August of 1613/Minazuki of Keichi 18:

Even northern Honshu felt the heat of summer, and heard the singing of the cicadas that came with it. Yet, those walking near the Hanamoto home would have, instead, heard the clacking of bokuto most afternoons. The large trees helped keep the open area near that home cool, even in the August afternoon, and so was the favourite sparring location for Ranmaru, Kikuhiko, and Sakai Yoshikiba. 

At this particular moment, Ranmaru was giving his all in attempting to defeat Yoshikiba. Being two years younger than the other two, and having started kenjutsu later than the two childhood sparring partners, Ranmaru rarely won, but his father insisted he’d be the better warrior for it when he did come of age.

This was going to be one of those rare times where he triumphed, though, as he saw an opening in Yoshikiba’s guard and jabbed in with his bokuto. The older boy winced, the blow hitting its mark in his gut.

“Point, Ranmaru,” Kikuhiko announced from the sideline.

Yoshikiba shook his head, a grimace on his face. “I don’t know what hurts more about losing to you: you being so much younger or the way you’re only sort of a guy.”

“That sort of attitude is going to get you in trouble if you ever have to fight beside an onna-bugeisha,” Ranmaru replied, sticking his tongue out. 

Yoshikiba clicked his tongue, but gave no further reply until he switched places with Kikuhiko. “One advantage to losing is that I don’t have to deal with your boyfriend filled with fury and vengeance.”

Ranmaru felt his cheeks grow hot, while Kikuhiko went bright red.

“It’s not like that!” Kikuhiko protested. “We-we’re not... we’re friends! Friends! He’s just sometimes a friend that’s a girl!”

Ranmaru found himself studying the ground, trying to calm the fluttering in his heart. Kikuhiko had grown to be quite handsome these past years, his soft features complimenting his well tanned complexion, which had distracted young Mei more than a few times, as both Ranmaru and Ranka. Whether Kikuhiko ever felt the same about him, or at least about her, Ranka, had never been clear and left poor Ranmaru ever more confused.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Yoshikiba said, waving a hand dismissively. “Well, have fun with your sparring, lovebirds.”

Ranmaru was having trouble concentrating on the sparring match after that, but... perhaps the obnoxious reminder of his femininity had pushed Kikuhiko into going easy on him, because the older lad took minimal advantage of Ranmaru’s distraction. The pair mostly just circled one another, exchanging only a few easily parried strikes.

“Don’t go easy on him!” Ranmaru’s father called out. “The boy needs more discipline!”

Ranmaru’s distraction quickly turned to embarrassment as his father came closer. 

“I was not going easy, sir,” Kikuhiko replied. “I just had something on my mind, distracting me from the match.”

“Youths,” Ranmaru’s father said, laughing a bit. “I do appreciate you boys training him, though. Glad that someone can fill in for me.”

Unconsciously, Ranmaru found his eyes drawn to his father’s left hand, and, more specifically, the two absent fingers, lost to frostbite from his battle with the yuki-onna during the spring after Ranmaru’s own transformation. His father’s injuries, as well as those of the couple other least lucky men who’d gone on the hunt and returned home with frost scars or fewer digits, had always sent an icy chill down Ranmaru’s spine, when he thought about how they’d be largely for his sake.

“He’s driven and wily. Makes a good sparring partner,” Yoshikiba said, his tone honest.

“Always happy to hear it. Unfortunately, his mother wants his help with dinner. Woman’s gotten excited about some fish she got her hands on. Wants to make something special.”

Ranmaru nodded, giving his friends a quick bow and goodbye before heading home. Thankfully, his mother had moved past insisting he change before helping with cooking, so he’d be able to get straight to work when he got home.

---

Aunt Ai’s small and crowded home at the shrine had grown more crowded when a second permanent miko, named Yuri, had moved in. The second miko had brought a veritable library with her, and the pair had decided to keep the books in the small building they now shared. The books, and the new woman’s enthusiasm for learning, had lured in Ranka and Fuji. Both were happy to dive into the new collection of reading material, which was filled with stories rather than writings about strategies and tactics like the libraries of both their samurai fathers. Perhaps more importantly, they also loved to hear Yuri’s views on her library’s contents. Her interpretations of character motivations had driven both girls to try to be more thorough with their own readings.

