Ping (Disney's 'Mulan' in Shang's POV)

Chapter 2: The New Recruits

"Soldiers!"

Shang held back an amused snort as the band of misfits around him dropped their bowls of rice and untangled themselves from headlocks as his voice snapped them back to reality. At his instruction, the recruits stumbled and eventually formed a line, shoulder to shoulder, so that they were all facing him.

Starting at one end of the line, Shang walked slowly past each recruit, surveying each one with his eyes. As he noticed earlier, many of these men were scrawnier or more out of shape than his father's ranks, those who volunteered during peaceful times. Mandatory recruits always seemed to follow this pattern, but a true and successful captain could transform the most unlikely troop of boys and form them into strong, capable, courageous warriors.

Upon finishing his lap down the line of men, Shang doubled back to the middle of the line to face the group. "You are to be fed and standing at attention here on the training field by precisely 0600 every morning. And I expect you to be ready at precisely that time, no screwing around. And that includes food fights."

Shang observed his recruits' reactions. Irritated grumbling made its way down the line, seaming to centralize around one boy, who was getting the evil eyes from a particularly short man standing beside him, who Shang could guess would be the hothead of the group. This boy though is where Shang's curious glances fell. He was small and lanky, picking nervously at his rather old looking uniform. As Shang walked towards the boy, his eyes grew wide and his face grew a couple shades of pink.

"You seem to be the unnamed cause for this mornings commotion, am I correct?" Shang asked the nervous recruit.

"Y-yes sir."

"What's your name?"

"My name? Yes, my name! I got one of those..." Panic filled the boy's eyes as he avoided eye contact with Shang by looking almost everywhere else.

Shang held back a sigh as he watched the recruit twitch and panic in front of him. 'This one won't last long,' he thought to himself. Shang all of a sudden became aware of Chi Fu out of the corner of his eye, scribbling notes on his scroll, a smirk on his face. 'No doubt writing a biased report on my performance' Shang thought. The Emperor's weaselly minion never seemed to like Shang, or even care about the military. He would do - or write - anything that would make others look bad and make him look good in the eyes of the Emperor.

Ignoring Fu, Shang brought his attention back to the soldier in front of him, who was still squirming in his shoes and who seemed to now be trying to bury his face in the collar of his tunic. "Did you hear me boy?" Shang raised his voice with authority and crossed his arms across his chest. "Don't make me ask again."

His booming voice made the boy snap his head up and flick a set of onyx-black eyes up to his. "S-sorry sir. My name's...uh...Ping."

"Ping?"

"Y-yes sir."

'What an odd name...'Shang arched an eyebrow. "Let me see your registration papers."

The boy nodded like a bobblehead as he dug into his robe, finally pulling out and handing his captain a slightly wrinkled parchment. Shang grabbed the paper and checked its authenticity before checking the family name.

"You're a Fa? As in Fa Zhou?"

"Yes sir."

"I didn't know Fa Zhou had a son."

"He doesn't talk about me much."

Shang peered over the form and studied the boy. He was a year younger then Shang and about six inches shorter. Shiny black hair was pulled into the standard male bun. As if he noticed Shang's assessment, Ping's posture straightened and his chest puffed out. 'The boy's trying to fit in.' Shang thought, 'We'll see how long he lasts.'

After shoving the parchment back into the boys hand, Shang made his way back to his position in front of his recruits. "Now listen up! Thanks to Ping, your first task will be to clean this field. You will make sure to pick up every last grain of rice."

Grumbles and angry grunts from the line of recruits was Shang's answer. As he released the recruits to start their clean up project, he noticed Ping was getting more angry looks and the occasional shove from the other recruits. He couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the boy before shaking his head and turning away from the field. 'There's no room for sympathy in the army. He's going to have to shape up if he's going to survive this war.'