The Good Things - JustAnotherWriter140 (2025)

Tigress catapults herself into the Gauntlet of Wooden Warriors with the precision and fierceness of a master with an increasingly proficient handle on her style of kung fu. The style, pioneering in its own right, reflects her nature; it’s wild yet precise, ferocious yet graceful—it puts an emphasis on dynamism and hitting an enemy hard and fast. It’s new but Tigress already knows it’s what she needed.

The tiger obliterates her splintering adversaries with open-palmed strikes and powerful kicks, leaping and bounding between their hard-edged forms with ease and accuracy. Her eyes shine with passion and enthusiasm as she perches on and leaps from the head of the last wooden warrior standing. Her peers watch with varying expressions of awe and healthy fear as she lands in front of them and her masters, bowing deeply and breathing heavily.

The rest of the semi-newly-established Furious Five look on approvingly. Shifu, in typical fashion, is gruff and wears an unimpressed mask—in less typical fashion, he looks preoccupied. Oogway is pleased and his eyes sparkle with pride, though he opts to stay silent.

“Temper the Tahlia Leap. You don’t need extreme height to gain momentum—only speed. You need more ferocity,” Shifu chastises, though he sounds distracted.

Tigress nods, the air of joy and confidence in her eyes dwindling, and Oogway looks at her with compassion. The red panda waves a dismissive hand at Monkey, who is preparing to deal some serious damage to the Seven Swinging Clubs of Instant Oblivion. The primate looks to his peers in confusion, but they only match his puzzlement.

“Training is over for today, students,” Shifu says, “the winter feast preparations must be perfected. The masters will be arriving in a few hours. Clean this mess and be dressed and prepared in the palace by sundown.”

The Furious Five bow in an agreeable chorus, though Shifu is out the door before they can utter a word. Oogway offers the five masters a sympathetic smile and a mock, exaggerated eye roll.

“I look forward to class tomorrow,” the tortoise tells them, almost conspiratorially.

He follows the preoccupied, muttering red panda out of the building. Once they’re out of sight, everyone’s posture loosens, sans Tigress. With a sigh, she wordlessly retrieves a broom from the corner of the training hall and descends into the pit, where she silently sweeps the splintered remains of three of the wooden warriors into a sad little pile. In moments like these, how young she is becomes apparent. She’s still a kid, beneath it all.

A concerned-looking Viper glances at Crane, who nods. She does the same with Monkey and Mantis, who offer similar gestures of approval. With a deep breath, she approaches the disheartened tiger.

“Are you busy tonight?” Viper inquires, delicately, “The boys and I were thinking we might do something after the feast to celebrate the holiday. We wanted to ask you if you’d like to join us.”

The tiger’s ear twitches in thought.

“Oh, tonight?” Tigress says, some light returning to her eyes, “It might be cold in the training hall, but that sounds beneficial. Late-night training is always more productive with a sparring partner.”

“Oh, that’s not—uh,” Crane stammers.

“We were thinking that we would leave palace grounds,” Viper elaborates patiently, “just to try something new, you know?”

“I see,” the tiger says. She ponders the idea momentarily before saying, “Yes, I accept. I would be honored to join you.”

The boys celebrate and join Viper and Tigress in the pit, looking remarkably jovial and oddly surprised.

“Great!” Mantis exclaims, fully missing Viper’s silent urgings to let the snake handle this particular ordeal instead. The bug continues, “We planned on leaving once Shifu falls asleep.”

“Master Shifu will want to accompany us, of course. Perhaps he will want to utilize the time for winter wilderness training.” She beams, declaring, “He’ll be so proud of our initiative.”

Monkey scratches his head and Mantis puffs out his cheeks in rumination. Viper and Crane exchange pitying glances. Monkey, ever the supportive friend, pushes Crane forward with his tail.

“Well, yes,” Crane concedes reluctantly, “so, we were thinking we might—Viper, tell her.”

The snake sighs at the avian’s timidness, slithers forward, and tells the perplexed Tigress, “We were planning on leaving on our own accord. We’re guessing Master Shifu isn’t big on festivals.”

“Or games,” Monkey adds.

“Or dancing,” Crane contributes.

“Or fun ,” Mantis mutters.

Tigress pauses and her gaze meets its unwavering counterparts in her friends. The tiger brightens after a moment, though not in either agreement or anything similar.

