The Spirit Realm was never supposed to be a waiting room.
I had spent decades there, among the cherry blossoms and the infinite golden sky. I had sparred with Oogway, argued with Shifu's predecessors, and finally—painfully—found the thing I had spent my first life trying to steal.
Inner Peace.
I was Tai Lung. I was the leopard who broke Chorh-Gom Prison. I was the one who challenged the Heavens for a scroll of blank gold. And in the end, I was the one who realized that the gold was only a mirror.
I was ready for the eternal rest. But the universe has a twisted sense of humor.
The golden light of the Spirit Realm didn't fade; it turned cold. It turned heavy. The air felt like lead, and the warmth of Chi was replaced by a stagnant, oily pressure that tasted of old blood and rusted iron.
Wail.
I tried to roar, but the sound that escaped was a high-pitched, pathetic mewl. My powerful paws were gone, replaced by tiny, pink, human hands.
"Another boy," a voice whispered. It was a woman's voice—tired, drained of all hope. "And just like the first... he has nothing. No energy. No spark. Lord Naobito will be furious."
I opened my eyes. The ceiling was made of dark wood and paper screens. The atmosphere was suffocating, thick with a dark energy I didn't recognize. This wasn't the Valley of Peace. This was a cage built of tradition.
I turned my head, my neck feeling weak and wobbly. Beside me sat another bundle of cloth. Another infant. He was staring at the ceiling with wide, dark eyes.
I reached out. It took every ounce of my disciplined will to move this clumsy, new body. I gripped the other infant's hand.
In that moment, I felt it. He was like me. A void. A "failure" in the eyes of whoever these people were.
Don't worry, little one, I thought, closing my eyes as the exhaustion of birth took hold. In my last life, I was a son who lost his way. In this one... I will be the brother you need to burn this house down.
---
Four Years Later
The Zenin training grounds were beautiful in the way a museum is beautiful—cold, dead, and strictly organized.
"Again!" the instructor barked. He was a mid-level sorcerer, a man who smelled of arrogance and mediocre talent.
He was standing over a four-year-old Toji, who was bruised and panting on the dirt. Toji had no Cursed Energy. In the Zenin clan, that made him less than a person. It made him a target.
"You are a Zenin!" the instructor yelled, raising a wooden staff infused with a hint of Cursed Energy. "Even if you are a 'monkey' with no technique, you should at least be able to stand!"
The staff swung down. It was a cruel strike, aimed at a child's ribs.
It never landed.
I stepped between them, my feet moving in a pattern the masters of the Spirit Realm had taught me. I didn't use Cursed Energy. I didn't have any. Instead, I drew a breath from the base of my spine, pulling the ambient life force—the Chi—into my palm.
I caught the staff with one hand.
"Enough," I said. My voice was calm, but it carried the weight of a leopard's growl.
"Tai Lung!" the instructor sneered. "The eldest 'failure.' Move aside. Your brother needs to learn his place."
"He knows his place," I replied, my eyes glowing with a faint, golden hue. "It's right behind me. But you? You've forgotten yours."
I tapped the instructor's wrist. Just a touch. Two fingers.
Nerve Strike: The Blocked Flow.
The instructor's arm went limp instantly. The staff clattered to the ground. He gasped, clutching his shoulder as if his entire nervous system had just short-circuited.
"What... what did you do?" he hissed, stumbling back.
I stood tall, shielding Toji. Around us, the air began to vibrate, not with the rot of Curses, but with the warmth of a sun that had just begun to rise.
"I didn't use a curse," I said, a small, dangerous smirk forming on my face. "I used life. And if you touch my brother again... I'll show you exactly how much life I can take away."
Toji grabbed the back of my shirt, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and realization.
The Leopard was back. And this time, he wasn't fighting for a scroll.