Archive of Our Own ^beta

Creak-thump. Forty-seven.

Creeeak-thump. Forty-eight.

Creeeeeak-thump. Forty-nine…

Po stopped. Caught his breath. Caught his breath again, but this time laying stomach first on the ground.

Fifty stairs. Fifty rounding up, anyway. Out of… oh yeah, one thousand.

Po knew the Jade Palace was meant to house the Secrets of Kung Fu and such, but would it kill them to make the joint a little more accessible?

Think of it this way, Po told himself, forehead pressed to the sun-warm stone stair. Fifty is five percent of one thousand, so the whole thing was just twenty flights of fifty stairs. So Po only needed to do this… nineteen more times.

Nineteen more flights of fifty stairs. Plus one. Po groaned.

Any other day, Po would have never made the attempt to travel up to the Jade Palace; the panda knew his borderingly-circular form and stairs didn’t mesh. He and his clumsiness were just asking to tumble down the heat-sunk steps like a barrel lobbed over a cliff. Hauling himself up to the top of the mountain felt like an impossible challenge when Po got winded going up the stairs to his own room.

But if heaving himself up one thousand steps on a good day was far-fetched, dragging along a noodle cart that weighed more than he did was impossible.

The cart was loaded down with bean buns, noodles, and broth. Dense, heavy broth. Broth made out of liquid, which, much like Po, preferred to flow towards gravity: the opposite direction it needed to travel to see the Dragon Warrior Tournament at the Jade Palace.

The Dragon Warrior Tournament. Po lifted his head to peer up the dizzyingly tall steps. The Jade Palace stood at the top, all serene and indifferent. It didn’t care if Po reached it or not. It didn’t care if he got to witness the arrival of the warrior China had been waiting one thousand years to see. It didn’t care if Po had dreams about noodles or kung fu.

It didn’t care if Po would probably never be able to do the one thing he loved most in the world.

But Po cared. Po cared a lot, actually.

The panda sucked in a breath, deeper and slower than the last. When he let it out, he thought of Master Flying Rhino, and how all the scrolls said his willpower was so strong, his exhale would turn to steam from sheer determination!

Po just needed to imagine he was breathing out steam. Awesome-looking, determination-fueled steam! It… really didn’t help with how overheated he felt. But that didn’t matter!

Po would get to the top of these stupid, majestic stairs and see the Dragon Warrior—even if it killed him.

Creak-thump. One-hundred twelve.

Creeak-thump. One-hundred thirteen.

Creeeak-thump… One-hundred fourteen.

“Oh, spirits,” whispered the rabbit to her husband. “Is he going to die?”

Okay, so this might actually kill him.

The couple quickly climbed past him, the rabbit who spoke sparing Po a brief, concerned glance as they rushed by. Po, heaving, watched them leave at a pace more than triple his own.

Just like a drum, Po’s head pounded in the stifling summer sun. His lungs were on fire, and his sides were full of knives. He felt his bones grinding together, and his feet suffered under the combined weight of his body and the cart. He even hurt down to the tubes in his ears—and why did those get pained going up stairs anyhow? They weren’t even helping him climb. It felt unfair.

But, Po knew what they said: no pain, no gain. And Po was in… so much pain.

Thus, it was probably good for Po, all this stair-climbing business. The fire in Po’s body that his brain screamed was burning up his insides was probably just the strain of working out. Once he finished, he would be stronger than ever, just like the warriors that pulled ludicrously heavy things like trees and boulders to train their muscles. Po was doing basically the same thing, but with his cart-shaped responsibility.

So not only was Po going to see the Dragon Warrior, he was also using the trip as strength-training. Yet another totally genius Po Plan. A Po-lan, if one would.

Po chuckled at his pun and discovered that laughter made the pain in his sides go white hot. Maybe Po was too funny for his own good.

Creak-thump… Two-hundred twenty-six…

Creeak-thump… Two-hundred twenty-eight…

Creeeeeak… Did Po skip a number just then? He did, didn’t he. He remembered hitting step two-hundred twenty-two just a minute ago, but his sun-baked brain couldn’t recall how many he managed after that—

Thump Thump ThumpThumpThump—!

“No no no—” Po caught the handle of the escaping cart right before it exited his reach. He exhaled in relief. The last thing he needed was to chase his brothful burden down to the bottom of the mountain. Again.

But now… Po couldn’t remember what step he was on…

Whatever, he shook his head ruefully. Counting was for losers, anyway. Big losers, who couldn’t do kung fu and had to ration the amount of stairs they climbed in a day.

In the end, it didn’t matter if Po was on step nine or step nine-hundred. The only number that truly mattered was one-thousand. And he’d know that one when there were no more stairs to climb and he was at the doors of the palace. No math necessary!

Creak thump.

Creeak thump.

Creeeak thump.

Po’s legs were short. He hadn’t realized that until now.

Po was a big guy, in more ways than one. He was the tallest resident of the Valley of Peace. Oh sure, sometimes a traveling salesman would be an Ox, or a Rhino, or some other such large creature, but Po was more than used to his ability to see over the heads and then some of any given crowd in the village. One of his legs was almost as long as his own father was tall.

So it was an odd epiphany, this whole “being short” thing.

His legs were short in proportion to the rest of his body. The rabbit, pig, and fowl-dominant population of the Valley had a larger leg-to-everything else ratio; their legs were almost always as long as their wings or arms, sometimes even longer.

But Po’s legs were short. His knees were close to the ground at only double the height of a single step. So it was necessary that he use a lot of hip-action to pick his leg up high enough to take a stair, and then push off and place all his considerable weight onto his low knee.

Po’s knees hurt. Pandas really weren’t built for stairs.

Creeak… thump.

Creeeak… thump.

Creeeeak… thump.

Was it more satisfying to climb steps when you were small like a rabbit or goose, Po wondered? A single step made up a bigger portion of their overall height, so maybe to them, the upward progression of steps felt significant instead of it feeling like they were getting them nowhere fast.

He’d have to ask his dad when he got home.

Creeak…… thump.

Creeeak…… thump.

Creeeeak…… thump.

Po couldn’t quite recall how long he’d been hearing that sound. He was no longer sure if it was the cart’s non-stair friendly wheels clashing against the steps, or if it was the sound of the bones creaking in Po’s non-stair friendly legs and back.

Who had invented stairs, anyway? Why? Maybe they were intended as a test of discipline. Po couldn’t think of any other reason they would exist. Maybe the short, jolting little inclines were meant to be just high enough to make his hips and knees ache so terribly. Maybe they were supposed to ascend far too gradually, ensuring maximum distance covered for such little progress in height. Po knows he would get on far better just climbing straight up the stupid mountain over taking the stairs. Not by much, but still.

That must be it, Po’s overheated mind concluded. Stairs were secretly instruments of torture intended to inflict just enough suffering to make someone wise.

Well then. Bring on the wisdom.

Creeeak……… thump.

Creeeeeak……… thump.

Creeeeeeeak……… thump.

After several clay bowls sacrificed to the Stairs of Tortured Wisdom, as Po had dubbed them, mother-innovation struck him across the face. He pulled off his apron to tie down the bowls and utensils so they were no longer in danger of jolting off the cart and shattering on the angled stone. It was a (sadly metaphorical) weight off his shoulders to not spend so much vigilance on the cutlery.

Woah. Maybe stairs really did grant wisdom.

Creeeeeeak………… thump.

Creeeeeeeak………… thump.

Creeeeeeeeak………… thump.

Po watched a mother pig and her child climb past him with ease. No one else seemed to be getting wise from this.

Creeeeeeeak…………… thump.

Creeeeeeeeeak…………… thump.

Creeeeeeeeeeak…………… thump.

Po was fairly certain he was now hallucinating steaming bowls of noodles in the heat mirages wafting up from the stone steps.

Maybe Po really would have been better off climbing up the steep side of the mountain. At least it would have been shady. And then he would have even been able to use his arms to support his weight instead of dumping all the responsibility on his poor, short legs and low knees.

On second thought, his arms were starting to go numb from dragging the noodle-cart behind him. He probably couldn’t scale a mountain with a noodle cart any better than he could climb steps with one.

Po thought about using his arms to climb the stairs instead. But—no. That would be silly.

Creeeeeeeeeeeak………………… Thump.

Po no longer cared about looking silly.

One arm needed to stay on the cart, sure. But the other could assist with the cause of getting Po to the Jade Palace to see the Dragon Warrior.

And using even one arm in his climb immediately made a huge difference. Distributing his weight over three limbs instead of his two shortest already soothed the grinding pain in his knees, hips, and back.

And if Po kept his head down, he could focus on his ascent instead of on the judgmental looks of the passing villagers.

Creeeak… thump.

Creeeak… thump.

Creeeak… thump.

Po had kind of missed this. Walking with his hands, that is. Not climbing the stairs whilst dragging way too much broth, obviously. He remembered the days when crawling was his primary mode of transportation.

Mainly, he remembered those days because they were embarrassingly recent.

While the other kids seemed to get the hang of it right away, Po had always found his balance on two feet leaving much to be desired. Standing was just fine, but walking was where it got tricky. And frankly, Po hadn’t seen a reason to progress to two feet when he could get around much better on four—he climbed things easier, moved faster, and never ran into anyone. He didn’t hit his head on the low ceiling of the noodle shop. Even his dad had said that Po could carry more noodle bowls on his back than in just two arms anyway!

But most other shops besides his home didn’t let you touch their wares unless you were walking upright, and customers would glare at you for getting your hands dirty on the ground, even when your father kept the floors clean enough to eat off of and you weren’t the cook and never even touched the bowls. Po hadn’t really cared about people’s opinions on his preferred mode of ambulation until he saw people give his dad dirty looks for allowing the behavior.

And—Po got it. It wasn’t polite, or clean, or practical to walk on your hands. But it was really effective at this stair stuff.

Creak… thump.

Creak… thump.

Creak… thump.

But who had made that rule, anyway? Who first said being upright was the only way to be acceptable? Who decided two legs were better than more? Why was that just fine with everyone else except Po?

Po wondered who said it was okay for people to be rude to his dad for letting his son walk in a way that wouldn’t hurt him. Po would like to find this rule-person and ask them if they had considered kind goose dads and their low-kneed panda sons before ruling all over the place like that.

Creak thump.

Creak thump.

Creak thump.

Was Po not built for these stairs, or were these stairs not built for Po?

Creak-Thump.

Creak-Thump.

Creak-Thump.

Maybe stairs weren’t built for Po. Maybe walking wasn’t built for Po. Maybe the noodle shop wasn’t built for Po. Maybe the whole village wasn’t built for Po. Maybe most furniture and clothes and bathtubs and toys and carving tools and meal portions weren’t built for Po.

Maybe kung fu wasn’t built for Po.

Creak-Thump Creak-Thump Creak-Thump—

But Po had to make most of his own things himself anyway—it came with the territory of being three times the size of anyone else in the village. If he had to make his own way up these stupid stairs and into that stupid (awesome) Jade Palace, then it was nothing new.

Creak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-Thump—

Po should probably be worried—he might be hallucinating things bigger than noodles. He was pretty sure that mother pig and her child passed him a good while ago back in his climb. The illusion-kid seemed to stare open mouthed as Po went by, tugging on their mother’s sleeve and pointing, trying to get her to look too.

But Po was past caring if the illusion-mother looked up from her scroll to stare at his three-limbed accession. He was too busy making his own way to kung fu.

Creak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-Thump—

At least once, Po needed to accomplish something in his life. Even if he never learned a single move of kung fu, he could do this. This could be his kung fu, he didn’t care if it was just—witnessing. Kung fu was kung fu, and both seeing and doing it was awesome.

Po would see the Dragon Warrior. Even if it killed him.

Creak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-Thump—

The rabbit couple from earlier was nearly forced to dive out of the way of Po’s warpath.

Po had to see the Dragon Warrior. At least one time, he needed to see them.

Creak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-ThumpCreak-Thump—

Just one time. Just one—

Creak—!

Po missed a step. Or the step missed him. Either way, his foot expected a stair, and encountered nothing.

Po knew with certainty it was hard to move him when he was at rest. It was equally as hard to get him to stop when he was in motion. However, he had not realized just how much motion he was in until he was unable to stop himself from careening straight into the wooden red doors of the Jade Palace’s courtyard.

Po only had time to think one thought before his world went black:

Aw beans.

SLAM

Crane did not shriek as the door behind him buckled sharply under a tremendous force. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hide how he’d startled so bad his brand new teacup launched halfway across the courtyard from his claws. Spirits, he could not tell his mother he’d broken it already…

“Hey, watch it!” Mantis squawked as the porcelain cup as big as he was barely missed him.

“Sorry!” Crane cried, struggling to smooth his ruffled feathers. All that calming tea, down the drain. Literally.