“Oh, you’re telling a joke,” Tigress says earnestly. She weakly laughs, prompting winces of sympathy and compassion among her comrades. She adds, “That’s funny!” and Crane awkwardly tips his hat forward.

“Not really,” Mantis retorts.

“We understand why we can’t go home to our families. We have a duty to the palace and the village and we will abide by it the best we can. We’re honored to be here and stand by our new responsibilities,” Viper says sincerely. Tigress smiles. The snake continues, flatly, “But I’m going crazy .”

Tigress’s smile drops and she nods quickly.

“Exactly,” Monkey says, “which is why we need a break—just for a night! One night!”

“We think you need a break, too,” Viper tells Tigress, her tone understanding but with a hint of incentive.

Having recently explored the vast expanse of China to track down the masters who now make up the Furious Five, the tiger finds herself feeling a bit stir-crazy on palace grounds. Tigress cannot deny that the idea of leaving (even for a few hours) is tempting, and she would be blatantly lying if she said she didn’t want a change of scenery just as desperately as her friends.

“I don’t see the appeal,” Tigress lies.

“Tigress, please,” Monkey begs.

“Master Shifu will certainly not approve,” Tigress tells them, “and I don’t want to anger him, especially not after defying his wishes before our fight with Boar. Besides, I need to train.”

“All you do in train!” Mantis exclaims.

“Well, the point is that… we won’t be telling him,” Crane contributes.

“He hears everything,” Tigress argues.

“She’s got a point. With those ears, you’d have to hear colors— shades of colors,” Monkey muses, suddenly distressed, “I wonder what burnt sienna sounds like.”

“I wonder what burnt sienna looks like,” Crane mutters.

“We’ll wait until he’s asleep,” Mantis says—as if it were that uncomplicated. “We can leave, have some fun, come back, and he’ll never know the difference.”

“He has always been an exceptionally light sleeper,” Tigress tells him.

“I’m exceptionally stealthy,” the bug shoots back.

“What of Master Oogway?” Tigress weakly inquires.

“Tigress, the guy meditates for a weirdly long time,” Monkey says, “and I think I’ve seen him sleep through a firework show.” His expression turns serious and his eyes pleading, he joins his hands together and waves them in front of Tigress. He pleads, “Please, Tigress! It’s one night!”

“That’s all,” Viper adds, her keenness somewhat startling the tiger. “We will never ask again, I promise. Right, guys?”

“Right,” Crane agrees, to which Monkey and Mantis nod feverishly.

“I will not inform Shifu of your insubordination if you decide to go,” Tigress says, “but I will not be joining you.”

The thought of once again being alone in the barracks is upsetting, but Tigress can feel her will to obey Shifu in every shape and form waning ever-so-slightly. She hates that she wants to explore it.

“We don’t want to go without you,” Crane counters, surprisingly firmly.

Tigress appears to be taken aback by the avian’s sentiment. Her brow furrows and she looks between the three other animals in front of her, all of whom seem to agree with the bird’s assertion.

“You’re our friend,” Monkey says, “and you deserve to have fun, too.”

She purses her lips and vehemently avoids eye contact. If she tries to rationalize the excursion, she could tell herself that the Furious Five would’ve never come to be without a few chance happenings and mess-ups. Surely the universe is on her side, in some way.

Surely her friends are right—surely Master Shifu won’t take notice of one late-night outing.

Tigress ultimately relents, her arms dropping from their crossed position to fall by her sides. Her reservations are quickly forgotten (for the time being, at least), and a small, anticipatory smile grows on her face within seconds.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” she tells her friends, earning a burst of celebratory whoops from all of them, “Where are we going?”

When the five students step outside the barracks, the night is dark, cold, and silent. The friends share looks of delight mixed with apprehension as they descend the stairs from their barracks. Tigress tries to stop by the training hall, but her friends all but drag her away.

Shifu, by some miraculous, merciful intervention from the universe, does not wake up upon the Furious Five’s grand getaway from the Jade Palace. While they are indeed very capable of stealthy escapades, Shifu’s ears are large enough to hear all of them and then some. Even so, the group successfully reaches the village with little hardship and sets off in the general direction of one of Monkey’s “old haunts.”

