Ranka ran slowly through a kenjutsu kata, focusing her mind on the question the head guard had presented her some time earlier. What was her great advantage? She’d let the question percolate in the back of her mind for some time, but felt no closer to an answer. Her father hadn’t been a particularly great swordsman, and had been only moderately involved in her training after he lost some of his fingers to frostbite. There was no unique lesson from him. Hanamoto had been similarly competent, but not exceptional. Yoshikiba’s father had been a better warrior, but she’d so rarely gotten to learn from him. 

She really couldn’t see anything in her training lessons that might make her exceptional. Perhaps it was something physical that she was missing?

Well, the best way she could guess to learn more about that option was to try sparring with her current form. She knew she’d have to make up for decreased reach and upper body strength, but anything past that would, surely, stand out? Nodding to her reflection in the mirror, Ranka set off towards the courtyard. She’d just have to hope the head guard allowed it.

The guards were just starting to assemble when she arrived, and she gave a quick respectful bow as she entered the courtyard.

“You’re looking... feminine today, Mei,” the head guard said.

“I thought it might be a way to change things up a bit. Seeing how I do with a handicap, and seeing if a different perspective helps me figure out what you’d been saying was my strong suit,” she replied.

The head guard smiled, something she couldn’t quite read in his eyes as he did so. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll put you with Katagami first. He respects you enough in either form.”

“Thank you,” Ranka replied, before heading off to a clear area where Katagami was doing some stretches.

The young guard gave her a once over with a raised eyebrow. “Trying to intensify your training?”

“Something like that,” Ranka replied.

Katagami nodded, before stretching a little more. Once he had himself properly warmed up he grabbed a bokuto and slid into a fighting stance.

“My mother was an onna-bugeisha, and trained me nearly as much as my father ever did, so don’t worry about me going easy on you,” Katagami replied.

“You’ve just been surrounded by tough women your whole life, haven’t you?” Ranka asked as she walked into position.

“I suppose so... let’s see if you’re one of them, shall we?” Katagami said, a playful tone in his voice and glint in his eyes.

Ranka couldn’t help smiling back. Something about proving her combat abilities as a woman on top of having earned respect in her male form felt delightful. As bokuto clashed, Ranka found herself having to dance around more than she did as Ranmaru. The height difference between her two forms wasn’t massive, but it was enough to mean she had to press bolder when she did attack, and retreat further and faster when her probing was finished.

She also found herself able to take advantage of Katagami’s tendency to raise his guard more easily than she could as a man, something she’d noticed in previous sparring matches, and always wanted to use. 

The next two matches saw her opponents a bit more wary to attack, but a few thwacks from her own bokuto helped smarten the foes up. As well, cracking out her usual banter style helped ensure the guards forgot which form she was in, and treat her the same as they’d have treated him.

Tired, having had more of a work out than usual, Ranka finally went to the side to take a breather after the third match. To her surprise, a few shinzou girls had still shown up, and one of them offered her some water to drink. 

“Thank you,” Ranka said, a genuine smile on her face.

“No... no worries,” the girl replied nervously. “You actually seemed bolder and braver out there than you tend to as a man.”

“Shorter arms mean you have to get in closer,” Ranka said with a simple shrug.

“Oh,” the shinzou girl all but whispered. 

“It was very interesting to watch,” another shinzou girl added. “We could almost forget you’re a woman right now. With your hair up like that, and the fire in your eyes... we’d heard you were born a woman, so thought you needed to be a man to have that style of masculine passion about you.”

Ranka laughed a little. “I was a notorious tomboy before I gained my male form. It changed little about my personality, only about what opportunities were offered to me.”

“I’m still not sure if it’s more or less confusing than the times we’ve helped you get ready for the clients who want you acting like a woman while a man,” the first girl muttered.

“I’ve been told I’m confusing enough times that I sometimes wonder if I should change which kanji I use for the ‘Ran’ in my names,” Ranka replied, laughing a bit more.

The two girls responded to the comment with looks of serious thought, which Ranka found herself struggling not to giggle at. She turned her attention back to the sparring going on, to avoid laughing at either girl. As she did so, she noticed the head guard heading her way, and he gave a nod when he saw her looking his way.

“How’s it gone then?” the man asked.

Ranka shrugged. “It was good to push myself with the handicap, and be able to take advantage of certain things I’d noticed before but had been less able to use as a man. I don’t think I’ve clued in to what it was you considered my main strength though, I’m sorry.”

The head guard broke out into a hearty laugh, which led to Ranka feeling more than a little self conscious.

“You’ve already used your advantage, you just haven’t realised it... I suppose it comes so natural to you you’ve forgotten it’s a thing,” the man said at last.

“Pardon?” Ranka asked.

