November of 1609/Kannazuki of Keichi 14:
Dewa Province was known for its snow, and young Mei Ranka had always enjoyed waiting and watching for the first snowfall of the year. Or, at least, every year since she’d understood to wait for it, which meant it was a good seven years of tradition now. She had always thought that it was beautiful, falling slowly to the ground, melting when it got there.
This year was no different, as she sat on the engawa of her family’s home. She’d been watching her mother feeding the koi in the small family pond when the movement of something falling caught her eye.
“Ooh, it’s snowing!” the young girl said, her face lighting up with a smile.
“Ranka,” a soft feminine voice called out, sounding like little more than a whisper on the wind.
The young girl turned her head around, trying to find the source of that voice.
“Young Ranka... would you like to see a land of snow?” the ethereal voice called out once more.
This time Ranka located the source, a faint sort of shadow standing near the road. As she stared the form seemed to grow clearer, turning into a beautiful, but pale, woman. Around the woman the snow was falling as if it were mid-January, a small pile of it forming at her feet.
“Come now, little Ranka. I can take you to my home, where there is always snow.”
It sounded tempting, Ranka had to admit, but she knew her mother would be furious if she left without permission. As such, she decided to take the responsible route and turned to her mother.
“Mom, is it okay if I go with the snow lady?”
Her mother froze a moment, before turning slowly to Ranka. The lanky young girl pointed towards the mysterious woman. Her mother’s eyes followed where Ranka was pointing, and a look of fear flashed in her eyes.
“Ranka... get inside,” her mother said, her voice firm, but not harsh.
“What? Why do I have to—”
“Ranka, now!” her mother hissed.
Surprised to have her mother so upset, Ranka scurried in towards the centre of the house. She didn’t know why she was in trouble, but she wasn’t going to risk getting in any worse standing with her mother.
“You can hide her for now, Sute, but this is only the first snowfall of the year,” the ghostly woman’s voice declared, her tone harsh and cold to Ranka’s ears, sounding as if she was beside her, despite Ranka having hidden deep in the house. “I shall have my revenge. She will become a yuki-onna.”
Ranka shivered at that, and she decided that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing her mother had sent her inside.
Ranka’s mother had lit the fire pit in the main room, and kept Ranka near it while they waited for her father to return home. Her mother was much too nervous to explain anything, which worried Ranka deeply. It was usually her mother who was the calm one in the home.
Finally, well after the sun had set, the sound of her father singing as he approached the home reached Ranka. She was glad to have him home, but... if he was singing then he was probably drunk. This didn’t seem like the sort of day where it was good for him to be in that state. He and mother tended to fight when he came home drunk, after all.
The glare mother shot towards the front of the house confirmed Ranka’s suspicions. Her mother hurried forward, closing the door to the room behind her. Whether that was meant to keep Ranka in or the mysterious woman out, the young girl wasn’t sure, but it made eavesdropping a bit trickier.
Not impossible, though. The walls were thin after all.
“Kouichi, dear... we have a problem,” her mother said sharply.
“Not the kindest way to greet your husband, now is that, my love?” her father replied, his voice still a bit jovial.
“The... the yuki-onna from... from back then. She appeared. She tried to steal Ranka.”
“What? The... you mean the younger one grew up?”
“It would seem so. She’s going to return the next time it snows... what do we do?”
“I defeated her mistress. I can defeat her too.”
“Kouichi... you were fifteen years younger when you fought her, you had the help of four other samurai, and my father’s prayers.”
“We could find some men ready to help, I’m sure,” her father declared, hiccuping a little as he did so. “There’s plenty of free men these days, with the wars over.”
“Without the prayers of a priest or priestess you’d surely be doomed. It’s folly to attack a yuki-onna during winter.”
“Then we find someone to do some chanting for us! We can go off to the shrine in the morning. I’m too tired to deal with their rituals now, though,” her father grumbled, his voice approaching the door where Ranka was listening.
Nervously, the young girl scrambled back, trying to hide that she’d been eavesdropping. Her father raised an eyebrow as he crossed into the room, apparently seeing through her attempts to mask her listening, but not seeming to care. Instead, he casually wandered off to sit by the fire, muttering something to himself as he warmed his hands.
It was a few minutes later when Ranka’s mother returned to the room. Ranka could only guess she’d been enjoying some fresh air and couldn’t blame her. Crisp autumn nights were always nice, especially when the fire was crackling and ready to be returned to.