On the outskirts of the Valley of Peace, the masters approach a tavern that, given any other context, likely would have sent Tigress heading back to the palace with her tail between her legs. It wouldn’t be an embellishment to dub it seedy—the voices spewing from the tavern’s open windows are boisterous and undoubtedly belong to incredibly inebriated men—but it doesn’t look particularly treacherous.

“You’ve been here before, yes?” Tigress inquires nervously.

“Oh, yeah, oodles of times,” Monkey replies.

A man inside the bar shouts an odd combination of expletives, something breaks, and laughter roars from the tavern. Viper rolls her eyes.

“The clientele is certainly enthusiastic,” the tiger says.

“They’re harmless,” the simian tells her.

“If there are no lady mantises on the prowl, I’m in,” Mantis contributes from his perch on Monkey’s shoulder, to which the primate shakes his head placatingly.

“Monkey, this is no place to celebrate the holiday,” Viper chastises, “besides, we can’t go back to the palace smelling like… that .”

Upon Viper pointing out the peculiar odor that permeates the scene, the other masters present take notice of it and cringe—sans Monkey, who shrugs indifferently.

“What is that?” Crane asks no one in particular. “I can’t even identify it.”

Before Tigress can contribute to the group commentary on the tavern’s appalling stench, which lands somewhere between body odor and stale sake, Monkey and Mantis are halfway to the entrance. The tiger makes a note of the door looking half-rotted.

“Come on, guys, let’s go!” Monkey shouts. “With any luck, they’ll let me do an old set!”

“That makes me want to go in so much more,” Crane deadpans with palpable sarcasm, to which Viper cracks a smile.

With reluctance, Crane, Viper, and Tigress join Monkey and Mantis, fruitlessly hoping that the outside of the establishment is extremely misleading.

The smell is not better on the inside.

Tigress hadn’t imagined it would be, but this tidbit of logic does little to calm her restless nerves. The tavern is tight and dimly lit, sporting a low ceiling and small tables. It isn’t quite as busy as she had assumed based on the volume of its patrons, but it’s full enough that she’s on edge.

Monkey confidently approaches the bar, speaking to the bartender, a weary-looking horse, with excessive eagerness. She recognizes him, as indicated by her eye roll upon his arrival, and looks far from thrilled. This doesn’t deter the primate, but Tigress hadn’t imagined it would.

“Table for five?” Monkey asks the bartender, “For an old friend.”

“Where is he?” the bartender deadpans. When Monkey looks offended, she sighs and gestures to an empty table on the far side of the tavern. “You’re not doing another set.”

Monkey only nods, accepting defeat while he’s ahead, and leads his reluctant friends to the table. Tigress offers to order for them—anything to keep herself distracted from the guilt of leaving the palace, at this point—and escapes the table almost as quickly as she’s been seated.

When Tigress is no longer within earshot, Viper takes it upon herself to deliver a firm smack to the back of Monkey’s head. He flinches and yelps, looking at the snake with bewilderment.

“Tigress is a teenager ,” Viper whisper-shouts, “and she should be having good, wholesome fun.”

“Something about that sentence is wrong,” Mantis mumbles.

“Tigress’s idea of ‘good, wholesome fun’ is destroying wooden warriors in the training hall,” Monkey notes.

“Or using ironwood trees as dummies,” Crane offers.

“This is no place for her, especially during the holiday. Monkey, where did you spend your holidays when you were her age?” the snake continues.

“Her age? On a stage a lot like that one,” the primate replies, pointing to the empty, nearly crumbling raised space in the tavern that one could assume would hold a band or performer.

“Crane?” Viper says, irritably, looking at the avian for help.

“With my mom,” Crane replies, not without a tinge of hesitation.

“Same here,” Mantis quips.

“But Viper, Tigress probably hasn’t led a ‘normal’ life, anyway. The closest thing she has to a parent is Shifu,” the avian adds.

“And let’s face it, he isn’t going to be painting sun lanterns or playing a friendly game of Mahjong with her anytime soon,” Monkey continues.

“The poor thing,” Viper says glumly.

“You know, I never had any problems with my dad,” Mantis muses.

“Mantis, this isn’t about you,” the snake chastises, to which the bug sulks.

