A/N: I know this probably isn't historically accurate, but since it's stated both that Muneshige was "adopted" by Tachibana Dōsetsu and that he married Tachibana Ginchiyo, I took the idea of them being adopted siblings first and ran with it. If nothing else, it'd be an interesting window into why they act the way they do.

"Daughter of Tachibana Dōsetsu, who served the Ōtomo clan. Strong-willed and beautiful, [Ginchiyo] became the lady of Tachibana Castle at only six years old. At twelve, she was wed to Takahashi Jōun's son, Tachibana Muneshige…" (Samurai Warriors 4)

Tachibana Ginchiyo never bled or cried before the day she became a woman.

She does not know which of her attendants informed her father of her condition, but doubtless someone did. Otherwise, he never would have returned to deliver the first of what may be many life-changing orders. Ginchiyo had looked forward to womanhood ever since her father named her the lady of Tachibana Castle and departed. But now, she is no longer so certain that she is prepared for the responsibility. Not if it means she has to find a suitable husband.

Ginchiyo, her father said, as she stared at him in shock. She had expected this, yes, but not so soon. You have become a fine young woman, but even the most precocious girl does not have enough worldly experience to govern a territory. And our clan must go on. Surely you understand that marrying well is your duty?

Yes, Father, she said, bowing shortly, and turned to leave unbidden. Raised with the understanding that the good of the clan must come before her personal happiness, she was always prepared to sacrifice even her life to fulfill that duty. But, though she swallowed the thunder that rose in her throat, she could not suppress the lightning in her eyes. Or the dark and sullen hope that her father would be unable to find anyone willing to take her.

The days and weeks since then, sliding slowly by with no news of any suitors, have only fed that desperate flame. But, Ginchiyo thinks, struggling against instinctive pride, this is to be expected. Her reputation precedes her, and has grown since the day she chose to take up the sword.

She shifts the hilt in her hand. It feels heavier than usual today, like her fate. So this is the part she is destined to play. She may have been left in charge of Tachibana Castle in her father's absence, but she is a woman now, and that changes everything. Not for the first time, Ginchiyo finds herself wishing she had been born a man, but bites her tongue. Thoughts like that do more harm than good.

In any case, her standoffishness has served her well. The only man who has come near Tachibana Castle or spent more than a few minutes in her company is Muneshige, and she wishes he wouldn't.

Of course, as far as Ginchiyo is concerned, Muneshige is no more a man than she is truly a woman. He is just past fourteen, almost exactly her height, and she knows little about him. They may have spent the last five years as siblings, but Ginchiyo never cared enough to get to know her so-called brother better than what she gleaned from their few, superficial exchanges. After all, she has resented Muneshige and his presence in her castle from the moment her father first introduced them.

Ginchiyo remembers that morning as vividly as if it were yesterday. Her father didn't give her any more warning then than he did upon informing her of her latest duty. She simply arrived at his room to find Muneshige standing there, his eyes as sharp as his outfit and his tentative smile cold behind the appearance of warmth. Shock kept Ginchiyo rigid, silent, until her father sent her new brother away to speak with her in private… and then, she could contain herself no longer. Raging at her father with no thought of propriety in her head, she ranted until there were no words left. He had already named her heir; was she not enough?

But her father's response haunts Ginchiyo even now. You ask why I did not tell you before now, he said coolly, half-smiling in bitter amusement. Why I didn't bring you along when I made the negotiations, and why you had no say. But I ask you to look at yourself right now, and tell me: do you think such childish, selfish actions would have reflected well on the Tachibana name?

Swinging her sword fiercely as if to slay the memory of her shame, Ginchiyo drags herself back to the present and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. Despite her alleged ascension to adulthood, she cannot help but continue to think of herself as a girl, or even a boy. Womanhood does not become a warrior spirit like hers, or so she has always been told. Mostly by Muneshige. Ever since he discovered her love of swords, he has teased her about how she is more like a little brother than a sister. The only thing feminine about her is her lovely long hair, and even that is kept in a masculine ponytail.

