Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tai Lung had been semi-locked in the basement of the Jade Dragon for exactly one week and had to admit, it was much better than Chorh-Gom. For instance, he wasn’t chained with ornamental shackles restricting his every movement, or, any movement at all. He didn’t have monitored bathroom visits, or, as they called them there, bathroom opportunities. There were no enormous crossbows and arrows trained on his person at all times. Sure, he had never once been frightened of the ridiculous measures his captives had ended up taking in their fear of him, more than once it humored him in the darker moments of those twenty years in chains, but still, there was a certain stress factor to it all. Best of all, there were no egocentric prison guards to come and taunt him every hour, daring him to open his yellow eyes, or unleash a frightening growl (which would surely result in more lost privileges, if there were any, to begin with). 

In fact, in exactly a week since his... imprisonment? Tai Lung wasn't exactly sure how to refer to his time spent in the basement of the Jade Palace. The basement being his old room, in fact, but it seemed easier to refer to it as simply “the basement”. No one had expressly told him he couldn’t leave, or that he was, in fact, a prisoner. Though he had gathered the implication that the people of the Valley of Peace were not particularly happy with him, nor, the rest of China as it was. There was also the factor that everyone except for those residing at the Jade Palace, and for some reason, The Panda’s - The Dragon Warrior’s - Po’s - father (he had heard the warriors discussing the situation in the kitchen, which was directly above the left corner of his room - the basement) was under the impression that Tai Lung had been destroyed when The Panda used the wushi finger hold on him. 

Tai Lung had been sure of his own imminent demise himself, absorbing the tremendous shock wave of the most awesome display of raw power he had ever seen, perhaps even more power than master Oogway, though, Tai Lung was sure the old croon wouldn't know power if it broke his walking stick in half. Tai Lung had done that, trying to choke the life out of... him. Well. It was only when Tai Lung opened his eyes later, much later , being carried on some kind of gurney (his eyes being the only muscle he could move in his whole body) he saw the Panda smiling serenely at him, like everything had gone exactly according to plan. The sight made him angry, furious even, no Secret of the Dragon Warrior, no power, no glory, not even the wushi finger hold unleashed the destruction he thought it was capable of. But in that moment, when the Panda... the Dragon Warrior held him, Tai Lung knew that he would finally have to pay for what he had done. He had enough respect in him, at least, to know that the Panda had beaten him. He was shocked, yes, and very much so didn’t want to believe it, but what choice did he have?

As much as it horrified him, terrified him - actually - he hadn’t felt tears well up in his eyes for at least twenty years, maybe more, he had been far too angry well before his imprisonment, he realized they were tears of gratitude – some kind of gratitude. Despite everything, Tai Lung realized when the Panda held his finger, he was afraid to die. He was afraid of what would be waiting for him, of what he had done – as it ended up all for nothing. He remembered the disgust of when he opened the scroll and found himself staring back. Tai Lung had barley seen glimpses of himself at all in twenty years, and his mind was a little singular upon his escape. He didn’t like what he saw. And the Panda, gods damn him, seemed to understand Tai Lung’s rapidly blinking eyes that for some foreign reason remained glued to those big brown ones on the Panda’s round face. The Panda nodded in a way that was half wise but mostly goofy as he tried a silly smile as well, and Tai Lung immediately fell into a deep, yet strangely comforting unconsciousness. 

That was a standard week ago, and Tai Lung had not seen a single person since. In fact, he thinks the Panda was the last person he saw at all. He didn’t seem to remember the - the Furious Five (what a ridiculous name he had picked out for his new little team that couldn’t even take Tai Lung five to one) being present after his battle with the Panda, but anything could’ve happened during his unconsciousness. He wondered how long he had been asleep, if the five had plotted to kill him at his most vulnerable, since they could do it no other way. He wondered if - if - he had maybe wanted to – no. Tai Lung had a feeling the Panda was firm in the decision that Tai Lung would be staying in the Jade Palace alive for however long they needed to decide what to do with him. 

The five and, him, all seemed to be strangely wrapped around the Panda’s little finger. He deduced this from what he could hear when they all, strangely, gathered in the little kitchen for dinner every night without fail. Not that he sat and listened to them laugh and talk and eat and share stories, or maybe, just sat in silence, just with each other, night after night in the little corner of his room – the basement . No, not at all. It was just warmer in that corner at night, given that it was under the stoves, and he had done his time being cold for twenty years in that dreaded prison and was quite finished with it. 

Tai Lung was somewhat dismayed in his realization around the fourth day of his... imprisonment? That the five and, you know, and the Panda were something of... a family. The way they spent time together, happily, the way they invited the Panda’s goose father (Tai Lung was still trying to work that one out in his head) to visit them freely. The Jade Palace seemed to be a home and a place of learning rather than a coveted untouchable fortress. It reminded him of what the Palace was like before he and, well, you know, started to grow apart. Tai Lung had felt strangely humbled after his battle with the Panda. He had wanted a decent foe for years having surpassed his maste –  him –  practically before he had matured. And he got one. And he lost. The Dragon scroll was just a mirror image, there’s no secret ingredient, the Panda had whispered to him. Which didn’t make a terrible amount of sense at the time but strangely enough had comforted Tai Lung this confusing and lonely week in his old roo –  the base  – well, it was his old room. And it was his room again, now, it seemed. Fitting to call a thing what it was. Tai Lung didn’t like beating around the bush, never had. His old master seemed to live inside the bush for all he was concerned, years of false promises and empty praise, using Tai Lung to ascend to his own mastership. He had never cared, not really, and he had never been satisfied. 

Tai Lung, however, did long for a task. He had never been good at sitting around with nothing to do, thinking. In prison he had a pretty clear task, don’t escape , and that had been enough to occupy his mind with plans and schemes and betrayals and whatnot for the better part of twenty years. But now, his mind was empty, his room was empty, he didn’t even have his anger to occupy him. And that was part of the rub, why wasn’t he angrier ? The fat flabby Panda had beaten him, beat him , and the Panda honestly hadn’t seemed to try terribly hard. There was no Dragon Scroll and there was no secret ingredient. Tai Lung wanted to be angry, he wanted to rage and rage and destroy and mark fear into the hearts of anyone who crossed his path, but he wasn’t, and he couldn’t. He mostly felt empty, lost, defeated, and with a deeply uncomfortable twinge in his stomach he realized... lonely . 

He heard the warriors, the family – more like, begin to shuffle into the kitchen above and decided to settle into his usual left corner and mopily listen to the warriors share stories and laugh and dig into the Panda’s admittedly good cooking. Tai Lung wasn’t sure who had been bringing his meals specifically, but every night without fail there was a knock on his door and by the time he opened it there would be noodles or dumplings or some other shockingly good dinner. He had never been much of a chef and therefore didn’t pass on any such talents to Tai Lung, which gathering the course of his life wasn’t really like he had needed such a skill, but cooking had always interested him in a superficial way, just something else to be the best at. There was a time when he was overjoyed to eat terrible food with the person he love- he - well, but that was then. Tai Lung noted that there seemed to be an absence of excitable footfalls that shook his ceiling in a way that made him the slightest bit anxious and rambunctious laughter filling the kitchen, and the warriors above seemed to notice as well. 

