How could I have been so stupid, he thought. Fa Zhou didn't have a son! Still as Shang saw the old Fa Zhou in his mind his heart gave a twinge of sympathy. Fa Zhou, the old man who pretended he had just as much strength as he did when he was Shang's own age. The man who abandoned his cane, ashamed to be seen limping around with his old war wound. Shang found himself thinking wouldn't I have done the same thing?

I offered her the chance to go home Shang thought viciously, silencing that voice of sympathy. I told him… Shang exhaled deeply, I told her she could leave. She wasn't in this just to save her father. If she was she would have left when I told her to at the beginning of training. But she didn't, the voice piped up, she stayed and she earned your respect.

No she lied! She pretended to be someone she wasn't and whatever she did under that assumption was irrelevant.

Shang put a hand on the back of his neck. He turned around to look at his troops and he could almost see the same arguments going on behind their faces; but they didn't look as though the voice of reason was winning. They marched along in silence, lost in their own thoughts. The only one who didn't look depressed was urgh… Chi Fu. Shang repressed a look of revulsion and shook his head. I'm so confused, he admitted.

On the first day of training I gave her such a hard time. Shang had the briefest of smiles flash unconsciously across his face as he thought of that day with the rice. I was so nervous that first day; I was pretty mean to him…ugh! The smile slid off of Shang's face. I was pretty mean to her…sheesh that sounded even worse. Those first few weeks, I felt like such a failure. I had been planning how to fine tune their skills when I'd been handed a bunch of too young sons and too old fathers who didn't know what they were doing; and one woman he thought in the back of his mind.

She had been especially annoying; she hadn't known how to do anything. Which was fair, the voice said again; a woman in an army of men. How would she have known what to do? I expected a certain level of competency; but how could I expect a woman to know it? Shang looked down as he remembered the night he had told her to go home. Through all the turmoil there was a certain satisfaction in being able to send her home. Shang tried to remember the look on her face when he'd told her to leave; but he'd had so much on his mind.

Then that morning with the arrow. It had been a close choice; but he had given her another chance. After that she attacked every challenge with ferocity. She'd pushed harder than any of the others. Often, it was her intensity that encouraged the others to try harder. At first it was competition. No one wanted public enemy number one working harder than them; but after a while everyone grew to like her. She encouraged everyone to do better, she advised when advice was needed and she was quiet and accepting when it clearly wouldn't be received.

Then that explosive conversation with Chi Fu. He had grown to respect every one of his soldiers even, though hesitantly, her. When she talked to him that night he couldn't stop thinking about her. He thought long and hard about her dual personality: half over the top, trying to establish how much she belonged, the other half a real person, a little sensitive, but a good person. When Chi Fu came back he still hadn't gotten her out of his mind. He had thought all night, who cares what Chi Fu thinks? If even one soldier respects me as a captain, what's the difference of that fat old man?

She was good at comforting others. While the conversation with Chi Fu was definitely the most memorable, she had said lots of little things that had always been what he'd needed to hear. As the fears had sprouted: his troops not being able to complete their training, about him getting his captain status taken away, and pretty much anything Chi Fu said, she'd been there all along. She'd been the voice that said, don't worry they'll get it, you're doing fine just give them time, and don't worry Chi Fu is just in a huff about being left with us.

Finally she had saved his life. Shang had spent all night trying to convince himself she only had to save him because he had tried to save her; but he knew he had wanted the cannon as much as he'd wanted to protect a soldier.

He'd carried her to the doctor, and he couldn't stop himself thinking how light she was. Shang scoffed; he'd written it off as an adrenaline rush. The wound was deep; he got blood on his own uniform just carrying her. All the while he couldn't stop thinking how brave she'd been.

That night had been the worst of his life; having to sit there while for all he knew she, the person who'd saved his life, was dying in the tent. He'd tried to enter a few times, tried to think of some words of comfort. Shouldn't any captain be there when a soldier was dying? However the one time he summoned up the courage the doctor had ordered him out. There had been blood everywhere; and he'd complied only too quickly preparing himself for the worst news.

There had been a similar silence through the camp that night. The troops ate about half as much and her good friends were simply sitting there in silence. Shang even saw a few praying, something uncommon in the army.

