The Red Hakama
{TW: Transgender/transman main character dealing with menstrual issues.}

Part 2 is here: Iron Hooves and Burning Roads, Krampus on Wheels

The Red Hakama

Quaraun woke with a dull ache in his lower abdomen and the heavy, wet sensation between his thighs. The familiar discomfort spread through his body, gnawing at his insides. He sat up slowly, the soft rustling of pink silk and fur pelts sliding off his pale shoulders.

“Damnit!” Quaraun sputtered.

Blood.

Of course.

His period had started. And today was market day.

“Why today?” Quaraun muttered to himself. “You could not wait one more day?”

Quaraun sighed, closing his eyes as he pressed a delicate hand over his stomach.

He hated this.

The vulnerability.

The risk.

The reminder that, beneath the bindings and silks, his body still betrayed him.

Quaraun had no choice but to go to market. The Humans of GodForsaken City would grow suspicious if he didn’t appear. He couldn’t afford to let them wonder.

Wondering led to questioning.

Questioning led to discovering.

“I hate this!”

BoomFuzzy stirred beside him, blinking sleep from his cloudy eyes.

GhoulSpawn lay sprawled on his back on the opposite side of the bed, golden fleece tangled with pink silk.

Quaraun shifted to the edge of the fur pelt nest, trying not to wake his two lovers, but BoomFuzzy’s strong hand caught his wrist.

“Quaraun?” BoomFuzzy’s thick Scottish burr was heavy with sleep. His pale silver eyes sharpened as he saw the tension in Quaraun’s face. “Ya alright, Sugar Plum?”

“I am fine,” Quaraun said. His tone was clipped.

It wasn’t true, and BoomFuzzy knew it.

“Come back to bed, Love.”

“I need to get up.”

“Eh, the bloody sheets say ya need to rest.”

Quaraun glared angrily at the blood.

“I am fine.”

GhoulSpawn sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Uh… dude? You’re, like, kinda… not fine. BoomFuzzy’s right. You should rest.” GhoulSpawn stretched and yawned. “We can skip the market. Sleep in.”

“I cannot,” Quaraun said, sliding off the fur pelts. “We need the coin.”

“I could sell yer silks for ya,” BoomFuzzy offered, rising to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Ain’t like I’ve nae done it afore. I’ll be there selling meals from me food truck around noon time anyways. I can go early, sell ya silks, have me servants run the food truck.”

Quaraun shook his head.

“No.” His tone left no room for argument. “I will not let my body’s weakness control my life.”

He called for his handmaids to bring his red silks.

Moments later, his handmaids entered the tent, carrying fresh clothes. Quaraun stood still as they tightened his breast bindings, then produced the red hakama, carefully tieing it around him. Finally, they pulled the long heavy magenta tussar silk robes over his thin frame, and arranged his heko-obi and silver chains.

GhoulSpawn frowned.

“Red pants? That’s… new.”

“These are not pants. They are hakama. Same as Unicorn wears.”

“BoomFuzzy’s are black.”

“It is an ancient custom from Japan,” Quaraun explained. “Menstruating women wore red hakama to protect their silk robes from blood stains. The dark magenta over it, further hides blood stains. I do not desire to ruin my light pink silks. Blood stains are terribly difficult to remove.”

GhoulSpawn’s brows rose.

“Oh.”

He looked away awkwardly.

BoomFuzzy’s mouth twisted into a scowl.

“Ya ken ya don’t have to go — ”

“I will go,” Quaraun said firmly.

‘“And risk getting discovered? Nae worth it, Love.”

“No one will know.”

“Would it not be better to wear black hakama?” BoomFuzzy asked. “Men wear black hakama. Never red. Only women wear red hakama. On account of only women bleed.”

“Black hakama do not match my pink robes.”

BoomFuzzy’s sharp gaze followed Quaraun as he swept from the tent, robes flowing behind him like dark crimson waves.

A short time later…

The bustling street market of GodForsaken City, formerly known as Boston, was no stranger to Quaraun. He had walked its worn, cracked cobblestones countless times, his familiar pink silks fluttering gently in the frigid wind, the gleam of his silver chains tinkling with every step.

Yet today, as the crowd meandered by, something was different. He was not relaxed. He felt as though every eye in the square was staring at his red hakama. Perhaps BoomFuzzy had been correct? Maybe he should have worn black, not red.

His robes, usually a soft, pastel pink, were now a deep magenta, a shade so dark it bordered on red.

He did not feel the confidence he felt when wearing his usual soft bubblegum pink.

The silk shimmered faintly in the dim light, but it was the heavy, dark red hakama beneath them that caught the eye of one particular man.

