Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 2: Navigating A New World
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 20:30:47 +0000 UTCTai Lung had been reborn, somehow. He didn’t understand the how or why, only that he was now trapped in the fragile body of a helpless child. And not just helpless, also humiliating. The once-proud warrior who had challenged masters and stormed the Jade Palace now relied on soft-spoken strangers for food, warmth, and survival.
To make things worse, time crawled. He was growing way too slow.
He had been alive in this new form for over a year and still could barely take more than a few shaky steps before falling face-first into the ground. His legs were pathetically weak. Each fall was a fresh insult.
[This is the price of failure] he thought grimly.
Every time he tried to walk, his two caretakers, his supposed parents, cheered him on with wide smiles and gleaming eyes. Their excitement grated at him. He watched them warily, unsure of what species they even were. They called themselves humans, but Tai Lung had never seen such creatures before. Still, identity didn’t matter for now. What mattered was strength. Growth. Survival.
The role of a son? That could wait.
He focused on building muscle and balance. What little he could do. Stretching. Standing. Testing his grip. Trying forms in secret. But every attempt was met with amused chuckles and warm laughter. His parents thought it was adorable.
"Look at my son growing! You will become a great warrior one day" his father said once, ruffling Tai Lung’s hair.
Tai Lung merely turned away, jaw clenched, refusing to acknowledge them. He had to keep his mind focused. It was the only thing he could control.
By the time he turned two, his tongue and throat had developed enough for speech. He couldn’t yet articulate everything, but he could form words, express needs, ask questions. The first time he spoke clearly, both his parents gasped.
“Our son is a genius!” his mother had exclaimed, pulling him into her arms. “He’s going to be a scholar, I just know it!”
Tai Lung said nothing. Let them dream. He had no desire to become a scholar, but now, with words, he could gather information.
He asked questions. Not too many, not too deep, just enough to satisfy his curiosity. Where were they? What was this place called? What were they? His parents, patient and cheerful, explained everything.
They were humans, they said. They lived in a land called the Fire Nation, one of the four great nations. A land where people could bend fire.
Tai Lung blinked in confusion. “Fire… bend?”
His father smiled and stood. “Let me show you.”
With a calm stance and a slow breath, his father punched the air and fire erupted from his fist.
Tai Lung stared, stunned. He had trained under Shifu, fought the Dragon Warrior, faced warlords in the Spirit Realm, but this? To summon fire from your limbs with ease? It was unlike anything he had seen. And his father said many people in the Fire Nation could do it.
[Was this advanced kung fu? Or something else entirely?] Tai Lung wondered.
He didn’t know. But it filled him with both curiosity and caution.
Still, despite his seriousness, there were moments when Tai Lung's lack of knowledge betrayed him and made him into a joke.
One afternoon, his father came home with a group of creatures called turtle ducks, placing them in a small backyard pool for decoration and calm. Tai Lung’s eyes widened when he saw them. He padded over cautiously and sat near the edge of the pool.
He leaned forward, watching the turtle ducks intently.
Then, without thinking, he began trying to talk to them.
“Hello, I am Tai Lung, pardon me for asking, but what are you?” he said.
After some silence he frowned and spoke again “Can you understand me? It is rude to ignore who is talking to you”
The creatures tilted their heads. Quacked. Blinked.
His parents, watching from the side, burst into laughter.
“Oh, sweetie!” his mother giggled. “You can’t talk to turtle ducks!”
Tai Lung turned to them with an innocent, confused expression. “Why not?”
Still chuckling, she knelt beside him. “Because turtle ducks and all animals can’t talk. They’re not like people.”
Tai Lung blinked. His mind froze.
“…what?” he said.
His mother exchanged a look with her husband. “Animals don’t talk, sweetheart. They don’t think the way we do. They eat, sleep and run. That’s all. Only humans can truly speak.”
Tai Lung stared at the ducklings. At his mother. Then his father, who nodded gently.
