It was a foggy early morning in Tokyo’s Asakusa district as the early dawn light casts the area in a dim orange glow. A young teenager slinks out from the shadows, probably in the middle of his summer break, making his way to the nearby Senso-Ji Temple.

The boy was Teppen, a curious mind who had a deep seated interest in history and literature. Although he was well-studied, he had a hot-headed temperament, quick to action and terrible at waiting. It was why he was out here so early in the morning, intent on breaking into an area of the Senso-Ji temple the public only had one chance to see every year after security and safety concerns came into play following the sudden spike in curiosity for a certain historical footnote in Japan’s history.

Sneaking past the sleeping guard, Teppen crept his way down the rows of graves and shrines, stopping at a particularly well decorated headstone that had seen many offerings and gifts made to it over the years. This was it! The grave of one of the founders of the Shinsengumi that was active back in Japan’s Bakumatsu Period, Teppen had longed to see the grave all for himself but despised the massive crowds that formed annually to visit the Temple. He preferred the solemn silence a place like this deserved; a place where the dead were to be honoured, not ogled at like some museum piece.

It was then that Teppen began to hear whispers, a voice on the wind that spiked his adrenaline as he thought he was found out, looking around in the early morning fog seeing no one around. Yet, the voices continued to ring out, loud and clear around him.

Were these spirits of the dead? Had he offended these buried souls somehow? In a panic, Teppen fell to his knees as he bowed his head to the ground, palms flat on the floor as he spat prayer after prayer in an attempt at apology, eyes clenched as the voices rise into a chorus...before dissipating entirely.

Slowly looking up, Teppen notices the ghostly visage of a human shaped blob, standing above him as he looks up at it from his lowered position. Noticing the figure standing over none other than the grave of Okita Souji, the swordsman he’d come here to pay his respects to. Flabbergasted and at a loss for words, Teppen can only watch with a slack jaw as the spirit of who he assumes to be Okita draws a katana from its sheath, stabbing it into the ground as the ghost fades away with a faint nod, leaving its ethereal weapon behind.

Wondering what it could mean, Teppen rushes to his feet with his eyes glued to the blade in front of him, was this the weapon used by Okita himself? It looked a little off though, from what he’d read in history books and depictions of the weapon. The katana looked oriental, as if it wasn’t meant to be used as a weapon at all. It certainly did have an aura of lethality to it though, its razor sharp blade gleaming in the morning light even though it’s ghostly form left it half visible.

No longer able to hold in his curiosity, Teppen reaches out to grab ahold of the sword, the blue light shining on his skin as he draws closer. His hands wrap around the surprisingly warm hilt as the glow vanishes, the blade materializing fully into existence as Teppen stares in awe at the quality of the metalwork to produce something of this quality...only, he couldn’t unclench his arm. The moment Teppen placed his hands on the katana, his fate was sealed.

Unable to move with his hands stuck to the sword, Teppen panics as the rush of voices return, a fog whipping around him as he sees a vision begin to form, unlike the ghost from earlier, this is a mirror clear image; depicting a young woman facing away from him, flowing pink hair and clothes flapping in the wind. Struggling harder, Teppen yells in panic as the blade draws him towards the image, his entire body smudged in the fog as it hugs him tightly, leaving him looking like a teddy bear without its cute hide.

As the boy continues to struggle under the clouds, changes occur as his form begins to pulsate and grow, gaining several inches as his limbs grow longer and slimmer. As he reaches the height of an adult, Teppen’s back arches backwards as a cry of pain accompanied by the sounds of shifting flesh and changing bones are muffled. Teppen’s figure relaxes once more as the sounds stop, his petite body now sporting an hourglass figure as his curved back forces his now plump rear to stick out in the air. Teppen now looked like some hermaphrodite, his slender curvaceous body sporting a flat chest and an erect penis cloaked in fog as he struggles harder to get his hands off the sword, but that wouldn’t be the case for long.

Teppen lets out a girly yelp as he feels flesh begin to pile behind his tender chest, nipples beginning to grow erect as breasts pump themselves full, inflating to nice perky D-cups as his groin does the opposite, transparent trails of pre-cum seeping out of the cloud as his dick shrinks back into his body with a wet pop, his hips bucking as her newly formed organs settle nicely into place. Teppen was no longer a young teenage boy, his covered form now that of a fully grown woman with a curvaceous body and sizable pair of tits.

The fog cover dissipates, leaving the newborn woman in the nude as new articles of clothing float to the floor. Feeling faint after all the changes that rocked her body, Teppen flops over onto the ground as the sword frees her from its grasp, clattering onto the ground next to her as the blade dislodges itself, blush on her cheeks as she feels the cold air lick at her now hairless, sensitive skin as her breasts jiggle around from the fall, long slender legs crossing in an attempt to cover up her exposed vagina on instinct. Teppen looks over her body with wide eyed embarrassment, not believing the massive heaving melons on her chest and plump supple limbs belong to her as she quickly snatches up the blue robe lying nearby, covering her exposed privates as she wonders what to do next.