“What was that?” Viper asked the question on Crane’s own mind.

“It sounded like Thundering Rhino took a swing at the door with his hammer,” Monkey speculated, bouncing towards the door excitedly. “Do you think he showed up for the tournament?”

“That’s impossible,” scoffed Mantis. “We only announced it was happening an hour ago, and Master Thundering Rhino is on the other side of China.”

“You never know,” Monkey retorted. “Maybe he learned to fly like his dad.”

“Still not possible even if he did,” Master Crane, professional flyer and resident bird, deadpanned.

“It’s probably a guest from the Village here to see the tournament!” Viper cheered, slithering after Monkey. “We should greet them!”

“But it’s so early,” Crane protested, but also moving towards the door in interest. “Nobody’s supposed to be here yet.”

“I mean, one of us is only going to be revealed as the Dragon Warrior today,” Viper reasoned. “I would have rushed up here if I was a villager.”

“I dunno,” Mantis shrugged, hopping up and hitching a ride on Crane’s hat. “What villager could have hit the door like that?”

“Let’s find out!” Monkey leapt up on the door and hooked his toes into minute wooden divots—the perfect height to press his eye to the peephole. Crane and the others crowded around Monkey, awaiting his report.

“Hmm…” Monkey squinted, confusion settling onto his face. “Guys, I’m not seeing anybody.”

“Back up, fur-brain,” Mantis snorted, landing on Money’s head. “Let me take a look.”

Mantis crawled into the peephole, sticking his whole head and thorax through the gap. He looked left. He looked right.

“Huh,” Mantis said, right before he looked down, “I guess they left—”

“—AAAH” Cried Mantis, jerking himself back from the peephole, making the rest of the masters flinch back in sync.

“What, what is it?” Viper asked, rearing startledly.

“There’s a guy!” Mantis threw himself down from the door and leapt away, sailing clear across the courtyard.

“W-where are you going?” Crane cried after him.

“Gotta get my acupuncture kit!” Mantis shouted over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner in the direction of their barracks.

“Acupuncture kit…?” Crane repeated to himself. Acupuncturable or not, Mantis tried to acupuncture any injury he thought he saw—wait.

“He’s hurt!” Crane realized, causing Viper to gasp and Monkey to cover his mouth. “Open the door!”

Crane flipped the door latch, grasped one handle and flapped backwards. Monkey had his back, yanking hard on the other large door. Viper slipped through the first crack they created to get to the creature faster.

“Oh, spirits!” Viper cried upon seeing the collapsed—

Panda? Crane did a double take. Yes, they were definitely a panda: black, white, huge, and breathing very heavily for an unconscious person.

Viper circled the collapsed panda, concerned. “Sir, are you okay?”

The panda made a noise, but it was hard to tell if it contained any words.

“He said something!” Monkey announced, which Crane felt was a little too over-confident of a proclamation to make about a sound the panda made with their face pushed into the dirt. “Is he awake?”

“Monkey, can you turn him?” Viper jerked her head at the Panda. “He’s giving off a lot of heat—it looks like he needs air!”

Monkey nodded and grabbed the panda’s shoulder—but just as quickly yanked his hand back like the stranger’s skin had bit him.

“He’s hot!” Monkey yelped, shaking out his hand.

“Heatstroke?” Crane asked.

Monkey self-soothingly stuck his hand in his mouth, murmuring, “I think he burned me…?” Which didn’t sound healthy for either party to Crane.

“Well,” Viper piped up. “He is steaming.”

Crane blinked. He turned to Monkey, and they both blinked at each other.

Ultimately, crane used his claws—less sensitive to heat than monkey’s dexterous fingers by a mile—to turn the panda’s head to the side and out of the dirt. And… huh. Crane squinted at the Panda. They were steaming. Literal, actual vapor was wafting out of the guy, mainly through the mouth. It was faint, really faint, but still concerning to see on a day not chilly in the slightest.

“That’s… probably not good,” Crane hedged. Frankly, Crane wasn’t sure if it was even physically possible, but he supposed he didn’t know enough about pandas to say for certain. “Maybe he needs some water?”

“Monkey?” Viper started, but Monkey was already swinging back to the palace.

“Water!” Monkey called over his shoulder. “Got it!”

Based on the excessive huffing and puffing, the panda did seem like they needed air—although Crane had never seen someone heave for breath like that and remain unconscious. The panda’s eyes flickered open and closed dazedly. Maybe not entirely knocked out, then, just fatigued and unresponsive?

“Hey, sir?” Crane directed at the suffering stranger, “Can you hear me? You’re, uh, steaming. Is that bad?”

“Of course it’s bad,” hissed Viper. “Look at him!”

Crane’s retort cut off when the stranger breathed out something word-shaped. Crane could almost make it out.

“Sorry, what was that?” Crane asked. “Can you speak up?”

“It’s so much broth,” the panda gasped out.

Crane and Viper stared at the stranger. Crane just raised his brows when Viper turned to him for clarification. Why would he know what that could possibly mean?

Viper shook herself and refocused, disregarding whatever that was. “We’re getting you some water, sir. Can you drink?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the panda panted, and Crane breathed out some of his tension. Responsiveness was a good sign. “I c’n… I c’n d’rnk a ‘ole oshean…”

“Maybe not a whole ocean,” Viper laughed a little, relaxing a tad. “But we could get you a cup—”

“Water, coming through!” Monkey charged back through the doors, a bucket balanced on his head.

With zero hesitation, Monkey threw the entire container on the panda. (Crane must have been hallucinating, because he could swear he saw a bit of the water boil off the stranger’s body. It had to be a heat mirage.)

The panda didn’t even flinch at the splash, opting instead to gurgle piteously in the brand-new puddle accumulating under their face.

“To drink, Monkey!” Viper scolded venomously.

“To drink, got it!” Monkey rushed away in the face of Viper’s vexation.

Mantis darted around the fleeing Monkey in the doorway, the dreaded acupuncture kit in tow. Crane prepared himself for a battle on two fronts: fighting this stranger’s heat sickness and Mantis’ needle-happy forelegs.

“Where is my practice dummy—?” Mantis cleared his throat unconvincingly. “Patient. I mean patient.”

“Ah, well,” Craned cringed, scooting between Mantis and the panda, subtly fanning out his wings in a certainly doomed attempt to block the panda from the insect’s sight. “What’s a patient?”

“He’s overheated, Mantis,” Viper tsked, opting for a more confrontational approach. “Not acupuncturable.”

“Anything is acupuncturable if you believe,” retorted Mantis.

The panda snorted up almost the entire puddle of water under his face. It occurred to Crane they might be drowning.

“Ah, submersion injury!” grinned Mantis, who drew a long, thin needle from the bag. “Now we’re talking!”

“Don’t you dare!” Viper’s pupils narrowed to slits, upper body rising threateningly. “Have you ever even seen a panda before, let alone practiced on one?”

“First time for everything,” crowed Mantis, gearing up and leaping at the panda. Viper whipped him out of the air with her tail.

Pointedly ignoring the ensuing fight between the two masters, Crane focused on un-waterboarding the collapsed stranger. It took a good few flaps, but he managed to turn the panda supine, out of drowning territory. Thank spirits, the panda coughed up the water on their own upon being rolled face-up. Crane did not think his beak would be very effective at performing the Kiss of Life.

“Ow!” Cried Mantis, caught in Viper’s coils. “Uncle! Uncle!”

“Promise,” hissed Viper, snout-to-face with Mantis and glaring directly into his soul.

“Fine!” A semi-crushed Mantis croaked. “Fine, I promise I’ll look in a panda anatomy textbook before I try any stabbing!”

“Good enough,” Viper sighed, dropping the insect tiredly.

Mantis quickly fled Viper’s grasp and hopped over to his patient—after Crane discretely confiscated his acupuncture tools during the scuffle, of course.

“Alright, let’s see here…” Mantis jumped up on the panda’s face, pressing a foreleg to their nose. “Mhm. Too warm, too dry.”

“Yup, textbook heatstroke.” Mantis said after pulling up a lip and checking the stranger’s gums. “Can we get some cold water over here?” Mantis yelled into the courtyard.

“Coming!” Monkey said, returning with a cup of water.

“Monkey,” Mantis scoffed. “We need way more than a cup! The best way to treat heatstroke is to submerge their body in cold water. You think that little thing is gonna cover this big guy? Get real.”

Monkey’s knuckles went white around the cup. Viper guiltily avoided Monkey’s searing eye contact.

“Nothing is good enough!” Monkey shoved the cup into Crane’s grasp, storming back into the courtyard.

“Well, it’s better than nothing.” Mantis muttered. “Crane, pour that water on his head slowly. Gotta make the cooling effect last.”

So there Crane was: re-waterboarding an unconscious panda a scant few hours before he could possibly be chosen as Dragon Warrior. Crane considered the possibility this could be the last thing he did as himself, and promptly pushed the unwelcome thought away. Deep breaths, focus on the tricking water…

Gradually, the panda’s panting started to ease into a slower, deeper rhythm. Crane matched it.

Just as Crane upturned the last few drops onto the stranger’s snout, the panda groaned and pushed themselves up, eyes still shut.

“Hello?” The sopping panda asked warily like he’d heard a noise in his house at night and not like he’d had water poured on his face for a solid minute straight.

“Hi,” Viper responded gently. “How do you feel?”

The panda sniffed, taking a pause to consider the question. “…With my hands.”

“Oh man,” Mantis smirked as Crane badly suppressed his chortling. “Too bad Monkey’s not here. He would have loved that one.”

“Monkey…?” The panda repeated, fighting to peel open his eyes.

“I’m… here!” Monkey strained, dragging a half-barrel that could have qualified as a small tub through the door with him. “I have the water!”

The second the panda’s fluttering eyes fell upon the tub, they lit up with relief.

“Oh man, thank you so much!” The panda rushed out. They cheerfully plucked the tub Monkey had been struggling with from his grasp with no trouble at all. “You’re a lifesaver!”

Then, in a feat of strength that Crane’s had brows rising to the top of his head, the panda proceeded to lift the entire tub to his mouth with ease and chug the contents.

“…No problem,” Monkey shakily gave a thumbs up. He then collapsed in place onto his ass.

The Furious Four-out-of-Five watched in semi-horrified fascination as some panda gulped down several gallons of water from a tub nearly as big as he was. At least Mantis would be happy with how much water the guy was spilling on himself in the process. Heatstroke averted?

The water disappeared in record time, and the panda, now soaked, let the tub drop to the side with a heavy thunk. They fell back against the nearby wall, sucking in air greedily to compensate for drinking everything in a single breath.

“Alright, eyes up Mystery Panda!” Mantis broke the astonished silence that had settled over the four. “Let's see if you have a concussion.”

“Concussion—?” The panda exclaimed, alarmed, but by the time they finished getting the word out, Mantis was already in their face, peeling back an eyelid.

Mantis squinted into their pupil. “Why are you here today?”

“I… I gotta see the Dragon Warrior.” The panda replied dazedly, going cross-eyed attempting to get a look the mantis perched on their face.

“Good,” Mantis switched to the other eye. “And who is the Dragon Warrior?”

“Uh,” The panda’s face scrunched in confusion. “I don’t know—nobody does. They’re going to pick one of the Furious Five today—” the stranger gasped in horror. “Don’t tell me I missed it!”

“Nope! You’re early, actually.” Mantis revealed, letting the panda’s eyelid snap back into place. “Nobody’s been picked yet. Just testing your memory.”

“Oh,” the panda slumped, relieved, “good. Man, if I missed seeing The Furious Five after lugging all that broth up here, I’d actually die.”

The panda squinted at Mantis, who was still on his face. “Hey… speaking of The Five, has anyone ever told you you look just like—”

The panda’s spine stiffened, and they sucked in a huge, drawn-out gasp, nearly inhaling Mantis.

“Master Mantis!” Po cried in shock. He turned to goggle at other three masters standing before him.

“Master Viper!” Viper giggled and waved her tail in greeting.

“Master Monkey!” Monkey gave a somewhat amused two-fingered salute, still seated on the ground.

“Master Crane!” Crane tried to smile in greeting, but he could feel it coming off awkwardly. Oh spirits, a fan.

Logically, Crane should have expected to meet at least one, considering they invited the whole village into the palace courtyard for a once-in-a-lifetime tournament they would be the focus of—but he still couldn’t say he was truly prepared. Crane knew at his core, he just wasn’t all that great at meeting new people, even without the Hero of the Valley situation complicating everything.

“You are all so much bigger than your action figures.” The panda half-whispered in awe. He crossed his eyes, addressing the master still on his face, correcting himself. “Except you, Master Mantis. You’re about the same.”