But thankfully, her father—their father—often calls Muneshige away from Tachibana Castle for this reason or that, so they do not have to spend much time together. Even if it means that he is being trained in secret to take the reins that should be hers, Ginchiyo finds that she enjoys the comparative solitude. Her territory always feels pleasantly empty with Muneshige gone.

"Taming the wildflowers again?" calls his unexpected voice, and Ginchiyo stiffens, turning to face him only slowly. This is supposed to be her secret training spot, and she'd expected to have the grounds to herself for the next few days. What is he doing here? "I'm sure you've noticed it's going to start raining soon."

Ginchiyo glances briefly up at the darkening sky. She had not yet caught the shift in the weather, but he doesn't need to know that. "Muneshige," she greets him, her tone as tense as her body. "I thought you were away on some kind of business."

"Until half an hour ago, I was," says Muneshige, with infuriating ease. "However, as you can see, I have returned to torment you a few days early."

Ginchiyo rolls her eyes, forcing herself to sheathe her sword rather than run it through Muneshige's heart. It is not an easy decision. "You'd better have a good reason for interrupting my training."

"I do," says Muneshige, crossing his arms, and Ginchiyo frowns. Upon closer investigation, his body language has become uncharacteristically awkward. "In fact, it has to do with my business, as you put it. Father summoned me to tell me…" Muneshige hesitates, which is unlike him, and even more unbecoming than usual. "I'm supposed to marry you."

Ginchiyo freezes, but the world keeps spinning all around her, and her stomach lurches. "What?"

Muneshige only smiles bitterly. At least he isn't stupid enough to be surprised. "Before you lose that infamous temper of yours," he says, raising his voice slightly to dissuade Ginchiyo from interrupting, "you should know I'm not conspiring to make you miserable. Father didn't tell me the reasons for his summons until I got there."

It takes several deep breaths before Ginchiyo can speak. "Father knows I never accepted you as my brother," she says, her voice wavering and shaking in fury. "What makes him think I'll take you as a husband? What makes you think—?"

"Nothing," says Muneshige, cutting her off. "For all the faults you see in me, I'm not stupid, Ginchiyo. I did remind Father how much you hate me. But he told me that whether you accept me or not doesn't matter." He shifts his stance, more authoritative now, though he is still less intimidating than Ginchiyo can be. "You're going to marry me, and that's final."

Ginchiyo's lip curls slightly. "Is it?" she asks, taking an aggressive step forward. "Didn't you try to change Father's mind at all? Did you actually stand your ground this time, or did you roll over for him as always, like the dog you are?"

Muneshige scowls. "We both know Father has always done whatever is best for the Tachibana," he says, and Ginchiyo is pleased to hear a note of annoyance in his ordinarily even voice. "If you think he's wrong, take it up with him. Our marriage will keep the power in the family, and…" Muneshige pauses, glancing away. "I'd rather marry you myself than see you wed to a stranger."

Despite the fact that Muneshige has not said that he agrees with their father's assessment, Ginchiyo can hear the obedient resignation in his tone, and scoffs at it. "You must loathe the idea of me marrying a stranger, then."

Muneshige gives a melancholy, enigmatic smile. "I know you. And your boundaries."

"Because you cross them all the time!"

"It's been easier to find them through trial and error than by asking," retorts Muneshige, and Ginchiyo stares at him, taken aback despite herself. It takes a lot for him to use a tone this vehement, much less show his true feelings. "You've never had a real conversation with me if you can possibly help it. Once we're married, you'll have t—"

"I am not going to marry you," snaps Ginchiyo, shivering as the wind picks up, and her grip tightens on the hilt of her sword.

Muneshige regards her inscrutably for a few silent moments, then lets out a sigh. "Fine. Since you're not going to listen to me, we can settle this your way. If you can beat me in single combat, then I'll ask Father to call it off and see what he says—but if I win, you'll marry me without a fuss." He gives her half a smile, deathly serious and insufferably smug in the same brief exhalation. "Deal?"

