We're getting so close to the actual story! Hang in there!

I retreated into the room Mulan and I shared, flopping down onto the straw mattress that I slept on. The tears I had tried to keep back before now burnt my eyelids, so I blinked and let them slowly trickle down my cheeks.

Maybe nobody would understand why I was crying. I wasn't sad for myself, I was sad for Mulan. We knew, as daughters, our role was to bring honor to the family, and Mulan ached to do that. Especially after Father had come home injured, she had done her best to be a good daughter. She just wasn't cut out for a life of honor and ceremony. She wanted to get out there and do big things that would help people, to be known not as 'so-and-so's wife and so-and-so's mother,' but as 'Mulan-of-her-own-merits.' In the society we lived in, however, that was near impossible.

I heard Father shuffling down the hall, his cane tapping. I smiled. When I was little, I used to imagine that Father had two footsteps, and he could switch them whenever he wanted. A moment later, I looked out the window to see Father and Mulan sitting under the cherry blossom tree, talking. Then Father reached and pinned Mulan's hair away from her face.

My heart ached. I, like Mulan, desired to be seen as my own person. However, being the younger sister, I was constantly in Mulan's shadow. Not that I didn't love my older sister, but sometimes I was sad there were few girls in the village my age, who I could be friends with. I didn't know if Mulan knew everything about me. I tried to tell her, but I never could. I kept my inner feelings hidden, like an egg in a bird's nest.

However, seeing the joy on my sister's face shining through her tears, my spirits lifted. As long as Mulan was happy, I was happy.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the rhythmic booming of the village drums. I darted outside and tried to run to the square, but Mama stopped me. "No, girls, stay here." Mulan and I exchanged a look of consternation, but our faces brightened when Grandmama jerked her thumb towards the low roof of the courtyard wall. Moments later, we were on the roof, watching horses thunder in. The red-and-yellow flag of the Emperor streamed high above the heads of the riders, and I gasped. These were Imperial soldiers, and the Emperor's chief adviser, Chi Fu, himself!

"Citizens of China," called the adviser, who had a thin, pointy head, bulbous nose, and protruding lower lip. "I bring a declaration from the Imperial City." He paused, enjoying the crackling anticipation of waiting. "The Huns have invaded China!"

Gasps resonated around the square. I saw more than a few mothers whisk their young children away. Girls and boys gathered into groups, whispering with fearful eyes. Mulan and I exchanged glances. "Every family," continued Chi Fu, "must contribute one man to fight."

Now it was my turn to gasp. They couldn't possibly make Father fight, could they? Chi Fu began reading names off a list.

"The Chow family!"

"The Li family!"

"The Shu family!"

"The Fa family!"

There it was. Father handed Mama his cane and strode confidently towards the adviser. Only Mulan and I noticed the faintest hint of a limp beneath his strong gait. He bowed to the man. "I will serve the Emperor to the best of my ability."

I heard Mulan sliding down the roof. Turning, I saw her running towards Father. "Mulan!" I hissed. She didn't stop, and I jumped off the roof and raced after her.

"Father, no!" Called Mulan, grabbing the scroll that Chi Fu handed Father. "You can't go, you can't!" She turned to Chi Fu. "Please, sir, my father has-ahh!"

I had crashed straight into Mulan, and we tumbled onto the ground at the feet of the adviser's horse. The horse whinnied and shied away, but a quick tug of the reins calmed it. Chi Fu turned to Father as Mulan and I stood. "You will do well to teach your daughters manners."

"Girls." Father's tone was low and displeased. "Go back to the house."

"Father, no!" Mulan's eyes were wide and pleading. "You can't!"

"Girls, come." Mother took our arms and guided us home.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Father radiated disappointment, and I feared if I spoke I would either start crying or set Father off. When I glanced at Mulan, she looked contrite. But as she poured tea, her deliberate movements showed she was angry, confused, and trying to keep it all inside. Fat chance. She raised her cup and stared into it.

She's going off in three, two, one...

She slammed her cup down, sloshing tea out of it. It's a wonder the porcelain didn't crack. "It's not fair!" She said angrily. "You've already fought! You've made sacrifices!"

"It is my honor to protect my country and my family." Father was impassive, methodically raising his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

"So you would die..." Mulan paused to take an angry breath. "You would die for honor?"

"I know my place!" Bellowed Father, standing up suddenly. "I suggest you learn yours!"

That burst Mulan's anger bubble. She stopped and stared, then turned and rushed outside into the blustery night. I stood to go after her. "No," ordered Father. "Sit down, Daiyu."

Staring at him, I sat again. Dinner went on as if Mulan's place wasn't empty.

That night, I awoke to a soft shuffling sound in my room. I sat up to see...a boy? In my room? I opened my mouth to scream, but the boy spoke. "No, Daiyu. It's me."

"Mulan?" I asked. The boy removed their helmet and, sure enough, it was Mulan. "But why-"

"Father can't do this, Daiyu. He's sure to be killed, and where would that leave us?" She squared her shoulders.

"Mulan!" I gasped, realizing the weight of her words. "Mulan, no! Use your head!"

"No, Little Jade. I'm using my heart."