Mantis’ antenna twitched. Monkey coughed into his hand, hiding a snicker. The small master would be given grief for being “true to life” in the barracks later—Crane would ensure it.

Viper blinked at the panda. “They made action figures of us?”

“Uh—well.” The panda stuttered, growing flustered. “No. I made them.”

“Wow,” Crane said, not knowing how else to react. Viper shot him a “be nice or else” look when the panda’s shoulders hiked in embarrassment.

“Only because—!” The panda rushed to justify himself, “Only because I carve all my own stuff!” The panda twiddled his thumbs. “I carve… other things, too. Besides you guys.”

“That’s nice,” Crane settled on a suitably encouraging response. “Carving is cool,” he added when Viper continued to stare him down.

“‘Cool?’” Repeated the panda, disbelieving. “Me, cool? No way, not as cool as you guys!”

“Oh, no,” Crane replied on automatic, masking his rising abashment. “Us?”

“Yes, you!” The panda replied, visibly ramping up in excitement. “Oh man, I am such a big fan! You guys were awesome at the Battle of Weeping River! Outnumbered a thousand to one, but you were all like—” the panda did an approximation of a few punches and hand chops, complete with embellished Kung Fu Yelling. Crane stepped back a bit to avoid the water droplets the panda’s demonstration slung around. “—up against impossible odds, but still came out on top!”

Monkey elbowed Crane, smirking, “I think he’s describing you, Crane.”

“I do not yell like that,” Crane defended immediately. “You yell like that.”

“No you.”

“No you—”

“Guys,” Viper shushed, shutting them up.

“And in the battle with Boar!” The panda continued, catching the four’s attention. “Master Tigress was all like—” the panda did a series of rapid little punches in front of himself, accompanied by a series of punctuative ‘hya’s. “—so fast! And then Mantis had Boar by the nose, and Tigress did like a—like a double-hand strike to his face, and then you guys flew through the air and kicked him all at the same time!”

The panda smiled wide, brimming with untamable enthusiasm. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life!”

“Wait,” Crane held up a claw for pause. “You… saw that fight? As in, you were there ten years ago when it happened?”

“Mhm,” The panda nodded happily. “I was on the hill over.”

The four glanced at each other, wide-eyed. The recounting of this particular battle was far more accurate than the last—too accurate to be fabricated. And who of the Five had ever recited the battle down to each strike? None of them, as far as Crane knew.

“Hey,” Viper began, not quite masking her alarm, “Boar was really dangerous. He tore through everyone in his path, not just kung fu masters. Even getting near enough to see him could have gotten you hurt. You really shouldn’t stand so close to fights that big.”

“Oh yeah, I totally know that now, don’t worry,” The panda assured. “But I was just a kid when it happened, so I didn’t know any better.” The panda continued on, blissfully unaware of how Crane’s feathers puffed up at the thought of a child being so close to a fight with a boar who could uproot entire forests just by walking through them. And they hadn’t noticed. Spirits, Crane was dizzy with all the things that could have gone wrong…

“The battle happened right behind my house, actually. If you guys hadn’t stopped him, he probably would have walked right through us.” The panda shrugged casually, like he hadn’t just taken another year off Crane’s life.

“Ever since then, I’ve always wanted to meet you guys. I just wanted to tell you…” the panda then hit them with the brightest, happiest, most earnest smile Crane could imagine coming from a sopping wet panda collapsed against a wall. “Thank you all, for protecting our home!”

Incredible. Crane could physically hear Viper melting from adorableness. Then again, even Crane was starting to feel a bit mushy on the inside. He fought the urge to hide his face in his wings in the presence of genuine emotion. Was it going to be like this meeting every fan?

“That’s very kind of you to say, thank you,” Viper sniffed, eyes glittering.

“It’s not kind if it’s true,” the panda chuckled nervously. “So, yeah. You five are just, the coolest ever. Especially Master Tigress!” The panda surreptitiously glanced behind the four. “Is… Master Tigress around?”

“Nah,” Mantis said from atop the panda’s head, discretely wiping an eye where they couldn’t see. “She'll still be in the training hall.”

“That’s our Tigress,” Monkey laughed, evidently put in a lighter mood from the panda’s sincerity. “Training until the last second.”

The panda’s smile dropped. “Oh, am I keeping you from practice? I’m sorry.”

“No, we weren’t doing anything like that,” Viper rushed to assure. “We were just taking a calm moment before all the tournament stuff starts.”

“Well,” the panda said hesitantly. “If you want to get back to it, I think I’m all good now.”

“I mean, we have time,” Monkey shrugged. “We could hang out for a bit.”

The panda audibly swallowed a squeal, making Crane suppress a snort. Maybe talking to fans wasn’t so bad after all. At least it was a good distraction from the looming possibility of becoming the Dragon Warrior.

“Yes!” The panda nodded aggressively. “I mean, if you’re sure.”

“Of course we’re sure,” Viper chirped, bright-eyed. Spirits, she was completely charmed already, Crane just knew it. The panda was the exact mix of endearing and pathetic that Viper couldn’t resist doting on.

“You know who we are,” Mantis peered down into the panda’s line of sight, “but who are you?”

“Me?” The panda pointed at himself, as if he couldn’t believe they wanted to know. “I’m Po.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Po!” Viper greeted belatedly. “So, you live close by?”

“Well, I live pretty far away elevation-wise,” the panda, Po, said sardonically. “But yeah, I’ve lived in the village my whole life.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever seen you before,” Crane added thoughtfully. Before today, Crane would have sworn the rarest creature that lived in the valley on a permanent basis was a gazelle. They certainly would have remembered seeing Po.

“I’m only a couple buildings away from the palace steps,” Po revealed. “The bottom floor is a noodle shop…?”

“Oh, that would explain it.” Mantis said, making Po look up at the insect curiously. He did not succeed, on account of Mantis continuing to stand on top of his head. “We don’t really use the steps, nowadays.”

“We just kinda—” Monkey mimicked an arc with his hands “—jump off the mountaintop.”

“Whaaat!” Po gasped.

“When we leave the palace, it’s usually for an emergency,” Crane explained. “It’s quicker to fall. And we usually land in the center of the village too. We probably jump right over you, if you’re that close.”

“And when we want to go home,” Viper smiled too sweetly at Crane, “Crane flies us back.”

Crane rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother correcting her, not willing to get into the familiar argument that he wasn’t a taxi service in front of a relative stranger.

“That,” Po gushed with eyes round as saucers, “is the coolest thing anyone has ever told me! How do you do that? Is it a Kung Fu Technique, or do they teach it to you in Kung Fu School as like, an elective—?”

“It’s all about developing a solid landing strategy,” Monkey proclaimed, a single finger authoritatively pointed to the sky. “We practiced by sneaking up on each other and chucking them off the mountain if they didn’t spot us in time.”

Crane side-eyed Monkey, knowing that was not at all true, but the panda’s eyes lit up with amazement anyway. “Woah… so epic!”

“Any bird could do it,” Crane said faux-casually, only a little smug about being the only one to get the fall perfect on the first try, no practice necessary. He ignored the exasperated looks the other masters threw at him for the familiar jibe.

Po rubbed his chin in thought. “I mean, I could fall from the top of the mountain to the bottom too, but there would probably be way more rolling and swearing involved.”

Crane startled out a laugh. And then he kept laughing when everyone else cracked up. It was only when Crane had been doubled over laughing for at least half-a-minute straight he realized he’d laughed more in the past fifteen minutes than he had in the past fifteen days.

Po sighed with mirth, finally out of laughter and wiping a tear from his face. “Well, if you ever want noodles, now you know you can come to the shop! I could probably convince my dad to serve the Heroes of the Valley on the house. Maybe. Don’t quote me on it.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Viper waved off graciously. “You don’t have to do that!”

“Besides,” Crane shrugged, “we don’t really ‘eat out.’”

“Oh,” Po tilted his head at him curiously. “Why not?”

Crane exchanged glances with the others, not sure if he should explain the story behind Shifu’s palace-wide ban on takeout or not. No one wanted a repeat of The Incident.

“Well, you know how Kung Fu Palace life is,” Crane blustered instead, managing to keep the mood light. “It can be pretty insular from the rest of the Valley. We’re just used to it.”

“Oh, I guess that’s fair,” Po accepted easily, he peered up at them. “If you ever change your mind—”

“—Wait!” An epiphany crested over Po’s face, lighting him up like the sun. “You don’t have to go to the shop! I brought the—”

Horror had the panda sucking in a long, mortified gasp, his expression dropping like a stone. “Oh no, the noodle cart!”

Po shot to their feet surprisingly fast, enough that Mantis had to clutch his fur to avoid getting launched.

“Please still be here, please still be here and not at the bottom of the Stairs of Tortured Wisdom…” Po muttered, frantically whipping his head around with Mantis hanging on for dear life.

“Is that what they’re called?” Crane whispered to Viper. “I didn’t know they had a name.”

“Neither did I,” Viper whispered back. “Fits, though. A thousand steps are killer on your back when you don’t have any legs.”

“Oh, thank the spirits,” Po breathed. “It’s still here!”

Crane turned just in time to see the panda drop to his knees in front of an overturned cart they were too distracted to notice. Po checked under the canvas material holding stacked cutlery in place, presumably to check for cracks. Crane crept closer, with Viper and Monkey following, to watch over the panda’s shoulder as he opened up a side-compartment and felt around for whatever damage he was worried occurred.

“Phew!” Po slumped, a thankful hand came up to clutch his chest. “My dad would have killed me if I’d let this thing break.”

“Is,” Crane squinted at a noodle-themed logo, disbelieving, “is that a food cart? At the Jade Palace?”

“How the heck did you get it up here?” Viper asked, eyeing the cart speculatively.

“In a way that made me very wise, very fast,” the panda grumbled under his breath.

“Huh?” Viper tilted her head.

“Never mind.” Po scratched the back of his neck, abashed. “Anyway, this is my dad’s prized Noodle Cart—”

Po grabbed the handle of the cart, clearly intent on putting it upright again. And then, with just one arm, the panda lifted the entirety of the cart off the ground with ease—far too much ease, as evidently, it even surprised Po with how effortlessly he picked it up. The panda startled at the suddenly airborne cart and slammed it back down too roughly for its wooden wheels to handle.

Crane could tell it was too much for the wheels because upon contact with the ground, the cart’s axle bowed to kiss the stone floor and the wheels shot off in opposite directions, as if a gallon of pressurized air had somehow been hiding in the wheel hubs.

The right wheel bounced off the ground, launching itself in a perfect arc over the courtyard wall and into the palace grounds.

The left wheel launched itself directly outwards and fully embedded itself in the wood of a tree with what had to be an incredible amount of force.

It was the most comically unlikely thing Crane had seen outside of a play.

Po stared at the left wheel, jaw agape. He turned to where the right wheel disappeared, expression unchanged.

The panda stiffly turned back to the four, smiling wanly, pain clear in his eyes. “…This is my dad’s prized Noodle Stand.”

“Oh…” Crane strained, desperately trying not to cry with laughter.

“It’s been passed from generation to generation,” The panda recited numbly. “It’s tradition for each owner of the Golden Harvest Noodle Shop to add something new to it and make it their own.”

“Oh no…” Mantis said, voice trembling with suppressed cackling at the panda’s misfortune.

“I had to drag it up so many steps.” Po’s eye twitched. “It has way too much storage space for broth.”

Monkey didn’t risk trying to speak, one hand over his eyes and the other over his mouth, taking deep, shuddering breaths in and out.

Holding it together the best out of all of them, Viper sympathetically patted Po’s hand. “Don’t worry, we can help you get the wheels back. Maybe it’s fixable?”

“Yeah, maybe…” Po murmured, sheerly shocked and staring off into the distance. “The cart didn’t feel that light when I was dragging it up… Is this the power of working out…?”

“Did—” Crane cleared his throat, needing to change the topic before they all lost composure. If they started laughing now they might not stop in time for the tournament. “Did the palace hire you as a caterer?”

Po snapped out of his fugue state at the direct question. “Oh, uh, no. It was my dad’s idea.” The panda slumped. “I… probably should have checked with the Jade Palace if it was okay before lugging this thing up here, huh?”

“No, I don’t think there’s a rule against it. You should be fine.” Crane gratefully paired this line of conversation with some breathing exercises to bring himself back from the edge of tears. “Having catering at the festival is a good idea, actually. We’re not sure how long the tournament will last, so having food available for the villagers is probably for the best.”

In fact, it was such a good idea, Crane wasn’t sure how Shifu and Oogway couldn’t have thought of it themselves. Could there be more caterers they invited themselves on the way up? But if their teachers didn’t invite what had to be the very closest food establishment to the Jade Palace, then who would they invite?

