won't hurt her. He adds, "Master Han has been really accommodating."
"That is wonderful to hear," Chun muses, "I trust his students have followed his example."
"Yeah, they've been awesome," the panda responds, and it isn't a lie, per se.
Po opens his mouth to piece together a half-true narrative in an attempt to steer the conversation down another path, but a peek at the wise pangolin tells him his efforts are in vain. Chun smiles in the knowing way Oogway once had—the way that tells Po she was not born yesterday—and the panda can only laugh.
"Has Master Fulin given you grief?" Chun inquires.
"Nah, he's fine," Po says despite himself, "he says what he's thinking, is all. He's honest."
"Honesty can be cruel," Chun says.
"I don't hold it against him," Po tells her, yet another borderline-untruth that isn't quite a lie, "and no one's more honest than Shifu, so I'm used to it."
He doesn't jump to disclose that his frustration with Fulin had more so been a product of the leopard's indirect rudeness toward Tigress than anything else, but it's neither here nor there in the panda's opinion.
"I trust Master Shifu is as headstrong as he was last I saw him," Chun says, "there was a time when only Han could sway him from a set path—they were close."
The panda purses his lips and nods at the confirmation of Shifu's dishonesty, though upon rethinking the red panda's cryptic wording—"Did you know him personally?" answered with "Not at all" —Po can admit that there may have been some warning signs. Perhaps Shifu isn't as honest as Po would like to believe.
"That makes sense," Po says, "Shifu wouldn't say so, but I guess it was a bit obvious."
"It would be," Chun tells him. Po doesn't ask what she means.
The panda recounts his time at the Jade Palace and realizes that Shifu has never referred to another individual as a friend; he has introduced Po to colleagues, associates, acquaintances, and allies, but never a friend. It's an upsetting thought in more ways than one.
"Did he ever marry?" Chun inquires.
Po giggles at the thought, to which the pangolin tilts her head in confusion.
The panda sobers, saying, "No, he didn't. He seems happy, though. I don't think he's built for that kind of thing."
"Marriage is not for the faint of heart," says Chun, "but I am surprised. He always liked to think himself unsympathetic, but his loving, trusting spirit was apparent—especially when it pertained to children."
"I think you're right," Po concedes, "I mean, he adopted both Tai Lung and Tigress for no reason other than to give them a home. That isn't something someone heartless would do."
"No, it isn't," Chun agrees with a wistful smile. She considers the tea bubbling in her cup and says, "No one at the Jade Palace is heartless."
Her face falls thoughtful in rumination and she watches Po pour himself another cup of tea.
She says, "Forgive my candor, but has Master Tigress found out anything regarding her past? It was a topic of mystery last I spoke with her, the poor thing."
Po fumbles with the pot of tea and spills a spoon's worth of steaming drink across the otherwise arid table. It was a startling question, to be fair.
"No. No, she hasn't," the panda manages to say.
"I am sorry to hear that," the pangolin utters.
Po only nods as he busies himself with dabbing tea from the table, determined to ignore the sensation of his core shattering at the mere implication that Tigress may feel lost.
"The unknown is hardest on the soul," Chun says.
"I know," Po tells her as something inside him breaks, "I know."
"She and Fulin have more in common than one would assume," Chun whispers, "but you did not hear that from me. A little birdie, perhaps."
Why little birdies are always the harbingers of such kinds of information, Po may never know.
"A little birdie," Po repeats, "got it."
A/N:
Because I'm incapable of efficient time management, KFP4 came out before I finished this fic (way before seeing as I'm planning 10+ chapters). I guess that might render this story canon-divergent because it takes place a few months after KFP3. Oh, well.
Pangopup! That is (no exaggeration) the absolute cutest word for a baby animal to ever exist and I'm not taking criticism; however, I'm open to all sorts of criticism on the chapter itself—go crazy, guys! Feel free to leave a comment/review about your thoughts if you have any you want to share.
Thanks again for your patience, everyone, I know this addition took much longer than the others to release. This story is going through some major changes at the moment and I had to tweak a lot of details (and I had to stop procrastinating and write). Hopefully, Chapter 6 will be out within the next month or so.
Until next time!