The man had been eyeing Quaraun from the moment the Elf set up his wares, a glance that lingered too long.

Quaraun, who prided himself on his ability to blend in, in spite of wearing glittering rhinestone encrusted pink silks in a society where everyone else wore brown tattered rags, felt his presence, an itch on the back of his neck, a tug in his gut.

The man’s eyes narrowed, and Quaraun’s senses prickled.

“Oi,” the man called, his voice cutting through the buzz of the crowd. “You ain’t dressed like yer usual, pink thing today, eh? Ain’t you The Pink Necromancer?”

Quaraun, who had seen many faces in his years as a travelling merchant, didn’t immediately respond. He straightened his back and tilted his head slightly, his silver chains chiming in the breeze.

His usual calm demeanour washed over him, but beneath that calm, his heart raced. He had been careful this time — careful not to let anyone know what was beneath the robes.

Careful not to reveal his secret.

“I am afraid I do not understand what you mean, good sir,” Quaraun replied smoothly, his voice lilting with the practiced ease of years of keeping his secrets hidden.

Quaraun let his gaze flick to the man’s satchel briefly, trying to redirect the conversation.

The man stepped closer, his boots clacking loudly against the pavement.

“Don’t play coy with me, Merchant. You’ve always worn those pastel pink silks, and now you’re walkin’ around in dark red and magenta? I know what red hakama mean.” He chuckled, though there was something predatory in his tone. “What’s goin’ on under there, eh? What’s the deal? You got blood to hide?”

Quaraun stiffened, but he kept his smile in place, though it was colder now. He reached to adjust the folds of his robes, fingers brushing the smooth, rich wool fabric of the hakama beneath. His mind raced.

The man’s tone was becoming more insistent, more probing.

The last thing Quaraun wanted was to draw attention to his differences, to let anyone suspect that beneath the silks, beneath the magenta fabric, lay something else entirely.

“It is simply a change of attire, nothing more,” Quaraun said, his voice still smooth, but with a layer of ice now threading through. He hoped the man would be satisfied with this, but he doubted it.

The Human’s brow furrowed.

“Aye, sure, but you ain’t foolin’ me. I’ve seen you walk this street a hundred times, you come here to this shindig every year, and you never wear anything like that.” He leaned in closer, too close now, and Quaraun felt his skin tighten, his body stiffening with the instinct to retreat. “What’s the real reason, huh? You hiding something? Ya are, ain’t cha? Always did say ya was extra girly looking, even for an Elf.”

The crowd moved past, too busy to notice the uncomfortable interaction, but to Quaraun, it felt like the world had shrunk to just this man, his questions, and the nagging suspicion that Quaraun’s secret might slip free.

“Sir,” Quaraun said slowly, his voice still polite but carrying an edge of finality. “It is simply a matter of personal preference. You are mistaken if you think there is any more to it.”

The man snorted in disbelief, his eyes narrowing even further as he leaned closer, his breath warm and unpleasant.

“Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. Ain’t no man worth his salt dresses like this. You’re hiding something between your legs. And I aim to find out what.”

Quaraun’s fingers tightened on the edge of his vendor table, the metal of his gloves creaking under the pressure. He was being tested, and if there was one thing Quaraun hated more than the endless paranoia of hiding his gender, it was being interrogated by a stranger who refused to take no for an answer.

Quaraun was a transman, but Quaraun had not physically changed gender, however and so was often pregnant, and still had to deal with PMS, menstruation, and other female health issues.

Being a travelling merchant on the road for months on end, this meant dealing with menstruation and also hiding his biological gender from strangers and Humans.

BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn are well aware of Quaraun gender fluid nature, of course, as they were his lovers and the ones who so often got him pregnant. Sleeping with both of them, he never knew which was the father of any of his children, nor was he bothered to find out.

Females were nearly extinct in this world, rarely seen in public, and men were known to violently kill a woman’s entire family just to get to her and claim her as his because there were only a few hundred females on the planet.

This was why Quaraun MUST live as a man and hide his true gender.

There was no other option.

Quaraun’s fear of being discovered that he was menstruating right now, that drove through him like a stake through the heart. Flooding back memories he wanted to forget.

Quaraun is a transman because nearly all females of everything died, people could live their entire lives never seeing a female. While male Humans are so desperate to find any female, they would go into extreme frenzied violence if they encounter one, won’t think twice about killing her entire family just to have her.

A woman in this world who walks freely in public is either incredibly desperate, incredibly stupid, or an incredibly skilled warrior fighter. Quaraun was none of those. Maintaining the illusion of being male, in public, was vital to his survival.

Quaraun was a transman because of so many prior violent attacks on his life and family by Humans who went berserk trying to kidnap the female Elf.