“I know the Jade Palace is, like, the sacred hall of Kung Fu Secrets and such, but a lot of people are going to be here to see the Dragon Warrior. My dad would never pass up the opportunity to sell food at a big event like this.” Po sighed, long-suffering. “He’s a businessman to the core.”

“So your family has been in the village for a couple generations, then?” Mantis hopped down and landed on the handle of the cart to look Po in the eye to directly ask the question they were all thinking but weren’t quite brash enough to ask. “I didn’t know any pandas lived in the valley.”

“Oh, no pandas,” Po chuckled. “Just me!”

“…Just you?”

“Yup!” Po did not elaborate.

“…Welp!” Crane broke the nervous silence that had descended on the four. “Let’s see about those wheels!”

Crane’s job was easy—fly over the palace, find where the right wheel landed, bring it back. Simple. Was the fact he had found the wheel on the roof of the Hall of Warriors impressive? Yes. Did it have Crane questioning the laws of physics? Somewhat. But at least it hadn’t been difficult to spot.

The left wheel had evidently been trickier. When Crane returned, Monkey was still yanking on the thing with full strength, both feet planted on the tree and pushing off. Mantis was investigating the edges of the indent, trying to find spots to whittle away at the tree and loosen the wheel.

“Any progress?” Crane asked.

“Nope,” Viper popped, idly inspecting the two other masters’ work.

“Thank you so much,” Po said profusely when Crane returned the right wheel. “You guys really didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s… fine!” Monkey called over his shoulder, straining hard. “Didn’t have… anything else going on…!”

At that moment, Monkey pulled too hard and his fingers slipped. Thankfully, Viper was there to cushion his fall

“Yikes!” Po exclaimed, hovering worriedly over the toppled Monkey. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Monkey huffed, climbing to his feet with Viper’s assistance.

“Geez, it’s really in there, huh?” Po scratched his head in puzzlement. “Maybe we should just leave it? If you got hurt trying to help me right before the tournament, I’d never forgive myself.”

“I swear I almost had it,” Monkey protested.

“You didn’t,” Mantis corrected, picking at the shredded wood of the tree. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I’m the one who got it in there,” Po reasoned, approaching the wheel. “And I don’t have a big tournament to do soon. I should be the one who gets it out.”

“It’s really stuck,” Monkey cautioned. “I dunno if—”

Po grabbed the wheel, placed his foot on the trunk, and pulled—

SNAP

“Oh no!” Po cried, and Crane’s beak dropped open.

The tree… tore. The trunk ripped down to the heartwood on the far end, only the side closest to the panda remained intact. The tear sat smack between where Po had pulled on the wheel and where he’d pushed on the trunk with his foot.

“What the hell,” Mantis uttered. “That was a tree.”

“Sorry!” Po cringed, clearly misinterpreting Mantis’ shock. “Man, I just keep breaking stuff today.” He heaved the tree back upright from where it had fallen forward. “This wasn’t, like, a super sacred Kung Fu Tree, right?”

“I-I don’t think it was an important tree,” Crane stuttered around his slack beak.

“I mean, I kinda liked it.” Monkey muttered.

“Does anybody have glue?” The panda tried to position the tree correctly, but every time he tried removing the support of his hand the tree collapsed forward, each failed attempt recorded in the increasingly dismayed curl of his spine. “Maybe some tape?”

Viper, quick as a whip and characteristically first to recover from her surprise, wound herself up the trunk and hooked her tail to the nearby wall, helping the panda hold the tree in place.

“Maybe,” Viper offered from her anchorage, “we could ask a landscaper if they can fix it?”

Mantis sighed, foreleg to his face. “Let me get something to tie it with.”

At least they got the wheel back.

Ultimately, they used the bandages from Mantis’ medical bag to tie the upper portion of the tree to the wall. Until that point, Crane hadn’t known Mantis’ medical bag contained any unsharp objects.

“If the sapwood stays aligned, then it might survive,” Mantis, who knew much more about doctoring trees than Crane ever would have expected, explained. “I dunno if we can do anything about the structural integrity of the heartwood, though.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Po apologized for the tenth time. “I’m usually not this clumsy.”

“It’s fine,” Viper consoled. “Accidents happen.”

Crane had never seen someone accidentally snap a tree in half, but at least the sentiment seemed to make the panda unwilt slightly.

“I’m still sorry,” Po mumbled.

“Hey,” Crane whispered in Monkey’s ear where the others couldn’t hear. “Are we just not gonna talk about this guy breaking a tree? It was not a small tree.”

“I guess not,” Monkey murmured back. He sniffed. “…I say I loosened it for him.”

Crane pulled back from whisper-range just to provide Monkey the most scathingly incredulous look he could muster.

The panda turned over the wheels in his hands. “The right one looks like it can be reattached fine. The left, though…”

Po tapped the wheel, causing half of a screw to fall out and ping against the stone floor.

“Might need to commission another screw from the blacksmith,” sighed the panda. “Maybe I can make something temporary to replace it, just for the tournament…?”

“We have about,” Mantis squinted directly into the sun. “Three hours before we start. Think you could fix it by then?”

“Three hours?” Po sputtered, disbelieving.

“Well, the tournament starts in three hours,” Viper amended. “We might open up the gates a little earlier than that, but I don’t have many exact details.”

The Five had, in fact, a single digit number of any details. Master Shifu had practically sprinted into the dining room whilst Crane’s beak was stuffed with breakfast tofu and announced they were to be “ready to choose the Dragon Warrior” that same day.

While Crane was busy choking, the other masters pressed Shifu for literally any more information besides that initial sentence. They had gotten a time, “when the sun peaks in the sky,” a place, “here at the Jade Palace,” and what they would be doing, “displaying your strengths in a tournament in front of everyone in the Valley to see which of them Master Oogway would select as the Dragon Warrior of Legend.”

Oh great, so no pressure.

The question Crane truly wanted answered was why. Why now? Why so suddenly after a thousand years of the Dragon Scroll gathering dust in the Jade Palace? But Shifu had already rushed away to coordinate festivity preparations by the time he’d coughed up his tofu.

“Three hours, wow! I reached the top of this place way faster than I thought I would.” Under his breath, the panda muttered something like, “…working out is more effective than I thought…”

Crane wondered what the panda’s “workout routine” could possibly look like—did he just hug trees into splinters all day? And nothing else?

“What was that?” Viper asked, tilting her head.

“Just—thinking out loud!” Po coughed, flustered. “If I had some wood, I could probably carve something to replace the screw…”

The panda’s gaze wandered to the assortment of small branches shaken loose from the wounded tree. He examined it, scooping up a short, thick twig from the pile.

“…Can I borrow this?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Mantis snarked dryly. “Keep it.”

Po gave a chagrined little laugh, thanking Mantis. The panda looked to the rising sun. “Well, at least I’ll have a project to keep me busy while I wait in line.” The panda shook out his hands with excitement, and squealed quietly to himself, “Ohmygosh I can’t believe I’m first in line to see the Dragon Warrior!”

Abruptly, the realization crested over Crane that the mystique of Being The Dragon Warrior was about to change either his life or one of his closest friend’s lives forever. The respect membership in the Furious Five garnered him was significant, but what China held for the mythical Dragon Warrior went well beyond regard—they were a prophesied warrior endowed with cosmic responsibility and limitless power. The Dragon Scroll would change them into something more.

Monkey’s steadying shoulder encountered Crane’s wing. Crane realized he’d swayed where he stood, and the others, even Po, were looking at him with concern.

“I…” Crane swallowed around his dry throat. “I think the heat is starting to get to me, too.”

Viper peered up at him, worry-eyed. “Do you need to lie down?”

“Yeah,” Monkey nudged up towards the palace door. “We’ve got a big day coming. Maybe rest up inside?”

Crane couldn’t imagine anything he wanted less right then than to be alone in his room with only his thoughts for company.

“No no, I’m fine,” Crane assured, hoping his nerves didn’t show. “I think I just need some water.”

“You should still go and get out of the sun.” Mantis’ foreleg-shaded gaze went to the shade that had slipped away from them with the rising sun. “Find some new shade—doctor’s orders!”

“You are not my doctor,” Crane asserted, as he did every time Mantis made such an insinuation, lest the small master get any big ideas.

“The courtyard has some shade,” Viper piped up, “Let’s go there!”

“I guess we could…” Crane agreed, reluctantly, considering he didn’t actually feel all that overheated. In fact, he’d very recently developed a chill down his spine.

“Hope you feel better then, Master Crane! You should cool off before it gets bad, not after.” Po chuckled ruefully to himself. “Trust me, I’d know. Heatstroke sucks.”

“Are you going to be alright out here by yourself?” Viper asked concernedly. “It’s only going to get hotter the closer it gets to midday. We don’t want you to relapse.”

“Pssh, Nah,” Po waved dismissively. “As long as I’m not climbing any more stairs, I’ll be totally fine.” The panda glared suspiciously at the treacherous sun. “Probably. Maybe I could build a little parasol out of these sticks while I’m waiting, too…”

The Four looked at the panda. Then, they looked at each other.

“Hey…” Monkey’s eyes took on that familiar epiphanic gleam, the one that had gotten each of the Five into and out of trouble more times than Crane had feathers. “You’re catering, right?”

“I guess so?” The panda agreed bemusedly with the non sequitur.

Monkey nodded, confident and mischievous in equal measure. “Then technically, that makes you part of the event.” Monkey winked impishly at the other masters. “Right?”

“I mean,” Crane smirked, catching on immediately, while Viper and Mantis nodded along gleefully. “That sounds right to me.”

Po stared at them, blank-faced, his breathing becoming shorter and shorter with every breath. “Part… part of the Dragon Warrior Tournament? Me?”

“Sure,” Mantis shrugged casually. “Why not—?”

The panda squeed, nearly hopping with excitement. “Oh my gosh, oh spirits, I’m part of the Dragon Warrior Tournament! This is the best day ever!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Monkey reinforced Po’s enthusiasm with a roguish grin. “So that means you should head inside with us and set up.”

Po was practically vibrating. “Really? Go inside the Jade Palace? But it’s forbidden to outsiders when—”

“—When the gate is closed, sure,” Mantis interrupted. “But today, there’s an event.”

“And,” Monkey smirked, “our master said the gates were opening today. He never said when they open.”

Crane sighed and put his wing to his forehead, faux-burdened. “I suppose we have no choice but to assume he meant the gates are open for the whole day.”

“And besides,” Mantis cajoled, “you’re basically staff. Letting you in is the responsible thing to do.”

“—And that means you can come in right now!” Viper cheered. She went to a door and held it open, giving the panda a view of what would become their fateful arena. “After you, Po.”

Po stared through the gates like they led to the highest plane of the Spirit Realm, stunned still.

“Let’s help you get you set up,” Monkey masked his troublemaking grin with an air of graciousness, grabbing the handles of Po’s noodle cart to take it for him. “As residents of the Place, it’s our duty to help organize any events and oh spirits what the hell is this thing made out of—?”

Monkey attempted to pick up the wheelless cart, presumably to set it up in the courtyard, but he only managed to lift the thing an inch off the ground before dropping it in surprise, nearly slamming it down on his toes.

The sight of a kung fu master attempting to do his job for him spurred Po into action, sweeping over to the broken cart. He shifted both wheels to one hand, and using his other arm scooped up the stand.

“Thank you, noodle cart,” Po whispered reverently, before bouncing through the open door, clearly on cloud nine. “I’m part of the Dragon Warrior Tournament!”

Monkey scratched his head, utterly bewildered. “Maybe I’m having an off day…?” He murmured, long arms folding around his waist self-consciously.

“Hell of a day to be off on, Monkey.” Mantis snarked, hopping past him, following the panda into the courtyard.

Behind them, Crane swallowed dryly, unable to disagree.

Po plonked the cart down, just to the left of the midline in the courtyard. “Here?”

Monkey squinted at Po through his box-framed fingers. “A little to the right!”

Po obligingly hefted the cart up and deposited it a foot over, front-and-center of what would become the crowd boundary line. For now, the courtyard’s walls cast shade over the half Crane and the others were standing in—there would be nowhere to hide at noon, unfortunately, but there wasn’t anything any of them could do about that.

“Perfect!” Monkey gave a thumbs up, and Po’s smile lit up the dark side of the courtyard.

“How are you feeling?” Viper whispered to Crane.

“I’m fine.” Crane avoided her eyes. “…Maybe a little nervous.”

Viper nodded knowingly. “I know what you mean. I’ve been trying not to twist myself into knots since breakfast. This might be one of the biggest things to ever happen to us—there is absolutely no shame in nerves.”

“It’s just—” Crane shuttered out a breath, yet another chill raking under his feathers. “This whole tournament thing. What happens if…?”

“…If we lose?” Viper finished when Crane paused too long.