Ginchiyo glowers at him. Of all her sparring partners, Muneshige is the only one she has never managed to defeat. Two years don't usually mean much to Ginchiyo, but in their practice duels, they seem to make all the difference. Although she considers herself more powerful than Muneshige, he has great reserves of inner strength that she cannot begin to fathom. Every time Ginchiyo thinks she has him beaten, he turns the tables.

…No. She can do this. She'll just have to try harder. "Fine. But we'll use real weapons."

It is a challenge she expects Muneshige to decline, but he only shrugs, taking his sword and shield from their usual place on his back. "If you insist." If he brought them here, thinks Ginchiyo, he must have had some inkling that this is how she would react. He does know her better than most others, whether she likes it or not.

Ginchiyo opens with an experimental slice, but Muneshige leans back, just out of the way—gauging her mood, her skill. Their footwork becomes a dance. Another swing of the sword, then another, and finally a hack that uses more of her strength. A clang ringing out, sword against shield. But his movements are still purely defensive. Ginchiyo must change that.

Keeping her body low like a hunting tiger, she circles Muneshige, waiting for him to lower his guard. When he doesn't, she feints to the side, and the instant his defense falters, she lunges forward and slashes down, like calling lightning from the heavens. (But she has not yet learned to harness the force itself.) Still, even as her sword swings down, Muneshige only sidesteps. Why does he not attack?

Thrusting forward in a low stab, Ginchiyo aims at Muneshige's vital points, no longer playing. Something more than a battle cry escapes her lips, the beginnings of a scream welling up in her throat. She swallows it, converts it into a brief and silent prayer. Two slashes and a leap upward later, she stabs down, missing Muneshige's head by an inch—

As Ginchiyo jerks her sword back out of the ground again, the first drop of rain startles her, and Muneshige seizes his opportunity to interrupt. "There's a storm coming," he remarks, his tone conversational. "Do you want to finish this inside?"

"Let your sword do the talking," snarls Ginchiyo. They can finish this here and now if they hurry. Muneshige lets out a brief exhalation as if in exasperation, but she can see the smile hidden behind the sigh. However much he professes to fight only when necessary, he loves a good sparring session as much as she does.

This time, he finally takes the offensive. Though they both move unhindered by armor, Muneshige is faster than Ginchiyo. As they exchange blows, his upper body twists, the beginnings of muscles carefully honed. And he knows how to use the environment, too, driving her back onto lower ground before she even realizes it.

But, rather than anger at her own situation—self-directed or otherwise—the emotion Ginchiyo feels most strongly is envy. Has Muneshige already seen a battlefield, fought a foe in earnest, taken his first life…?

Their fight becomes a dance, impressions flashing through Ginchiyo's head as she dodges his sequence of attacks with increasing difficulty. The edge of his shield before he throws it, spinning it just so, relying not on luck but on faith in his skill. His sword, gaining momentum; a twirl. Two precise stabs, misdirection for a third, lower. A crouch-stab upward, thrusting to the sky.

Two graceful spins in opposite directions, one with his sword and the other with his shield, are enough to corner Ginchiyo even in an open field. Her attention is scattered between his weapons so that she does not notice Muneshige leaping at her until it is too late, his sword drawn back so that his hand collides with her shoulder first. The strength leaves Ginchiyo's body along with her breath as she is slammed into the ground.

And then there is only stillness.

"I win," says Muneshige, breathing hard, and Ginchiyo realizes hazily that his sword is pointed at her throat—and that hers is no longer in her hand. "But I'm feeling generous, so I'll give you a second chance if you ask nicely."

Ginchiyo glares up at him. He should know that a Tachibana does not beg. "I will never yield to the likes of you." Victory means too much for her to accept a loss yet, and even as a woman, she finds herself more willing to give up her life than her hand in marriage.

Muneshige heaves a sigh. "You'll yield if I knock you out."