“Where is he?” A soft voice asked Tai Lung seemed to remember it as... Monkey? He spared a thought that his ma- his old master’s new proteges seemed to have distinctly simple and rather aptly describing names but was shaken out of it when a heavy knock fell at the door to his room. He stared in shock at the outline of none other than the Panda standing anxiously before his door, which Tai Lung only knew as the silhouette seemed to be vibrating, and reached for the door handle once, twice, three times before setting something down and walking away. Tai Lung began towards the door and froze as the shape of the Panda reapproached, apparently thinking better of whatever decision he had previously made. Tai Lung watched the Panda still, obviously seeing the leopard’s silhouette through the thin frame of the shoji the same as Tai Lung was seeing his. The Panda then stooped down and slid a piece of paper under the door. It fluttered through the small opening and stopped at Tai Lung’s foot, though he remained still – on guard – in case the Panda tried anything. 

The Panda giggled a nervous sound, completely audible through the shoji, though Tai Lung wasn’t sure if he was aware of that fact before he said, quietly, “Enjoy, uh, T-L.” In a small voice, rushing to the basement stairs and up again. Tai Lung watched as the silhouette tripped before exiting the basement. He followed the heavy steps with his sensitive hearing until the Panda reached the kitchen. “Hey, guys!” He heard the Panda exclaim jollily through the floorboards, his guilt evident in his voice. “You guys didn’t have to wait for me! I was just... doing a quick run, before dinner, you know. Lots of carbs...” He trailed off, somehow even guiltier. 

“Po.” Tai Lung heard a voice greet cooly. If he remembered right, it was Tigress.  

“Where were you?” A voice said, sing-songy, gently entrapping him in, we know you’re lying to us and you can’t lie so you might as well give it up while we’re being nice , he couldn’t place the voice, maybe the snake? What was her name... viper? Vipress? Maybe they’d do introductions later. Besides, it wasn’t like the warriors really knew him, either. Just his name and his legacy, and whatever his old master had decided to share with them. Probably Tai Lung’s every flaw, every mistake he’d ever made, the one time he breathed wrong, the one time he broke three shojis in one day because his adrenaline level was so high after a training exercise with Oogway he kept walking through them instead of opening them. Well, he supposed they actually had met him, when they all tried to kill him and then he’d beat them down and paralyzed their bodies. Hm. He could understand why they hadn’t done any formal introductions.

“What? I - uh. I just told you, aha! Was out for a run, come on you guys !” Po - The Panda let out a goofy chuckle that made Tai Lung cringe. He understands that the Panda caught him so off-guard because Tai Lung underestimated him but still. There was an awkward pause in the kitchen up above and Tai Lung was glad he wasn’t physically there to see the uncomfortable feeling of a secret everyone knew hang around in the air. Not that the warriors would ever invite him up to share a meal with them, after everything he’d done to them, so, good for him, never having to experience an awkward moment. He watched some dust flutter off the ceiling as he assumed the Panda bodily slumped forward in his seat, giving up on the lie. 

“Come on you guys I just, I just took him his dinner.” There was a resounding gasp, even though, Tai Lung noted, they all seemed to know what he had done before his confession. 

“Po!” High and scandalized, Vipress? Or, the snake, that’s what he’ll call her before he’s sure of her name.

“Po! We told you that you can’t go down there! You can’t talk to him! What if he saw you?!” Tai Lung thought the strangely deep voice belonged to the little one, Mantis, he was almost sure. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure he did see me...” Po mumbled. He said it so guiltily under his breath if not for his attuned hearing he’d spent twenty years perfecting in prison Tai Lung was sure he would’ve missed it. He was certain they all missed the mumble given the silence up above, except for maybe Tigress, given her physiology was the most similar to his and was proven correct when he heard her cool no-nonsense tone question him, “What?”

“What?!” Po defended. He now sounded a little bit frustrated with his fam - family. “What? So what? Are we supposed to quiver in fear of him for the rest of our lives or, what? He’s living with us now, like it or not. He’s in this house with us and we’re acting like he’s – he’s some kind of prisoner! Like some kind of monster we’ve locked away in the basement and beware! Never try to come across this weird evil panther!” Tai Lung heard someone interject – Leopard – but Po spoke over whoever added the correct term and made a ghoulish noise to solidify his last statement. 

“I like cooking for you guys, and I cook for everyone in the Jade Palace. That means... everyone . And as a cook, it is a sign of my love and respect to deliver people their meals. Even if said people have questionable paths and still terrify me. So yes, I may have crept down to the basement, and he may have heard me because we all know I can’t creep. We may have...observed each other... through the silhouettes of the shoji and then I may have left his dinner that I cooked with love, and left. You guys, he’s been here for a week now and hasn’t tried to kill us all in our sleep or set fire to the palace or go and terrorize our town. I think...I think he’s trying guys. And, if I’ll place myself in his shoes for a moment, he’s been down in the basement , completely alone, for a week, after twenty years in jail. Maybe, maybe he’s lonely. Isn’t it up to me to extend that olive branch? As the Dragon Warrior? Don’t you guys think he has some good in him? Why the finger hold didn’t destroy him?”

There was a poignant silence, and Tai Lung held his breath. Then, as quick as it came a loud chorus of No-nope- no way- not possible echoed throughout the kitchen and Tai Lung heard Po’s loud groan overpower them all. 

“First of all Po, you didn’t have to bring Tai Lung here in the first place. He’s evil. He’s a criminal. We’re all still game for sending him back to prison.” He heard all the warriors beside the Panda chime out their agreement to Mantis’s statement, “And I admit, it’s really kind and even a little sweet for you to think so, but Tai Lung would try to kill you the second you stepped foot into his space again. And even if he didn’t, he’d be trying to lure you in to betray you. He’s not lonely down there Po, he doesn’t even feel emotion.” 

The silence up above was deafening. Tai Lung felt the all too familiar feeling of despair he’d been reacquainted with the past week rising up his throat like bile. He wanted to be angry with Mantis for what he said but, the little bug warrior was right. Or, maybe not right like factually correct, Tai Lung, in fact, had been feeling things he thought unable to feel past the age of eighteen – but how was the little bug supposed to know that? All Tai Lung had shown him was his hate and his rage, that’s who he was, all he was, just a very short time ago. That, and, there was no way the Warriors could know he could hear them. No way they could know that he sat below them every night, listened to their voices and stories, was beginning to understand them, maybe even respect them. He wondered if, were they aware he could hear them if they would have said what they said. If he would’ve wanted them too. 

“He feels emotion.” A voice said. Definite. It made Tai Lung tense even more that he already was. His muscles hurt from how alert he had been the past couple days – the past twenty years. If anyone knew him, he did . Tai Lung always remembered his old master being able to command and center a room with a simple phrase. Over the decades, it seems that talent has only grown more powerful. One thing his master could always do far better than him. His old master , oh, well. And that was it. Tai Lung listened to the warrior family quietly eat the rest of their meals, clean up, and retire to their own rooms on the top floor. Most of them slept too far away. He could not hear them. He was alone, again. 

Tai Lung startled when something brushed his tail. Of course, the note from the Panda. He wondered how he had forgotten. He inspected it closely, the penmanship terrifying and almost downright eligible. But – he had forgotten what it felt like to be surprised. He thought, maybe, he actually felt his heart skip, just once, just once. The note read: Would you like to be friends? Check the box that applies and leave underneath your bowl (please) . And underneath it, Tai Lung saw two boxes. And next to each box, a word. Yes or no.

