Chapter Forty Nine: Homecoming

I stand on the hill overlooking my village, the soft morning breeze ruffling my hair. It has been three days since we left the city, and Qing departed from our group on the second day when we passed through his village. It was sad to see my little shadow go, I will surely miss having his constant company.

I awoke early this morning and rode Kahn a little ways away from camp, up to this hill. My village is still far off, maybe half a day, but I can see it. I see the market, where Mushu and I would crash through as Fu, Niu, and Lei chased us. I see Mr. Chang's library, where I spent countless hours reading just about any book I could get my hands on. And, quite a distance away from it all, is my father's house. The walls surrounding it make it seem like its own little fortress, and for a while, it acted as one. I remember the days when my father's house became my safe haven, when my father kept me in those walls in an effort to protect me from the hate of the real world. It didn't work, not for long. Because no one can hide forever.

The sight of the house fills me with memories, even though it is far enough away that I can see no details. I see the large fields behind it, where I spent weeks planting and harvesting, as I was the only able-bodied person in my family capable of such work. I see the pink dot of the magnolia tree, my magnolia tree, where Father and I had countless talks, where he told me words of wisdom. I remember what he told me, that day I failed the matchmaker's test. He had pointed to the late magnolia flower, the one that had yet to bloom even when all the others had. Despite that fact, Father had told me that when it did bloom, it would be the most beautiful of all.

I had interpreted him wrong the first time. I had thought he was talking about me being a late bloomer, that in time, I would become like the other girls. The "phase" I had been in since the day I was born would end. But now, I think he meant something different. I think he meant that when I was ready, when I had found who I was, I would bloom into my own person. At that point, I still had yet to find that person. Honestly, I'm not quite sure if I have found her yet. But I feel the beginnings of that blossoming. I feel myself beginning to come into my own. I am still finding who I am, but the path seems clearer than it was before. Now, I just have to hope that the woman I bloom into is still wanted by her family. And in truth, that's what scares me the most.

A hand touches my shoulder and I jump, my body tensing.

"Hey, it's okay. Just me," Mushu tells me. "Are you okay?"

For the first time, I notice the tears running down my cheeks. I wipe them away quickly, forcing a chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him. "Think I spaced out there."

He doesn't pry. That's how we are, why being around each other is so comfortable. You can cry, you can ball your eyes out, and the other one will hold you, let you lean on their shoulder. They will listen if you want to say something, but they won't force you. It's an unspoken agreement.

"Almost home, huh," he states, gesturing to the village with his chin.

"Yeah," I reply.

"Doesn't look like it's changed much since I left, and that was what? Five years ago?"

"I think you could have been gone five decades and it would still be the same, Mushu."

He nods his agreement. We are silent for a few moments, each of us caught in our own thoughts, staring at our childhood home.

"Do you think they'll recognize me?" I ask in a small voice. I don't need to specify who "they" are.

"Of course they will," he tells me resolutely. "They're family."

"You didn't recognize me when I first showed up at camp."

"That's different."

"How? You're family to me."

"I wasn't expecting to see you there."

"They aren't expecting me."

Mushu huffs in frustration. "Must you always be such a cynic?"

"I'm not a cynic, I'm a realist."

He turns and grabs my shoulders. "Fine then, here's something real: You are closer to home than you have been in years. Come on, give me a smile."

I give him a small smile. He's right, home is close.

"Everything is going to be fine," he stresses.

"How do you know that?" I ask, only part teasing.

"Because one of us has to be an optimist." He smiles and punches me lightly on the shoulder. "Now move it, we're gonna miss breakfast."

I smile and follow Mushu back to camp, the warm morning sunlight lighting our way.


The ride down to the village seems to go too fast. I am silent the entire way, trying to figure out what to say. When we reach the entrance to the village, I have nothing. The others have me take the lead, as I know the way. As we ride, children point and wave while many adults bow. I realize after a few minutes that none of them seem to know that it's me, the Village Freak, home at last.

After we make it through the village, I lead the way to my father's house. Once again, the ride seems too quick, and before I know it, we are standing outside of the gates. I am unsure what to do. Do I knock? Do I simply walk in? I notice the others waiting for my directions.

"Are you going to go in, or did you just come to look?" Mushu teases lightly.

"Uh yeah, I guess we're going in," I blubber.

I dismount, and the others follow suit. I carefully lay my hand on the gate leading to my childhood home, and part of me is frightened it will disappear, the way it would in my dreams. But the gate is solid, and I gently push it open, so unlike the way I crashed through them the last time I was here. I slip through them similarly to the way I came home from the Matchmaker's, except this time, I have five grown men with horses following me. However, after taking only a few steps into the gate, I stop dead in my tracks. There, on the little rocking chair on the front porch, is Grandma. Upon our entrance, she looks up from her knitting. Our eyes meet for the briefest second, and I watch as sorrow and pain wash through her features. She rises from her chair swiftly, anger suddenly taking hold of her.

"What are you doing here?" she shouts, marching her way down the porch steps.

