Multifandom One-shots

92. Unmasked - Mulan x male reader (Mulan)

The training ground resonated with the clatter of wooden training sticks and grunts of exertion as the group of soldiers trained. A little further from the group were Ping and Y/N as they sparred.

Despite his best attempts, Ping was constantly outmaneuvered by Y/N's quick strikes and smart feints, landing on the ground more often than he cared to acknowledge.

As Ping dropped onto the dirt once again, frustration bubbled within him. And the other soldiers' mocking laughter only intensified his frustration. Ignoring their taunting, he felt a hand reach for him. Blinking away the dust, he looked up to see Y/N standing over him, his face a mixture of amusement and encouragement.

"Come on, Ping," Y/N urged, his tone tinged with lighthearted challenge. "You're not giving up already, are you?"

Grasping Y/N's offered hand, Ping allowed him to pull him back to his feet, his cheeks flushed with exertion. As he resumed his stance, Ping couldn't help but admire the ease with which Y/N moved, his every motion fluid and precise.

But the sarcastic laughter did not cease, making Ping want nothing more than to leave. As he began to walk away, Y/N stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. Looking back, he came face-to-face with Y/N's sweaty but resolute one.

"Let's try that again," Y/N suggested, his eyes sparkling with determination. "But this time, forget about them." He pointed his head in the direction of the mocking group. "If only they knew what great power you controlled, they would piss themselves. That's how great you are; you just need to help it get to the surface."

Ping felt a surge of gratitude towards Y/N, his words striking a chord within him. With renewed determination, he nodded in agreement, ready to prove himself once more. Ping squared his shoulders, ready to face his opponent once more. But as he raised his wooden training stick, Y/N stopped him.

"Wait," he said, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Let me show you something."

Confused but intrigued, Ping allowed Y/N to guide him into a new stance, his hands deftly adjusting his own grip on the wooden stick and the angle of his arms. Despite himself, he felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of learning something new from his skilled companion.

"Like this," Y/N said, his voice low and reassuring as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Now, try it again."

Taking a deep breath, Ping readied herself, feeling a newfound confidence coursing through his veins. With Y/N's guidance fresh in his mind, he launched himself into the fray once more, his movements more fluid and controlled than before.

As they sparred, Ping couldn't help but marvel at the bond he shared with Y/N, grateful for his unwavering support and encouragement. His frustration melted away as Y/N's guidance took hold, transforming his movements into something more than just reflexes. Each strike carried purpose, each feint calculated.

The laughter of the other soldiers faded into the background as Ping and Y/N danced in their own rhythm, the wooden training sticks becoming extensions of their will.

With each clash, Ping felt himself improving, the lessons from Y/N sinking in deeper with every exchange. Their spar became a dance of camaraderie and trust, a silent understanding passing between them with every move.

As the training session drew to a close, Ping felt a sense of accomplishment wash over him. He knew he still had much to learn, but with Y/N's guidance, he felt more confident than ever.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the training grounds, Ping and Y/N emerged from their intense sparring session, their breaths coming in heavy but satisfied gasps. With a shared nod of acknowledgment, they made their way towards the barracks, their camaraderie palpable in the air.