He feels emotion. It wasn’t like... he had anything else to be doing. His life’s purpose and ambition had been completely destroyed in the span of thirty seconds. Yes . Yes, it was, then. 

Chapter Text

Tai Lung realized in this courtship – no – that’s romance... in this... getting to know each other, he’s not entirely sure if he’s ever had a friend before. His old master, but, well, he was basically his father. He had been his father, yes, but they had grown to see each other as equals at least in skill, before. Master Oogway had always been a relatively far off presence, kind, but Tai Lung had gotten a distinct impression that the old turtle didn’t trust him any farther than he could throw him, which was probably pretty far actually – so it likely isn’t the best metaphor. 

Tai Lung doesn’t know why he looks back on his time with Oogway with a lens that looks pretty similar to hurt. He used to look back on it with a clear veneer of hatred, but somehow, it’s gone. It’s more...frustration. He remembers Oogway being quite fond of him when he was younger, almost all the way to his maturity, and then the grandfatherly walks and gestures and late-night stories to pull him away from his master’s – old master’s – constant training, stopped. He can’t say when they stopped, it wasn’t overnight, but they stopped all the same. He remembers being hurt, but that feeling of loss quickly translated to anger which was an emotion he had no problem reaching back then, anger was his friend, his constant companion. Now, friendless in a way he supposes he never has been in his life Tai Lung wonders what specifically it was he did wrong. Did Oogway think that his absence would teach him a lesson? Maybe it was punishment for the darkness he was acknowledging, and doing nothing to stop from clouding his thoughts. Perhaps Oogway simply didn’t like him, once he realized Tai Lung would never be the Dragon Warrior he was hoping for.

Or maybe, Oogway was distancing himself, maybe, maybe it hurt him to see what Tai Lung was becoming, watching himself give everything to his only friend. Tai Lung thinks, perhaps he understands Oogway a little better now, he never, not once, took the time to meditate on why his grandmaster had pulled away from him or seemed nervous with him. The anger really was consuming back then, he thinks, he missed so much. It was all right in front of him, and he was the only one who missed it. How could he not see it? Well. That was then.

Anyway, Tai Lung could hardly blame the Panda for the sort of tip-toe way he was going about this friendship, starting, thing. Tai Lung had certainly never made a friend by himself, at least not by trying, and it’s not exactly like he had the upper hand in the situation, so he was content to wait. That evening, when Po had left him the first message to which Tai Lung responded Yes , he still wasn’t sure if the whole situation was a sort of twisted joke. When the Panda came lumbering down the basement stairs and hesitantly read the note under Tai Lung’s (very much empty) bowl, he actually squealed with delight before bounding back up the stairs. Tai Lung thought he heard a voice question the Panda for his odd behavior so late in the evening, and heard Po’s excuse which was somehow still terribly transparent despite the fact Tai Lung couldn’t even actually hear anything other than a slight inclination of the Panda’s voice. But the joy in Po’s voice was more than clear, despite trying to play it off that he had obviously emerged from the stairs to the basement and before Tai Lung knew any better a decidedly fond smile had crept onto his face. He let it linger for just a moment, savoring the unfamiliarity, before schooling his face into something more neutral. 

His face. He didn’t remember it looking so severe in his mind. Just a week ago he’s sure he would’ve liked the natural intimidation such a face seemed to bring, anger lines etched around his mouth and brow. Now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t think he liked it at all. 

For another week Tai Lung was patient, his meals came all from the panda, who seemed as lost about this non-romantic courtship as Tai Lung did himself. There were no letters slid under the door, and the Panda didn’t try to open the door or speak to him, as he did the first time. No doubt the other warriors had ever so slightly gotten into the Panda’s head – that he should fear Tai Lung – but not enough to break the Panda’s resolve. But he was patient, he could wait for him to make up his mind.  

The next note came on a Tuesday his third week in the basement of the Jade Palace. The warrior family had stopped talking about him entirely, he wondered if his master... if Shifu had perhaps discreetly told them that he could likely hear them from his place in the basement. Tai Lung wondered if Shifu also shared with them the anecdote of how he had learned that fact. Being – the dozens and dozens of peach tartlets Shifu and Oogway had painstakingly made the night before important Chinese delegates visited the Jade Palace while documenting Chinese martial arts, had all gone missing the moment Shifu and Oogway had retired for the evening, given their important next day. Tai Lung remembers being sick for almost two days straight, and that Shifu had complimented him on his thoroughness in his mischief, being smart enough at ten years old to wait until after Shifu had bid him goodnight to raid the pantry. Shifu had gotten locks for the pantry doors, but that didn’t deter Tai Lung so much as teach him a new skill. He wondered, briefly, if Shifu had broken out the locks again when the Panda entered their lives.  

The note came the same way the first one did, slid under the door while the Panda’s silhouette vibrated with notable anxiousness on the other side. Tai Lung waited a long moment, enough so that he could let the Panda return to the little kitchen, which he still sat in the corner to listen every night, before bounding up and grabbing his bowl and note. Tai Lung’s heart was pounding and he couldn’t remember the last time it had done that. Maybe during his fight with the Panda, one of the only times he’d truly lost in his entire life. It seemed the Panda was able to make Tai Lung feel a lot of things he thought he’d lost the ability too but decided he’d ruminate on that thought later. Tai Lung grabbed the note with reverence, telling himself to slow his pounding heart and shaking nerves before reading whatever the Panda had imparted upon him. Slowly flipping the paper over Tai Lung felt himself deflate, just a little, when he saw the note read - What’s your favorite food?  

Tai Lung suddenly felt a little bit foolish. Of course. This was the Panda they were talking about. He’s not sure what he was expecting. He felt irritated then for a moment that it wasn’t a yes or no question the Panda had presented him with, with a little box he could just poke a claw through. It wasn’t as if any of the warriors above would trust him having stationary in his room, who knows what he can use as a weapon? He’d heard the bird one whisper once. Was it – Crane? That seemed a little too easy, but Tai Lung was almost positive that was his name. 

It came back to him then. When he was eight years old Tai Lung had drawn with ink with his calligraphy brushes all over one of Master Shifu’s new tunics. He had meant it to be a gift, something Shifu could wear with pride that had the mark of his son, but Shifu had been furious at the sight of his ruined clothing. Shifu had simply assumed that his own ink had been improperly placed and spilled, and to compliment that belief Tai Lung had hidden his brushes underneath the floorboards of his bed to absolve himself from any guilt that could’ve been tied back to him. Tai Lung still thinks about that tunic, wonders sometimes idly when he has truly nothing else to think about if Shifu had actually trashed it. Or maybe if he, somehow, realized that it was supposed to have been a gift if maybe he kept it, looks at it. Well. That was then.

