The rice hat lies on his folded blanket, a black bulk in the darkness of his room.

He frowns, sets his mop down in its corner, and carefully reaches out a wing to investigate the object.

It's much lighter than he expects, and makes a slight rustle as it brushes against his feathers. There is no note, nothing attached to this seemingly ordinary farmer's headpiece. He glances at his blanket. Nothing there either.

Curious, he turns it over in his wings, feeling the smooth straw and sturdy structure. It is a practical hat, one designed for use more than show. He hesitates, before cautiously raising it until it hovers above his head. The hat slips from his wings on to his head.

A perfect fit.

.

Frankly, seeing the chores that are still undone is disheartening.

It is past lights-out time, and the academy is deep in warm slumber. Crane shivers in the cold night air, his wings aching from the long day. Perhaps he wouldn't feel so weary if he had been spent the day doing Kung Fu instead of washing dishes, sweeping floors, and generally trying to complete the endless list of domestic work. He remembers the masters' words:

The school tryouts are next week.

But then again, his fragile build and skinny legs is not made for being anything more than a janitor. He chuckles humourlessly at himself and his foolish fantasies before grabbing a load of laundry with his talons. He's not made for Kung Fu. He was never meant to be.

He glides over the washing line, depositing the pieces of clothing evenly on the wire below. Veering to the right, he knocks the abandoned sparring poles back into place while skimming across the ground. This is his extent of Kung Fu, a time-saving routine. He shakes his head to rid himself of his make-believe world as he extinguishes the remaining two lamps in the courtyard.

"Crane, you're amazing."

Crane jolts at the unfamiliarity of a voice at this time of night, especially one addressed to him. The school masters never check on his work after dinner; and since when has there been a master with such a feminine voice?

"You should try out for the school." The voice continues.

It turns out to be Mei Ling, star student of the academy, one of his main idols in Kung Fu, looking straight at him in all her confidence and power. He gapes at her ridiculous claim.

"M-me? No. No, no, no. That's just… craziness… talking." He takes a step back, raising his wings. But even as he tries to convince Mei Ling that the idea is insane, said idea is creeping into his mind. Maybe he should… "No, no."

Mei Ling regards him thoughtfully. "Well, you never know unless you try."

With that, she turns and leaves with a smile. He stares at her retreating back, watching silently as she melts into the darkness of the dormitories. His chores are long forgotten, and the next day will bring a round of scolding because he forgot to pull down the blinds in the common area.

You never know unless you try.

Maybe…

He reaches out to touch the rice hat.

.

"I told you to go for it!"

Mei Ling punches the air again, grinning triumphantly at him. "See? You passed. With flying colours too."

Crane blinks once at her before his face breaks out into a grin wider than Mei Ling's. "Yeah. Thanks. A lot."

"Why?" The Chinese mountain cat twirls the broom she had retrieved from the arena; the one that Crane had dropped in the rush of adrenaline. "I didn't do anything. You're the one who rocked."

Crane coughs. "W-well…" he stammers. "You were the one who had faith in me when I didn't."

Mei Ling jams the end of the broom into the wooden floor, and her eyes seem to burn right through him as she looks up.

"Everyone in their right mind should have faith in you if they knew what you were capable of." She smiled. "What you did that night was amazing." She starts spinning the mop again. "Brilliant. Totally skilled."

Crane shifts uncomfortably. "No, not really. I'm just lucky I didn't get crushed by that swinging beam back there. I nearly did."

Mei Ling glances at him, her eyebrows knitting together, her gaze unreadable. She tosses the broom in the air and catches it, before handing it over to Crane.

"Sometimes, getting out is all that matters. What nearly happened or almost did has no impact on the final outcome." She grabs Crane's wing, the one which holds the red flag from the tryouts. "And you're not lucky, you're talented."

She smiles, and that glowing, warm feeling that Crane experienced when he first stepped into the tryout course surges back into him, stronger than ever. The blazing belief that he can do anything, everything; that the world is in his capability.

He smiles at Mei Ling, then down at the two objects in his wings. The old worn broom that marks his janitor days, the monotonous chores. The fiery scarlet flag that represents the open door to a brighter future.

When Mei Ling leaves, he discards them both, for they only represented two separate sections of his life. He does keep one article, something that carries his story with it.

The rice hat remains on his head as he walks into his first lesson of Kung Fu.

.

"Hiya!"

Crane deflects a blow from Mei Ling, seizing the opportunity to sneak in an attack of his own. The mountain cat stumbles back a step when his foot connects with her side, before flipping backwards to a safe distance. But Crane is already on to her, using gravity to knock her down. She hits the dirt with a thump and a cloud of dust.

When the dust clears, Mei Ling is trapped underneath Crane's feet. The bird has most of his weight on one claw, pinning her down, and the other claw pointing at her throat.

"Alright!" Mei Ling deflates. "I yield. You win."

Crane smirks and lifts himself off her, floating in midair as she gets up and brushes the sand off her fur. His smile only gets wider when she shoots a playful glare at him.

"You're better than me now." She comments, when they both settle down on the edge of the empty arena.

Crane's grin dissolves.

"No, I'm not." He argues. "You are and will always be my superior in terms of Kung Fu."

Mei Ling glares at him again, this time less playfully. "Crane. Stop being so modest. You've improved and that's a good thing."

Crane looks away.

"I… I'm not…"

"Have faith in your own abilities." Mei Ling stands up, and reaches out a paw to help him up. However, she evades his wing when he stretches it out, and instead snatches his rice hat. She smirks at his surprise. "Come on, let's go get some lunch."

.

Master Shifu lines the five students up, pacing back and forth in front of them as they wait for his feedback, or rather, criticism on their monthly performance.