“Ranka, this might sound a little odd, but... I think it might be best if we use a little rope to keep you inside, just to be safe,” her mother said, a gentle smile on her face, surely meant to hide the worry in her voice.
“Um, if you think that’s best,” Ranka said, still rather scared about all of this and ready to do whatever was safest.
“We’ll make sure you’re comfortable, don’t worry,” her mother said, heading off to grab some bedding.
Sleeping with her leg tied to a post hadn’t led to the most peaceful night Ranka had ever had, but it was probably more fear about the mysterious yuki-onna that had kept her from staying asleep. She’d already been awake when her mother had gotten up, quietly making some light breakfast on the fire. The smell of the food woke her father, and the family had their simple meal before gathering everything they needed to set out.
It wasn’t a long walk to the shrine, but Ranka’s mother kept an iron grip on her hand the whole walk, and her father kept a hand on his blade as they went. She wasn’t sure if she found it reassuring or worrying to see her parents so on alert.
Luckily it was a warm and sunny day, so the risk of snow was minimal. That helped her nerves a little, at least.
Reaching the shrine, she was thrilled to see her Aunt Ai out in the courtyard, sweeping it clean. Her aunt was always so much fun, a joke for every situation, and Ranka had to admit to loving those bright red pants all the miko wore.
“Oh, hey! Sis! What’s brought you over so early?” her aunt called out.
“We have a slight issue, and we were hoping we could consult with you and the priest,” her mother replied.
“I think the lazy old fellow is still asleep, but I can go wake him up, if you need me to?”
Ranka’s mother seemed to weigh her options for a moment before shaking her head. “You know the situation better than that southerner. It’s probably better to just talk to you.”
“Sounds good to me. Old man’s pretty grumpy whenever I wake him up. Should we head inside?”
“Probably for the best,” Ranka’s father said, having been eyeing the road suspiciously.
“Alright, well, wash yourselves up and I’ll meet you in the side building.”
Ranka hurried after her parents to the small well and went through the traditional shrine visit cleansing. She tried to go a bit extra, hoping the cleansing water would protect her somehow. Then it was off to the outer building of the little complex.
Once inside, her parents explained what had happened, discussions turning to events from before Ranka’s birth. Something about a yuki-onna who had been terrorising the region, dragging all sorts of men to their ends. Ranka didn’t know how to react to that news, or discussion about how her father had helped to kill that snow woman, but had spared a young yuki-onna who’d surely never harmed a mortal. Apparently that was the one who was coming after her now, planning to turn her into a yuki-onna too. The idea of being turned into some sort of monster was deeply terrifying.
“I haven’t heard any reports of men going missing, though,” her aunt said, seeming deep in thought and more than a little nervous. “I’m not sure we could gather the men we’d need if she hasn’t killed anyone. Most folks would rather not risk angering a yuki-onna who’s been behaving herself. Not on the snow coast.”
“There’s plenty of free men around,” Ranka’s father muttered, pouting. “They’re all at the pub, complaining about a lack of work.”
“Be serious! Fighting a yokai, especially a yuki-onna in winter, is deadlier work than even war. You know that,” her aunt shot back. “Especially when the only priest in town is a... well, it’s not my place to say anything negative about him, but he’s not the sort you want to have to trust in battle with a yokai. And, this late in the year, you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone wanting to travel to help us.”
Her father seemed ready to argue when a door slid open, revealing a woman who, to Ranka’s eyes, seemed quite possibly the most beautiful woman in the world. Her silver-grey hair made the young girl briefly worry she was the snow woman from before, but her bright red miko pants were hopefully a sign she could be trusted.
“Please forgive me for my intrusion, but I couldn’t help overhearing from the quarters I am staying in, and I believe I may have a solution,” the woman said, her voice seeming just as mystical as the snow woman’s, but far less cold.
“A solution?” Ranka’s father asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“The yuki-onna wants your daughter as an apprentice, yes?” the silver haired woman asked, getting nods from the other adults. “As such, she would have no use for a boy.”
“Well, yes? But we have a daughter?” Ranka’s mother asked.
“A magical problem may just warrant a magical solution,” the woman explained. “Our patron, the great Inari, can take either male or female form. Perhaps a little of that magic could protect your daughter. It would at least buy some time to find a more powerful priest than this shrine currently has.”
“That... you can’t be serious?” Ranka’s mother replied.
“Is it even possible to transform a human child?” her father added. “She’s not some tanuki or kitsune shape shifter.”