Ranka always found the new miko seemed a little nervous around her, at least after meeting her as Ranmaru and finding out about her condition. The transforming girl supposed it was no surprise some would find her odd. Especially a woman who seemed so nervous around men. 

Things were gradually improving, though, as Ranka proved herself an eager student. She hoped to be more cultured than a country wife might ever be expected to be.

---

Ranka shivered a bit in the winter air, the New Year’s matsuri having ended up on a rather cold night. Even the warm soups and tea being sold were only heating her up so much.

“I thought you’d be cold,” Kikuhiko’s voice said from somewhere just behind her.

Turning, she saw he was holding a hanten coat out to her. If her cheeks hadn’t been rosy with the cold already she was sure she’d have blushed to an embarrassing degree at the offer. 

“Th-thank you,” Ranka said, taking the hanten and pulling it around herself.

The coat brought her warmth in a moment, especially as it was rather big for her. She’d still like to find a fire to get a little closer to, but it was a definite improvement.

“Honestly, you’d think you’d remember how much more easily you get cold when you’re like this,” Kikuhiko said, slipping a little closer to her. Close enough she felt like she could feel whispers of his warmth. “Why did you come out in this cold as a woman when you have the choice?”

“There’s going to be mochi. It is the New Year after all,” Ranka said, pouting a little. “I wanted to have some, and it’ll be even colder later. So I thought it was best to start as a girl and end as a guy.”

“Fair enough. I suppose I need to take into account your dietary situation more in future,” Kikuhiko said, seeming to grow a little lost in thought.

What, exactly, he had on his mind, Ranka couldn’t begin to guess. She’d already told him about her experiments to see how many grains of rice it took to awaken the magic (disappointingly, the number changed each time she tried it). Was he thinking up some other tests to run?

Before Ranka could figure out the mystery of whatever had Kikuhiko so distracted, he shook the thought out of his head and turned to her again.

“You still look half frozen, you know that? Here, let’s see if this helps,” he said, pulling off one of his thick warm gloves.

Before Ranka could say anything, his hand was on her cheek, a surprising amount of warmth radiating from it. Or maybe that warmth was from her own cheeks growing hot at the contact. Slowly, her eyes drifted up to Kikuhiko’s own, nervous about what emotion she might see there. She hoped, against all hope, to see something romantic. 

What she actually saw she felt unsure of how to read. It was a face he’d made when she was Ranmaru many times. Could she pretend that face meant something different when directed at her female face? Or was she fully ‘one of the guys’ in his mind?

Also, was the reddening of his cheeks from the cold or... was he blushing?

Stiffly, he lifted his hand from her cheek and slipped it back into a glove.

“I, uh, I heard someone’s selling fried tofu at one of the yatai. Did you want to get some of that?” Kikuhiko asked, his eyes drifting back to the main part of the festival.

Ranka found herself nodding. Fried tofu was one of the few things that could truly distract her from the way her heart was fluttering. She’d learned, after trying it for the first time and feeling she’d escaped the cycle of suffering of Rinne for a few moments whispering at the bliss of Nehan, that she’d gained a kitsune’s weakness for the stuff. 

As such, she found herself giddy as they waited in line, before she munched down on the delightful snack. 

“I think I should try learning how to make that,” Kikuhiko said, as the pair walked through the crowd.

“Oh? Wanting to open your own yatai?” Ranka asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Kikuhiko turned away quickly, his cheeks looking rosey again. “You’ve cooked for me before, when I visited your family. I just want to return the favour some time.”

“I... are you blushing?” Ranka asked, hurrying around to get in front of him.

“It’s mostly the cold,” Kikuhiko muttered, eyes shifting to study the ground. “But... but, maybe a little?”

Slowly, his eyes drifted back up to Ranka. “My dad was saying that I’ll be coming of age soon, and wanted to know if I had any brides in mind, so he could start marriage negotiations.”

Ranka could only nod, her heart feeling like it was in her throat. Would he say what she so desperately wanted to hear?

Kikuhiko fidgeted a little, as she watched him. “I told him I had an idea, but that... but that I don’t know if they—if you would ever be a bride.”

“A bride,” Ranka muttered, and, suddenly, as she truly processed it, the idea did fill her with confusion. 

