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No Need for Masculinity	By : Richard_Priapi Category: +S to Z > Tenchi Muyo Views: 501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the various Tenchi Muyo properties, nor any of the characters herein who may be found within that canon. Originally posted to AO3, I'll be posting more proofread/edited versions of the chapters here.

Chapter List
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Tenchi awoke the next morning at the usual time, shortly after the sun’s first rays punched through his window. He rolled out of his bed with a reluctant effort, blinking away the dizzy blur of the dreaming world. Absentmindedly he moved to scratch his thigh- no wispy hair met his fingertips. His mouth went dry for a second. That at least, head not been a dream. He touched the spot on his shoulder where Washu had implanted him with nanomachines. He didn’t know what he’d expected to feel after the injection of a thousand virus-sized robots directly into his blood, but “nothing” wasn’t it. The soreness he would have expected from a shot at the doctor’s office was notably absent, as was any other sign of her treatment. He spared a glance in the mirror. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary- maybe he looked a little skinnier? There was something about his ribs- the way they seemed to tighten in under his chest didn’t look like the result of dropping a pound or two. He reached a finger out to touch the glass. When would the glassy surface stop being his enemy?
Still, there was work to be done on the farm, so he forced himself to dress and press on with the day. He lumbered down the stairs- paused- should he be clomping around like that now? It wasn’t exactly ladylike. He straightened his posture, descending as lightly as he could manage.
“Oh Tenchi!” his father called from the kitchen, “Your grandfather was looking for you. Wouldn’t tell me why, just that it was important.”
--
As Tenchi made a dutiful beeline towards Grandpa’s shrine, his mind wandered over a dozen trains of thought. The familiar stone steps, rough cut but worn smooth by centuries of foot traffic, called to mind summer festivals. The calling cicadas and gentle, earthy aroma of the forest in the summer heat brought a longing for the rare snow that could bathe the woods in an almost unearthly hush. Tenchi’s thoughts strayed further to how he might dress for a shougatsu or tanabata festival now, and the dawning dread over the inevitable day when he would have to go out, in public, to a store, and buy women’s clothes. He swallowed the thought heavily, leaden limbs slowing as he reached the top of the steps at last.

A sudden, blood-curdling battlecry popped the thick bubble of thought. Grandpa lunged through the rice-paper screen door of the shrine, bokken swinging through the air in a lethal arc. Tenchi dodged sluggishly, the breeze from the blade’s passage tugging his clothes. In the corner of his eye he noticed a bamboo broom- the sorely inadequate weapon would do in a pinch.
His next dodge was cleaner, putting the broom in easy reach. He snapped it up with a flourish, cursing the flashy impulse as it put him on a defensive against a dizzying blur of blows.
“Tenchi! How do you propose to defend the women in our home with such sloppy skills?”
The farmer-warrior with the power of heaven and Earth chafed.
“Do they need saving from me? Ryoko can go through walls. Shoot lasers. Ayeka has a force field. Shoots lightning. Washu? Geez, where to start?” Parrying a high strike, Tenchi shot back a rapid strike that touched Katsuhito on the sleeve.
“True enough, they are exceptional women. But that is no reason for a man to shirk!”
Tenchi didn’t like that one bit. Well to start, I’m not a man, you… you old fart! he thought, the electric heat of a rising temper adding fire to his movement as he tried and failed to go on the offensive, the broom’s bristles whispering uselessly as they touched empty air. The confidence of his thought sunk in.

Sensing an opening, Grandpa extended a hair too far in a zealous stab; with an effort, Tenchi sidled past it, letting the broom clatter the ground as he caught Katsuhito’s wrist and elbow. With a judicious twisting of joints, the blade fell to the stone below. Tenchi’s victorious grin was wiped away by the flashing of a dagger drawn from behind grandpa’s back. He spun away, hands clutching Grandpa’s wrist, blocking the knife from creeping anywhere important.

