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prologue: i was brave. Mulan
In some parts of China, many fathers believed that it was their right to teach their daughters how to defend themselves. It was frowned upon in some villages and towns yes, but it was seen as a beautiful art when a woman fought with her sharp fans and somehow kept her feminine beauty about her.
But my father was a retired soldier. He fought long and hard for our country, bringing the Hua family much honor for generations to come and I promised to keep our family's honor so long as my heart beats. He did not care about me keeping my feminine virtues, so long as if a man touched me, I could defend myself to the highest degree. And although my mother was not a fighter, she encouraged me and even bought me those silly fans that many women used for self defense.
I wanted something greater, something that I could wear proudly and that people would know to never cause me harm. And as the years went on, on my seventeenth birthday, my father gave me his twin katanas that he used to fight for our country. He had them sharpened and although they held scars of their own, that only made the blades that much more beautiful.
I thought that my father could rest. He had done so much for China - so much that it put him at risk with his health. But the Emperor called for him again, needing one male from each family, and unfortunately, I wasn't born a man.
We argued. It was the worst fight we've ever had, and it ended with him leaving anyway.
"If I am to die, it is to be with honor."
And he did die.
They sent him out and he was immediately shot down, three arrows to the chest.
I felt so empty inside. My mother arranged for me to be married to a military general, but I didn't want that. I wasn't raised to be a wife.
On my wedding day, as my mother and bridesmaids left to wait for me, I ripped off my dress and changed into a cabin boys uniform. I had gotten location of a ship leaving to take over the lands of a place called England, and I was determined to kill everyone on that ship.
Because they were Mangolians.
By the time we docked onto the shores of England, the ship was covered in blood and I saved the captain for last. I stumbled off, exhausted and ready to die, knowing I was able to kill the men who started another war and cost my father his own life.
Yet, I awoke again, cleaned from the dried blood and dirt that covered my body, and in new clothes that showed that I was indeed a woman. And a man came in and asked if it was I who killed those men on the ship.
I asked, "how did you know?"
He said, "because you were the one holding the blood stained blades."
I was tested, killed many others to prove that I was worthy, and was approved by their Church to become a great warrior amongst the men, but only if I hid my feminine beauty. I was raised to follow orders as a soldier, and so I did for the Vatican. My blades were stained after every battle with those creatures, and it always left me satisfied with my work.
But, I was never alone. I had a man with me who called himself the Weeping Monk, a most honorable and elite warrior whom I respected. Yet, no matter how much I tried to hide my true gender, he always caught me at my most vulnerable moments. Even when I kept my hair cut and up, my face slightly dirty and tied my breasts down with cloth, he came up to me and said,
"A woman that fights is the most dangerous woman in existence, and one deserving of respect."