Knowing that she was seen as enough of a woman by Kikuhiko to be his first choice of bride was something she’d dreamt of, but... the pressures of being a wife felt like they would pull her ever further from the options available as a man. Was it really time to make a choice of which life to live so soon? 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Kikuhiko said weakly. “I hope you can forgi—”

“No. Kikuhiko. I... as a girl, I appreciate it. If I were to marry any man, I’m sure it would be you. I just... well, I’m not just a girl, and I don’t know how I could mesh being a wife with that side of me,” Ranka said.

A smile grew on Kikuhiko’s face, and he grabbed her hand. “Well, why don’t we test things a bit?”

Ranka looked up at him, a little confused. “Test things?”

“Mhm. You’re younger than me, and basically an apprentice, so... it wouldn’t be too strange to see how our feelings work when you’re male,” Kikuhiko explained. 

Ranka threw herself forward, wrapping Kikuhiko in a hug. After taking in his scent and warmth for a few moments, she lifted her face from his chest to smile.

“Thank you. Thank you for dealing with my... my complexities,” she said, hoping she wasn’t tearing up too obviously.

Kikuhiko smiled softly back at her. “Your complexities are what make you you. I couldn’t have fallen for you without being ready to accept them.”

The two stood, lost in each other’s eyes and warmth for a few moments. Or, perhaps, a few minutes. Ranka wasn’t counting the time, half forgetting that time was even a thing.

“Well,” Kikuhiko finally said, breaking the silence and blushing a bit. “W—what do you say we get you some mochi so we can see how things go?”

Ranka stepped back a bit, flustered herself, and nodded. Walking closer to the shrine, where the mochi was being sold, she couldn’t help but wonder if everyone they walked past could tell the two were a couple now. Unofficial, maybe, without the approval of their families yet, but still...

Then again, if there were any rumours, that would be far from new for her. She swore she was the most talked about person in the village, and also had to admit it wasn’t without reason. There weren’t a lot of silver haired girls who could turn into boys around. Especially not human ones.

The line for the mochi proved short, Ranka and Kikuhiko each buying a couple of small balls of chewy goodness. Eyeing Kikuhiko nervously, Ranka realised he was watching her as he ate the first of his mochi pieces. Still chewing, he gave her a friendly smile. Ranka took a deep breath and then nibbled off a little. Apparently too little though, and, after a brief moment of worrying that admitting her love for a man had been declared a decision to be a woman, she took a second, larger, bite.

That one worked, the shudder and transformation followed. He then turned to Kikuhiko with an awkward grin. 

“H-hi?” was the best Ranmaru could think to offer.

Kikuhiko stared at him for a moment, mouth agape. “Uh... Why did you just say ‘hi’? We've been talking and walking for the better part of an hour?”

“I don’t know. I’m wearing my other face now, so... it seemed like it made some sense?” Ranmaru offered.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one a little unsure about the ‘rules’ of all this.”

Ranmaru stuck out his tongue before eating his second mochi, Kikuhiko returning the gesture. The time spent chewing the glutinous snack gave the transformed teen a moment to gather his thoughts. Knowing they were being watched so close to the shrine entrance, he gestured to Kikuhiko for the older lad to follow him. Kikuhiko gave no protest and the two snuck into the more wooded area beside the temple.

“It’s a bit dark out here,” Kikuhiko said, as the pair made their way to a small clearing.

“Good for seeing the stars though,” Ranmaru said, pausing as he slipped out from the trees to look up at the crisp winter night. “I swear, it goes on forever up there.”

“There’s certainly more to it than I’ll ever know,” Kikuhiko replied, looking up as well.

Cheeks feeling flush, Ranmaru slipped a little closer to Kikuhiko, until he was in whispering range. “Would you... would you still like to hold my hand?”

Kikuhiko grabbed his hand without a word, just giving him a smile.

Maybe things weren’t so complicated after all.

---

Ranka’s father had apparently finally heard the rumours about her and Kikuhiko seeing each other, and... it had come on a night where he’d gotten particularly drunk, to Ranka and her mother’s dismay. He’d stumbled in, as he was doing more and more lately, but the angry grumbling was worse than usual. 

“I heard you’re getting yourself wooed by Hanamoto’s boy,” her father grumbled as he dropped himself across the table from where she was reading.