Crane pressed his beak shut and shrugged a vague affirmative. He wasn’t sure if he could string together his actual question without sounding incoherent.

“There’s no shame in that, either.” Viper soothed. “It can only be one of us, after all.”

“What would you do if it was you?” Crane asked, mostly as a distraction from his own anxiety-ridden mind.

“If I become the Dragon Warrior?” Viper laughed. “Well, I’m only a pair of wings away from being the Dragon Warrior right now!”

Viper and Crane shared a chuckle that didn’t escape the shaded corner they’d tucked themselves away in—neither of them had big laughs. The moderates of the Five, settled between Monkey and Mantis’ howling delight and Tigress’ non-existent expressions of humor.

“But honestly?” Viper stared contemplatively into the blue sky. “I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

“Yeah, I feel you there,” Crane snorted. He could still taste his morning tofu in the back of his throat. “What’s the first thing you would do if you were Dragon Warrior?”

“The first thing any of us would do is read the Dragon Scroll,” Viper pointed out. “But after that… I guess I would write to my family—” Viper cut herself off with a short gasp.

“What is it?” Crane asked, brow furrowed.

“I just realized they don’t know I’m competing today!” Viper exclaimed, coiling tensely. “My father, mother, and sisters—they don’t know I could become the Dragon Warrior in a few hours. They’re too far away to message in time…”

“I’m sorry,” Crane offered to Viper, his heart clenching for his own mother, whom he couldn’t have invited even if the tournament wasn’t for another year.

“Maybe I could write to them before I get the Dragon Scroll?” Viper contemplated. “There’s no way they’d make the tournament, but maybe Shifu would put off the scroll reading so at least my father could be there for it?”

“Before the scroll might be the only time you can write them,” Crane agreed solemnly. “You might be better off asking Master Oogway for the extension on the scroll reading, though. Master Shifu is always saying the Dragon Warrior should be detached from earthly concerns like that.”

Crane regretted pointing that out as soon as he finished saying it, taking in the way Viper coiled even tighter beside him.

“Sorry,” Crane grimaced.

“No no, you’re right,” Viper acknowledged, nearly inaudible. “I just… hadn’t really considered what would happen with family if I won—”

“Guys!” Monkey called excitedly, Crane and Viper’s heads snapped around, their heavy conversation dropping out from under them like a fumbled weight-ball. “You have to come look at this!”

Crane glanced at Viper, partly relieved and partly guilty to see Viper was just as content to leave their conversation behind as he was.

Mantis was fuming in Monkey’s grip when they walked over. The Mantis in Monkey’s opposite hand was entirely placid, but only because they were made of wood and thus not alive. Po was hiding his face in his paws, trying to disappear into thin air.

“Oh wow!” Viper exclaimed. Crane was grateful to see laughter return to her eyes. “Po, is this one of your carvings?”

“It’s so…” Crane looked between the frowning Mantis and the stoic Mantis. “…lifelike.”

The angry Mantis’ glare could have singed Crane’s feathers. Crane thought he might prefer the wooden one.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Monkey chanted, pitting the two Mantises against each other. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss—!”

The non-wood Mantis slammed Monkey to the ground.

“…Worth it!” Wheezed Monkey.

“The craftsmanship is… decent.” Grumbled Mantis, hopping onto Po’s head, far out of the snickering masters’ reach. “Even if some forces would use it for evil.”

Said force of evil beamed up at Po, holding out the wooden Mantis to the panda. “You should show them the rest!”

The panda peaked out from his paws. “…They aren’t any good.”

“Nonsense,” Viper refuted. “This one is amazing! Look at these details—using bamboo for the legs was clever. And you even got his antennae right!”

“They’re hardly accurate at all.” Po mumbled weakly. Crane personally didn’t see that as a bad thing—if Po didn’t know the minute details of their appearances, it kept him firmly out of ‘stalker fan’ territory. “And they’re from when I was first starting out, so they’re really old.”

“We can be the judge of that,” Crane offered instead. “Unless you don’t want us to.”

Po visibly debated with himself. Ultimately, he reached into a small drawer and pulled out four more carvings.

Crane held the carving of himself as delicately as it had been placed in his claw. Just like the Mantis figure, it was fully painted, and definitely more than a few years old. Crane brushed his claw over areas where the paint was lovingly touched up, even as frequent handling clearly wore it away over time. He took in the figure’s dynamic stance, more pleased than he thought he’d be to see how well re-created the opening form of his custom kung fu style was. He wondered what Po did to get Crane’s legs so proportionally thin—he couldn’t quite tell just from their look and feel.

“I like the pose.” Crane peered under the wide brim of the toy’s hat, noting the panda had put in the effort to carve the figure with detail even in hard-to-see places. The face was well-crafted, but looked how Crane imagined his face would be drawn by someone who’d only seen him from a distance—which was just fine by him. “And it makes my hat look cool.”

“Don’t you wish it looked that cool in real life?” Mantis snarked, still irritated.

“Yes,” Crane replied honestly.

Mantis tsked. “It’s sad to make fun of you.”

“Look, Crane!” Viper maneuvered the head of her figurine, the wooden segments of the Viper toy following smoothly. “My coils are adjustable!”

“It’s just a series of ball-joints…” Po mumbled, practically hiding behind a blocky Tigress figurine. Crane would put money on it being the first one the Five the panda ever made. “It’s nothing fancy…”

“My sisters would love something like this…” Viper’s eyes went soft and a little sad. “Do you take commissions?”

Po let out a wheeze, sounding remarkably similar to a tea kettle. His blush was actually visible under his short fur. Crane wondered if the panda would start steaming again.

“You would really want something commissioned from me?” Po squeaked, eyes bulging out.

Viper nodded. “I don’t go home much. This might be nice as something to remember me by…” She put her tail to her chin in thought. “If I showed you a drawing of my family, do you think you could make figures of them too? We could be like a little wood-snake family together!”

Po didn’t, and possibly couldn’t, reply verbally. He just nodded, speechless. Viper grinned happily in response.

“What was the name of where you live again?” Viper asked. “I need to know where to send the details and payment.”

“P-pay?” Po stuttered, “Master Viper, you’re a Hero of the Valley. I can’t make you pay—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Viper firmly halted the panda in his tracks. “You’re not making me do anything. I am commissioning work from you, and I will be paying you appropriately for your time. Do you understand?”

Po nodded, wide-eyed.

“Good.” Viper tilted her chin up, a determined glint in her eyes. “Your art and the time you put into it are worth something. Take it from a dancer: don’t undervalue your craft just because someone ‘important’ thinks they’re entitled to it. That kind of thinking is a good way to get taken advantage of.”

“Mhm. Totally.” Po whispered, clearly intimidated by Viper’s sudden fervor.

“So,” Viper smiled cheerfully like nothing happened. “Your address?”

“…I can write it out for you.”

Viper pestered Crane until he produced the calligraphy brush he kept in his hat for the panda to write out the name of his noodle shop with. Pointer fingers together, Po tentatively requested their autographs, to which the Four obliged. The panda stashed away the signatures and the action figures in his noodle cart after one last reverent look.

“Well, time to get to work on the cart before I forget about it,” Po chuckled.

The only item Po kept out of the cart’s storage compartment was a worn whittling knife. Proportionally, the blade itself seemed tiny, possibly scavenged from a carving tool befitting a smaller creature. But the handle was smooth and large, with divots that perfectly curved to the pads of the panda’s hands.

“Who taught you to carve?” Asked Crane, eyes on the custom knife hilt. Crane thought it likely the panda had carved it himself as well.

“Taught me? Nobody.” Po took the knife to his chosen twig and took bold, symmetrical strips off each side. “My dad isn’t really a ‘raw materials’ guy, unless we’re talking food. So I taught myself.”

“Why learn, then?” Monkey adjusted Crane’s question for him.

“Uh,” the panda’s whittling slowed, “it’s a little embarrassing…”

Crane tilted his head, waiting.

Po sighed, resigned to a confession. “Okay, so I know I said I carved other stuff besides you guys—which is totally true! But I got into it in the first place because I wanted to carve the kung fu masters I thought were cool.” The panda glanced up and quickly away from them. “Which started when I learned about you guys.”

“Aww, that’s cute!” Viper gushed. “So you’ve been carving for ten years?”

Po went red again at the word ‘cute’ used to describe him, and quickly turned his face away. “About ten, yeah. Action figures aside, learning to carve was probably the most useful thing I’ve ever done with my life. Figure-carving was really difficult to learn, so it meant carving other stuff was way easier in comparison. I carved nearly everything I use—brushes, chopsticks, spoons, chairs, shoes—you name it.”

“That’s some dedication to learning carving,” Viper approved with a nod. “Good practice, though.”

“I wouldn’t call it dedication, exactly,” Po said, distractedly rounding out the edges of his twig. “It was more like necessity. It was a useful skill to have in my back pocket when I got too big for the stuff made in the village. Bigger hands, bigger tools.” Po shrugged, good humored. “Panda problems, you know?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Crane, a chronic twig of a bird, responded.

“So just—thank you.” Po glanced up from his work, chopping either end of the stick straight without looking. “Thanks for being awesome, and inspiring me to carve that.”

“It’s true!” Po insisted when the four protested. “If it weren't for you guys, I probably wouldn’t have learned carving until after I needed it.” Mostly to himself, the panda muttered, “Wish I’d started early with sewing, too.”

Crane’s gaze flicked down to the panda’s pants. They were visibly stitched together from various other garments meant for a smaller person.

“It’s a work in progress!” Po defended, catching Crane’s look.

“It’s not bad work…” Crane said. It was amateurish, yes, but not necessarily bad. If the panda was exclusively wearing his own cobbled-together garments out of a dedication to learn sewing, Crane would even highly respect the effort. However…

“Does the village not have a tailor?” Crane asked, suspicion compounding.

In any other context, it would be an odd question—a village of this size, remoteness, and resource richness most certainly would have a range of artisans to support itself.

…more like a necessity.

“Of course it’s got a tailor,” Po looked at Crane strangely. “It has like, eleven just in the Valley Basin. There’s one a couple houses down from the noodle shop.”

Crane raised a brow. “So if you need pants, why can’t the tailor make you some?”

“Oh, they don’t have anything in my size,” Po rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of self-deprecation creeping in.

“…They’re a tailor,” Crane stressed. “It’s their job to make things that fit people.”

“Oh.” Po blinked, as if he somehow had not considered this before. “…I guess they don’t know how?”

They’re literally a tailor, of course they know how, Crane wanted to retort. Instead, he asked, “Did you ever go to check?”

“Yeah, my dad and I both did. We went to a bunch of them, actually.” Po shrugged. “They said they didn’t have anything for me.”

“…Uh huh.”

Crane thought of the vibrant paint brushed onto Po’s Furious Five figurines. If Po’s businessman father could afford something like that, then Po should be able to afford a single pair of pants.

“What about woodworkers?” Monkey asked, looking like he was about to chew up and spit out his own teeth. “Were there any in the Valley you got carving tips from while you learned?”

“There’s plenty of wood carvers, yeah…” Po spun the almost-finished screw in his fingers. “I guess in a way, I sorta did get advice from them!”

“Oh yeah?” Monkey’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Yeah,” Po smiled guilelessly. “Sometimes they trashed the stuff they messed up that was too small to get turned into firewood out back, and I could take it to see what they did.” The panda’s smile dropped, face turning sheepish. “Uh, don’t tell them I took their stuff please?”

“Your secret is safe with us!” Crane answered after the pause Monkey left when his face just twitched in response to Po.

Crane risked eye contact with the other masters, and promptly resigned himself to visiting the noodle shop in town after all—if only to check up on this poor guy.

“Almost done!” Po held the smooth, newly-carved wooden cylinder to the light, complete with a wide head. “Now it just needs the screw threads…”

And apparently, for some reason, this meant it was time for the panda to stick the incomplete screw all the way into his mouth.

Crane watched unblinking as Po caught the stick between his teeth and twisted. Two long, unbroken spiral shavings grew from where Po’s teeth dug into the wood, gouging two deep spirals into the body of the stick with every turn of the panda’s hand. The most absurd part was that the knife-teeth method of carving seemed to be working, and working stupidly well at that.

Mantis looked between the other three gobsmacked masters in alarm. “What, what’s happened, why do you look like that?” Mantis crawled forward from his perch on top of Po’s head to bear witness to the panda using his fangs—and why did a panda need fangs anyhow—like a screw box. “Oh. Yeah, that would do it.”

“Doesn’t that hurt your teeth?” Monkey’s horror was palpable—a result of being the only other person in the group who knew what having teeth felt like, no doubt.

“Huh?” Somehow, Po actually seemed to have no idea what Monkey was referring to for a few moments. “Oh! No, it doesn’t hurt.” Po tapped the half-threaded screw against his lips. “This might come as a shock to you, but I eat. Like, a lot. After a while, you get really good at chewing.”