True enough, the brushes were exactly where he left them however many years ago. The ink, however, had dried. Frustration built into him, annoyed that the ink hadn’t held on for thirty-some-odd years to have been ready for him when he needed it when he came back home, shouldn’t it have known he was going to come back? Tai Lung waited for a moment, wondering if this idle frustration was enough to spark the anger he had been curiously missing for three weeks. But as soon as he thought it, it passed, and he felt mild once again. Perhaps, empty was a better word for it, but he felt it all the same. He thought for a moment, he could use his blood, but the Panda was terrified of him enough as it was. The broth of the dinner he had been brought by the Panda would have to suffice. It was watery but still did the job. Tai Lung answered honestly, the one thing he had genuinely missed while he was locked up for twenty years, besides his freedom, of course, and now it was less than a mile from him but he was too cowardly to leave his room in the basement. Tai Lung never thought he would ever use the word cowardly to describe himself, but here he was, hiding out in his childhood bedroom because a staircase away there were five warriors who didn’t like him. And his father, who he supposed was not feeling terribly keen on him either. But here he was. Hiding. And lonely, desperately trying to confide in a Panda . 

Peaches , he wrote with the broth. It was messy and stained the paper all the way to the edges, yet his penmanship was still far more legible than Po’s.

The next night, with his dinner, Tai Lung found that his napkins were clumsily bundled around the shape of a little ball, and he didn’t have to wonder what was inside. He thought, perhaps he was lucky it was the Panda who was running around doing him favors, none of the warriors would think twice about Po bustling around with a full meal and then grabbing some peaches off the sacred peach tree, just to add a little sweetness to his dinner. That night with the first peach was just the first of many, as well as many new notes. All the notes seemed to be about cooking or food, but Tai Lung actually found himself happy to answer them, along with the new vial of ink Po had somehow snuck him with his other nightly treats. Which, not just peaches now, though those were coming in plenty – meaning, Po had brought him five peaches one night and Tai Lung clumsily explained in their evening letters that he meant no offense, but as much as he loved peaches he couldn’t eat five at once and was worried the smell of them would alert the others. While he didn’t include it in the note, Tai Lung was worried that the others would find out about the little correspondence him and Po had begun, no matter how menial the subject matter. 

Every night the letters grew longer, with more questions from Po and longer responses from Tai Lung like – I’m thinking about adding more cumin to my beef noodle broth, is this a good idea or a stupid one? Master Shifu has told me at least two hundred times he hates that spice and can smell it from a mile away but has never said anything when I’ve put it in the broth before, and just a little more would make that broth perfect. Is master Shifu testing me?

And Tai Lung would respond: Yes and no, Panda. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been made aware of this but throughout the duration of my formative years Master Oogway decided he was not satisfied with being just a master of the martial arts, and wanted to be a master of the culinary arts as well. That’s the only reason I have any knowledge about these things. He made a peach tartlet once and decided his “secret ingredient” (I must say that phrase is still making me think) would be half a cup of cumin in the batter. I tried to reason with him that surely the old recipe meant to add half a spoon of cumin, and must’ve been lost in translation due to its old age. Though, having met him before, even for a short time, I know you’re well aware of how difficult the old man was to sway once he had made up his mind. I don’t recall ever seeing Shifu sicker in my entire life than after having those tartlets, they were his favorite - back then - so of course he ate far too many. At first, it seemed that the cumin had been harmless, lost in the complicated array of the other ingredients, but we had all taken sick not thirty minutes after, Master more so than Oogway and myself. 

He vomited grainy brown for at least three days. I believe that incident has left him unduly scarred, and he now has a nonsensical fear of cumin. I’m glad you’re brave enough to add the spice despite my master’s lies about his culinary inclination (he has none). I would recommend using the spice, I guarantee you it will improve the broth tremendously and Shifu will be none the wiser. If he does question you, tell him what he’s tasting is coriander, that will surely placate him. Use this information sparingly but Shifu is easily swayed when he is not well educated in the subject matter you are debating, but be warned, feed him too many half-truths and he will catch on. 

I memorized the tartlet recipe when I was quite young, so in the time since then admittedly, I may have forgotten some of it, though likely not. I’ll print it down below if you feel inclined to try your hand at the recipe sometime. It is confusing, but once you understand, the process is precise and comforting – much like our martial art. It is, for this reason, I assume you’ll have no problem mastering Oogway’s recipe. I would recommend putting no cumin in the tartlets though if Shifu ends up detecting the spice in your broth. Better to not give him any more ammunition. Of course, don’t feel obligated to use this recipe. Only if you grow bored of your usual cooking style. Yes. Let me know - TL.

Tai Lung had begun signing the letters with the ridiculous nickname the Panda had given him, TL, though it had grown on him marginally until he realized he was signing all of his letters with the abbreviation with hardly a second thought. He... liked it, actually. TL wasn’t Tai Lung. TL hadn’t betrayed, certain people, and hadn’t failed so spectacularly as to get locked away in the mountains for twenty years, and then failed again – to a panda . TL was quiet, meditative, and as lonely as it was without his first friend, TL was never angry. Tai Lung thought, with a feeling he couldn’t place, he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly be angry again. Maybe, maybe the feeling was happiness. 

Tai Lung – TL – liked talking to the Panda, to Po. He liked unwittingly sharing stories of his youth and didn’t feel so seen. Nothing seemed like a big deal with Po, even the fact that they had tried to kill each other. He’d never had a duel of blood be so quickly swept under the rug as it was with the Dragon Warrior. It had been five weeks, and he had just recently taken to leaving his room in the dead of night. It was only to go to one place, and he felt a bit judged by the spirit of Oogway that seemed to linger there. Not rejected though, no. He didn’t feel the sadness and, anger, of a master looking upon a truly failed pupil, but the quiet disappointment masking a feeling of maybe... fondness? It seemed like a leap, but, well. 

As far as he was concerned no one had seen him on his nightly outings, but maybe no one wanted too. He certainly couldn’t blame them, wouldn’t blame them either. The unfamiliar feeling of anger not licking in his chest like a searing flame was a welcome one. He meditated better under the tree now, as a somewhat prisoner of the Jade Palace, than he had in his entire life. 

Well, a lie, actually. One person had seen him, and one person had approached him. Tigress. He respected her, after listening to the family joke and laugh and love each other he... respected all of them. But she was most certainly a force of nature and closest in composition to him. She had approached him, but stayed behind him and stayed standing. He relaxed his posture and stayed turned away from her, still seated, trying to convey to her that he wouldn’t attack her. Didn’t really want too. The small part of his ego that had refused to be humbled reminded him that even if she did try to kill him, while he was open and melancholy and his back turned, she wouldn’t last long, if at all. Even without his anger to power him he was much more skilled and naturally prodigious than all of them, but, well. Maybe he’d let her – let them think he was weak now, and they could beat him. Maybe it’d be for the best. Even then if they still didn’t like him, at least they wouldn’t fear him.

He could tell from the breath she took in before speaking that she was afraid. How could he blame her? He would fear himself too. Well, he did, but, not for the same reasons she had. 

“I just want you to know,” She started in that even-toned voice, “We all care about Po. I care about him. We know he thinks he’s changed you, and that you’re different and want to be his friend now. But you and I both know that’s not true. If you do anything to him I won’t hesitate to kill you.”  Tai Lung waited, she drew in a sharp breath like she had more to say, but remained silent. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to convey to her that before she would’ve been right. He most certainly would’ve used the Panda’s gentle nature against him. But now, he wonders if Po would’ve seen through it. Probably. He wanted to somehow convey to her that, he liked Po. He liked her . He liked all of them, one of their little group was his father after all. Even after all he had done, he would always love his father. So, he didn’t do anything. 

