Okay! So this is the newest chapter! I am desperately trying to claw myself back into the fanfiction world! I dropped off mostly due to a lack of feedback but after a couple reviews asking me to continue, I decided to try this again. I will most likely be rewriting the previous chapters (again? how many times can I do that? I dunno, but I'll do it until it's PERFECT). Let's go!
This is dedicated to Luca, Lucia, and Guest. This effort is for you guys. Thank you so much for giving me the determination to continue.
All rights belong to Disney.
I knelt in front of Mulan's bed, staring at the wood orchid and comb that rested there. Someone laughed. The need to appear casual hung over us like storm clouds. My family was bearing the brunt of this charade. Mother and Father had to laugh and carry on with our guests even though Mulan might've been ruthlessly slaughtered by Hun invaders.
I would have to pretend as well, eventually. Right now, however, I was too afraid. My tears have a life of their own. At the most inopportune moments, I could burst out crying. So after saying polite hellos to my newly-arrived relatives, I pretended to be tired and retreated to my room, taking Little Brother with me. Mulan would have the respect she deserved, even if she wasn't dead.
This festival was supposed to mark the return of spring; a time of rebirth, hope, and love. A time to fellowship with family and friends. Yet the family I wanted most to see was probably lying cold and bloody on a battlefield. Trampled as the Huns advanced towards the Imperial City, towards our tiny village. With most of the army gone and thousands of invaders, I was as surely marked for the slaughter as a fattened pig. With Mulan here we would've been together. Comforting each other. Hoping together.
Mulan was probably dead. Gone. Where was the hope in that?
Tears stung behind my eyes. I shut them. Please don't cry. What if my family walked in or called me for something? But they leaked out from under my eyelashes anyway. At my foot, Little Brother whined. Hiccupping slightly, I picked him up. His warm body pressed into my arms and I hugged him tight, letting out a ragged sob. Was he suffering? Staring sadly at the abandoned bed of his owner? I sat back, looking up at the discolored spot on the ceiling where Mulan had mended a leak a few years back. Misery loves company, they say. I was miserable. I needed company. Mother and Father would make sure I was left alone. Burying my face into his fur, I let the tears flow.
Kai knocked on the Fa door, clenching the small piece of rice paper. Grandmother Fa opened the door. " Lin Kai! Hello! I hope you're enjoying the festival."
He smiled, bobbing his head. "Yes ma'am, I am. My relatives are coming today."
"Of course!" She looked him up and down. "What brings you here?"
"A riddle," he said, holding out the piece of paper. "I found one of your family's lanterns, and I think I know the answer."
"Oh, well I think Daiyu does all the riddles. Let me get her." Grandmother Fa disappeared, and Kai's stomach clenched. Don't get nervous now. A moment later, Daiyu stood in the door, pushing her dark hair back. Her eyes were pink-tinted, as if she'd been crying. Ancestors help me! What was he supposed to do with a crying girl?
"What's wrong?" he asked, sizing her up. She was crushing the skirt of her hanfu against her legs.
"Nothing." She gave him a flicker of a smile.
"You've been crying." Why would someone cry today? A day of friends and food and celebration and...oooh. "Is it Mulan?"
"What?" She'd been looking at a point between his chin and chest, but now her head snapped up and she was meeting his eyes. She blinked rapidly. "What about her?"
"I bet you miss her a lot." Kai hadn't meant to set her off. He mentally cleared his throat, reproaching himself. "Since she can't see you and she's sick and all."
"Oh." Daiyu seemed to relax, leaning against the door frame that had been notched several times. Probably measurements of how she and Mulan had grown; his family had used the same sytem. "Yes, I just miss her." Her eyes took on a shine, and alarm burbled in Kai's mind. Please don't cry. Don't cry don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry-
"Well, I found one of your family riddles." Panic cracked his voice and he cleared his throat, looking down at the strip of paper. "What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?"
He could imagine Daiyu smiling wider, although he couldn't look at her face for fear of panicking. "What's the answer?"
"Is it..." He tried to resume his composure. Looking up at her he grinned, pausing for dramatic effect. "The letter M?"
Daiyu clapped, bouncing slightly. "Congratulations! You got it right! Wait right here and I'll get your prize." She disappeared inside and Kai took a deep breath to re-steady himself. When Daiyu reemerged, she held a small dragon shadow puppet. Bowing deeply, she presented it to him. "Your prize," she said in a comically deep voice.
"Thanks!" Kai laughed and took the puppet, looking it over as he pivoted to leave. Suddenly reluctant to go, however, he turned back to her. "Want to go to the creek for a while?"
"Oh, um...don't you have to be with your family?"
"Nah. We're having a big dinner later, but I'm free for now. C'mon, just for a little." Kai gave her his best pleading look, and she laughed.
"I guess it couldn't hurt. Let's go."
Down at the creek, we lay sprawled out on the ground and watched a few glowing lanterns drift lazily overhead. Squares, circles, and other shapes dotted the sky. "There'll be fireworks later," said Kai.
"Mmhmm." I was quiet. Mulan pervaded my thoughts. Kai had been attempting to make conversation, but being as polite as I could, I stayed quiet.
"Daiyu? Are you okay?" The question was out of the blue, and I flopped over to face Kai. His face had lost that boyish look and for a flicker I saw a man there. A mature, caring young man with that simple spirit that wasn't afraid to ask me to sit with him even if we had no intentions of marriage.
"Yes," I answered thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. You just seem...I don't know. Different. Stressed, maybe." He hitched his shoulder a little, his gaze drawn to the ground. He began to break off blades of grass.
What would I say to that? Telling the truth - even if not all of it - would be welcome. "I am stressed. I have a lot of extra duties while Mulan is gone." And I would continue to have them if she died. Our family would forever live with the fear, dishonor, and grief of her death unjustified. I'd get older alone. I'd be married off and have a husband and family and even if we had the best life I would be so, so lonely.
"I bet." He didn't pry, and for that I was grateful. Being with him was relaxing, even if we weren't talking. I looked at him again. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling up at the dipping sun. A little flutter in my chest made me blush, and I looked away.
Mulan gently turned the small doll over, vision blurring with unshed tears. The dark hair fluttered in the wind. The innocence that the doll signified reminded her of Daiyu. Her sister still harbored a few dolls, even with their fading faces and dresses that had to be mended all the time. They'd sat in an orderly line on her pillow, guarding the girl as she slept. As she'd gotten older and fully seized her responsibility of being Daiyu's protector, she'd imagined the dolls as fellow guardians.
Just up ahead, Shang knelt in front of the sword he'd buried in the snow. His shoulders shook. On the handle was balanced the General's helmet. His father. She walked up behind him. "I'm sorry."
She could see the pain in his eyes as he turned and walked past her. She wanted to put out her hand to stop him, but didn't. He mounted his horse. "The Huns are on the move." His voice was raspy, but as he continued to give orders it strengthened. "We need to make it to the Imperial City before they do. We're the only hope for the Emperor now." He swallowed. "Move out!"
Mulan watched the soldiers straggle back into formation, but she couldn't move. She turned to the makeshift shrine Shang had created. Kneeling, she gently placed the doll against the base of the sword. Maybe somewhere out there, someone was crying over their dead relative.
Maybe even their dead sister.