Just like that, I forget how to speak.

"I know why you soldiers are here!" she continues. "You've killed her, huh?! Well congratulations, you've delivered your message! Now scram!"

The truth hits me like a punch to the chest. She doesn't recognize me. Dressed in armor, my hair in a topknot, a helmet on my head with a scar adorning my face, she doesn't recognize me. In fact, she thinks we're here to bring the news of my execution.

The front door to the house opens, and onto the porch steps Mother.

"What is going on out here?" she demands from the porch.

"Mulan is dead," Grandma answers, despair and anger in her voice.

A gasp escapes my mother's lips, and she looks at us soldiers. Her eyes meet mine, and I silently beg for her to see me. I plead with my whole heart that despite how different I look, she will recognize her only daughter.

She doesn't.

I know the others are waiting for me to say something, but it is as if my body has stopped working. I can't move my lips. I watch my mother turn her back, preparing to reenter the house. I momentarily wonder if it would be so bad to let them move on without me. Maybe they would be better off. But I know I need them. This is the closest I've been to them in forever, and I'm not about to let them slip through my fingers. I force words to form.

"Wait," I cry, taking a step forward. Both women turn to face me.

"Mulan's not dead," I state, my voice barely louder than a whisper out of fear of it cracking. With trembling hands, I remove my helmet and take out my topknot, allowing my cropped hair to brush against my shoulders. "She's home."

I watch as my mother's jaw drops. She closes the distance between us in slow, shocked movements. When she reaches me, she lifts her left hand to my face, her thumb tracing the scar above my eye. Then, she wraps me in a strong embrace, her form shaking as she sobs on my shoulder.

"I was so scared," she chokes out.

"I know, I know," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Grandma shuffles over and joins the hug, and it takes me a few moments to have the will to end the embrace. When she gets a hold of herself, Mother glances at the guys standing behind me.

"And these would be…?" she asks me.

"My friends."

I watch a little amused as both women try to figure out why the heck they all seem so okay with me being a woman.

"I promise, I'll explain later," I tell them both.

Grandma suddenly grins mischievously. "Don't tell me that's Ai Mushu," she states, looking at him.

Mushu smiles. "Hey, Grandma Fa," he states, giving her a little wave. Those two always got along so well. But the time for pleasantries is over, it's time I face something that has daunted me since the day I left. It's time I face Father.


For a moment, I stand there at the moon gate, watching him. I have the Emperor's crest hanging from my neck, Shan-Yu's sword in my hands. They mean nothing to me, I just want my father's forgiveness.

He sits on the white stone bench under the magnolia tree, the soft pink blossoms getting caught in the afternoon breeze and floating gently to the ground. One lands on his knee, and he picks it up, staring at it sadly. It kills me to see the amount of pain I have put him in. Taking a deep breath, I walk towards him. He does not notice me until I am standing next to the bench. He turns to look at me, his eyes going wide in surprise, and he whispers my name in utter disbelief.

"Mulan."

I see him beginning to rise, but stop him and instead kneel at his feet.

"Father, I have brought you the sword of Shan-Yu," I state, handing it to him. "And the crest of the Emperor." I place it on the sword before bowing my head once more. "They're gifts, to honor the Fa Family." I wait, the stolen armor I wear suddenly feeling as if it weighs a hundred pounds, my cropped hair suddenly making me feel self-conscious.

I hear a clatter and watch the prizes fall to the ground. Father is suddenly kneeling on the ground in front of me, wrapping me in an embrace. I am momentary shocked, unsure what to do.

"The greatest gift and honor," I hear him whisper into my ear before pulling away and holding my face in his hands, "is having you for a daughter." He uses his thumb to wipe away the tear that trickles down my cheek. He pulls me into an embrace once more, and this time I hug back.

"I've missed you so," he tells me.

"I've missed you too, Baba," I reply, burying my face in his shoulder.

Our reunion is suddenly interrupted when Grandma calls, "Zhou, she brought home four men too!" Mushu gives her a pointed look as if to say "I'm here too", but Grandma simply replies, "Siblings don't count."

I chuckle but shake my head. "It's not like that, they're friends." Father gives me an understanding smile.

"I know."


I introduce the guys to my family, and Father is glad to see Mushu once again, because accident or not, it's pretty impossible to hate Mushu. He is greatly saddened to hear about the passing of the late General Li and offers Shang his condolences. They are invited to stay for dinner, but the offer is turned down, as Mushu, Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po's village is only a few hours ride away. I bid them farewell fighting tears, and Chien-Po lifts us into one of his signature group hugs. Then they are off, leaving me with the three people I was sure I would never see again.


Author's Note: I really can't believe I've made it this far into this story! I'm really excited, because now that this chapter is done, I have finished with the events of the movie and am free to do as I will. Just so you know, I am completly ignoring Mulan 2. So, from now on, the storyline is going to be all original with no more scenes from the Disney movies. I'm so excited, what about you? Thanks for reading, and make sure to leave a review!