He nodded to the empty space in front of him, heard her breath at his slight movement, and returned his hands to his lap to continue his meditation. She stayed standing behind him almost until the sun rose. He didn’t like staying out this long, didn’t want to chance still being out here when a new day started and the warrior family arose from their home and began another day of living together but, he was scared. He was scared – he realized. He was scared to stand up and turn around and look her in the eyes. He wasn’t scared of her, or what she could do. He admired her brave words, but she couldn’t kill him. He was scared of what she thought of him. He could feel she hated him . He used to love it. It made him laugh, fueled him and his rage during the darker moments. But, that cursed Panda had done his little finger hold and now, he was scared again. 

It was his sixth week at the Jade Palace, and Tai Lung didn’t take his evening strolls with any less scrutiny than he had before, but he was relieved that nothing had seemed to happen, the sun still rose in the east, and the Panda didn’t trust him any less for not revealing these nightly outings to him. Tigress must’ve informed them all when she saw him. He imagined she probably left out the detail of her speaking to him, that was something they all were too wary about still. He wasn’t sure where the particular fear of verbally talking to him came from, he was feared throughout China for his power and strength, not his wit. That was yet another thing he’d never beat his master in. That night when the Panda brought him his dinner, he rose and watched the Panda’s silhouette through the shoji and felt the Panda observe him back. That was something they had taken to doing, at least, watching the outline of each other. Tai Lung wasn’t sure what Po thought of it but, it was certainly easier for him to not have to look anybody in the face. As usual, Tai Lung waited for the Panda to bounce up the stairs with more agility than Tai Lung still thinks him capable and stomp into the kitchen to eat his meal with his family. Tai Lung knew that the warriors still disproved of Po’s decision to bring Tai Lung his dinner every night, but the routine had been solidified, and no one thought to say much about it anymore. 

He bounded for his bowl, ignoring its contents (just for now) to search for whatever letter Po had brought him, what cooking question he needed answered, what embarrassing story about Shifu he wanted to hear, advice even – Po had taken to asking Tai Lung about certain forms or stances that still confused him. Tai Lung recognized the feeling of despair crawling up his chest at the absence of any letter, but couldn’t pin down until later what other foreign long-forgotten feeling he was suddenly forced to remember at the Panda’s forgetfulness, or, intention. 

Was the Panda finished with him? Did he learn everything he needed to, and now Tai Lung was just some guy in the basement the warriors had to think about now and again, maybe find something to do with down the line? Had the warriors found out about their nightly correspondence? Did Po choose loyalty to his family over Tai Lung? Well, not that he could blame him, really. Tai Lung forced himself to remember that – he was the bad guy. That knowledge had brought him serenity for many years. He almost stumbled with the recollection of the feeling forgotten: it was longing.

Tai Lung left his noodles outside the door to his room, uneaten. He wasn’t necessarily trying to send a message of any kind, but the revelation that he was really truly feeling again left him without appetite. He laid on the floor of his room, staring at the wood ceiling, occasionally hearing those above sneaking around in the night. He had heard the patter of several moving limbs travel to the kitchen once and then twice, he deduced it was likely Monkey stealing... something... from the kitchen away from prying eyes. He stiffened, however, when he heard the familiar heavy step of someone with a heavy tread trying to pretend they can walk lightly and noiselessly. The Panda made quick leave of his room, pausing in some places, rushing forwards in others which made the wood above squeak tremendously. Tai Lung winced. If the Panda wanted advice on sneaking around, all he had to do was ask. Tai Lung felt another strange emotion, wanting to teach someone something, for no other reason than – it would be really helpful for them to know. The steps paused for a long while in front of the kitchen and then slowly approached the stairs to the basement. 

The Panda took each step slowly, not regretful but obviously calculating his every move, as much as he was capable of calculating Tai Lung supposed. When the Panda reached the ground floor Tai Lung rose into a sitting position from his space in front of the door and heard the Panda gasp. 

“Whoa... haha. I was uh – I was pretty sure you were asleep. On account of... how quiet I was being.” Tai Lung moved his head to the side in a manner he hoped conveyed, you really should learn how to sneak if you’re going to be the dragon warrior , and figured something probably got through when the Panda scoffed. The Panda moved closer, stopping right in front of the door frame. They watched each other through the door in a way that Tai Lung didn’t feel like he was being measured, just looked at. Maybe even, it was comfortable. He knew the Panda wouldn’t hurt him and perhaps Po was aware Tai Lung didn’t want to get even, didn’t want revenge. Something woefully the opposite, it was turning out.

“I’m uh – I’m going to open this door, if that’s okay?” It was a question but Tai Lung didn’t know how to answer. He nodded – once. “Oh-okay. Alright. Here – here goes.” Tai Lung felt the brief urge to roll his eyes at how slowly Po was pulling back the shoji, like he was unveiling some terrifying beast but, in a way, he was. Tai Lung was patient. He could wait. 

When the door opened Tai Lung remained seated. But he didn’t look away. He looked at the Panda’s round face and his large brown eyes. Po returned his gaze, his eyes squinted downward in visible anxiety but then turned upwards in a smug kind of comfort. Like him and Tai Lung were really good friends or something. 

“I tried to make those tartlets and, I don’t want to let you down or anything, your letter kinda made it seem like you had sorta high expectations but... I did not crush them. I more like, literally crushed them. They seemed to require a more uh – delicate touch.” They stared at each other again. Tai Lung felt that Po’s previous anxiety had infected him. He nervously looked away before nodding sagely, like the Panda had said something wise instead of bland and obvious. Though, it was enough to placate Po who then extended a hand and asked, “Wanna go for a walk?”

They walked in surprisingly comfortable silence, aside from when Po had gasped a bit theatrically when Tai Lung had risen to full height and when Tai Lung violently flinched away when Po had drifted a bit to close to him on their hike up to the tree and their arms brushed for a moment. Tai Lung certainly wasn’t afraid of the Panda, of Po. But he was afraid of the raw power he had seen, which had almost taken his life in the blink of an eye. When they reached the peach tree, Po plopped onto the dirt unceremoniously, and Tai Lung followed suit next to the Panda albeit with more grace. 

“I uh – know that you’ve been coming up here at night. Tigress told me.”

Not knowing how to respond Tai Lung offered a quiet, “Oh.”

“Not! Not that it’s a problem or anything. I’ve been wanting you to feel, you know, at home here. I mean, considering...” Po trailed off. Tai Lung decided to pick up the slack when they moved into a deep silence again, “Considering what?”

Po seemed a little startled to hear him speak actual words instead of the grunts and sighs he’d been offering up before. “Well, you know. It was your home first.”

Tai Lung felt beat with that, too. He wanted to counter the Panda, drive home his point with an angry this was never my home and then they could continue their epic battle or something. But, he didn’t really want to do that. Because the Panda was right. This had been his home, for a long time. The Jade Palace was the place he was raised, where he had birthdays and cried into his – his father’s chest when he broke his arm for the first time. The memory was so sublime it was almost sour in his mouth, and for what felt like the first time he registered that Shifu had never left. Shifu had remained here, at the place that was their home while everything happened and after it, too . He lived here for years afraid of Tai Lung and when he would eventually return. Tai Lung had a feeling Shifu thought their reunion would probably go a little differently, with one of their demises and not them a bit awkwardly sharing the same house together, again , and resolutely not talking to each other. 

