The Mind's Journey Home
AUTHOR: Chata Saladbar
Chapter Two: The Fans
To his surprise the next village is boisterous with celebrations. Not only had a messenger already arrived with the news of China's victory, but the great hero Mulan herself had passed through. She is uncharacteristicly vivacious and friendly woman, perfect for the role of a public hero and the villagers had loved her instantly. Shang wonders if they are perhaps disappointed in him, this serious, very cold in comparison, Captain arriving hastily on his Imperial stallion, offering none of her vitality, none of her purity and goodness.
"Honorable Captain, the man who helped Mulan save the Emperor!" several different voices call out around him. If they bear any dislike of him, the crowds did not show it. They surround him instantly, bow and scrape to him, plead for more tales about the Emperor's rescue and wanting to share in their hospitality. He continues to try to move on telling them he is only in for a few supplies. He is exceedingly uncomfortable in this spotlight, and not feeling deserving of their attention. He eventually acquieses and dismounts to hear their stories and to drink in their enthusiasm for Mulan.
The experience is not entirely painful for him, for he catches a glimpse into Mulan's past that he did not know despite the adventure they shared. Mulan is the only child of a famous chinese general. The General did not have a son to focus his energies on, so he was able to satiate his daughter's immense curiousity by teaching her a little about martial arts and swordmanship never thinking she would seriously take the lessons to heart. Only when she did not learn her mother's lessons as well as her father's did her parents start to worry. They knew well that a girl with such spirit would not be wanted by any good family.
Shang suddenly appreciates how she was able blend in with the men in the camp, though she had little of a man's brute strength, she gained athleticism and agility from her famous father. He grins at the story of the poor singed Matchmaker, her failed attempt to follow into a traditional woman's life, though he knows at the time how painful this episode must have been to her.
She had told them that the night of her disgrace with the Matchmaker, after her ailing father had received his conscription notice, was the only time her father had yelled at her to learn her place as a woman, a place that she had failed to fit. She had little left but to save her father from his certain death, as it was the least she could do for not becoming the proper daughter to him.
Just like that she had opened her heart and rested it on her palms for everyone to see. She might have been rejected by the Matchmaker, but he knew she was blessed by the spirit of a great warrior and possessed a loving and optimistic attitude that awed the crowds. They openly trusted her as many of her comrades did. Why did it take him so long? And why did the longest to fall plunge the deepest into her resplendence?
There is a consistent tugging on his cape. He turns and looks down to see three small children clutching the red fabric with their small sticky hands and looking up at him with earnest wonder. Their mothers rush to admonish their young but he waves his hand and smiles. Looking down at their smooth faces he finds it hard to believe that he and his sister were also once so young, so awed by a soldier's colorful uniform and so innocent of the realities of war. He kneels to talk to them and one small girl abruptly clutches his neck knocking him a little off balance, "Ba-Ba?" she asks burying her face into his neck. He wraps his arms instinctively around her, enjoying in the small bundle of warmth.
"No," he tells her. "Your Daddy will be home soon."
"My Ba-ba wears a cape too," the little girls mumbles in his ear.
He looks up at her mother, her face is pale and eyes wet. Was her husband, this girl's father on that same bloody battleground with his own dead father? He has not cried over his father's death, but as he holds the girl it takes an Herculean effort not to weep for hers. He holds the innocent victim too long, but she does not release him as he tries to stop the waves of anguish that threaten to take control of him.
"Honorable Captain, the man who helped Mulan save the Emperor!"
Those words again, piercing him with their falseness.
"Honorable Captain, who held the Evil Hun Shan-Yu at bay!"
"Honorable Captain, the man who helped Mulan save the Emperor! Tell us about her! Tell us about M!"
*I'm a fake.* He wants to say as he puts down the girl and rises to face them. *I deserve your curses not your adulation*. He can not stop the slight tremble in his hands as he watches her run to her mother. Think of the girl's life not her father's, he tells himself, think of what China's new hero allows her.
The voices pound around him and no gestures can make them stop. What should he tell them about Mulan? What could he say about her that they haven't realized? That she is pure, valiant, and untarnished? That despite those that have tried to destroy it her virtue remains? That the soldier before them failed her and is not complete because of it?
He gazes over their different faces, so full of hope and admiration. He feels older than even the wrinkled weather-beaten faces of the dark elders. He must say something. The words do not come to him at first, at least not the words that would appease a joyful crowd.
"She is China's great hero -- full of beauty and intelligence. She is a devoted daughter and...," he finally tells them calmly, though with some effort. "and a brave soldier that saved the Emperor with her wit and strength."
He stops but the crowd's eyes continues to stare at him unsatiated. "a-and an indomitable spirit ..." he continues more shakily. "that for some unknown reason risked everything to save me twice when I did not deserve her loyalty. All these things produce a woman beyond explanation. She is indefinable...and I," he hesitates, the word lingering in his throat,"and I long to see her again."
The crowd is quiet except for the collective sighs from the women present. He listens to a few more moments of silence, then hears the rustle of fabrics and hushed tones of whispers as the pungent smells of fresh fish, dried herbs and alcohol waft around him. Then as suddenly as it stopped, the music and chatter resumes more loudly than before. Hands are patting him, people are congratulating him, drinks and food are thrust into his hands He sweeps his gaze around him, looking for a way out, but he is stuck here for a little while longer. "Thank you" he tells them a few times, his words creak out of his mouth.
The next few nights and days he avoids the villages. He no longer feels anything, the emptiness seems to swallow him whole. His sleep continues to be restless and short, with fears he can not name. His dreams become filled with shadows and spirits of dead soldiers, which seemed to stay just out of sight so he can not see the faces of those who haunt him and those that admonish him, but he is sure one of them is his father's and one them is Mulan's.
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