Shang had wished desperately to silence his own mind. When he looked at her he saw someone so different from everyone else. He silenced a voice in his head that thought, you have no idea. She was so selfless. She catered to everyone else's needs. She listened, she knew how you felt, and she knew just what to say: something honest that only meant something because you knew she meant it. After a long time Shang spent pacing he wondered why it was he felt that she was so different.

Then the doctor had come out. Shang had practically run to him, ready to hear any news. At first it was good: the wound had been deep; but he'd staunched the bleeding. "She should be fine," he'd said. Shang could still hear his voice perfectly. "She should be fine."

Shang had opened his mouth to correct him; but he'd spoken again. His wavering voice, "captain, the soldier in there is a woman." Shang had ignored the doctor, the soldiers whose heads jerked up as they all gave up pretending they weren't listening. He'd just walked right into the tent, unwilling to believe unless he saw it with his own eyes.

At first there had been complete relief as he saw her sit up, woozily; but alright. Then he'd noticed the changes. It all seemed to have been staring him in the face; but completely hidden until that moment. How could he have missed it? The womanly figure, the long lashes, the full lips, all of it had been right in front of his since the beginning.

Shang had turned away, unable to register what he'd seen. The paradigm shift was complete and irreversible. He hadn't even been able to hear her words. Then Chi Fu had to come busting through.

He'd grabbed her arm and thrown her around like rag doll into the snow, to humiliate her in public as if she wasn't already disgraced enough. He'd torn off her head band as she struggled to hold the blanket around her form. There had been a collective gasp from the soldiers as her hair swung down and it became even more obvious. Chi Fu had gone on shouting about dishonor, and Shang had had to focus beyond his own shock and anger to stop himself from turning around and punching the stupid man in the face.

He thought about that now, what Chi Fu had done was what was disgraceful. After all it wasn't like he could have left her in the tent. Instead he had dragged a wounded and almost unclothed woman out into the snow to humiliate her. But what did you do to stop it, the voice questioned. Shang felt guilt rise in his chest and he hung his head lower. He had done nothing. A captain, a leader and he'd stood there. His own father had always told him it was deeds and not thoughts that mattered. Wasn't that exactly what Mulan had done: acted rather than thought about how unfair it was her father had been called to war?

Even now he couldn't get the image out of his own head: her huddled there in the snow, woozy from blood loss, fighting to defend herself. Shang had wanted to forgive her immediately when she'd explained, trying to yell unsuccessfully over Chi Fu, about her father. However his anger and the law had been enough to make him merely shun and abandon her.

Oh god, he thought, shame overwhelming him. He'd left an unprotected and wounded woman in the middle of a mountain range. What if even one of the Huns had survived? She would be dead. She can take care of herself, a pessimistic voice said. Shang rubbed his jaw and remembered his own strange satisfaction that first day she had kicked him in the jaw. She had been one of his pride and joys, the world's worst soldier turned into a warrior; but now he couldn't remove that image of her lying there in the snow.

Shang had felt revulsion at what he thought he might have to do for a moment. He never wanted to kill someone defenseless. Fighting to protect your country, even spilling blood, it was required; but how could he simply kill her? I can't he'd decided. I owe her my life, no matter personal wants or emotions. It's my honor on the line now. Shang had hefted the sword as his soldiers stared at him in shock, disbelief, horror, disgrace, and a lot of other emotions; but none of them had stepped forward either.

She would have, he thought. If it was someone else for some other reason she would have stepped out and said it was wrong. However without her, everyone had just watched. As Shang saw the fear in her eyes he realized the sword in his hand and what Chi Fu was yelling, and he realized how he must look. He raised the sword and she looked away resigned and unflinching as he'd thrown the sword at her feet.

She'd given him that blank and unreadable look as he'd walked away. Chi Fu had shouted about the law at him; but Shang was angry enough at him, and a resolution was in his mind that not another word to the contrary of his was going to pass through the man's lips. At least I did that much, he tried to comfort himself. I didn't let Chi Fu… but the thought sounded so lame he couldn't even finish it.

Everyone had gathered their things and as they had walked away he'd turned, trying to give her one last look; trying to part for the last time with some common understanding. But she hadn't seen him and he'd walked away from her for the first time, uncomforted.