“I think,” He began, trying to find the words to tell the Panda that these new facts didn’t make him angry (nothing made him angry anymore) “this is more of a home with you and your people than it ever was when I was here.” The Panda instantly looked like he wanted to ask Tai Lung to clarify, but seemed to answer his own question, and for that Tai Lung was grateful. They sat in silence for the next few hours, which Tai Lung imagined was something of a feat for the Panda from what he understood of Po’s meditation capabilities – stolen snippets of conversation from their nightly dinners. Despite Po’s insistence that he trusted him, Tai Lung could still feel his fear simmering in the air between them. It’s rather easy to sit in meditative silence if you’re a bit terrified of the person you’re meditating with. 

“So..” Po began, not long after Tai Lung had finally closed his eyes and begun to relax. “I can’t make those peach tartlets.” Tai Lung nodded once, they had been over this, yes. “But, from what I understand, you can.” Another nod. “Maybe then, tomorrow night this time in the kitchen um – maybe you could, maybe you could show me? If you wanted. Totally up to you.”

Tai Lung didn’t have enough pride to grace Po’s question with a beat of silence before replying, “I would like that.”   

Chapter Text

The next night followed similarly to the last –  they waited until after everyone had retired to their own quarters, and Tai Lung had taken extra precaution to listen to the pattering of Shifu’s nightly walk as it drifted away and then grew closer, right overhead, and then ceased entirely as his master turned in for the night. Tai Lung didn’t necessarily want to face any of the warriors, he had a feeling they probably felt the same, but he couldn’t face his master. He couldn’t – if he saw – well. It just wouldn’t happen. His mind was made. Tai Lung watched as the Panda descended the stairs, and remained seated, just like the last time. He didn’t want Po to feel threatened during any part of their interactions but, perhaps he was overthinking. Maybe, maybe the Panda really wasn’t perturbed by him. Wasn’t bothered by Tai Lung’s very presence. The Panda had beaten him, after all, what did he have to fear?

Po opened the door, still slowly, seeming almost to not want to spook Tai Lung. He pulled it halfway and they met each other’s eyes again. Tai Lung blinked slowly to encourage a non-threatening atmosphere between the two of them and from his face, which he still didn’t have the courage to look at (he had taken the mirror down and out of his bathroom). Po smiled brightly before whispering in awe, “Oh man, just like a cat.” 

Tai Lung blanched but Po continued, “Like the slow blinking, it means you like me, right? Man, you know, I wasn’t entirely sure before but now I’m convinced. I say we just call it friends right now.” Po held out his hand in the shape of a fist. It didn’t seem like he was trying to punch him, he probably would’ve kept the fist moving if it was the intention, but Tai Lung still felt his hackles raise. Po looked at him expectantly, still smiling, “Come on, bump it.” Tai Lung, still not knowing what to do, another foreign feeling the Panda seemed to instill in him, covered the Panda’s fist with his own paw. He looked at Po and felt his whiskers twitch, but felt too much like he was making a pretty grave mistake to truly smile back. “Yeah, yeah close enough. Great start, awesome.” Po placated him. Tai Lung felt like a child, despite his summation he must be at least fifteen years older than Po, if not more. 

He thought it was strange then, to realize, the warriors were children compared to him. At first, he was perplexed in their letter writing The Dragon Warrior was coming to a failure like himself asking for advice, but to Po, Tai Lung was an older and much more experienced master. If things had worked out better... then, it could’ve been more than plausible that Tai Lung would’ve helped train the Dragon Warrior, rather than be the foe that tested his life or death reflexes. Hm. Well. Tai Lung realized he had been lost in his own thoughts when Po whispered to him, which sounded more like a shout, “T-L, man, come on.” He waved his hand invitingly before ascending the stairs. Tai Lung followed after him, tail swooshing nervously. It was hardly the first time in his six weeks at the Jade Palace that he had climbed those stairs, but it was the first time he was invited up them. Especially by someone who, by all accounts, seemed like he... wanted to be with Tai Lung. Perhaps the Panda was working through ulterior motive as well, trying to show his family that Tai Lung was trustworthy enough so they at least didn’t have to live in fear of him right under them, by making baked goods with the former... villain, unharmed. Tai Lung didn’t really know how to think of himself anymore. To the warriors, he was really a former nothing. As far as they all knew he was exactly the same, silently and patiently plotting all of their demises just as he had done in Chorh-Gom. And, how could he blame them? It wasn’t exactly as though he’d taken the initiative to prove them otherwise. 

But his confrontation with the Panda changed him. Maybe that’s all he could say. He wasn’t a bad guy anymore, not because that guy didn’t exist but more because he... turned around. Tai Lung knew he was there, he’d been there so long he couldn’t actually leave, but he couldn’t see him anymore, he had no way to reach that former self. He was just... a guy now. Maybe not a good guy, not yet, anyway, and possibly never. He would have to do a lot more repenting to make up for what he had done to truly be considered “good” but for now, he was neutral. Willing to try. He was willing to try . He can’t remember the last time he wanted to do something, just because it was the right thing to do. Maybe never, maybe only menial things – even when he thought he was doing something good it was usually bad, hurt people in a way he didn’t intend but came to embrace when he started getting older – like Shifu’s ruined tunic. He didn’t mean too but, it happened anyway, and he never tried to change it. 

Trying, then, looked like guiding the Panda’s hands to properly hold the knife, which Tai Lung has no idea how the Panda had gotten so far and so impressive in his culinary skills while never learning how to properly hold the knife. It was showing the Panda how to knead the dough while being both gentle and firm, acknowledging the consistency while being unyielding in the melding of the shape. Rolling out the dough was actually the Panda’s strong point, and Tai Lung gave him a strong nod of approval to which the Panda smiled a little too bashfully. It was holding the Panda’s trembling paw while it held the incredibly delicate peach slice, layering them in a circular pattern. Reminding the Panda of the phrase Master Oogway had repeated to Tai Lung in the tartlet making process many, many, many times. 

To break the peach is not to break the circle, the tastebuds don’t know perfection from a simple mistake . Or the other one, which he didn’t remember as well but fumbled through anyway: harmony is unachievable without balance, the wise man needs the moron to compliment the thoughtfulness of his ramblings – just because it made Po laugh. As the tartlet baked, Tai Lung watched the dough bubble in strange places and a couple of slices of peach move out from their formation and fall to sizzle in the oven – cementing his suspicion that he had in fact forgotten more than a few components of the ancient recipe. That and, he had allowed Po to substitute whatever he pleased that wasn’t too radical to make the flavor, as the Panda put it, “more wicked.” 

They sat at the table while they waited for the tartlets to bake and once again fell into an accidental stare off. Tai Lung had a hard time tearing his eyes away from Po’s large kind brown ones, he had never met someone who met his stare so calmly, at least, not after...well. That was then. Po broke it when he blew a handful of flour he had collected without Tai Lung noticing directly into Tai Lung’s face, which sent – surprisingly – both of them into too loud fits of laughter. As soon as they started they both frantically shushed each other, neither wanting to wake anyone and get brought back to the uncomfortable reality of their situation. They had devolved into quiet huffs and Tai Lung tried to discreetly shake off the flour still stuck in his fur when Po said, “You have a nice laugh.” Tai Lung tried not to look too surprised but he had a feeling it showed on his face anyway. “I bet it’s...probably been a while. Since, you know, you’ve...laughed.” The Panda phrased it awkwardly but, he pretty solidly captured what Tai Lung had been feeling. 