Monkey seemed desperate to comment on that, but in a rare display of filter, managed to bite his tongue.

Do you know what, Crane decided to himself, unable to conjure up an iota more befuddlement than he already contained in his body, this might as well be happening. Today had already been so spirits-damned weird.

Po clipped the end of the screw with his teeth to form the tapered tip, and with zero further explanation, dropped to the lopsided cart’s broken wheel.

The screw fit perfectly, no adjustments needed. Crane found this only slightly less plausible than the knife-teeth thing.

“There we go, good as new!” the panda cheered obliviously, jostling the cart slightly to test its sturdiness. It creaked loudly. “…Mostly. Looks like it’ll get me through the tournament, at least. Might even get me back down the mountain!”

Po’s face screwed up, and he placed a mournful hand over his eyes. “Sweet Mother of Kung Fu, I have to go back down the stupid mountain…”

“Well, look on the bright side,” Mantis allayed, dangling down in the panda’s eye line, “it’s got wheels again! Now instead of carrying it back down, you can just kinda…” Mantis mimed shoving the noodle cart non-too-delicately down the stairs “…let gravity do its thing.”

For a moment, Po seemed tempted. Then, he sighed defeatedly. “No, my dad would kill me. The cart would be impossible to replace, it’s been in my family for generations. Can’t risk it.”

“It doesn’t look that old, for an heirloom,” Mantis contended.

“Well, every time a new generation adds something to it, they basically refurbish the entire cart. I honestly doubt this thing has any of its original parts from when it was first built.” Po admitted. “But it’s not really about keeping the parts the same, I guess—it’s about, like, respecting legacy, and carrying on the intention of the cart’s original creators, and all that stuff. Or, that’s what my dad says.”

Crane raised a brow. “What was the intention of the original creators?”

Po smiled tiredly. “Sell more noodles.” And, yeah. Maybe Crane should have seen that one coming.

“Every generation changes the cart, right?” Viper questioned curiously. “What did you add?”

“Me?” The panda snorted. “Oh no, I didn’t do anything to it. You only add something when you inherit ownership of the shop itself. But get a load of what my dad added—”

Po popped the cover of the main body of the cart, and then—

“Uh,” Crane titled his head to get a better look. “What am I looking at, here?”

There was something metal making up the core of the noodle cart. It looked like someone had slapped a tangle of pipes, chambers, and valves together as some kind of strange art display. It made Crane even less sure of how Po managed to lug the thing up the mountain in the first place.

“It’s a little hard to explain without seeing it in action…” Po tapped his chin in consideration of the best way to impart the knowledge of his dad’s modifications. He snapped his fingers in realization. “I got it! I’ll just turn it on and show you what it does. Awesome plan, me!”

“‘Turn it on?’” Viper repeated, confused.

But Po was already sticking his hand into the cart, performing a seemingly nonsensical series of tasks that Crane had trouble stringing together. To name a few examples: Po pulled out a long, flexible tube ending in a spade-shape, laying it on the ground. He did something inside the central compartment that made the metal squeak, unseeable past the panda’s hunched-over bulk. Alarmingly, at one point Crane thought he heard something similar to flint and steel striking inside of the wooden cart somewhere.

It all came to a head when the panda covered the spade-shaped object with his foot and pressed down, the device releasing a distinctive wheeze revealing it to be an air pump moving gas into the cart.

“There’s no way.” Mantis muttered.

“What’s ‘no way?’” Viper questioned him, but Mantis merely shook his head, too stunned for words.

Crane didn’t get it either—not until the area in a radius around the cart began heating up.

It clicked in his brain what exactly Po was showing them.

“What.” Crane’s beak dropped open. Crane’s mind? Blown. For what he was goggling at was the inner workings of a genuine, albeit tiny and likely weak, portable furnace stuffed inside the cart.

“You’re dad made a mobile furnace?” Monkey goggled. “How?”

“This is insane!” Mantis by this point had climbed inside the noodle cart to inspect the metal piping, carefully avoiding the heated bowl-shaped broth storage chamber. “Where’s the burn chamber? The tinder?”

“No tinder,” Po tapped a thick-looking leather sack next to the ignition chamber. “It runs on flammable gas.”

“Flammable gas?” Crane repeated incredulously. “Where the heck is your dad sourcing flammable gas? Isn’t that stuff hard to get?”

“I’ll have you know you’re looking at the second biggest source of flammable gas in the Valley,” Po said faux-proudly. “But to tell you the truth: the shop is built on top of a fire well.”

“Story goes, the original owners wanted to turn the place into a hot spring, but couldn’t get the neighbors to agree to run water pipes through their properties for it, since apparently the owners swindled everyone around them by concealing the true value of the real estate during the bidding. And I guess their next best idea after ‘hot spring’ was ‘noodle shop?’” The panda shrugged. “It sounded weird to me, but I guess all the best family history is a little weird.”

“Long story short, the shop has always run on flammable gas, but it was my dad’s idea to use it in the noodle cart too. Dad said that the gas-cooked noodles makes our soup ‘flavorfully unique,’” Po made liberal use of air quotes. “It’s a brand thing. To be honest, I can’t really tell the difference from regularly cooked noodles, but it is kinda cool to be cooking your food with the air.”

“Po, I think this might be more than ‘kind of cool,’” Mantis paced over the flammable gas sack, forelegs pressed to the sides of his head in disbelief. “I think this might be a leap forward in technological innovation!”

Po’s head followed the small master bounced around inside his noodle cart. “If you’re that interested, I can try and explain how it works. But just to warn you, I’m a little fuzzy on the details myself.”

Mantis agreed eagerly, and Po smiled. The panda poked at the sack Mantis was pacing on. “So, the gas sack thing here gets filled up with gas and stored in the cart. It’s pretty powerful stuff, especially if you just wanna heat up some noodle broth instead of cooking it on the spot, so we don’t need too much of it.”

Po gestured to a hand valve directly above it. “Turn this thingy, and a small amount of it leaks into the firing chamber—” then Po grabbed a small, almost unnoticeable lever by the handle of the cart “—and grab this to spark it. Once it’s lit, you can control how big the flame gets by feeding it with the air pump.”

“Then I guess the heat—diffuses somehow? Into the broth storage.” Po scratched his head. “That’s the part I’m not too sure about. You’d have to ask my dad more.”

“This has to be amazing for keeping warm traveling at night,” Viper’s cold-blooded body subconsciously leaned toward the heat source. “I know I’d appreciate it…”

“That’s why my dad always brings it out when the Valley has to evacuate at night, the warmth makes it a good place to huddle.” Po quirked his mouth ruefully. “Well, I guess he actually brings it out so he can get more people hooked on our noodles. The heat attracts a crowd. Good for business.”

“I—don’t know what to say about this,” Mantis sputtered. “It’s incredible! There’s so much you need fire to do, so much medicine specifically that needs a stationary fire—this could change all of that! Spirits, you could perform Moxibustion outside in the rain with something like this…!”

“Oh.” Po blinked down at the aforementioned marvel of technological progress. “Well. It’s good at keeping the broth hot.”

Mantis’ jaw opened several times to respond, and just as many times shut tersely. It was the first time he’d ever seen Mantis at a loss for words. Crane decided then and there he would visit this guy and his dad’s shop just to buy more of Mantis’ silence.

Po leaned down to the cart’s opening, peering in with concern. “Uh, hey Master Mantis sir? This thing is just going to get hotter. You might want to get out of there before you get heatstroke, too.”

“I think I need to sit down…” Mantis grumbled, obligingly exiting the cart before he fried himself.

Monkey sniffed the air. “Do you guys smell that?”

“I was wondering what that was,” Viper admitted.

The smell of warm, savory food was slowly permeating into the air. His stomach protested quietly and the presence but not yet consumption of sustenance. Crane was abruptly reminded how he only swallowed a few bites of breakfast before nearly choking to death spoiled his appetite.

“That smells like…” Monkey sniffed harder, concentrating, and his face lit up. “…takeout!”

“That’ll be the broth heating up,” Po explained. “It should be ready to go in a couple more minutes.”

It smelled pretty good…

Po turned to Crane, and Crane realized he must have said that out loud.

“Hey, since the cart is warm, why don’t I cook you something!” Po suggested. “On the house—I insist.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t,” Viper said.

“I could,” Monkey piped up behind Viper, with Mantis seconding.

“No really, Masters!” Po uncovered the cutlery, revealing what Crane had assumed was a tarp to be a large apron. “Consider it a thank you for helping me out earlier. And for like, all the other generally awesome kung fu stuff you do to protect the Valley. That too.”

Crane’s stomach rumbled again, this time loud enough to have him ducking his head, and Viper’s resistance visibly softening.

“Hehe,” Crane chuckled abashedly. “Maybe I could go for something light.”

“Seriously, order anything you want. This thing has plenty.” Po slapped the top of the cart, and it rocked ominously. “Just, uh, don’t tell my dad.”

“Well…” Viper’s holdout waned under the hopeful gazes of the others. “Alright, if you insist!”

“Yes! Takeout! It’s been so long.” Monkey jumped for joy, beaming up at Po. “What do you got?”

“Noodles, soup, noodle soup. That’s pretty much it.” Po listed off. “Oh! And bean buns.”

The others seemed not to hold no reservations regarding ‘eating light’ before their impending strenuous physical activity. Monkey, reportedly fueled by ‘takeout nostalgia,’ got a classic bowl of noodle soup. Mantis ordered a single bean bun as big as he was, which would no doubt take him a week to finish. Viper ordered a noodle bowl to savor and five bean buns, all of which she swallowed whole on the spot, one right after the other.

Crane ordered a bowl of soup, and he could see the broth boiling from where Po ladled it out. Even before his residency at the Jade Palace, Crane didn’t have much experience with takeout, or with any food not critically examined and lovingly prepared by his mother. She had been highly distrustful of ‘outside contamination,’ and of risking her delicate little child with something as egregious as ‘food poisoning’ or ‘unhealthy choices.’

The bowl warmed his claws, perfectly up to temp as if it had just come off the stove. Crane pressed it to his beak and took a deep sip. It was delicious.

“This is really good,” smiled Crane. “Thank you.”

“I’m sure the villagers will love it,” Viper complimented.

“It’s my dad’s recipe, so thank him, not me.” Po scratched the back of his neck, looking away. “I mean, I don’t even know all the ingredients yet.”

“Well, thanks for bringing it here!” Monkey said around a mouth of noodles. He slurped them down with a pleased gulp. “Ah takeout, my lost love… it’s a nice treat before all the kung fu fighting.”

The panda twisted his fingers and bit his lip. For a good few moments, the panda stared down into the simmering broth, searching his own reflection for words.

“…Speaking of, uh, kung fu.” Po forced out, avoiding eye contact. “Can I ask you guys… kind of a weird question—?”

Knock Knock Knock

Crane grimaced at the courtyard doors, and turned to Po apologetic. “Sorry, Po. Should probably check that out. Could you hold that thought?”

“No,” Viper interjected before the panda could bluster out a rattled affirmative. “Po, is this a question you need all of us to answer?”

Po, seemingly unable to force his lips to move, shook his head.

“Okay then,” Viper tilted her head up. “You guys check it out. I’d love to answer your question, Po.”

“I mean, only one of us has to go get the door—” Mantis’ shoulders hiked up upon Viper’s pointed glance at the nearly shaking panda, “—or maybe it’s more of a three person thing, you’re completely right, Viper!”

“Door team, roll out!” Mantis hopped down off Po’s head, the uneaten portion of his bean bun tied up in a napkin and hefted over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

Crane glanced back over his shoulder as he ‘rolled out’ with Mantis and Monkey, taking in Po’s folded posture and Viper’s serene smile. The panda was in good hands. Or, well, good coils.

“Good morning, esteemed Masters!” The first rabbit greeted boisterously.

The second rabbit bowed their head respectfully. “Our sincerest congratulations to each of you. Being considered for the role of Dragon Warrior is no small accomplishment.”

“Good morning…? And, thank you.” Crane tilted his head quizzically. “What brings you here? It’s still very early for the tournament.”

“We are Mr. And Mrs. Fujian, of the Fujian Firework Company,” the first rabbit, Mr. Fujian, puffed out his chest. “Our fireworks are of the highest prestige, imported all the way from Gongmen City!”

“We are offering our services for the festivities today,” Mrs. Fujian elaborated calmly, withdrawing a scroll detailing several rockets, firecrackers, spark wants, and pre-arranged firework displays.

“Oh, wow,” Crane smiled awkwardly, glancing between the other two masters. “That’s—did Master Shifu send for you—?”

