Mulan

Kuon hadn't stopped embracing her since he'd dumped Cedric in a pile on the ground. He cracked his knuckles every few seconds, still dying to plant them deep inside his asshole of a cousin's brain. His fiancée had done a decent enough job at dismantling the pervert's manhood, though, so he settled for holding him up against the wall by his shirt collar.

"Touch her again and you die, pervert," he'd snarled.

Cedric wheezed out a gasping syllable Kuon took for agreement. He had dropped him then and his miserable excuse for a family member slid down into a vaguely human bundle.

Welcome home indeed. He gripped Kyoko tighter, wrapping his arms around her.

"I can't- breathe- Kuon-"

"Ah," he muttered, relaxing a fraction. "Sorry. I just…" He trailed off, settling for expressing himself by nuzzling the top of her head.

"So…" she started, her hand squeezing his. "Cousins…"

He didn't want to talk about it, but he did. He laid out the whole story for her, sharing the details he'd withheld when he told her about Rick. Cedric had been the reason for his mental snap. He'd singled him out from a young age, jealous of his parents, jealous of the easy way Eltra adored Kuon while he piled expectations on Cedric. He fixated on Kuon's heritage, accusing him of betraying some Japanese ideal merely by existing. The attacks had grown physical as Cedric's family influence won him a posse despite his lackluster acting skills. Kuon's world eroded slowly, his body and mind worn down by the relentless attacks. He never once told his parents who was at the root of the trouble. They'd assigned the blame to jealous co-stars, which was true enough, and Kuon hadn't wanted to risk fracturing their relationship with Eltra.

Now, though, he wished he had. If he had just said something, maybe Cedric would have been kicked out of show business. Or at least watched. But instead he'd been able to persist, and had laid his hands on Kyoko and who knows how many other women. Kuon grit his teeth in disgust. He would share it all now, that was for certain, and see his acting career eviscerated.

She listened to all of it, her embrace growing tighter with each new revelation until now it was he who couldn't breathe. He kissed the top of her head, shifting to lift her up onto his lap and break her grip. She'd conceded to stay with him, "at least for tonight," and he was going to take full advantage of momentarily stealing her from Kanae. Kanae was pissed; she was distraught with worry for her friend, but she'd allowed it when she saw Kyoko's face.

He wanted to take her mind off it all. "Kyoko," he said. "Will you go on date with me?" She laughed, her chin resting on his chest as she looked up, up, up at him.

"Of course, silly."

"I got us tickets to a concert next week to celebrate the start of filming. Do you want to…?"

She smiled, nodding.

The week flew by. Both of them had been accepted without callbacks for the parts of Hua Mulan and Captain Shang in the live action remake. He was finally here, getting to act alongside her, getting to watch her slowly fall in love with his character, not someone else's.

Ah, and finally in America. That too. It seemed almost inconsequential next to the sheer power of acting opposite his lover. They were working on the training scenes today, when Shang was beating Mulan down. He had to radiate disappointment in her, and it was harder than expected. She cowered on the ground in front of him, having failed yet another strength test. Every fiber in his being was nothing but proud of her and her guts, taking on a fully English speaking role in America like it was nothing and destroying every single second of it. He knew exactly how difficult it was to master acting in a non-native tongue. He had to suppress all of that and leave himself empty for Shang to see what she was, a failure.

A failure that could cost lives. Shang stood before her, sweat trickling down his bare chest from the exertion of leading the training. He refused to spare himself, giving his all to every demanding exercise he threw at his cadets. He would lead by example or not at all.

"You're a disgrace." He threw the words at her like spears. "Did your family send me a daughter instead of a son?" He spat on the ground beside her, his mouth full of bile as he considered the weakness of the recruit in front of him. "War is life and death. I cannot use you. Men will die because of your weakness. Go home."

Peng quailed in front of him, his words slicing into joint and marrow. Too-slender fingers dug into the dirt, finding purchase to push herself up. Everything about this recruit was weak.

"I will not."

"Go home, recruit," he snarled.

"I will not." Peng was forcing himself to stand, body weak after his brutal training but eyes demanding recognition.

"I will make you." He loomed over the recruit, still taller by more than a foot.

"CUT! Excellent, Kuon, Kyoko- ten minute break."

She stood, prancing over to his side. "This is the best!"

"What? Me trying to destroy your morale?"

She whacked him. "Acting alongside you. It's thrilling, don't you think?"

"Mmmm," he agreed, reaching down to draw her close to him. He placed a kiss on her neck, making more than one staffer reach for their phones. They were sure to be on the tabloids tomorrow, but he didn't care. Today they were getting off early, and he was taking her to the concert. Tonight… he let his thoughts trail off. "I can't wait to marry you," he whispered in her ear, rewarded for his impudence by the sight of her blushing scarlet red. She turned and pecked him quickly on the cheek in reply before skipping off to the changing rooms.

He settled into his chair, reviewing the script once more. The cadence of English was totally different, and after years in Japan it was refreshing to speak his childhood language on camera. Yashiro stood behind his chair, sliding a note with the day's schedule into the back pages of his script. He smiled up at his friend, shading his eyes from the sun's glare.

"Thanks, Yukihito-kun," he said.

Yashiro blinked at him, his face blank.

"I'm sorry," Kuon retracted, "I should have asked first before switching—"

"No!" Yashiro cut him off. "No, please do. Ah, Kuon-kun?"

Kuon grinned broadly. "Just Kuon."

"Ay-yah!"

"You sound like a housewife."

"Save that role for Kyoko-chan, Kuon— speaking of which," he said, waving Kuon's attention over to where Kyoko was exiting her trailer in full battlegard.

"I don't have many scenes left today, Yukihito, if you'd like to go find Kanae-chan."

Yashiro nodded emphatically, double-checking their schedule before dodging off to call Kanae. This was all beyond what he'd dreamed of when he thought of returning home. He was home, on an American set by his own power. But he'd been able to bring something much more precious than a new reputation along.

He watched Yashiro pick up his pace as he neared the exit, his face beaming in anticipation. Across the set Kyoko stood in her armor, transformed yet again into a completely different person. They were jumping around in scenes today, taking advantage of the light, and now she was filming Mulan after her reveal as a woman. Peng had carried himself entirely differently, a false swagger pervading his every move that read somewhat awkward, like a preteen pretending to be his father. Mulan stood naturally, comfortably, and yet looked more authoritative than anything Peng had even dreamed of.

He'd left America determined to punish himself, pulling on the mask of a gentleman to keep everyone at arm's length— and yet despite his best efforts, here he was, his arms full of warmth and hope. He didn't deserve them, and he knew it.

She caught him watching her and broke character long enough to wink at him. She knew it too, his lacking. It didn't stop a moment of her love. Kuon folded the script and stashed it in the side of his chair. He wanted to watch her act as often as they'd let him.