“That is the case, yes. He was going to have his father make an official request, but we were both unsure how to go about things with my—” Ranka began. to explain, when her father smacked the table.

“I don’t want to see my son throwing away his ability to carry on the family name and trade to become a housewife!”

Ranka shrank back a bit, not used to her father being quite this angry. Especially not at her. “He’s not against me following the family trade.”

“Pheh. He’ll probably let you practise a little in the family yard, but he’s going to want you home raising his children.”

“You, yourself, complain that there’s no work for samurai with the nation at peace,” Ranka found herself hissing back, surprised to find such fire awakening in herself. “That all any of the samurai around here do is practice with their friends.”

“Boredom in peacetime is no reason to let yourself be turned into a wife,” her father countered, eyes narrowing.

To Ranka’s surprise, her mother appeared silently at her side, a cold smile on her face. “Dear, you seem to have forgotten the little fact that Ranka is our daughter before all else. I must ask you, would you really want to see your little girl dragged off to war in some distant province?”

Her father opened his mouth, only to stumble as he tried to find an argument. “W—women fight...”

“Women fight to defend, but going on campaign is generally more a duty of men. Or, at most, women living near the battle. We’re far from all that,” her mother continued.

“Well, alright. But there’s still the family name,” her father protested.

“Kouichi... what matters more to you: the family name or the blood line in general? We have only one child. Wouldn’t you prefer to see her safe at home, able to have and raise your grandchildren, whichever family name they might carry?”

Her father deflated. “I still don’t like her sneaking around with Hanamoto’s boy.”

“That I will apologise for,” Ranka said with a bow. “We were unsure if it could last, with my... unusual condition. So I had not wanted to get either of your hopes up that I had found a future husband too early. Then... I was unsure how to break the news.”

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. “I understand. Kikuhiko is an honourable young man, and it’s good to hear he’s being compassionate.”

“Maybe he’ll still let you take a wife, if we ask politely,” her father muttered. “Or, at least, a concubine.”

Ranka’s eye twitched slightly, but she decided it was best not to try to discuss things further with her father while he was so drunk. The idea of taking a bride, regardless of the situation with Kikuhiko, felt wrong. Men saw the beauty in other men all the time, as many poets were happy to write, leaving a relationship between herself and a man fair and balanced. Her seeing the beauty in other women, however, was clearly a hold over from her masculine side. Normal women only sought the beauty of young men, everyone knew that, and, therefore, any relationship between herself and a woman would lead to an imbalance. 

---

The summer had come once more, as the cicadas were all too happy to announce to the world. Ranka sat in the Buddhist temple not far from the village, along with her family, the Hanamoto family, and the Sakai family, as Kikuhiko underwent his genpuku ceremony. Yoshikiba, who had had his own ceremony just a couple of months earlier, had been chosen as the officiator of Kikuhiko’s coming of age process, meant to tighten the bond between the two families. 

Watching Kikuhiko’s ceremony, Ranka couldn’t help wondering if she’d receive a sword and helmet at her own coming of age process, or instead do a traditionally feminine process. As the ceremony progressed, and Yoshikiba announced Kikuhiko’s newly chosen name of Kikunosuke, the gravity of it all really sunk in and her personal musings drifted from her mind.

Once the ceremony had ended, and Ranka was able to stretch her legs again, she made her way to a quieter corner of the temple, waiting for her future husband to be free from his congratulations so that they could talk. She spent a few minutes watching the koi in a nearby pond before he at last arrived. Seeing him, dressed in his best kimono, nervously holding his new sword, and with his head freshly shaved to a chonmage, Ranka was sure he still looked too young for the new step forward, but, also... there was something appealing about his having freshly entered manhood.

“Well, I can say my head feels cooler, at least,” he half whispered as he came up next to her. “I feel a bit ridiculous though. It’s not like I’m going to be wearing the helmet again any time soon, so the shaved head feels excessive.”

“It... it looks mature,” Ranka said, her cheeks hot.

“You really think so?”

“Mhm. I mean, you look young for it, but... it definitely has a certain... something to it,” Ranka said, eyes dropping to the fish again. “A nice something.”

“Th—thanks.”

“No problem... Kikunosuke,” she said, turning back to him. It was a thrill to know she now had access to a name for him that few could use.