“We are the fastest providers of fireworks in the Valley of Peace,” Mr. Fujian boasted, not quite answering Crane’s very reasonable question. “No one gets fireworks to your door on-demand like the Fujian Family can!

“We are very grateful to the Heroes of the Valley for what they’ve done for us,” Mrs. Fujian voiced, equally avoidant. “For a millennial celebration such as this, we will supply our products at a discounted rate.”

“Ah…” Crane responded, trying to figure out how to repeat his question in a smooth manner.

“That’s nice,” Monkey stepped in front of Crane. “Master Shifu would love to talk to you more about this. You met him yet?”

“Ah, well…” Mr. Fujian wilted slightly.

“We have not yet, but we would love to discuss with him further.” Mrs. Fujian didn’t break eye contact with Monkey.

“Yes, we simply must tell him of our offer,” Mr. Fujian perked right back up. “A celebration of this size after a thousand years of anticipation? It would be criminal if there were no fireworks. Could you imagine? The Dragon Warrior, here at last, and at the pivotal moment of revelation—everything is quiet?” The rabbit sputtered indignantly. “No fireworks! How horrible!”

“I don’t think it would be all that bad,” Monkey muttered covertly.

“I don’t know,” Mantis uncertainly replied. “Gotta admit, I did also think there would be fireworks involved in this shindig, just based on the scale of it all. Do you think Shifu’s covered that yet?”

Crane hummed, not affirming or denying. Shifu, as a rule, always had everything covered, controlled down to an art. The answer should have been a yes.

And yet.

“Our delivery and set up speed is statistically unmatched by anyone in the Valley,” Mrs. Fujian raised a brow at the masters, who froze in their whisperings. “There is no one else in this Valley who could offer such an array of firework products in such a short time.”

“If you don’t want fireworks at your event,” Mr. Fujian folded his arms. “Then we can respect it, even if we most certainly couldn’t understand it.”

“If you’d like something in our broad selection for the festival,” Mrs. Fujian tilted her chin up confidently, “then we are the ones to call.”

Monkey’s eyes could have set the firework vendors on fire. Crane and Mantis looked at each other.

“Excuse us for a second,” Crane said.

“These guys are typical salesmen,” Monkey glared at the door. “Question evasion, creating a sense of scarcity, legal loopholes in every other word—I don’t like them.”

“All salesmen are like that, though,” Mantis pointed out. “Not every vendor crashing into our door can be a Po, you know.”

“Master Shifu didn’t send for them, and they were cagey about it,” Monkey protested. “They’re sketchy.”

“Shifu might not have sent for anybody…” Crane murmured to himself. He blinked when he saw the other two watching him, and rushed to explain. “It’s just—Master Shifu seems like he’s got a lot on his plate right now. Maybe he didn’t think of fireworks?”

“We’ve already allowed one vendor inside early,” Mantis tapped his chin. “There couldn't be any harm in letting them through just to talk to Master Shifu, right? It’s just two people—if he did coordinate something already, then he’ll send them packing, easy-peasy. Otherwise, maybe he’ll appreciate the convenience of the fireworks being taken care of already?”

Crane looked to Monkey for a counter. None came.

Monkey folded his arms, clearly unhappy. “Fine. They can come in to talk to Master Shifu. But that’s it.”

The two rabbits walked inside, Mr. Fujian profusely praising “wisdom” of their decision.

Mrs. Fujian stopped in her tracks, eyes on Po and Viper across the courtyard. Crane couldn’t see the Panda’s face from this angle, but his posture looked… vulnerable. Viper was trained on him with an intense yet caring expression. He didn’t read anything to be alarmed about from her—he had to assume their conversation was going well, from her point of view.

“Oh…” the rabbit put a hand to her mouth. “I suppose he was alright after all…”

“What do you mean?” Crane interrogated, very casually. Mantis and Monkey, also very casually, turned an ear to listen to her response.

“Nothing, Masters,” Mrs. Fujian turned her head away from the pair, still covering her face. “…The panda. He was breathing so heavily when we passed him on the steps, and he was dragging that huge cart. It sounded like he was dying.”

“Oh no, was he alright?” Monkey asked, as if he didn’t know exactly how bad off Po had been by the time he’d reached the Jade Palace.

“We didn’t have time to stop and check.” Mr. Fujian pointed his finger dramatically into the air. “Nothing slows down the Fujian Firework Company!”

“Uh huh.” Crane exchanged an unimpressed look with Monkey and Mantis. “Sure.”

Mrs. Fujian obviously caught the look, but refused eye contact with any of them. Crane hoped it was out of shame.

“Besides, he rushed by us half-way up the stairs, anyway. Nearly ran us over, even! ” Mr. Fujian waved off, unconcerned. “So, he ended up being fine.”

“Although,” Mr. Fujian squinted at Po, assessing. “I’ve never seen that panda move so fast before. I wasn’t even sure if it was actually him who shot past us until just now…”

“Maybe he’d like a side-gig moving fireworks, if he can go that fast all of a sudden.” Mr. Fujian shrugged, his attention redirecting swiftly. “Speaking of which, are you doing anything with this lovely terrace over here? I know the perfect arrangement we could fire over it…”

“Hey,” Monkey barked, “you’re just waiting for Master Shifu, don’t wander!”

Mr. Fujian rushed off towards the lovely terrace in question, an irritated Monkey chasing after, keeping the rabbit in sight.

Mrs. Fujian followed at a subdued pace, one eye on Po. As she left, Crane heard her final comment: “He was so bright, he looked more like a rocket than a person…”

Crane stopped, watching Mrs. Fujian leave. He turned to Mantis, seeing both of his brows were raised. He’d clearly heard that, too.

Knock Knock Knock

“You’re kidding me,” Mantis cried.

Crane groaned. “Spirits, if this is another salesman…”

“What is it, vendor-o-clock out here—?” Mantis ripped open the door—and stopped dead, eyes bulging in fear.

“Oh! Madame Jinhua.” Crane greeted nervously. “G-good morning…”

“‘Good morning?’” Madame Jinhua repeated dangerously. “‘Good morning?’”

“Two days into the only week off I take in three years, I wake to a messenger goose banging on my window at crack of dawn to haul it up a thousand stairs to the Jade Palace, no explanation as to why, and no time to find someone to watch my very young son.” The pig took a step forward into Crane’s space. Crane took a step back. “It was only as I was rushing through town that I, the Head of Staffing and Event Coordination for the Jade Palace, learned of the announcement there was to be an extremely important, large-scale tournament and festival hosted by us inviting the entire valley, in five hours time.”

Madame Jinhua leaned in very close, a deadly whisper ghosting her lips. “And all you have to say to me, is ‘good morning?’”

“Aha, well, you see…” Crane’s neck had retracted, his head nearly sunken into his body. “We… didn’t know either?”

“O-ho,” a furious smile took over the pig’s face. “I see how it is. So the esteemed Master Shifu dropped a little last-minute test for his students, hmm? Training up your reactions to the unexpected, hmm?”

Mantis chuckled, high pitched. “Ha ha, you know, we hadn’t considered that. This probably is a test—it’s funny we didn’t think of it first—”

“It’s very funny,” Madame Jinhua hissed, not sounding amused at all, “because I don’t recall Shifu’s silly little tests being a part of my job description. In fact, I could have sworn my contract said at least 36 hours notice before outside events hosting more than 50 people.”

“Oh,” Crane cringed, talking a few steps backward. “Look at the time! I, uh, actually have to… go get more practice in before the tournament! You know how it is…”

“Same.” Mantis croaked. “So much practice to do—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Madame Jinhua snarled, catching Crane by the neck feathers, yanking him to her eye-level. “Both of you are going to be assisting me with setup until I can get letters out to the reserve staff.”

“Aw beans,” Mantis muttered. He backtracked upon Jinhua’s venomous glare. “I-I mean, ‘oh, neat!’”

“You,” Madame Jinhua released Crane to jab him in the chest, “can begin by drafting summons to the staff in the Valley. I don’t know what Shifu is thinking, but if he’s the one pushing this madness, then I don’t trust he’s called in the necessary personnel.”

“And you,” the pig whirled on Mantis, who very nearly leapt away out of fear. “You can watch my son until I’m finished changing into uniform.”

A small child peered around Madame Jinhua’s skirts.

“Aw, hey little guy,” Mantis cooed at the young child. “What’s your name?”

The piglet glared at Mantis. “…You’re a littler guy than me.”

Mantis twitched with the effort of not fighting a child.

“Chen,” Madame Jinhua warned. “Be respectful to the Masters of the Palace.”

The child nodded into his mother’s skirts, but didn’t stop glaring. Crane surpassed an exasperated sigh; he didn’t know how the kid would learn to respect them if he only had his mother’s expressions of “respect” for reference.

Crane felt the headache between his eyes peak as he reluctantly trailed in the Chief of Palace Staff’s wake. It coincided with his suspension of disbelief hitting an all time low—balance in all things.

If Master Shifu hadn’t told the Furious Five of the upcoming tournament as a test, it would make sense; it could have even been an attempt to spare them the anxiety of the event’s approach. But risking the wrath of Madame Jinhua? Telling no staff? Leaving every single thing including vendors for the last minute? The lingering feeling of wrongness that had followed Crane all day shoved itself into the spotlight.

“Hey Mantis? This tournament…” Crane voiced lowly where Jinhua and her kid couldn’t hear. “Does it seem a little… rushed, to you?”

“I am so glad someone else said it first,” Mantis exploded quietly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing all day. It’s weird, right?”

“Thank you,” Crane hissed, validated. “Spirits, this is so suspicious.”

“Shifu said Oogway was the one who said the Dragon Warrior had to be selected today,” Mantis whispered breathlessly, almost frantic with gossip now that the bubble of silence around the topic was popped. “And since when does Oogway rush anywhere?”

Crane side-eyed Mantis where he perched on his shoulder. “If Oogway got a message from the Universe telling him it was time for the Dragon Warrior to awaken, then why do a huge tournament the same day? Why not tomorrow, or in three days so Jinhua doesn’t flay us alive?”

“Exactly,” Mantis agreed. “If it needed to be today, why not just do a private tournament for Oogway and hold a celebration later?”

“This doesn’t feel like their style of doing things at all.” Crane verbalized, only realizing it was true until after he’d said it out loud. “What made them change?”

“I dunno…” Mantis trailed off, glancing up at Crane with a twitch of his forelegs. “Don’t tell anybody this, but it’s actually starting to freak me out a bit—”

“Mommy, mommy, look! It’s the dragon man!”

Madame Jinhua spared a glance up from her sprawling to-do list where her son pointed. “That’s nice, dear.”

Chen tugged his mother’s hand, trying to pull her towards…

Po, Crane realized. Who was still talking with Viper. Crane stopped in his tracks.

“I wanna ask him how he glows,” Chen practically dangled off his mother’s hand, unable to change her unerring stride. “And why he made so much smoke from his mouth!”

“Don’t interfere with the vendors’ duties, Chen,” Madame Jinhua sighed tiredly. “It wouldn’t be nice.”

“But mooommy,” the child whined, “what if he’s a real dragon and I didn’t talk to him?”

“Real dragon or not, he’s still a vendor,” Jinhua scolded far more gently than the masters of the palace had ever experienced. “You can’t bother strangers or make people uncomfortable because they’re a different species. Do you understand, Chen?”

Chen scuffed his shoe against the ground, slumping disappointedly. “Yes, mommy.”

Madame Jinhua looked up from her scroll again to find her two minions for the day stopped a good few paces behind her, looking back and forth from each other to the panda, expressions slack and confused. She whistled sharply.

“Hey you two, no time to dawdle!” She snapped. “This tournament won’t organize itself!”

Crane would not get the chance to talk with Po again before the tournament, finding himself surprisingly melancholy about it. He was just one of those guys that was fun to talk to, despite his mega-fan status. Plus, he would have really liked to question the panda’s purported ability to glow and breath smoke.

Viper returned from her conversation with Po with a thoughtful look on her face. She didn’t elaborate on what they’d talked about, mainly because as soon as Madame Jinhua caught sight of her she’d shoved a clipboard into her coils and shooed her to the front gates to greet and assign staff as they arrived. But from across the courtyard, Po had a jovial bounce in his stance, so Crane supposed it must have gone well. The only good news of the day.

Just in case Crane needed any more proof the whole event was a rushed, last-minute mess, every single vendor except for Po turned into genuine disasters. (And Crane couldn’t believe he could call Po’s introduction “not a disaster,” but compared to everyone else Shifu hired, it was a depressingly accurate statement.)