“Normally, no. But with Inari’s blessings and the blood of a kitsune it should be feasible. The transformation magic of yokai happens to be something I have studied quite thoroughly,” the silver haired woman replied. “I have seen it done once or twice, in similarly dire situations.”
Ranka’s parents looked doubtful, but her aunt Ai seemed convinced.
“If Koko says she’s seen it done, I believe her,” Ranka’s aunt said.
“Very—but the blood of a kitsune? Where are we going to get that in time?” Ranka’s father protested.
“I have a source,” the mysterious woman replied.
For a moment, Ranka was certain the woman’s pupils turned to slits in her warm amber eyes. The young girl also noticed a look of concern in her aunt’s eyes, and a silent whisper that got a gentle smile from the silver haired stranger.
Maybe it was the gentle look between the stranger and her own aunt, or maybe it was something less natural, but Ranka felt she could trust this strange woman. Her parents definitely didn’t seem to, bursting into argument as her father kept insisting he could round up some young men from the village to go hunting. Counter arguments about waiting, that yuki-onna were easier to track when the snows retreated, were shot down by him as cowardice.
“I... I’m sorry for speaking out of line,” Ranka said, finding a pause in her father’s ranting, “but, I think we should do what the priestess says. If it’s really so hard to fight this snow woman in the winter, then I’d rather hide until spring. I... I don’t want anyone to have to die for my sake.”
All the adults turned to her, her mother and aunt looking sad, her father seeming indignant, and the silver haired woman... her face Ranka couldn’t read.
“You’re quite compassionate, young Mei Ranka. Let us hope Inari will bless you for it,” the miko said.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Ranka’s mother asked. The girl gave a nod, which didn’t seem to reassure her mother much. “What if you get... get stuck or something?”
“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind having a son to teach the ways of a samurai too,” her father said, looking like he was growing lost in thought, only to get a light smack on the arm from his wife.
“Dear, this is serious.”
“I’m just trying to find a silver lining. We don’t even know if this travelling woman’s claim is real or not.”
“It won’t be too much blood, will it, Koko?” Ranka’s aunt asked the other miko, placing a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment.
“Not too much, do not worry so, Ai,” the woman replied, before turning to Ranka. “Let’s head to the main building. It will have to be just the two of us, but it shouldn’t take long.”
Ranka nodded and followed the strange woman, hearing her aunt give her parents reassurances that they could trust this wandering miko. As they grew further from the other adults, something seemed to change about the air, things in the distance seeming to shimmer as if it were a hot summer day. Ranka’s heart began to flutter, though she felt more like it was in expectation than fear. Entering the main building of the shrine, one fear did hit the young girl, however, and she had to ask what was on her mind.
“It won’t taste gross, will it? The, uh, the blood, I mean?”
The miko froze for a moment, as if Ranka’s question had surprised her, before she gave a light laugh. “Don’t worry, young Mei, you won’t have to taste any. You will need the blood of a kitsune flowing in your veins, not sloshing about in your belly.”
Ranka nodded. That made sense. Probably. How it was going to get into her veins, she had no idea, but she found herself distracted when the miko began to whisper a prayer. The young girl found herself having to hold in a shout of surprise when, suddenly, two fox ears popped out of the top of the miko’s head. Ranka watched the ears bob slightly as the miko nodded, apparently listening to some reply.
“Thank you for your blessings, and apologies for the blood that must flow in the presence of your shrine, oh gracious Inari. We will make sure none touches the sacred grounds of the temple,” the silver haired miko said, before turning back to Ranka. The miko’s face was now marked by red stripes, like a kitsune mask for a play, though Ranka swore the woman had had no chance to apply makeup. “You are in luck, young Mei Ranka. Inari has looked in your heart and seen kindness. The magic should hold and protect you for the winter.”
Ranka could only nod, feeling slightly entranced by the way the woman’s face seemed to almost flicker, like an illusion was on the edge of breaking. The twitching of her fox ears also mystified the girl a bit. She watched quietly as the miko, who must surely have been a kitsune servant of Inari, set a bucket on the floor and told her to sit down beside it. Having done so, the kitsune miko produced a long needle, akin to what one might use for acupuncture.
“We’re going to have to let out a little of your blood, so that you can hold more of what I must give you for the magic to work,” the kitsune said, her tone calming.
“That seems like a big bucket for a little blood,” Ranka said, staring down at it.
That got a light chuckle from the silver kitsune. “Don’t worry, I chose a deep bucket to avoid any splashing on the temple floor. The divine Inari would not be happy with me if I got one of their shrines dirty with blood.”