"Do it, then," growls Ginchiyo, bracing herself for one last strike… but instead, to her utter bewilderment, the hilt of her sword is thrust back into her hand. Yet Muneshige's fingers remain curled around her fist so she cannot use it.

"Stop this, Ginchiyo," he murmurs, gazing into her eyes. There is something almost like sincerity hidden in their depths. "You know I can't hurt you."

"Craven," hisses Ginchiyo, yanking her hand from his grasp, and Muneshige takes a few steps back, countenance clouding. "You're not even trying. Are you such a coward you'd rather let your enemies go than risk offending them?"

Muneshige's expression sharpens into a glare. Finally, after all these years, Ginchiyo has managed to push him over the edge. "If you were a real woman, I might not hold back," he sneers, and her heart stops dead. "But you're just a defenseless little girl who thinks she's all grown up, fighting back the only way she knows how. You're not even worth being called my enemy."

The second he says it, Ginchiyo's world flips, and fury flashes through her very being like the lightning she has not yet learned to command. She may resent her womanhood, but she has even less desire to be anything that Muneshige can leverage against her as an insult. "I am not a little girl!" she shrieks, hefting her sword. "I am the lady of Tachibana Castle, and I order you not to hold back!"

As she speaks, the storm winds wrap around her, icy, suffocating, scattering her shouted syllables. Ginchiyo moves to brush her hair out of her face, but something blunt and heavy slams into the side of her head—Muneshige's shield, she realizes too late, already falling—and the world goes dark all around her.

Sounds drift in and out of Ginchiyo's ears, head throbbing with her pulse. For a blissful moment, she does not remember what happened, but then the memory of her defeat crashes down on her like a torrent of icy rainwater. Just like the pounding on the roof. He must have brought her inside, at least.

"You bastard," mumbles Ginchiyo, even before she opens her eyes again.

"Yes?"

Ginchiyo punches in the general direction of Muneshige's flippant voice, and is pleased to hear a grunt that means she found her mark. Feeble as she may be in the aftermath of unconsciousness, she has always recovered her strength quickly. "I could have you put to death for that."

"No, you couldn't," says Muneshige, and Ginchiyo opens her eyes to scowl at him. He is seated next to her and clearly has not left her unattended, but any sense of gratitude is dulled by the fact that he brought her to a storeroom rather than try to explain her condition to the guards. "According to our bargain, I'm your fiancé now. Whether you like it or not."

"Is that so?" retorts Ginchiyo, pushing herself gingerly upright. "If I'm just a defenseless little girl, my word isn't binding."

Muneshige lets out a light sigh, conveying in one simple breath that he had expected her to bring up his jibe again, but had still hoped otherwise. "I shouldn't have said that," he says, bowing his head briefly. "Even knowing how hard this must be for you, I still lost my temper. I'm sorry."

"Well, I'm not," snaps Ginchiyo, and Muneshige looks up again incredulously. "I don't need your pity. You were being honest for once in your life." And now he's gone right back to his usual superficiality, trying to keep a peace that has never existed by saying anything he thinks might get him into her good graces. (What a waste.)

At first, Muneshige's only response is another expression Ginchiyo cannot decipher, but then he changes the subject. "Your word may not be binding, but Father's is. He always gets his way eventually, and you know it. The two of us could raise an army and storm his castle in protest, and he'd still refuse to budge an inch until we were wed."

"You don't want this either."

"It doesn't matter what either of us wants," says Muneshige evasively. "All that matters is the good of the clan, and you know it. So I suggest you shelve your pride and listen to Father for once."

Ginchiyo turns away, unable either to concede Muneshige's point or to look at him, and her voice comes out a resentful mutter. "I need some time. Get out of my sight."

She can feel Muneshige look at her a moment longer before he murmurs, "As my lady commands," with deference he has never shown before, and rises to take his leave. Ginchiyo glares at his back until he rounds the corner, and only then lies back and relaxes.

But, as Ginchiyo discovers before long, even being alone does not make her course any clearer. Deep down, she knows she has no choice but to marry Muneshige, and the helplessness is beginning to eat her alive. Even the halls of her castle feel entirely unfamiliar as she wanders aimlessly through them, caressing the paintings on the rice-paper walls.