“You’ve always assessed your sparring partners for weaknesses you could use as a woman while sparring them as a man, no?”

Ranka nodded, a little uncertain where this was going.

“It’s because you can assess everyone you meet from two perspectives at all times. The Yarite’s complained you have the soft heart of a young woman and the boldness of a young man mixed together sometimes and what a headache that causes her, but... I’d say that’s not all bad. You were taught the caution a mother teaches her daughter and the decisiveness a father teaches his son, and it leads to you seeing everything with two lenses, giving you a better understanding and more honest assessment of any foe or challenge,” the head guard explained.

“I... I’m not really sure how much of an advantage that is in a fight?” Ranka replied.

“It means you read your foe better. You don’t hold back on an opening, but you don’t ignore a possible threat either. I’ve seen you out there, and you react like a veteran, while still having the energy of youth.”

Ranka slowly nodded as she thought it over. She was used to the mixture that made her personality being ruled an annoyance, not an advantage. It was nice to have someone treat her differently. 

“Thank you for explaining,” she said, adding a slight, but respectful, bow.

“It’s a teacher’s job to tell a student their strengths. As well as their weaknesses. For you, I think the most important thing is to train in both your forms. I’ve heard you hate people seeing your forms as separate people, but... I think you’ve fallen into that same pattern at times, wanting to prove one at the expense of the other.”

“I suppose I should get back to it then?” Ranka asked, getting a nod from the head guard and sending her to one of the free guards in the courtyard.

---

The next few days had been rather busy with clients, demand for Ranka and Ranmaru both keeping the young oiran on her toes. Between a lack of sleep and the amount of times she’d changed, she was quite tired when it was finally the day to visit the shrine. She wouldn’t let that stop her, however, and set out with Ichi and the Hanamoto sisters, dressed in her full oiran makeup, red ‘kitsune’ stripes and all. 

She felt a strange energy run up the back of her neck as she prayed, and couldn’t help hoping that meant something was going to happen. It was as the small group turned to leave that they were surprised to see the shrine’s priest standing at the tori. 

Absently, as it was the first time she’d seen him up close, Ranka noted he was fairly handsome. He had long elegant features and midnight black hair that gave him far more of a presence than one would expect of such a young priest. The soft blush on his cheeks made him seem rather youthful, though she was fairly certain he was a year or two older than herself.

“Mei Ranka, I would like to talk to you inside,” the man said, his tone firm, but difficult to read. It definitely seemed rehearsed.

“Oh, of—of course,” Ranka replied, stepping aside from the rest of the group. 

The priest gestured to the small building that was the home for him and the miko of the shrine (his sister, as far as Ranka understood things). Ranka headed over, waiting for the priest to enter first before she followed.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the miko and a second woman. The second woman was striking, an ethereal beauty any taiyu in Yoshiwara could only dream of, framed by hair somehow darker than that of the priest or miko. There was something odd about her though, a touch of blurriness to her face, like Ranka’s eyes couldn’t quite focus. It was then that Ranka noticed movement near the unknown woman’s hips.

Fox tails. She wasn’t able to count them all, especially as they moved about, but felt certain there were no fewer than five. A full nine seemed possible.

Ranka felt her heart in her throat, cheeks bright red under her white makeup as she worried how the rumours she and the Yarite all but encouraged might be interpreted by such a high ranking kitsune. Ranka struggled against the desire to rub the red stripes from her face, certain it was too late to make up for those, and that her best option was to face any punishment with dignity.

“You’re not in trouble, child,” the kitsune said, her voice somehow delicate and powerful at the same time. “My great grandchildren have noticed how generously thankful you are for your gifts, which have helped in feeding some of Yoshiwara’s less fortunate. I’ve also come by to listen to your prayers, and admire their selflessness.”

“So the makeup...” Ranka began, before not being sure how to end it. Being in the presence of a kitsune with so many tails left her more than a little nervous.

“It’s nothing to upset me. If I disliked the trade that had taken over my Yoshiwara, I would have made some noise already,” the black kitsune replied. “No, what I have to talk about has to do with your prayers.”

“Oh?” Ranka asked, feeling some excitement, until she noticed the kitsune shake her head slowly.

“What happened to you is not an option for that girl. Much like my great grandchildren, your family has been tied to serving after Inari for so long there has been a romance or two between members and kitsune. Your aunt is proof enough of that... It would have been long ago that any children were born though, the powers all but vanished from your blood, but young Koko was able to reinvigorate that with her own blood,” the venerable kitsune explained. “The girl, Ichi, lacks that ancestry. An attempt to repeat the process would, at best, last a few days. At worst... it would make her seriously ill. Perhaps fatally.”