Katsuhito gave a gruff nod of approval. With a writhing of hands too swift to follow, Grandpa reversed the hold and sent Tenchi flying, coming to land hard on his rear. Instead of “oof,” or “ow,” the sound that fumbled from his lips was a cute, chirping “Kya!” For a moment, Katsuhito paused, staring while Tenchi turned a brilliant shade of red. Tenchi’s eye twitched, head rattling with prayers that Grandpa wouldn’t notice.
“Your skills are improving, Tenchi. But you still have much to learn.”

He offered a hand to help his grandson to his feet. With the adrenaline of their sparring bout fading, Katsuhito couldn’t help but notice the hand in his was far softer and smoother than the preceding weeks of callous-raising farm work might have left it. He spared a glance at the liver-spots dotting his own wrinkled hands.
“By the way, what skin cream are you using? I may need to give it a try.”
Tenchi’s confusion was self-evident.
An unholy commotion rattled through the woods from the direction of the house. Mechanically, automatically, Tenchi and Katsuhito’s eyes snapped in its direction. They voiced automatic responses: “What was that?”
“Something’s going on.”
And automatically, they took off down the path, taking the stairs two at a time. Very much not automatically, Tenchi spared a moment to rub his hands together. The skin was softer. Odd, that.
---

“Hurry up with the laundry, Princess- my best outfit is in there and I need it ready ASAP, you hear?”
“You know, Ryoko, it wouldn’t hurt you to lift a finger and help me,” the princess shot back, her own fingers fumbling as she worked this unfamiliar peasant item- the clothespin- to secure a series of shirts to the drying line. The reclining pirate shrugged from her perch under the porch’s awning.
“Tsch,” Ryoko tutted, holding up a jug of sake, “And cut into my drinking time? You really are something else, Princess.”
Only she could make the title sound so much like an insult. Returning to the basket of wet laundry, Ayeka lifted out a towel and gawked as what could only be Ryoko’s “best outfit” revealed itself. The garish collection of crimson laces and silks might have covered enough flesh for decent company, if so much of it wasn’t tantalizingly see-through. She held the garment up with two fingers like it was soaked with urine, maroon eyes glaring daggers into Ryoko’s through the sheer material.
“And just what do you need garments like this for, hmm?” Ayeka’s voice shredded the ears, snobby frustration driving her into a nasally drone.
Ryoko rolled onto her stomach, propping her head up on her elbows, kicking her feet back and forth playfully as she purred “Oh, nothing special, really. Just going to get Tenchi aaall to myself, and make him mine.” Her eyes shimmered as she gazed into the beautiful images dancing in her head.
“As if Lord Tenchi would ever deign to grace his chambers with a… with a… lowly pirate hooker!”
Ryoko’s eyes narrowed. She smirked through it, tossing her hair and looking away from the arrogant royal.
“Hooker, huh? Well at least I have experience. Oh, I can’t wait to learn what that limber little body can do. I’d say a prude like you’ll have to settle for imagining- if you know how.”
Ayeka doused the hot blood rising to her face behind her fand, forcing it away through a sufficiently royal laugh.
“I’d say you must be sorely lacking in imagination if you think Tenchi can be swayed by the brazen display you must make in this tissue paper. At least you had the intelligence to wash it first. I’m surprised it didn’t stain everything… pink.”
Ayeka’s blood curdled as she realized Ryoko’s slinky dress hadn’t been with the women’s wash, but the men’s. The white dress shirts, white kimono, and white briefs that had been mixed among cooler colored cloth all shone bright, hot, neon pink. The space pirate was floating now, eyes flashing combatively as she snarled back some jab or another. Her words rolled over Ayeka’s ears pointlessly.
A dozen wooden guardians materialized in the air, charging an attack as Aeyka’s hair bristled in their electric field.
“You fool! You’ve ruined Master Yosho and Lord Tenchi’s clothes! The crown prince, second in line and rightful heir to the throne of Jurai, can not be stuck wearing pink like some harlequin fairy!”
Lightning leapt towards Ryoko, who harmlessly phased away as the beam splintered a porch beam. In response she raised her hands, sending a cascade of red energy bolts. She’d show that princess a thing or two.
---
In a darkened room, the man watched the fight unfolding on a circular screen, hovering in the air in front of him. The ignominy of the scene before his eyes curled his lips in a sneer of pure disgust. The safe distance from which he watched suddenly felt unnecessary. Small lights flashed as he worked the buttons embedded in the arm of his seat, and he felt a tug at his bones as the ship’s computer adapted to its new course.
---
When Tenchi and Grandpa arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Tenchi was overwhelmed with the twin waves of relief and irritation that came with realizing it was just another spat between the girls. Grandpa turned on his heel and marched back towards the shrine.
“What is going on here?” Tenchi demanded, his high voice cutting through the pitch of battle.
“Pink underwear, Tenchi!” Ayeka shouted senselessly. Tenchi stood transfixed. What did Ayeka know? And how?