The horror bloomed inside him like a cold flower.
[They aren’t intelligent? They don’t speak, not because they won’t, but because they can’t?]
It made no sense. In his old life, creatures of all kinds could speak. Tortoises. Rabbits. Birds. Pigs. Even insects had personalities.
But here…
His mother giggled and rubbed his back. “It’s alright, sweetie. You’ll be able to talk with other children like you in due time.”
His father laughed as well, while the turtle duck jumped into the water with a splash.
Tai Lung didn’t laugh.
He sat frozen, staring at the water with wide, disturbed eyes.
His parents saw only a confused child trying to make sense of the world and continued laughing, unaware of the deep, quiet existential crisis their son was having.
___________
Time moved forward, slowly, but surely. And with it, the strangeness of this world continued to unfold before Tai Lung’s watchful eyes.
By now, Tai Lung was certain that this was a completely different world from the one he used to live in, it was no hidden corner from his old world. This was entirely different. The animals were foreign, unrecognizable from those he had once fought beside or against. The laws of nature felt alien, fire that responded to will, stone that could rise at a thought. The very map of the land was unfamiliar, the names of nations echoing nothing from his old life.
The only comfortingly familiar thing was the language. The words, the grammar, the tone, it was the same. And it only made the differences stand out more starkly.
Tai Lung devoted himself to learning about this new world. He asked carefully curated questions, filtered his curiosity behind the innocent lens of a bright child. And his parents, always doting on him, answered with pride.
The Lung family, they told him, was a noble house in the Fire Nation. A bloodline of elite firebenders and respected admirals, known for generations of military excellence and devotion to the Fire Lord. Their contributions to the war had earned them prestige and responsibility.
War. The word came up often in his lessons, in conversations, in the stories his father told.
For nearly a century, his nation had been locked in conflict. The Fire Nation, his family claimed, stood for order and progress. They had defeated the evil Air Nomads who clung to outdated ideals. Now, they fought against the barbaric Water Tribes and the corrupt Earth Kingdom, who refused to accept the Fire Nation’s vision for a united world.
It was all said with such certainty. With pride.
But Tai Lung listened in silence, withholding judgment. The words “evil” and “barbaric” were easy to use during war; he had seen that before in the Jade Palace scrolls.
His father, Admiral Lung, was a towering man, stern yet warm in his private moments. He had remained at home for the first three years of Tai Lungi’s life, a decision he called his ‘greatest honor.’ He trained in the courtyard, carried Tai Lung on his shoulders, and spoke to him about ships, strategies, and firebending forms in a simplified manner that can keep a child curious and excited.
But the war called him back.
Tai Lung remembered the day his father stood at the gate, wearing his full armor, his back straight and gaze firm. His mother clung to him for a moment longer than she usually would, her face calm but her hands trembling.
“Don’t worry,” the admiral said softly, brushing her hair back. “No enemy can defeat me.”
He knelt beside Tai Lung, placing a firm hand on his son’s head. “Grow strong, Tai. Lead with fire in your heart.”
Then he left, his silhouette disappearing into the horizon with the soldiers of his fleet.
After that, Tai Lung’s mother resumed her routine. She smiled, sang, and cared for Tai with grace. But her eyes lingered too long on the horizon. Her hands paused sometimes when folding clothes. And when she thought Tai Lung wasn’t looking, she’d sit quietly by the window, holding her husband's old scarf in silence.
Tai Lung saw all of it.
He didn’t speak of it. Didn’t ask. He merely nodded when she smiled and kept his expression blank when her gaze wavered.
Instead, he focused inward. He honed his small, soft body with discipline. He stretched. He moved. He trained. Slow as it was, strength would return. One day, he would reclaim the power that once made even masters fear his name.
This wasn’t the world he knew, but he would rise in it, just as he had in the last, but this time he was going to stand at the very top. He won’t be a loser again.