Ranka felt like the floor had fallen out from her, placing a hand on the wall to stabilise herself. It took her a few moments to find a reply. “Is there... is there nothing to be done then?”

“Nothing magical. I do have word of a man of medicine in the city who could help, however. I have asked some of my juniors to nudge him towards your path,” the kitsune replied.

Ranka nodded slowly. “How will I know him?”

“I’ll have a messenger tell you when he is about, do not worry.”

Thinking it over, Ranka admitted it was better than nothing, but something stood out to her. “Will it be painful? The, well, the medical treatment?”

“Probably. These sorts of things tend to be,” the many-tailed kitsune replied.

Ranka felt her heart ache, and couldn’t help shaking her head a little. “I have no idea how to break that to her. I... I promised I’d do everything I could to give her what I have.”

The kitsune nodded, before turning to the miko at her side. “Hana, dear, why don’t you go out and talk to the young girl then?” 

“Of course,” the miko said, heading over to the door where Ranka was standing. She paused a moment as she reached it, turning to the priest who was standing to the side in a slightly awkward way. “Do give her space, brother.”

“I’m giving her space,” he shot back defensively.

“W-why wouldn’t he?” Ranka asked, feeling a little nervous.

“Your scent,” the sister replied. “We’re still close enough to great grandmother to have a kitsune’s sense of smell, and... well, you smell rather vixen-like.”

“She smells nicer than a kitsune girl. Sweeter, I think... Er, no offence great grandmother,” the priest said.

“None taken,” the multi-tailed kitsune replied flatly. 

Ranka gave a slow nod to that, before turning to the miko. “I think I’ll, well, head out with you, actually.”

The brother turned bright red at that. “It’s nothing weird. It just makes me feel flustered like a boy with his first crush again...”

“It’s true. He stays indoors when you’re around to avoid embarrassing himself, not out of some fear he’d lose control or anything,” the sister replied. “I was just teasing him.”

“Oh... would it be better if I came to the shrine male in the future then?” Ranka asked. She was sure it was best to be polite to the priest, if that was an option.

“It would be better for me, but worse for my dear sister. Though the fact that you’ve forgotten the times she ended up making a fool of herself at the tailor’s is probably for the best,” the priest replied.

It was his sister’s turn to turn red. “There’s no need to bring up specific events. Especially not when there’s serious matters at hand.”

Glancing over, Ranka saw their great grandmother shake her head and mutter ‘youths’ to herself. Luckily the argument wrapped up and Ranka followed the miko out towards the tori, where Fuji, Ichi, and Saki were waiting with a guard. 

After asking her to follow them, Ranka and the miko led Ichi back into the small shrine’s grounds, towards a quiet corner with a small pond.

Ranka found making eye contact with the, now increasingly excited, young girl difficult.

“Did a kitsune show up then?” Ichi asked, before turning to the miko. “Is she the kitsune?”

“No, I’m not a kitsune,” the miko replied. “At least, not any more than Ms. Mei is.”

Ichi looked confused, glancing to Ranka for support. She had to let out a soft sigh.

“Apparently I had kitsune heritage already. Not much, but enough that the ritual could work on me,” Ranka said, her voice nearly giving out.

“Mhm. The black kitsune of this shrine, the ancestor to my brother and myself, has arrived, but her thorough reading of your spiritual energy shows that you are fully human. Her magic would not stick, and could potentially make you extremely ill on top of not working,” the miko replied.

There was quiet for a moment. Not silence, even in the back part of the shrine, the constant noise of people and construction in Yoshiwara filtered back, but the sounds were all so distant to seem nearly worse than silence.

“S-so... so what’s going to happen?” Ichi asked, tears welling up in her eyes, though she maintained composure otherwise.

“Great-grandmother has found a doctor in the city who can give you... something along the lines of what you’d want. She’s working to send him towards your home, so that he may cross paths with one of your big sisters, and, ultimately, you,” the miko explained. 

“How... how long is that going to take?” Ichi asked, eye flickering over to Ranka for a moment.

“It shouldn’t be long,” the miko replied. 

Ranka, heart broken by Ichi’s sad eyes and her own failure to give the girl what she’d hoped, crouched down onto her knees and pulled Ichi into a hug.

“I’m sorry.”

Ichi returned the hug, before giving a reply, “It’s better than if I’d stayed at home at least.”

Ranka broke the hug enough so that she could smile at her young charge. “I suppose that’s very true.”

“Of course it’s true,” Ichi replied, smiling despite tears running down her cheeks. “Big sister Fuji says I’m the only one around smart enough to properly be her apprentice. So I’m good at figuring out what’s true.”

Ranka ruffled Ichi’s hair and laughed. Maybe perfection had been a foolish dream, and this was still a victory of sorts.