“Huh. It’ll take a bit to get used to you calling me that,” he replied.

“Well, hopefully you’ll get to like it. If you don’t, though, you have no one to blame but yourself, Ki-ku-no-su-ke,” she said, making sure to slowly enunciate each syllable of his new name.

“So far, I like the sound of it in your voice,” Kikunosuke said. “Let’s go get some food, and see if it sounds as nice in your other voice.”

“Here’s hoping,” Ranka replied.

The pair were well on their way back to the others when Kikunosuke stopped. Ranka turned, unsure why he’d stopped.

“I was just thinking... I kind of hope you don’t get a chonmage. It would look very strange when you’re a girl,” he said.

Ranka paled a bit as she touched the top of her head. “Y—yeah. I don’t think that would suit me.”

---

Ranmaru charged with his bokuto, swinging it at Kikunosuke, who blocked it easily. Overhead strikes weren’t his strong suit, especially not when both his primary sparring partners were older and taller. That just drove him to want to practice it harder though, wanting to prove himself. The cooling air of early autumn also helped him feel ready to throw more aggression into the sparring matches.

“Your reach is improving,” Kikunosuke said, panting a little.

“I just wish my mother didn’t insist I had to sew most of my new clothes with every growth spurt,” Ranmaru replied, circling his sparring opponent.

A quick jab was swiftly parried, resulting in a short counter attack by Kikunosuke that Ranmaru successfully blocked.

“I’ve been asking Saki for some lessons,” Kikunosuke said, watching as Ranmaru circled some more. “If you’re not going to be a wife at all times, it only seems fair I should be able to help around the house a little more than average.”

“I appreciate that,” Ranmaru said, before charging once more.

The pair exchanged a few more bokuto swings, before backing off again.

“Speaking of marriage, though... when were you planning to step over to adulthood?” Kikunosuke asked.

Ranmaru felt his cheeks grow hot. “Y-you only had your ceremony this summer, and you’re two years older than me!”

“Well, yes, but you’ve got a marriage firmly lined up,” Kikunosuke offered, before attempting a quick jab with his bokuto.

Ranmaru dodged, then took a moment to regain his breath. Working out a reply that didn’t make it seem like he’d be a reluctant bride but still bought him a bit more time before being plunged into proper adulthood was a bit more complicated, however.

“Kikunosuke!”

Turning, both teens saw Kikunosuke’s father approaching, Ranmaru’s own father walking closely behind him.

“Hello, father. Is everything alright?” the older teen asked.

“It’s time to re-shave your head. There’s battles to be had!” Hanamoto replied, a grin on his face.

“A—a battle? Where? What’s happened?” Kikunosuke asked.

Ranmaru’s own heart began to race. Was war really coming to their empty northern corner of Honshu?

“Lord Toyotomi is rallying those loyal to him,” Ranmaru’s father explained. “We have to gather provisions for the journey to Osaka.”

“Osaka? We’re going all that way?” Kikunosuke asked.

“That is where Lord Toyotomi is based, so that is where we must go,” Hanamoto said. “We can’t just sit around while Tokugawa ignores his promise to only serve as temporary regent. Lord Toyotomi is of age now, and command of the nation is rightfully his.”

“Does it really matter which southern lord is Shogun? None of them seem to care about us in the north all that much?” Ranmaru asked. 

At that, his father shook his head. “You really do think like a woman sometimes. Loyalty is the most important thing for any proper bushi, and loyalty to the true shogun is second only to loyalty to the emperor.”

Hanamoto nodded. “We need to ensure this nation isn’t simply run on strong-man tactics. Promises must mean something again.”

Before any real protest could be raised, Kikunosuke was being dragged off to begin gathering supplies for the journey. Ranmaru found himself assisting his father in gathering provisions as well, though they went to different farmers and merchants from the Hanamotos. 

“I still don’t know about you going, father, with your hand,” Ranmaru protested as he found himself carrying a rather large bag of rice and wishing they’d acquired a horse first.

“I can think better than I ever could as a young man,” his father snipped back. “With so many ronin gathered, they’ll need commanders with a bit more sense.”

Ranmaru could only sigh and follow quietly. He knew there were some things his father couldn’t be swayed from.

