Chapter Text
When she woke up, her hand went for her gun.
She's never figured out when the cold press of the metal had become an instinct, when it had become a comfort.
But she clutched the pistol tight, and reminded herself that the war was thousands of miles away. That she was no longer a part of it.
But she did remember it. She remembers all of it, and it plays on repeat in her head, staining her vision red around the edges and waking her up in cold sweat.
Her hand goes to her hair. It's short, brushing at her shoulders. She remembers cutting it off.
It had been long, jet black and straight, running all the way to her waist. As it fell to the floor, she looked at it, almost bitter.
My one vanity.
Her inner voice just then had sounded suspiciously like her mother.
No matter. No use for vanity where you're going.
Now there, that was her father.
Her father had been there constantly, during training, through every humiliation and victory. every fiber of her being screamed, in an effort to make him proud. Proud, despite not having a son who would enlist. Proud of his daughter, the solider.
But there was also another voice.
"Can you fire a gun?" He looked her over, and she knew exactly which box she was getting placed in. She took a breath.
"Yes sir." Her father had taken her a few times, not enough to be particularly good but enough that she could handle the recoil.
"Hm." The officer smirked. "I didn't think you could even lift one."
She blinked up at him.
He moved on.
She remembers graduating, the medal on her uniform proclaimer her a lieutenant, remembers her mother's tear filled voice over the phone telling her to be safe, to be careful.
"Come home. Please just promise me that you will come home."
She remained silent. She couldn't make that promise.
She remembers the mission.
She remembers the fire, the cover of night.
She remembers the squad she tool, remembers her captain's voice in her ear yelling at her to stop.
She remembers the supposed victory, the false retreat, remembers seeing them come close, come forward.
She remembers the bullet tearing into her flesh, her leg screaming as she collapses.
She remembers waking in the hospital bed and Captain Shang Li standing there.
She remembers his weak voice, proclaiming that she was the craziest motherfucker he had ever met.
She'd laughed at that.
She remembers the medal placed around her neck, the bronze star medal that meant nothing to her but meant everything to her fathers legacy and to her family's honor.
She remembers coming home, her gait uneven on her metal leg. She remembers seeing them, standing at the airport looking anxiously at the other soldiers leaving the terminal.
Her grandmother saw her first, and she'd called to her mother and father.
Her mother had cried, and she hugged her. She'd savored the warmth, her distinctive scent.
Then she had turned ton her father.
"Are you proud of me now, Baba?"
He father had hugged her tight. "I've always been proud of you, Mulan. Always."