“The last time I did, well, genuinely... that was when I was living here. Before... you know.” 

“Before you turned evil for a while?” Po clarified. Eyes wide and brown but still genuine despite the blunt accuracy of his question. Tai Lung looked down at the table but dignified Po’s question, “Yes. Before I, yeah, before. Well. Yeah.” 

“You – you know I don’t think you’re evil anymore, right?” Po looked to him earnestly. “Really, I don’t. And I don’t think anyone else does either. Like sure, you may have threatened all of their lives and tried to kill each of the warriors individually and almost succeeded but, you know, you didn’t! And you’ve been living here for a while and haven’t tried anything. So, no, okay, maybe most everyone isn’t really okay with you and would be a little upset if they knew you and I had been talking for... several weeks and are now hanging out in person but... how do I – they don’t think you’re evil .” Tai Lung realized the Panda really knew how to spin things so he had truly no idea how to respond to them. 

“Thank you for that.” He said, small. Tai Lung considered for a moment but decided to ask, maybe being with the Panda made him impulsive. At the very least, he knew Po wouldn’t judge him or his desperation. “Do you know if – he – if he, if... Shifu. Shifu. Is he... alright?”

That brought silence. So much so that the oven timer counted down to the minute, and Tai Lung skillfully turned it off before it reached zero and unleashed its terrible alarm. The one that Shifu had only made worse when he tried to fix it once when Tai Lung couldn’t have been more than five. Some things never change, he supposed. Tai Lung laid out the tartlets, not as skillfully done as when he used to make them with Oogway, but much better than the one and only time he had convinced Shifu to sous-chef, so that counted for something. Tai Lung considered for a moment, hesitating to add the cumin. He looked to Po and shook the bottle, asking more than telling, how about a secret ingredient? For old time’s sake? And Po gave him a smug nod as an answer. Tai Lung sprinkled the tartlets and then left them, having the bizarre urge to look over his shoulder at the confections while he returned to his seat across from the Panda. 

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think... I think he didn’t know whether to be happy or devastated that you had survived and that I was bringing you back to live in the Palace.” Tai Lung forgot what Po was responding to, but his body caught up before his brain because he felt the wind get knocked out of him before he understood why . “You were like his son, weren’t you?”

Tai Lung nodded. He was. Shifu was his father. His father who said goodnight to him every night without fail for almost twenty years. His father who he once ate dinner with nightly in this kitchen, usually with Oogway. His father who’d believed in him, probably too much. The familiar feeling of why? Why hadn’t Shifu just said something? Why hadn’t he just told Tai Lung not to expect the journey he had laid out for him? Maybe he would’ve listened. But, perhaps Shifu hadn’t really known either. Maybe, he’d been on the exact same road Tai Lung had been on. They had been traveling it together. Shifu had just... turned around sooner. Well. That was then.

“Like, I know he’s really hurt and really confused but, honestly, I think he’s relieved I didn’t kill you. I think... he’s kinda glad I’m trying to be your friend. Like, when everyone was super upset when I started bringing you your dinner he kinda... I don’t know... stood up for you.”

“I heard.” Tai Lung said without thinking.

“What?” Po said, blank. Fair enough, Tai Lung thought.

“Uh – the kitchen is-it’s right above my room... in the basement. I can hear you guys most nights when you’re talking up here.” Tai Lung felt strange... embarrassed . Like he’d been found out as a weird lonely stalker who listened to the family above him talk about their day night after night. Because he was so desperate to feel a part of something that way, in a way he had once but at the same time didn’t. But also, the kitchen is right above the basement. What was he supposed to do, not listen? Leave? 

Yes, creep – an unhelpful part of his brain answered his own question. 

“Oh – uh. Oh my god. I’m... I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Tai Lung reassured. 

“Cool...”

Po and Tai Lung quickly found a new topic of conversation, that being the increasingly ridiculous situations Po has been making up to placate Crane about his vials of ink which keep mysteriously disappearing. When the smell of cumin and peach reached his nose, Tai Lung decided the tartlets were ready. 

“Good job Pan – Po . I had a feeling you would master this recipe with relative ease. I also needed someone with experience to show me how to do it, once. I would recommend leaving these to cool for the rest of the night. They will be ready whatever time you want them tomorrow, but fresher is better.” He ended his statement with a nod and moved to return to the basement. 

“T-L, wait!” Po whisper shouted to him again. Tai Lung looked back to him warily. “Don’t you think that we should, um, test them? You know? A little taste to make sure that they’re...good?” Tai Lung, again, didn’t stop the fond smile and shake of his head, but he kept it small. He couldn’t find any reason to disagree. Po groaned loudly when they sampled their tartlets, enough that Tai Lung shushed him once again, but the dreaded fondness was clear in his voice. “My god. These are heavenly, oh great spirit of Master Oogway, thank you for imparting this infinite wisdom upon us. This cumin is the thought of a mastermind.”

“You know,” Tai Lung said... smug ? He wasn’t sure why he was unable to stop this sly little comment from coming out of his mouth. “There’s a secret secret ingredient that is essential to making these tartlets. It’s one that not even Shifu knows about ”

“Please don’t tell me it’s nothing.” Po pleaded with him. Tai Lung shook his head with a smile that felt a little mischievous. “Well? What is it then? Coriander? A whisker? Wood from Master Oogway’s walking cane?” Po looked at him. Expectant. Tai Lung smiled again.

“Well it was Oogway’s secret but, now, it’s ours. You really want to know?” Po nodded, impatient. Tai Lung felt the strange urge to chuckle. “It’s love.” He said, bringing his hands out as if to say: there it is. Po groaned and then scoffed.

“Man. Now I almost wish it was nothing.” 

They both retired to their rooms shortly after that. Po insisted on walking Tai Lung to the basement door, which he found a bit ridiculous. It’s not as though he’d get turned around in his own house, but before Tai Lung could open the door and return to his room, Po pulled him into a fierce hug. Just as quickly, he let Tai Lung go and swiftly walked away. Tai Lung watched him, shocked, all the way to the short distance of Po’s own room. Po turned around and gave him another smile and a thumbs up, before somewhat disappearing behind his shoji. Tai Lung allowed his smile to grow wide and fond, not like he’d ever really tried to stop them in the first place, and upon laying on his bed he fell asleep instantly and slept dreamlessly.

Tai Lung was awakened by the sound of many pairs of persons with vastly different levels of weight being corralled into the kitchen by the heaviest footfalls of all: Po, then. 

“Po, what’s going on? It’s 8:00 in the morning. What is so important you need us all here? And need to show us now ?” He heard Viper question from up above. It was Viper, he was sure of it now.

“I need to know you’re all ready.” Po stated theatrically, “So I’ll ask, are you ready ?”

Yeah, he heard them all ring out lamely. Po sighed, then, a bit louder he asked again, “Are you ready?!”