Tigress watches her friends quarrel from her position in the bar area, knowing without a doubt that their argument concerns her. She ignores the loud laughter of the intoxicated patrons around her, instead focusing on the seemingly endless array of beverages with which she is unfamiliar. The scent of sake is strong, but it’s preferable to the unsavory alternative that seems to be forming a smelly cloud around the bar-goers beside her.

“Welcome,” the bartender greets, her voice cracking with age and use—likely a result of shouting at unruly patrons. “What can I prepare for you?”

“Ah—water, please, for my group,” Tigress says.

“Is that all?” the bartender inquires. “You seem the type to appreciate a rice wine.”

“I don’t drink,” Tigress tells her.

“You know, you’re in a bar,” the bartender says, not without a hint of irony. She smiles toothily, asking, “Is baijiu too bitter for you?” in a mocking fashion.

The tiger bristles. “I don’t drink because I haven’t made a habit of it.”

“Ah,” the bartender hums. “Well, in that case, I would suggest indulging in our huangjiu selection.”

“Why?” Tigress questions.

“It’s light ,” the horse tells her, her tone nearing complacency but keeping enough of a distance as to be unassuming.

“Light?” Tigress mirrors.

“You couldn’t handle anything stronger.”

“That's vaguely threatening,” Tigress says.

“The good things always are.”

The tiger pauses. At the same moment, Viper, looking uncharacteristically angry, suddenly appears beside Tigress, startling the tiger to the point of flinching. The snake glares at the bartender with narrowed eyes, her tongue flicking pointedly.

“Are you trying to sell her alcohol?” the snake demands.

“What do you think my job is?” the horse asks with significant aggravation.

Viper gets them kicked out.

As the friends stand outside the tavern looking lost, a little aimless, and more than a little awkward, it feels slightly colder than it had before. It’s snowing lightly, the clumpy, white specks of ice falling stagnantly in the breezeless sky. Tigress sneezes when one falls on her nose.

Viper isn’t phased, but Monkey looks disheartened. Mantis, from where he still sits on the simian’s shoulder, pats his friend’s head.

“Come on, buddy, we can come back later when Viper isn’t on a power trip,” Mantis offers.

That comment earns him a crisp smack to the back of the head from the snake in question—Monkey winces in sympathy, having felt his pain mere minutes prior.

“Theatrical or musical demonstrations are much more fitting,” Viper says, to which the boys groan, “Besides, I want to watch the folk dances.”

Loud firecrackers and drumbeats echo in the streets of the village. On one side of the village square, dancers hoist a long, flowing dragon costume above their heads and maneuver it to twist and rear wildly. Its movements illicit gasps of awe and giggles from children, who run through the streets with sparklers. On the other side of the square, dancers in bright costumes carry flutes and drums while other dancers wield fans, their movements elegant and beautiful.

The Furious Five linger to watch the impressive displays, partially shrouded in shadow, beside a building. The dances are bright and loud, glowing gold in the night. Viper is enthralled, and when ribbon dancers take the stage, her excitement is palpable.

The boys sneak away within minutes—Monkey mentions wanting to go back to the tavern (without the bar-riot-inciting snake, this time) and Crane and Mantis have little interest in watching the folk dances for as long as Viper will likely prefer. They invite Tigress, but she declines.

“Okay,” Crane drawls as the three masters depart, “but stay with Viper.”

Tigress regards the avian with an unimpressed stare.

“And no training, yeah?” Monkey says, “You could use a break—seriously.”

“Have some fun!” Mantis shouts.

At that, the tiger fronts forward and keeps her face straight. She crosses her arms in indignance—she’ll train if she damn well pleases. One can never be too prepared and, as Shifu had said, she has a lot of ground to cover. As much as she detests the fact, her style is nowhere close to perfect. It’s sloppy, new, and only bears similarities to leopard style, which she’d rather not broach with Shifu if it isn’t necessary.

Tigress resolves with herself, then, that a few minutes of training won’t hurt anyone.

When Tigress turns back to where Viper should be, the snake is gone. Tigress looks up and smiles when she sees her friend, ribbon in tail, dancing happily with the village performers. The tiger smiles and watches the snake twirl with glee for another moment before backing into the shadows and abandoning the square.

What the rest of the Furious Five don’t know certainly can’t hurt them.

Tigress ultimately finds the clearing she had been looking for on a thin backstreet behind a line of shops. The street is dark, save for dim lanterns strung between buildings, and there are no passersby to witness her impromptu training. A large building facing the main street radiates warmth—it’s perfect.