As the day wears on, it's all Ginchiyo can do to hold back tears of something that might be fright. She hasn't felt it often enough to tell. She needs to get out, to clear her head, but the rain is relentless, and she isn't so foolish as to risk coming down with some illness that might kill her. It was foolish enough even for her to have gone through with their duel.

That evening, during a break in the storm, Ginchiyo slips outside.

For the moment, the night is peaceful, but the storm in her heart will not dissipate; she has to externalize it somehow. An idea strikes her like the lightning she wishes she could call, and she indulges it, all her self-control spent on staying indoors till now. Trembling from lingering frustration and fear, she grips her hair tightly in her fist. Swallowing as her heart lurches into a sudden gallop, she draws and raises her knife, and—letting out a faint cry—yanks the blade through her hair.

It is not a clean cut, and takes much more strength than Ginchiyo anticipates, but it gets the job done. Her ragged breathing calms only slowly, fingers slackening to let both the blade and her severed ponytail drop to the grass below.

Raising her shaking fingers, Ginchiyo runs them through her hair, now fanning out around her shoulders. In addition to feeling lighter physically, the colossal weight on her shoulders seems to have lessened as well. This was a decision she made herself. Even without knowing how it looks, she can feel in her young bones that she will never wear her hair long again.

Becoming suddenly conscious of a presence some distance behind her, Ginchiyo scrambles to pick up her knife, and does not relax even once she sees the silhouette in more detail. Muneshige. Of course. How long has he been there?

"Ginchiyo," he says reproachfully. "You had such lovely hair."

"It got in my way," says Ginchiyo. "Back off, or I'll cut you down, too." She expects Muneshige to scoff, but he says nothing. Perhaps he can sense that she is serious. Yet still he does not leave.

Silence stretches out between them, colder even than usual, but Ginchiyo cannot permit it to go unbroken this time. However little time she wishes to spend in Muneshige's company, she needs to know one thing. "Why are you here?"

"I was worried about you."

"No, you weren't," says Ginchiyo scornfully. The only times Muneshige worries about anyone other than himself are when he worries what they think of him. "You were worried I'd really run away, and you'd be left with no bride." Maybe she should have. It was only her pride as a Tachibana that kept her here, the knowledge that she can survive anything. Even marriage to Muneshige.

"No," says Muneshige, shaking his head as though trying to flick his hair out of his eyes. "I was worried you'd get yourself into trouble because of me." His voice catches at the end, and she hears his silent addition: and I was right.

"Leave me alone," snaps Ginchiyo. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you."

Muneshige lets out a sigh, and Ginchiyo's temper flares as she feels thoroughly dismissed, but she doesn't have the opportunity to say anything further before he speaks. "Even so, I'd at least like to show you that marrying me isn't going to be all bad."

Ginchiyo narrowly resists the urge to snort. Muneshige must know such a thing is impossible. "I'd rather die than marry you," she says, pointing the blade at her own throat. It's nothing she hasn't done before, touched steel to skin just to see how it feels, but she's trembling now. Her heart beats more frantically, a plea for her not to stop its pulsations so soon.

"Just…" Muneshige hesitates and Ginchiyo can't tell whether he believes she'll really stab herself or not. She wishes she could see his expression, but the light is too dim, the moon and stars all cloaked by clouds. There is no light to guide her. "Close your eyes for a few seconds."

"No."

"All I ask is that you trust me," says Muneshige, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just for a moment."

After a skeptical pause, Ginchiyo lowers her knife and pretends to obey, but keeps a slit of reality in view, flickering and fluttering and dim through her eyelashes. Muneshige hesitates, then edges closer, drawing nearer. Near enough that she can hear his breathing. And then, sure enough, he leans in.