The next few days of helping to prepare his father for the journey south, along with the Hanamoto family and a few other men, passed in a blur. Ranmaru found himself too tired to do much else besides eat a bit of food and pass out in his bed at the end of each day, being worked as hard as his taller and stronger male form could handle. 

This was the last evening, however, and so he forced himself to stay awake, slipping off to the Hanamoto home. 

Knocking on the door, he was greeted by Saki, who confirmed Kikunosuke was in his room. Officially, the Hanamoto heir was meditating to calm his nerves, but Ranmaru heard snoring when he knocked lightly on his fiancé’s door frame. Letting himself have a quiet laugh, he slipped in and snuck up to Kikunosuke’s sleeping form. 

For a moment he found himself lost in how peaceful his fiancé’s face looked, calmly sleeping. Ranmaru silently prayed to Inari, as well as any Buddhas or other Kami who might be listening that Kikunosuke could see as little suffering in this campaign as possible. 

Then he poked Kikunosuke on the cheek, waking his fiancé with a slight start.

“I’m alert! I’m... I... Ranmaru? What are you doing here?”

“I came to give you your proper goodbye. I know that tomorrow everyone will be leaving soon after dawn and I won't have any time alone to talk to you,” Ranmaru said, his cheeks turning hot.

“Oh... I was so focused on everything that was happening, I don’t think it properly registered that you wouldn’t be coming along,” Kikunosuke said, looking rather embarrassed. “You’re excellent at archery and swordsmanship, after all.”

“When it truly comes down to my doing anything dangerous I’m ‘father’s little girl’ again. A campaign all the way in Osaka is much too distant,” Ranmaru replied, feeling a little annoyed. He wanted to be Kikunosuke’s wife someday, but that didn’t mean he liked to have his abilities looked down upon. “Plus, even my father wouldn’t be willing to rush my coming of age ceremony that much.”

Kikunosuke nodded.

“Speaking of being ‘of age’, however... I promise you, I will have my mogi ceremony when you return, so that we can marry soon after that,” Ranmaru said, ignoring the slight distaste he had for having to choose between male and female coming of age traditions.

“I... I can’t promise how long you will have to wait. This could be a single encounter or turn into a fully drawn out war,” Kikunosuke replied, eyes falling to study the tatami beneath them.

“I can promise I’ll wait for you, however long it takes,” Ranmaru replied.

Kikunosuke lifted his eyes again, though this time there was fear in them. “I could end up maimed, losing a limb or an eye or... I don’t know, but, if that were to happen I couldn’t provide for you.”

Ranmaru lifted a hand and placed it on Kikunosuke’s cheek. “If that happens, then I’ll provide for you. I’m not going to abandon you if you find yourself truly needing me.”

Kikunosuke raised a hand to place it over Ranmaru’s own. “I suppose you can... but, if you should hear that I die... don’t throw your life away in sorrow. Or waiting eternally, refusing to accept the truth. That, I want you to promise me before all else. Promise me that you’ll live your life, so that I can know you’ll be happy.”

“Kikunosuke... I...” Ranmaru stuttered, struggling to give the promise as the idea filled his gut with dread. He took a breath to steal himself. “I promise.”

He’d not let himself think about it, but... this could truly be the last time he had alone with his love. Emotions overwhelming any deeper thought, he leaned forward, kissing Kikunosuke. His fiance seemed surprised at first, but quickly returned the gesture. It ended up being filled with a much more visceral emotion than Ranmaru had ever expected for his first kiss, but it certainly made it memorable. Only as they’d broken the kiss, and were staring in each other’s eyes, did Ranmaru realise what exactly he’d done, and was sure he’d turned pale.

“I... I should have been a girl for that.”

Kikunosuke gave him a gentle smile. “I told you that I loved your complexities. Kissing you is still kissing you, either way around.”

Ranmaru nodded, before throwing himself into a hug around his fiance. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I wish I didn’t either, but a samurai has his duties,” Kikunosuke said.

Slowly, feeling Kikunosuke’s warmth and heartbeat, Ranmaru found himself drifting to sleep.

---

The goodbyes had been brief and noisy, a dozen men each with several well wishers, made for something of a crowd. Ranka, female again after a breakfast at the Hanamoto family’s home, had given her best attempt at a heartfelt farewell to Kikunosuke, before hurrying off to do the same for her father.

And then the men were off.