His eyes caught sight of the laundry just as Ayeka’s and Ryoko’s energy blasts clashed, their combined energy skewing their course straight into the basket. The resulting explosion punched a crater in the ground, shredding the wicker basket and kicking up a cloud of smoke, dust, and flying fabric. Tenchi lay on the ground in a daze, eyes refusing to focus. Ayeka and Ryoko shouted at each other, though they had enough sense not to fire blindly though the dust like Tenchi had feared. As his vision settled, he spotted them: two miracles! One was a surviving pair of his own briefs- pink as a schoolgirl’s blush now. They almost looked like… He blushed, seeing the other miracle: a silky, lacy, partially transparent pair of bikini-cut panties.

Voices argued in her head. One had carried him for most of his life, and it said clearly: “Do not take that underwear. Not even yours. You have more briefs upstairs if you need some.”
The other voice had learned to become much louder recently. It was making up for lost time. “Pantiespanties!Mine.Pretty, rightthere, twokinds, getthem! NOWNOWNOW.”
With the fog of war settling, it was the perfect time. The fingers of each fist closed around a pair of underwear is if they might escape otherwise. She stuffed them into her shirt, and lay there, heart pounding against her ribcage, as she collected the strength to stand.

The din of battle paused as Ayeka and Ryoko were caught up in a strange blue field, floating weightlessly in the air. Uselessly they tried to swim through the air. The porch door slammed open, and out stormed Washu.
“I am trying to calibrate a trans-dimensional radio receiver in here. It is not as easy as it looks, so would you mind keeping it down?”
The combatants nursed their bruised egos long enough to signal their acquiescence. The zero-g bubble around them burst, leaving Ryoko hovering in the air while Ayeka fell helplessly to the ground in an unceremonious heap. The cyan-haired pirate scarcely concealed peals of laughter as the fallen princess shot her a frosty glare. Washu turned to reenter the house when she spotted Tenchi. As an afterthought she called out: “Oh, Tenchi, dear; how are you feeling? Your next treatment is in a few days. Don’t let me forget, ok?”
“Treatment? Oh, Lord Tenchi, are you unwell?” Ayeka fawned, rushing to her feet.
Tenchi looked to Washu for an assist, but she was irritatingly nowhere in sight.
Ryoko had already flown to Tenchi’s side, slinging her arms over his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck tenderly, an operatic show of concern writ large across her features.
“He must have gotten hurt when you lost control of that energy blast of yours. Come on, Tenchi, show me where it hurts; let me make it all better for you.” She simpered into his ear. Her fingers trailed brazenly across his chest, and Tenchi shuddered- heat pooled under his skin in an unfamiliar way. His nipple began to stiffen. Ryoko’s fingers paused, feeling an unexpected lump of fabric.
“What’s this, bandages? You don’t have to put on a tough act for me.” Her voice became sultry, ringing though his head as it brushed his ear. “Why don’t you let me take a look at you? Make it worth your while…”
The growing haze over Tenchi’s thoughts was burnt away instantly as Tenchi remembered- the extra fabric was not bandages. He tore himself away, scratching at the back of his head as he failed to be anything like nonchalant. “It’s nothing, really. Just getting ready for flu season, you know Washu can make a vaccine for any strain of the flu in about one hour?”
Ryoko knew a rat when she smelled one. “What about those bandages under your shirt?”
Ayeka eyed him curiously. He astutely ignored the question, backing away one surreptitious step at a time.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta go, lots to do, bye.” With a nervous chuckle his shaking hands slid the door open and he disappeared inside.