"Tigress." He points his staff at the tiger warrior. "Do not be too swift in battle; think things through before you strike."

Tigress bows.

He turns. "Crane, don't hesitate for too long. While Tigress might've benefited with more cautiousness, you will benefit with more instinct and conviction. Fight like you mean it. Intimidate your foes."

Crane bows as well, his mentor's words ringing in his ears even when Shifu himself has moved on.

.

"Crane!"

The avian master aims a sharp blow at the wolf's forehead before whipping around to the source of the call.

"Crane!"

He quickly scans the chaos. Tigress is a hurricane amongst the bandits, delivering stunning punches and explosive kicks. Monkey's staff flashes in the sunlight before coming down upon one of the brawnier wolves. Mantis is obviously responsible for the falling thieves at the edge of the fight.

"Viper?"

He instinctively senses a fist near his head and ducks as a thick arm casts a shadow upon him. He fluidly twists out from under the wolf and deals a swift blow to its neck before looking up once more for his missing comrade.

"Viper!"

Even before the word is fully formed, he sees her, and the world suddenly falls silent.

The serpentine warrior is held tightly at the neck and tail by the ringleader of the bandits, a large, thickset wolf that seems to be entirely built of bone and muscle. Its iron grip on either end of her lithe body means that she is trapped, unable to escape. Dangerously vulnerable. His eyes widen when he sees the wolf squeeze her neck. Viper's face contorts.

She opens her mouth again to shout for help, but Crane only sees her jaws move; does not hear the cry that is overpowered by everything else.

Crane.

The wolf is surveying the fight on a cliff with cold, glittering eyes, high above the battle. Only Crane can reach Viper in time before the leader crushes her windpipe; even Mantis can't scramble up the precarious rocks so quickly.

He glances at the ringleader bandit again, and suddenly, all the old doubts and fears leap back into his mind, attacking him with a fury. He is in the middle of a battle, surrounded by enemies; his friend needs his help, yet he is paralyzed by the overwhelming feeling of impossibility.

I can't do this.

"Crane…"

It is a miracle that he can hear her rasping plea through the cacophony of battle. As he stares, frozen, at Viper's helpless form, he hears a voice that has not reached his ears for many years.

You never know unless you try.

He draws in a sharp breath before shooting up into the sky.

.

"You were great today." Monkey thumps Crane on the back, directing a grin at Viper. "Viper would've been strangled by that wolf if Crane didn't knock him out."

"I swear that guy's immortal." Mantis grumbles into his bowl of red bean soup. "I already immobilized him in the first ten seconds."

"Using nerve point attack?" Tigress picks up a square of tofu with her chopsticks. "One of his comrades must've released him from the paralysis; it'll take half a second to unblock the flow of chi. It doesn't take an immortal guy to survive that."

Mantis huffs and shoves a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

Viper says nothing, but looks up at Crane and catches his gaze. A smile flickers briefly across her face before she looks back down at her dinner.

"Hey," Monkey pipes up. "Did you see me taking down those big ones that sneaked up at me?"

"Oh yeah. That was pretty cool. Shifu can't pick on you anymore for not watching your back."

Later in his room, Crane takes out his set of ink and brush and places it next to a blank scroll, next to his rice hat. Calligraphy is not on the timetable tonight; he intends to record the thrill of victory.

He picks up the brush with one foot, dipping it carefully into the black ink. He pauses when his talons hover above the pristine parchment, and glances down at the scroll. The paper waits eagerly, hungry for the story it is about to hold. He lowers the brush down to the surface of the parchment and touches the ink to the vellum.

He remembers.

Skyrocketing towards the bandit; the shock on its face as he knocks it to the ground. Succeeding to surprise the ringleader enough to loosen its grip on Viper; her escape. Deflecting punches, dodging kicks, spinning in the air, coming down upon the wolf. The fire of combat; the shot of adrenaline; and he is winning, winning, winning. He is capable. He can do it. Let go of the doubt; chase away the incessant nagging voice that says he will lose; he's not good enough; he'll never be good enough. He is good enough. He is winning.

A light tap on the door breaks the flow of ink, and he jerks. A drop of the black liquid splatters onto his hat.

"Come in."

Viper enters, rather nervously. Crane tips his head questioningly as she slithers in.

"Hello?"

"Hi." Viper replies. She hesitates, before plunging straight to the point. "Thanks for saving me today."

Crane blinks.

"Oh. That. It's… It's nothing. I bet Tigress would've gotten you out as well if she hadn't been surrounded by all those wolves. I wasn't…"

He is interrupted by Viper shaking her head. "No," she says softly. "No. Tigress couldn't have reached me in time. And it's not nothing. You…" She pauses. "Monkey's right. You were great. Don't…" She gives him a warning glance when he starts shaking his head. "… deny it. I don't know why you always think you're worse than all of us, because you're not. You're one of the best Kung Fu masters in China, and you know it. You even entered one of the best Kung Fu academies in history, and managed to be a top student there."

Crane tries to respond, tries to say something, but he can't find his voice. He's frozen by Viper's words.

The snake gives him a small, almost sad, smile. "And even if you don't think you're that good, I do. I… I think you're amazing."

He stares at her, paralyzed, and she gazes back at him, smiling. He cannot move, let alone speak. Instead, he drops his gaze, trying to pull his thoughts together. His eyes find the rice hat that lies on the corner of the parchment, and he sees the tiny speck of black staining the golden straw. A familiar voice permeates his mind, echoing Viper's last sentence.

Crane, you're amazing.

He raises his gaze and meets Viper's azure eyes. He smiles back.

"Thank you."

The rice hat witnesses everything.