Snow falls, heavier, and starts to coat the streets in a powdery luster. Looking up at the lanterns strung overhead and the view of folk dances she has through the corridor of an alleyway, Tigress feels at peace. She lets out a sigh of contentment.

Adopting a training stance, Tigress begins to throw punches and kicks. They appear aimless, but her movements are controlled and strong. Her posture only falters when her foot catches on a particularly icy cobblestone. She stumbles, grunting in surprise.

“Is that you, Mrs. Chow?” a boy’s voice from inside the building suddenly calls, sounding just short of exasperated. “Listen, my dad said you can’t hang around out back anymore because his cabbages keep going missing. I’m not saying it’s you, but he is.”

Tigress yelps and her stance crumples. When she looks around, her eyes land on a window of the big, warm building. It’s too high up and small for her to see anything aside from a golden glow and soup-scented steam. It must be a restaurant—no wonder it was so warm, there must be an oven right inside.

“We’re slammed right now, but if you want to come back later in the front , we'd be happy to serve you,” the voice continues, spilling out from some distance behind the window. “Mrs. Chow?”

“No, but I apologize. I’ll leave,” Tigress stammers.

“Oh, you’re not Mrs. Chow,” the voice says, seemingly relieved. “No worries, then. Sorry.”

“No, please, I’m sorry,” the tiger says, “I’m the one loitering.”

“It’s only loitering if you have no reason to be there,” he retorts, “and we’re talking now, so you’re not loitering. Technically. Kinda.”

“That’s an interesting rationale,” Tigress muses.

“It works better if you don’t think too hard about it.”

Tigress smiles. Her brow furrows in the midst of it like she’s unsure as to why it’s there, but she’s grinning regardless. She adopts her battle stance once more, opting to restrain herself to practicing mere punches and the occasional kick.

“‘Not thinking’ isn’t really my style,” she divulges.

“We won’t get along, then,” the voice says, but in such a light and joking way that she only smiles harder. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t hold it against you.”

Tigress scoffs, but it's light and sweet, her amusement evident. She toes at a mound of snow.

“So, uh… what're you up to out there?” the voice asks. He sounds awkward but kind. “What with your not-loitering and all.”

Tigress isn’t about to disclose that she’s practicing kung fu in secret—behind a random restaurant in the Valley of Peace, no less. There’s too much story behind her current position for her to begin to explain.

“I'm getting some distance from the crowds,” she says.

“Aren't you having fun? There's so much to do! The lights, the games, the music—the dancing !” the voice rambles. “You can’t not like the dancing. You can even think while you do it if that floats your boat.”

“I’ve never danced,” Tigress admits.

“You don’t have to dance to enjoy yourself. You can just watch. That’s what I do.”

“Why’s that?” she finds herself asking, the words leaving her mouth more quickly than she can tell them to stop.

The voice pauses. Tigress’s stance falters and she looks down. She opens her mouth to apologize or announce her departure, but the voice speaks up again before she can utter a word.

“I—uh—I’m just not very graceful,” the voice stammers, “but I really like watching the dances. Give it a try—maybe you'll even want to join in.”

“Maybe,” Tigress says, though it's unconvinced—more of an appeasement than anything else. She throws a stronger, less controlled punch.

“Aren't you cold out there?” the voice asks suddenly.

“You're very inquisitive,” Tigress notes, to which the voice giggles. “I'm fine.”

“Okay, suit yourself. If you change your mind, my dad makes a mean noodle soup.”

Tigress opens her mouth to reply but a door opening in the restaurant silences her. There’s clamoring inside the building and the original voice is joined by another. The new voice, that of an older man, says something about table numbers and soup. The door closes again and she is left in quiet. Stepping away from the window, she shivers at the loss of warmth but forges ahead.

She weaves through buildings until she reaches a large street in the village, lined by vendors. Amidst the migrating villagers, the beginnings of hunger start to stir in her stomach. In the same thought, something wills her to look up at the Jade Palace.

A small light at the peak of the thousand steps—one that certainly shouldn’t be there—shines like a glowing speck of dust. Tigress’s eyes widen and the restaurant she had hidden behind, as well as her hunger, is instantly forgotten.