To his credit, Master Shifu did try to bring in catering for the hungry staff and villagers. He’d reached out to quality chefs that morning who all specialized in serving high class food at important events (certainly none of whom could be accused of cooking takeout). The problem was not a single caterer even bothered to respond to Shifu’s summons. Fancy food had the annoying tendency of taking a long time to prepare—and its makers had the inconvenient quality of being well off enough to refuse the Jade Palace’s near-impossible request. It left Po as the only caterer present at the event, busily cooking away for the staff who’d skipped breakfast to be there. Crane hoped at least Po’s dad would be happy with how much their noodle business was raking in.

The musicians Shifu sent for didn’t know what they were going to be playing, as it hadn’t been specified in the invitation—the multiple invitations Shiu had sent to multiple music groups in the hopes one would show, who then proceeded to all show up. The groups were diverse, had never played together before, and possessed no convergent setlists, so they were stuck frantically cobbling together their various versions of traditional songs into something palatable. Through desperately unpausing practice, they turned their discordant styles into something harmonious, but the ear-bleeding process didn’t exactly soothe Crane’s building headache.

Madame Jinhua demoted Crane to her lackey for the day (or in her words, “promoted,” since “just kung fu” wasn’t a paid profession and Crane was “technically unemployed.” Ouch). She had him writing summons and decorating the terraces and drafting equipment itineraries and altogether too busy to worry about his impending maybe-fate as Dragon Warrior. He was even almost too busy to think about which one Shifu and Oogway needed rushed into production faster: the Dragon Warrior Tournament or the Dragon Warrior.

“Do people sit on you like, all the time?” Chen swung his legs back and forth on the tall seat. “With their butts?”

If he had teeth to grit, Mantis would have ground them into powder thirty questions ago. “No.”

“Do you smell like butts?” Chen asked, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“I do not—!” Mantis clamped his jaw shut and sucked in a deep breath. “I do not smell like butts,” he finished very calmly.

Chen squinted at Mantis dubiously. “That sounds like something someone who smells like butts would say.”

But at least Crane wasn’t on babysitting duty. Unlike Mantis, who was slowly but surely developing a tick in his eye every time the kid demonstrated his “respectful nature.” It had to be genetic, Crane swore.

Monkey disappeared off somewhere. Crane couldn’t find him in an aerial sweep of the palace, and if he had, he would have dragged Monkey to Jinhua by the tail just so he wouldn’t have to suffer his fetch-boy duties alone.

In Monkey’s absence, what seemed to be the Fujians’ entire extended family invaded the palace with crates of fireworks. Crane clutched close his fragile hope that meant they’d talked to Shifu about being a part of the event, but unfortunately, they missed the mark on thinking their Master hadn’t covered the fireworks already. Master Shifu already hired a different firework company.

And, oh good, Atalay’s Quality Fireworks just so happened to be bitter rivals with the Fujian Firework Company.

“Our apologies, Mr. Atalay,” Mr. Fujian chirped, not apologetic at all. “You took so long to get here, we were under the impression there weren’t any other firework demonstrations that could possibly be readied in time for the tournament.”

“You might be fast, Fujian,” Atalay spat, “but you lack quality. Our fireworks are made fresh here in the Valley, giving every bang an unbeatable boom! I’d like to see you do that with your imports.”

“Oh, do you have a fireworks display set up here?” Mrs. Fujian inspected her claws, airy and dismissive. “I thought a child lost their handbag of homemade bottle rockets in the courtyard.”

Logically, it was impossible the Fujians’ could have known the Jade Palace had already hired Atalay and Co. However, Crane found it equally unlikely that the Fujians’ had not planned for it anyway. Irrational levels of subterfuge seemed to be the name of the game for the rival companies, with their “accidental” dumping of each other’s products outside the palace walls, both sides claiming they thought it was “bad stock” they themselves had brought by mistake. With fireworks stuffed into every hidey-hole the two groups could reach, Crane worried when one or both of them set off their displays, the whole courtyard would explode in a ball of colorful, sparkly fire.

“Why you—” Atalay growled. He dipped down and plucked up an assortment of Fujian Firework Company fireworks and shook them alarmingly aggressively in the Fujians’ faces. “All that travel time dampens your gunpowder. Your fireworks are just like your family, Fujian—fancy casing wrapped around a bunch of duds.”

Crane’s headache threatened migration down into his chest to cause a heart attack when Atalay and Mr. Fujian started a tug-of-war game over a crate of explosives right next to Po’s flammable gas-powered noodle cart.

Shifu himself, frazzled and freshly pried from whatever planning bender he’d buried himself in, marched down to break up the fight, switching between yelling at the Fujians for invading the palace en masse without an invitation, and at the Atalays for showing up three hours late. Shifu capped off his diatribe by storming around the courtyard kicking out every volatile Atalay workman and Fujian family member he saw, but for every one Shifu dropkicked out the door, two more seemed to eek from the cracks in the walls to take their place, pockets loaded to the brim with rockets and sparklers.

And of course, the second Shifu showed his face in the courtyard, Madame Jinhua was on him like a burr.

Madame Jinhua did her signature speaking-so-softly-it-felt-like-she-was-screaming-at-you voice at Shifu, which graduated to her equally classic actually-screaming-at-you voice as Shifu remained incredibly cagey regarding why he’d decided to violate staff contracts on a whim. Jinhua jabbed Shifu’s chest, promising she would take “a month of time off after this circus clown nonsense—no, two months!”

As Crane was Jinhua’s unwilling shadow for the day, he was forced to bear witness to the two of the three biggest control freaks he knew stepping on each other’s toes. Jinhua ordered Crane to place a decoration just so, and five minutes later Shifu would show up counter it with his own vision, and the Jinhua would counter it again making him move it back to where it was, leaving Crane stuck playing the role of a living Cuju ball punted back and forth.

Crane suspected Madame Jinhua might be sticking to the letter of palace event protocol out of spite, and Shifu was too busy experiencing otherworldly levels of stress to catch on.

Shifu seemed ready to tear himself (and anyone else near him) apart over every little inconvenience. The Five’s Master always carried a strict air about him, but this was another level of what Crane could only describe as deeply-buried anxiety. It was honestly beginning to disturb Crane to see Shifu so… concerned? (No. Not concerned, something deeper, darker. But thinking about it made Crane afraid, so he’d rather not, please and thank you.)

And every other minute, it seemed like he and Jinhua were getting into arguments about the stupidest things. Like the palanquin.

Oh spirits, the palanquin.

Shifu did not want a palanquin. Shifu hadn’t called for a palanquin. Shifu wanted to know why there was a palanquin.

Jinhua tersely informed him palanquins were palace protocol for events introducing “revered persons,” which the Dragon Warrior certainly was. She pointedly asked Shifu if the impression the Jade Palace would like to make to the public was that they did not revere their people properly.

But, Shifu argued, too caught up in his own head to note the utter ice in Jinhua’s eyes, the Dragon Warrior was going to be someone already introduced during the tournament. Having a brigade of porters just… waltz in and scoop up the Dragon Warrior in front of the entire crowd like an errant child would not be the most graceful of looks. Palanquins were for riding out on, not clambering into and leaving in.

But the palanquin staff were already there, and they were getting paid for showing up and being in uniform either way. So why should Madame Jinhua care if Shifu gave them work to do or not, it’s not like it was her entire job to ensure the efficacy of the Jade Palace’s operations or anything. Oh wait, Jinhua gasped, pressing a sarcastically shocked hand to her face, yes it was.

Shifu put his foot down, and told Jinhua and the palanquin porters that he’d better not see hide, hair, or feather of them on the field to cart away one of the esteemed Furious Five in their “glorified wheelbarrow.”

As soon as the description exited Shifu’s mouth, a fire entered the eyes of the staff that seemed to double the heat of the summer sun bearing down on them. Crane felt sorry for whoever the Dragon Warrior turned out to be, since come the tournament’s end they would undoubtedly be bum-rushed by a mob of spiteful palanquin handlers through no fault of their own.

Jinhua just looked at them and sighed, not bothering to warn Shifu of what he’d just incurred. Crane didn’t blame her; it would have fallen on deaf ears.

Monkey reappeared alongside Tigress, after the gates were finally, miraculously, open to the public on time.

Corralled in the Hall of Warriors to prepare for their Grand Entrance, the Furious Five split into the Outraged Three and the Confused Two.

“Where were you?” Mantis yelled, leaning close to Monkey’s eye. “I had a kid using me like a baby rattle while you and Ms. Trains-a-lot were off in the Spirit Realm!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Monkey held his hands up in surrender. “Went to the training hall. I just… wanted to get more practice in.”

Tigress, who had been in the training hall the whole time, didn’t call his bluff, so he must have actually been there practicing. Tigress didn’t speak once the whole time they waited for the tournament to begin, actually.

Mantis groaned in frustration, but released his grip on Monkey’s face, returning to the ground. “Weird time to opt for a refresher, Monkey. The firework rabbits you were ‘watching’ practically rigged this place to blow before Shifu even saw them.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it got so busy.” Crane usually wouldn’t have bought such an excuse, but something in the way Monkey’s disarming smile didn’t reach his eyes stilled Crane’s irritation. “I just… didn't want to be off, today. That’s all.”

Drained, head pounding, Crane took in his fellow Masters. Tigress’ tail broodily flicked back and forth, like she was using it to swat invisible insect attackers in the air. Monkey laid back against a column, almost relaxed except for the uneasy curl of his arms around his knees. Mantis’ full-body twitch could only be suppressed by caving to his incessant need to agitatedly pace the length of the hall. Viper stared intensely at her reflection in the polished floor.

Spirits, what a disaster of a day. He hoped the tournament went smoother than its setup.

The tournament was incredible.

The decorations were beautiful, the music was epic, and the kung fu. Was. Awesome.

The Furious Five leapt down from the Hall of Warriors, showing off their (totally mind-blowing) ability to fall from great heights unscathed.

Po cheered from his front row seat as Master Crane perfectly swooped, spun, and dove through the Thousand Tongues of Fire. He nearly dropped a plate of bean buns on a sheep’s head during Master Tigress’ battle with the Iron Ox and his Blades of Death, he was so entranced. Every single one of them was skilled and powerful and graceful and everything he loved about kung fu. When Po got home, he promised to write down everything he could remember—he didn’t want to forget a single moment.

A flying kick through the air parted Blades of Death from the Iron Ox all in a single blow, and the audience erupted for Master Tigress. The music swelled, and the crowd chanted her name. Tigress’ gaze swept out over the sea of people for only a moment before her eyes turned to the figure on the podium—the Master Shifu, member of the previous Furious Five and teacher of the current team. Their expressions were blank as fresh snow, but Shifu offered her a single subtle nod. Tigress’ spine straightened in response. Good for her, thought Po.

Shifu turned to the empty spot on his left—and double took. Master Oogway—inventor of kung fu and author of the legendary Dragon Scroll—was not there.

Po blinked. The crowd was cheering wildly and hadn’t caught on to the missing turtle, and Po didn’t have time to wonder either as a rabbit customer snapped their fingers and held their paw out impatiently, tearing Po’s gaze from kung fu long enough to dish up yet another serving of Secret Ingredient Noodle Soup.

When Po turned back to the arena, his excitement damped quickly at the sight of yet another reaching hand demanding his attention. Purely on reflex, Po plated up another bowl of noodle soup in the span of three seconds.

Only when Po held the completed order in his paw did he realize the hand in front of him was not an open palm demanding food. It was a long claw of a digit, pointed directly at him.

Now, this was not the strangest way Po had been asked for noodles. But this pointing finger was attached to the Master Oogway, so it was definitely contending for the strangest person to ever ask him for noodles.

Po’s mind was entirely quiet as he took in the kung fu legend and his shaking yet unerring digit. Or—no, that wasn’t his mind. It was the crowd, struck silent some time ago.

The bowl in Po’s hand was steaming hot, fresh from the noodle cart.

…There was only one thing Po was supposed to do with fresh bowls of noodles on the job.

Slowly, like Po would set off a bear trap if he moved wrong, he brought the noodles to the leathery hand. It felt wrong to reach his hand past the arena barrier, like he was crossing an invisible dividing line that kept him and kung fu separate.

He just kinda… nudged it… into the curve of the turtle’s claws, and Oogway graciously uncurled his hand to keep the bowl from falling to the arena floor.

“Here you go, sir.” Po croak-whispered. “Enjoy.”

Peripherally, Po counted five sets of eyes behind Master Oogway boring into him. And behind them, innumerably more. He didn’t—couldn’t—look full on.

“Thank you,” Oogway smiled, humor and kindness shining in his eyes. The ancient turtle swapped the bowl to his other hand and continued pointing at Po.

Po blinked at the turtle, uncomprehending. “Do you… want another one?”

“No, friend,” Oogway chuckled warmly. He took a sip, smacking his mouth thoughtfully. “Actually, yes. But later, I think.”

Oogway’s staff caught Po’s extended hand and lifted it high.

“The Universe has brought us the Dragon Warrior!”