Yes... was the resounding answer from his family, a bit more impatient and a little snappy. He heard the shuffle of Po pulling out the tartlets from where he and Tai Lung had left them out to chill and dust shook from the ceiling with the force of Po slapping them down onto the table. A  delighted gasp resounded from everyone up above. “Dig in.” He heard Po announce before controlled chaos took up all the sound above Tai Lung’s head. 

“Wow! Po! I had no idea you could bake like this, these are great!” Tai Lung heard Mantis chime. “I couldn’t have done it alone,” Po said a bit too cryptically, but everyone was too focused to take him up on it. Amidst the sound of laughing and eating, and once, some choking, Tai Lung realized he felt – he felt happy . The warriors weren’t his friends but, he did something to make them happy. They didn’t like him or trust him or want him but, he made them happy, even indirectly, and he realized that was enough. He was... happy. When was the last time he had been happy? The last time he had taken a chance with something? Or, the last time someone had taken a chance on him?

Soon, everyone began filing out of the little kitchen, the morning was still young and the warriors had much to do. Tai Lung listened to everyone’s unique footfalls as they drifted away, all but two. Tai Lung could sense the tension in the room above him and once again felt glad that he wasn’t there to be present for it himself. 

“There’s no chance that Master Oogway...found the time to teach you this painstaking family recipe, trusting you with the secret ingredient as well, while he was still with us, is there?” Tai Lung didn’t hear a response from Po, but assumed he shook his head by the sigh Shifu let out. “He...” Shifu didn’t seem to be able to finish.

“We’re friends,” Po said, or, blurted. His tone and the shuffling from where he stood almost directly above Tai Lung’s head seemed to tell him maybe that wasn’t what Po had been intending to say.

“I know,” Shifu said. 

“So you can’t – what? You. You know?” Po sounded as stunned as Tai Lung felt. 

“Tai Lung couldn’t keep secrets from me and you can’t either, Po. I know about the letters and the walks and the visits. The tartlets, I admit though, are a bit of a surprise.”

“He told me that they were your favorite.” 

Tai Lung heard Shifu breath. He thought his hearing had improved more in his six weeks at the Jade Palace than twenty years at Chorh-Gom, but, the conversation was much more interesting to eavesdrop on. “They were. Back then.” There was a poignant pause. Tai Lung could tell from Po’s shuffling that he wanted to break the silence and applauded him on his restraint. “How – how is. Is he? How is... he. Hm.” Po waited for Shifu to finish, and Tai Lung heard Shifu sigh fondly, his patience seemed to have had grown every year Tai Lung was gone. “Is he okay?” Shifu finally asked. 

“He asked the same thing about you,” Po said. Always unexpectedly wise. Tai Lung heard Shifu hum again, and then slowly walked from the kitchen. Before Po made to exit himself, he paused in the doorframe of the kitchen and spoke aloud in the empty room, “Hear that, buddy? Can’t do this one for you.” He left, and Tai Lung decided to sit on the floor of his room and meditate, his mind at peace. 

When Po came with his dinner he dropped all of the ceremonies they had built around their interactions without preamble. He simply opened Tai Lung’s door and sat before him on the ground before Tai Lung could make a single move. Po leveled him with a knowing look before saying, “I think you should go to the tree tonight.” Then he left, as noisily as he came, joining his family up above. It was a bit repetitive, Tai Lung went to the tree every night , it was the only place he went, practically. But still, he appreciated it. The happy fond feeling rose and fell like waves in his chest as he followed his usual routine, waiting until the palace was still and quiet before stealing out of his room and into the night. As promised, Shifu was waiting for him, in the spot Tai Lung usually meditated in beside the great peach tree. Well, Tai Lung reasoned, it was Shifu’s spot first, and Oogway’s before him. Tai Lung wondered who else had claimed it, the position seemed to be one of hereditary instinct. He could see Tigress choosing that spot, and pondered if she was even angrier with him for reclaiming it. 

“I see Po is a much better culinary student than I was,” Shifu said, and Tai Lung was grateful he was willing to start this... whatever they were about to have. There was another emotion, grateful, he could count on one hand how many times he had felt it before and now, now it was almost all he felt. He hoped Shifu could see that, somehow. That he was feeling. That he was different. That he wasn’t angry anymore, even if he felt so lost without that anger sometimes he mourned the way it seemed to abandon him.

“I think food comes instinctively to him.” Tai Lung supplied. Shifu huffed a laugh, and Tai Lung felt himself lighten. This was a confrontation, yes, but not a terrible one. They had both had far worse. Tai Lung still stood behind his fa – his father, though. Shifu turned his head to the side, not quite able to look at Tai Lung, either. 

“They were very good, even with Oogway’s secret ingredient. I’m glad though, that... you didn’t feel like you had to respect his wishes of using the improper amount of cumin.” They fell into silence again, and Tai Lung was trying to figure out how to, what? Apologize? When Shifu said, “I, uh, I have something. Something to... show you.” Shifu turned around fully, and Tai Lung noticed something that had been cradled in his arms. They still couldn’t meet each other’s eyes. Shifu gestured vaguely at the area in front of him, “Why don’t you...”

Tai Lung nodded and sat in front of his...father. He kept his eyes trained on the strange bundle Shifu bunched his hands into rhythmically. “I, uh.” Shifu began again. “I should’ve told you... back then. I’m, I’m not sure why I didn’t. Maybe to teach you a lesson, I don’t know. I realize that it was wrong, I was wrong in... a lot of things. This, being one of them. I was never angry with you, ever.” Shifu paused for a moment, seeming to want that statement to convey more than he was saying. Tai Lung nodded to his hands. “I was actually a bit charmed, once I realized. I know, I know you were only trying to be nice. You were trying to... give me a gift. In a way. I noticed later... after I had gotten angry. Your little signature, down here, on the lapel. Like an artist.” Shifu chuckled a small sad sound. He almost sounded like he might cry, and Tai Lung again lacked the courage to peer into Shifu’s eyes to be sure. Shifu unwrapped the bundle in his hands to reveal the tunic Tai Lung had ruined when he was a child. The tunic he had idly wondered about his whole life. Shifu had, he had, “Did you ever –” Tai Lung found himself asking.

“No.” Shifu quickly said. “It’s hideous. But, I could never bring myself to throw it away. Even after... well. You know. It’s... it’s given me a lot of comfort over the years but, Tai Lung, I wanted to thank you. Thank you for this gift.” Tai Lung realized with dismay that Shifu’s eyes were watery and likely, so were his own. But now that he saw them he couldn’t look away. They were eyes that despite everything, despite everything , were happy he was there. 

“Did you finally guess the secret secret ingredient Oogway never told you?” Tai Lung blurted. Shifu’s kind and watery eyes scrunched in confusion for a moment. Tai Lung didn’t give him a moment to think it over. “It was love. Love. I love you. I love you, Dad. I know I’ve given you a lot of reasons to think otherwise but I... well. You know.” Tai Lung very badly wanted to look away again. The fear was suffocating. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt afraid as often as he did in the presence of his father and the Panda. 

Shifu smiled watery and laid his very small hand on Tai Lung’s soft face. “I know, my son. Surely you know I – I love you too. As well. Hm.” 

They sat together for a long while. At peace with each other, with their lives and their truth. 

“This... is not going to be easy, you know,” Shifu said.

“I know.” Tai Lung told him. “I want to try.”