@hcrmcny
[ 師傅 } The scene was perfectly set: it was evening, the last rays of the sun casting a gorgeous array of fiery tones across the landscape, and spring was slowly giving way to summer, the plants around him in full bloom and rustling slightly on the light breeze. Shifu could not ask for a more beautiful setting to meditate in, eyes closed and breathing deliberate as he sat before the statue of his departed master, now fully restored from its former broken state.
And yet. In spite of such majesty, there was a heaviness in his heart. He could not fully enjoy the freeness of spirit when it was so weighted by grief. Years had passed now, and he still longed for the comforting presence of his master. Oogway had not visited him in dreams or in visions -- not the real Oogway, anyhow. Shadows of him, fragments, incomplete pieces of the master Shifu had so loved haunted him at night, and when he tried to reach out, to speak, they faded from him.
The best comfort Shifu could find was in sitting before his statue and enjoying the serenity of his garden. It didn’t come close to easing his sorrow, but it helped in some small way. He was so engrossed in meditation, he failed to notice the approach of another. But perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed it even if he wasn’t -- Zenyatta always did have a light step, as it were.