Finding four exceptionally unique animals in a crowd of celebration-goers should be a lot easier than this, Tigress offhandedly thinks to herself.

“Guys!” Tigress calls out, cupping her hands around her mouth. Her voice, it seems, isn’t loud enough to carry through the crowd. “Viper!”

The tiger bumps into someone and stumbles. Tigress steps away from the person with whom she had so rudely collided, embarrassed.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes blindly.

“It’s okay,” the person replies. “Wait, are you—?”

Tigress turns and is met with empty space. With not so much as a shrug, she forges ahead in her fruitless search for the Furious Five; she groans in frustration as she scans the dizzying expanse of continuously shifting bodies. An intoxicated sheep standing beside her drops a bottle and she yelps as the glass shatters. She skitters away from the shards, weaving through the mass of villagers with deft agility and relative ease.

When someone grabs her arm, Tigress instinctually growls and whips around, her body adopting a defensive stance. She turns to see a familiar simian, his hands raised in mock surrender. Tigress relaxes at the sight.

“Monkey!” she says.

“Tigress!” Crane exclaims, suddenly present, and she winces at the volume of his voice.

A frightened-looking Mantis is perched atop Crane’s hat and Viper, too, emerges from the crowd within seconds.

“Sweetie, where did you go?” Viper inquires, seemingly beside herself. She says, “We looked everywhere for you. You need to stay with us.”

“I was! I—!” Tigress stutters, interrupting herself with a sigh. “I don’t know. I thought you went to the tavern.”

Monkey and Crane share an awkward glance while Mantis continues his thousand-yard stare.

“We had to leave,” Monkey declares.

Crane says, “It’s a popular place for lady mantises to—erm— socialize , turns out.”

“Oh,” Tigress says. A dawning actualization promptly washes over her and a hot blush burns her cheeks. She whispers, “Oh.”

Mantis trembles and the tiger winces at the thought of the atrocities to which he must have been subjected. She wants to offer sympathy, but words can only do so much when being beheaded is a plausible prospect.

The tiger, upon regaining her bearings, tries to reason, “Monkey, did you not explicitly assure Mantis that there wouldn’t be…?”

“I was wrong,” the simian replies flatly.

“It’s getting late, regardless,” Viper interjects, “and we need to get enough rest so as not to make Master Shifu suspicious in the morning.”

“Oh! We need to get back to the palace,” Tigress says in panicked recollection, “there’s a light on and Master Shifu might be looking for us.”

“If I have to worry about one more person biting my head off, literally or not, I’m gonna—!” Mantis begins.

“Which is why we’re going back right now,” Monkey says.

The Furious Five commence in a wordless trek up the stairs to the Jade Palace. The air is cold and getting colder, though it’s only the fear of getting caught red-handed that makes the masters shudder. It isn’t until they’re a quarter of the way to the top that Mantis breaks the silence.

“Oh, man, we didn’t get to play any games,” the bug laments.

“I have some Weiqi stones in my room,” Viper offers.

“I have an old board,” Crane adds.

“I have some Mahjong tiles,” Monkey says. “It’s already late. What’s another hour?”

The simian looks at his friends, who all agree to the game night with words of eagerness and enthusiastic nods. Tigress looks unsure, but a chorus of reassuring glances from the group puts a small smile on her face.

“So, while we were rescuing Mantis, what were you guys up to?” Crane asks Viper.

“Well, after you guys ditched us,” Viper recounts, playfully, “I was ribbon dancing! It reminds me of home, and the little girls watching were so cute,” she says, “but Tigress wandered off when I wasn’t looking—what did you end up doing?”

“Not training, I hope,” Monkey muses.

Tigress’s eyes widen and her friends look at her with unimpressed expressions.

“I wasn’t!” she lies.

“Sure, you weren’t,” Mantis says.

“I wanted to watch Viper dance from a distance so as not to be noticed, then I walked around the vendor carts,” Tigress says. Something in her expression makes Crane tilt his head. “What?” the tiger mumbles.

“You’re leaving something out,” the avian notes.

“Or someone,” Mantis chirps.

“I am not,” the tiger replies with indignation.

“Tigress, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you met a boy,” Monkey quips.

“What? No, of course, not. No. I—No.”