As Teppen gets to her unsteady feet, she slowly puts on the attire lying by her dainty feet, a weirdly strange fit for her body as she slides the white undershirt on alongside the robe she had used earlier. As she does however, her surroundings become increasingly foreign to her, not knowing what the metallic poles that flicker with light were called, when moments ago, she would have known them as an ordinary street light commonly seen throughout Japan.

By the time Teppen slides the black stockings on as they slap against her meaty thighs, she barely remembers anything being off about her current predicament, standing confidently and moving around with ease, not minding the subtle bounce to her chest or the tickle of her hair against the nape of her neck nor the cold air on her soft supple skin, as if Teppen was born female. But that name...who was Teppen? The lady wondered, In fact, where was she? She knew from the layout and gravestones that this was the Senso-Ji Temple but the unfamiliar materials in its fairly new foundations and additions to the area made it all foreign to her. Bending over to pick up her katana, the woman sheaths the blade as she looks around in the early morning light, about to head down the path when a deep feeling of discomfort begins to build in her chest, a stinging pain blazing as she gags.

A racking cough forces her to kneel as the woman clasps a soft, slender hand around her perky lips, as she feels a metallic tasting fluid spurt out of her mouth with each cough, staining her palms red as she glances down in worry; blood. She’d been suffering from some disease that ate away at her for the past few years, although she tried not to show it, her body was steadily losing its vigor; her weight in decline as the fits got worse. She had a reputation after all as one of the founders of the Shinsengumi! Wait, she was a member of the Shinsengumi?

Clutching her head in sudden pain, the fresh memories as a swordswoman begin to grow stronger, serving the group she'd help build dutifully and weeding out Imperialists alongside her fellow warriors overriding those of the unfortunate young boy who’d found himself at the wrong place at the wrong time. Soon, Teppen was but a smouldering splinter in the mind of Okita Souji, renowned swordsman whose name was still widely renowned throughout Japan...decades after her death.

Yes, it all made sense now...she’d died long ago, passing away as her illness kept her away from the sword...away from her fellow Shinsengumi, unable to lose her life by the blade in battle. Yes, her longing wish to fight hard until the end would go unanswered as she rotted away in bed, giving her restless spirit physical form many times through the ages since her passing with every Holy Grail War. She was just one of many Heroic Spirits, former icons or myths summoned as Servants with complete knowledge of the current era, that would participate in Grail Wars where the winner would get their one true wish granted by the titular Holy Grail that gave the conflict its name. Except now she was facing unusual circumstances, usually a Servant would need a source of Mana to keep themselves ‘alive’, a Master of sorts, fighting or supporting them in the Grail War. In fact, there was no War to speak of, Okita had found herself standing alone on the grounds of the now rebuilt Senso-Ji temple, destroyed during the second World War, her grave surprisingly intact through it all. Looking down with a solemn stare, Okita wipes the trail of blood away from her lips, getting back onto her feet, how funny she thought to herself, being resurrected right over her own grave of all places.

Wondering what to do next, Okita left the temple grounds as she made her way down the streets, ignoring the looks the guard gave her as she left the gates. She was dissapointed personally that she'd been given form for zero good reason at all, there was no Holy Grail War , there wasn't even some conflict worthy enough to partake in! As people began to mill around as they went about their daily routines, the strange lady walking the streets would draw curious stares while others snapped pictures. Okita found no reason to be awkward or self-concious about her appearance but the people of modern Japan saw her as some weirdo dressed up in ancient Japanese clothes complete with a kimono belt around her waist, worried eyes glancing at the strangely authentic looking weapon strapped to her hips as she made her way down the streets deep in thought, oblivious to the many eyes on her as she wandered around modern day Tokyo.

"Heya! Big Sis! That's a cool sword! Are you a samurai?!" Roused from her thoughts, Okita glances down as she sees a young pre-school kid waving up at her with huge eyes sparkling in wonder as he jumps up and down, waving at her in excitement. She decides to humour the kid, standing solemnly as she pops the sheath with a thumb, a metallic 'ka-ching' ringing out as she strikes a handsome pose, about to draw her blade as the kid yells in excitement, before a woman comes round the corner, grabbing an arm as she pulls him away from her. "Im so sorry ma'am, my boy's hard to control sometimes...he didn't bother you did he?" Shaking her head slowly, a blush on her cheeks, Okita softly reaffirms his innocence as the mother waves goodbye to her, her son still shouting and pointing excitedly at her. "But mum she was so cool! She had a shiny sword and everything! Like a real samurai! She's so pretty too!"

That small encounter with the child had left Okita flustered. She had no idea if her time in this world was numbered but she hadn't felt any bad vibes since leaving the temple. So maybe it was okay to indulge herself just this once? She had seen things the modern era had to offer in the information fed to her mind, and for someone as old as her, maybe shifting her attention away from battle towards the finer things in life wouldn't be so bad after all. Decided, Okita walks off, vanishing into the crowd to see how her home had changed so much after all these years...

THE END