“What on Earth has gotten into Tenchi?” Ayeka mused. “Why ever did you make him so uncomfortable?” She asked Ryoko. The pirate’s eyebrow jerked.
“Me? You’re the one starting World War three over laundry!”
Azaka and Kamidake sighed as the sounds of their escalating argument carried into the woods. Some things never changed.
---
The next morning as he woke up, Tenchi ran a hand along his jaw. He froze; ran his hand across the skin and back again. Slow as his beard had ever been to grow, he still shaved twice a week, and was used to cringing at the bristle of stubble that would have been forming by now. He still felt that scruff coming in, but it was sparse now, and thinner, softer. Mesmerized, he kept rubbing under his lip where, hidden in the flesh along his chin, stubborn bristles usually hid even after his most careful shaves. But today it was utterly smooth, plain and bare. When his fingers eventually moved on and touched another whisker clinging to life on his upper lip, the usual bone-deep frustration of an imperfect shave was nowhere to be found. He plucked it between his nails.

The experience charmed her- lit a fire in her. She thew back the covers, crawling across the mattress and reaching behind the bed where she had stored her prizes from yesterday’s drama. She arranged them on the sheets in front of her. The pink briefs would be a wonderful compromise. One small step a day and she’d cover a whole journey eventually, right? But her eyes were pulled like magnets to the crimson silk and lace. Why settle for a Salisbury steak when filet mignon was on the table?

Tenchi jiggled the doorknob of his room: locked. He crossed to the mirror, peeling back pajamas as he went. He jiggled the doorknob again. He pulled off his underwear. Checked the lock one more time. The pair of panties he’d snatched slid easily over his legs. They were softer than the cotton of his briefs- were they advanced Washu tech, Juraiaan 500 thread linen, or did women just get softer underwear?
He braved a look into the mirror, grimacing at the image that stared back, the one that very much looked like a scrawny boy in stolen panties. Tenchi swallowed the wave threatening to pour out of him and swore softly.
She flopped back on the bed, miserable.
“Oh, give me a break. What made me think this was going to work?”
She looked down at her body suspiciously. She hadn’t noticed her loss of stubble until she’d touched it. Maybe…
She let her hands explore her own flesh. She’d thought her nipples had been itching just because of how they rubbed against her shirt- but the sensation was still there now that she was bare-chested. Tenchi thought back to Ryoko’s touch the day before. She delicately pinched a nipple between her fingers- stifling a groan of pleasure and surprise as the shallow touch radiated deeply into her chest. She tried the other one- the same electric rush overtook her. She pawed at the skin around the nipple- but the sensitivity didn’t extend much beyond them. As they stiffened, she had to wonder if it was too much to believe that they were bigger already. She looked down- the bulge in her panties ended in a dark, wet spot. She gulped. That was… complicated.
She screwed her eyes shut and started thinking out loud.
“So that’s it. Washu did it. I am being... transformed. What do I tell my family? Do I… do I even tell them?” She groaned at her own foolishness. “Of course I have to tell them. What else am I going to do? Wait until they start asking questions about my boobs over breakfast?”
“That could be a fun option.”
Tenchi’s eyes snapped open. Ryoko’s were there to meet her.
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No Need for Masculinity