Ginchiyo shoves him away, hard enough that he stumbles and almost falls. "And that's why I don't trust you," she says, too triumphant even to be angry. "Be grateful I didn't use this knife." She would have been within her rights, at least as far as she's concerned, and her opinion as the lady of Tachibana Castle must count for something.

Muneshige is altogether too predictable. Yet, less predictably, she sees in him only a profound sadness tinged with frustration, no hint of her own rage reflected in his eyes, no trace of her fury in the sigh he breathes out. "Don't you think we should at least try, Ginchiyo?"

"Never."

At length, the blessed day arrives, bringing with it a wedding as solemn as a funeral.

Ginchiyo has been scrubbed and painted into a perfect miniature of a real woman, no hint of the scrappy little thing she truly is. Still, to her savage satisfaction, they cannot fix her hair, as she flatly refuses to wear a wig. But they assure her—as though she cares—that the beauty of her kimono will draw everyone's attention instead.

The ceremony is thankfully both small and short, but Ginchiyo and Muneshige play their respective parts as best they can. After all, keeping up appearances vastly outweighs their personal happiness. Still, the air is icy between them, passionless, unwarmed by any smiles or blushes. Even during the reception, she can't force any words out any more than she can force any food in. Her mind hovers elsewhere, detached.

Until they are given leave to depart for their now-shared chamber.

The door closes behind them, but Ginchiyo barely hears it, so loud is her heartbeat in her ears. She wishes she could ignore Muneshige's voice, light and low, as easily. "Ginchiyo." When she says nothing, he reaches for her hand cautiously, but she snatches it back. "You're shaking."

Ginchiyo doesn't know how Muneshige can tell from so little contact, but a Tachibana cannot show even a hint of weakness. "I'm not."

"I can see you."

So that's how he knows. Ginchiyo swallows—words, bile, wrath. "Shut up."

But Muneshige just looks at her. Calmly. Too calmly. It's the calm before a storm that Ginchiyo is still unprepared for. Disadvantages are the only thing she hates more than Muneshige, the man she has never called her brother and will never call her husband. "I don't suppose you feel like talking about it."

Ginchiyo eyes Muneshige mistrustfully. "Talking about what?"

"Whatever it is that's bothering you."

"You are bothering me."

"If you say so." Muneshige's fingers move, fidget with the fastening of his haori. She can practically see his thoughts racing, rehearsing, anticipation and apprehension mingling in clear brown eyes. Ginchiyo can't breathe, wondering how often Muneshige has thought of this night, whether he's actually looking forward to it. The mere thought of him picturing her naked makes her blood boil.

The moment Muneshige makes to remove his outermost layer, Ginchiyo snaps. "Don't you dare," she says shrilly, clenching her fists. "I may have married you, but this is as far as I go. You've already been given everything that's mine; I don't have to give you anything else." This is not, strictly speaking, true, and they both know it. But they also know that they have their entire lives ahead of them.

Muneshige stares at her, but lowers his gaze before long, at once obedient and defiant. "Very well," he says, his voice colder now, like the late-autumn breeze. "I respect you."

"And you think that's something to be proud of?" shoots back Ginchiyo, crossing her arms with a fierce scowl. "You're supposed to be heir to the greatest clan in Japan. Treating a woman like a human being is no reason to congratulate yourself, Takahashi."

Muneshige flinches at his birth surname, and Ginchiyo suppresses a vindictive smile with difficulty. Ever since the month after his adoption, when he lost his temper for the first time and shouted at her that he was a Tachibana too, she has been saving that insult for the opportune moment.

After regarding her through narrowed and guarded eyes a moment longer, Muneshige finally turns away in silence, but pauses at the door. "Before I go, here's something to think about," he says, glancing back at Ginchiyo. "If you hadn't married me, you'd be flat on your back with a much older stranger holding you down. So next time you feel like reminding me how much you hate me—not that you've ever once let me forget—remember that most wives aren't so lucky."

It is the most direct warning Muneshige has ever delivered. He slides open the door, but Ginchiyo can say nothing, not even as he snaps it shut behind him. She cannot, now that her burning throat has closed itself off.