Ranka found herself nodding again. She closed her eyes as the kitsune miko brought the needle nearer her arm, not wanting to see it go in. Surprisingly, it stung little more than when getting a bite from a mosquito, and, when Ranka opened her eyes again, there was only the lightest tribble of blood going down her arm and dripping into the bucket.
The kitsune watched for a minute or two, until she seemed satisfied enough blood had left Ranka (an amount that really didn’t seem that significant to the young girl, she was certain she’d lost more the one time she’d cut herself trying to whittle a wooden flute last year). Then the miko pricked her own arm, much deeper than she’d done to Ranka, if the amount of blood flowing was any hint. After a moment of letting the blood flow, the kitsune miko brought her own arm up to Ranka’s, pushing the two wounds against each other.
Some part of Ranka wanted to recoil, but the kitsune held her arm in place. A few seconds later a strangely warm feeling spread into her arm, one that was somehow comforting. It continued to spread for the couple minutes the miko held their arms together, along with the odd sight of the miko’s human appearance shimmering more and more, until it faded completely and Ranka found herself looking at the kitsune’s true fox face.
Somehow the kitsune was still able to smile, despite her new features, and separated their arms. She then leaned forward, and... well Ranka’s best description of the kitsune’s motion was kissing the pinprick wound on Ranka’s arm, the snout of her fox face making it a little different from a human kiss. A shiver shot through the girl, a mixture of heat and cold that was unpleasant, but not quite painful. She very nearly fainted, only to be steadied by the kitsune.
“You’re okay. You’re okay. Transformations just aren’t easy for humans,” the silver kitsune said, her voice somehow still the same, despite her transformation. “Let’s dress our wounds and take you back out to see your parents, shall we?”
Ranka nodded, before looking down at... herself? Had she been turned into a boy? She didn’t really feel all that different.
“Did it work?” Ranka asked, as the kitsune miko wrapped her arm with some bandaging.
“It did indeed. I know how to read the energies that come off of people, and your balance of yin and yang has definitely shifted.”
Ranka bit her lip lightly. “I don’t really feel different.”
“You’re young. Children have fairly minimal differences. That is part of why I suggested this, since it’s so much less of a change for one as young as yourself.”
Ranka thought it over, watching the kitsune clean and dress her own wound. As the magical being finished, a new thought struck the youth.
“Does Auntie Ai know you’re a kitsune?”
The miko blinked, before laughing a little. “You have an interesting mind, young Mei. And, yes, your aunt does know. She’s a very clever woman.”
Ranka smiled. “Of course she is. After grandfather left us, everyone agreed she’s the most clever person in the village.”
The kitsune smiled, standing up and offering Ranka a... hand? A paw? Ranka wasn’t sure what to say, but she quite liked the fluffier feeling the kitsune’s hands had now. Her three tails looked so fluffy too, Ranka felt deeply tempted to try to hug it.
“Let’s go take you back to your parents,” the kitsune woman said.
“Shouldn’t you change back first?”
“I haven’t dropped my disguise. You’ve simply been given the ability to see through it thanks to the blood I gave you.”
Ranka scrunched her face up in thought as the pair walked. “I saw your ears before you gave me any blood though.”
“Oh, did you, now? Then maybe you take after your aunt, and can see a bit more than most. That can be a good skill to practise, young Mei.”
It was only a few seconds later that they were reunited with Ranka’s parents, her mother becoming deeply concerned about the bandaging on her arm.
“She looks the same,” Ranka’s father said.
“10 year olds tend to,” the kitsune replied. “I can assure you that the blessings worked. And that, to a yokai, she’s unrecognisable from the different scent and spiritual balance.”
“And, how do we reverse it?” Ranka’s mother asked, although her eyes remained locked on Ranka’s face, clearly hunting for any changes.
“Rice. As Inari’s main blessing, it will break the spell,” the kitsune explained.
Ranka’s mother looked sad for a moment, before pulling her into a hug. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re going to be stuck living off millet and barley all winter.”
Before Ranka could point out that she rather liked barley, her father had leaned down in her face. “Are you really changed? I don’t want to just take this stranger’s word for it.”
“Um, yeah. Now that I’ve been walking around a bit, I think I feel a little different,” Ranka replied.
“Oh, I just realised, we’re going to have to think of a new name to call you during all this, to help hide you better,” Ranka’s mother said. “I have no idea what though.”