The boys laugh. Tigress groans and rubs her eyes with her palms. She falls behind the other masters, who are still chortling at the prospect of a teenage boy trying to woo Tigress (and, even better, being even marginally successful in his endeavor), and Viper slows to stay beside the tiger.

“They’re joking, sweetie, don’t pay them any mind,” Viper says. She sends a venomous glare in the boys’s direction, saying pointedly and loudly, “They know better than to tease a teenage girl about her romantic life!”

“I’m not a child,” Tigress says.

“No, but you remind me of my sister,” Viper says, to which Tigress side-eyes her. “You’ll live.”

The snake slithers ahead, and if Tigress has to fight back a smile, she’ll never tell a soul.

When the masters reach the zenith of the Jade Palace’s steps, there is no one waiting for them. They breathe a unanimous sigh of relief upon adopting the notion that they’ve gotten away with their stunt. It’s only when Viper, Monkey, Mantis, and Crane retire to the barracks, leaving Tigress looking out over the village, that the doors to the Jade Palace open.

With his staff clutched in a shaking clawed hand, Oogway steps out of the hall. When he sees Tigress, standing stiffly with a guilty look on her face, he merely smiles and chuckles.

“Master Oogway!” the tiger exclaims, suddenly flustered.

The tiger bows, fist to palm, her eyes almost bugging out of her head. Dishonesty is not her forte, which becomes increasingly evident as her hands begin to quiver. Oogway nears and occupies some of the space beside her. The scene is illuminated by a small lantern that hangs from his staff and the distant glow of the village.

“Tigress,” Oogway says. He smiles purposefully and leans on his staff. “Burning the midnight oil, I see.”

“Yes, master,” the tiger affirms, shakily.

The tortoise hums. He turns to look at the village, a twinkle of pridefulness in his eyes. The music emanating from numerous gatherings and dances reverberates around the valley and periodic fireworks cast light over the otherwise dark, snow-capped mountains. It’s the true picture of peace.

“How I love the Valley of Peace during the holidays,” Oogway muses, to which the tiger stills. “Don’t tell Shifu, but sometimes, I sneak down to the village. I would invite him, but he’s no fun.”

The tortoise offers Tigress a sideways smile, his expression as knowing as ever. Tigress, visibly mortified, drops into a kneeling bow. Her eyes squeeze shut and her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“Master, forgive us,” Tigress says, the fist pressed against her palm tight.

“What is there to forgive?” Oogway asks. “The five of you were only… training. A change of scenery should make no difference.”

“Master Shifu has every right to be disappointed. I was—!” Tigress begins to say.

“Training,” the tortoise sings. He grins good-naturedly, adding, “As far as Shifu is concerned. You’ll have to tell me what you learned tomorrow.”

Oogway motions for Tigress to rise and she obeys, despite looking mightily confused and still quite ashamed.

“Get some sleep,” the tortoise says, his tone as soft and understanding as ever.

Tigress bows again, silently and with palpable mortification, before turning around and sheepishly making her way to the beginning of the cobblestone path her friends had taken back to the barracks mere moments prior.

“Oh, Tigress,” the tortoise says.

“Yes, Master?” the tiger says, facing the elder master once more.

“Did you happen to stop for noodles?” Oogway asks, simply and offhandedly.

“No, Master,” Tigress replies, marginally off-put by the tortoise’s hyper-specific inquiry, “why do you ask?”

Oogway pauses, his expression bordering surprise—but not quite, because he’s Oogway and he hasn’t known true surprise in centuries. He almost misses it.

“Just curious,” he says after a moment, “I was thinking of ordering in.”

The Good Things - JustAnotherWriter140 (2025)

References

Top Articles
Latest Posts
Recommended Articles
Article information

Author: Trent Wehner

Last Updated:

Views: 6334

Rating: 4.6 / 5 (56 voted)

Reviews: 95% of readers found this page helpful

Author information

Name: Trent Wehner

Birthday: 1993-03-14

Address: 872 Kevin Squares, New Codyville, AK 01785-0416

Phone: +18698800304764

Job: Senior Farming Developer

Hobby: Paintball, Calligraphy, Hunting, Flying disc, Lapidary, Rafting, Inline skating

Introduction: My name is Trent Wehner, I am a talented, brainy, zealous, light, funny, gleaming, attractive person who loves writing and wants to share my knowledge and understanding with you.