Due to living as a female in this world, Quaraun’s hands are crippled, crushed, held down in the mill stone grinding wheel of a windmill, and he wears bionic gloves that allow him to move his fingers.

Due to living as a female in this world, Quaraun’s leg was lame, a result of armed Human men driving a sword through his leg to pin him to the ground while they raped him.

“I hate being raped,” Quaraun muttered under his breath.

Due to living as a female in this world, the same day Quaraun’s leg was to pinned him to the ground and he was raped, his beloved daughter Pippa, then only a toddler, was kidnapped. Quaraun had not been a travelling merchant at the time. But it had happened here in this very city.

The GodForsaken City was aptly named.

Quaraun became both a transman and a travelling merchant to hunt for his kidnapped daughter, Pippa. A search he had now done for three hundred years, convinced she was still alive. The rest of the UnSeelie Court has given up hope of finding her, but still they travelled with Quaraun to protect him during his search.

Due to living as a female in this world, Quaraun’s husband, BoomFuzzy had been tortured, left for dead, injured so badly that he killed himself to end his suffering. Quaraun had resurrected him as a Lich and took to living as a male Elf, more to protect his family than himself.

If this Human discovered he was menstruating right now, it could spell disaster, not only for him, but for his family, his children, his lovers, his friends who travelled with him.

This discovery would lead to Humans realizing he was a she-Elf and would lead to Humans trying to catch him, kidnap him, sell him into slavery, sell him to breeding farms.

Again.

Breeding farms.

A terrifying thing which now existed in this world.

Females being so rare, had caused some evil men to build concentration camps where they keep women they found as breeding slaves. Quaraun knew these places far too well.

Quaraun has been caught and put in one of these before. Daily raped by Human men who paid the camp owners to rape the women.

“I hate being raped,” Quaraun whispered again, more angry now then before.

Quaraun had escaped the breeding farm and took the other women with him. They were the 37 handmaids who now travelled with him and raised his children. Quaraun knew from first hand experience, the horrors that could happen if these Humans discovered he was menstruating.

“Ain’t right,” the Human continued talking, bring Quaraun back out of his thoughts. “A man wearing a red hakama. Only women do that.”

“I assure you,” Quaraun said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, frigid pitch. “Your persistence is not appreciated. I do not want to engage further with you.”

The man blinked, taken aback by the coldness in Quaraun’s tone. He opened his mouth, likely to argue further, but Quaraun had already begun to step back, sliding his hand beneath the folds of his magenta robes.

With a flick of his wrist, Quaraun activated the Rainbow Wand tucked into his sleeve. The laser device hummed quietly, and a soft but brilliant pink light flared to life around the stranger’s head, distracting him momentarily.

“Leave me be,” Quaraun intoned, his voice firm, final. “You have asked your questions. I have answered them. There is no more to say. STOP harassing me. I am not bothering you. Stop bothering me.”

“I got every right to — “

“You have NO right to harass me!”

The light from the wand flickered, turning the man’s face an odd shade of violet as he staggered back, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and unease. Quaraun had not used the wand for harm, as he did not want to draw any more attention to himself. But its light had a disorienting effect on the man’s vision, making him dizzy and temporarily blinded.

Quaraun did not wait for a response.

Quaraun had already turned, his magenta robes swishing behind him as he disappeared into the crowd. His heart pounded, adrenaline rushing through him, but Quaraun kept his steps measured, precise. He had avoided revealing too much this time. Avoided the risk of anyone learning his secret.

As he rounded a corner, Quaraun's hand tightened around his cane. He could still feel the weight of the man’s questions hanging in the air, like a suffocating fog.

BoomFuzzy would be pleased with his ability to handle the situation without causing too much disruption, though Quaraun knew full well he would not sleep well tonight.

It was too risky, dressing like this.

Quaraun knew that.

But he had hoped, just for a moment, that no one would notice.

• +1 Magenta Robes Added to Inventory
• +1 Dark Red Hakama Added to Inventory
• Achievement Unlocked: The Secret Keeper
• Quaraun gained +5 Stealth
• BoomFuzzy gained +3 Affection for Quaraun’s Resilience
• GhoulSpawn gained +2 Moxie for Handling Awkward Situations
• Moral of the Story: Even in a world where secrets are kept, sometimes the truth is hidden in the most uncomfortable of places.

Part 2 is here: Iron Hooves and Burning Roads, Krampus on Wheels

Quaraun and BoomFuzzy

The Pink Necromancer, Moon Elf silk weaver & merchant: Quaraun on Noodle Beach. His master chef Phooka turned Lich husband: BoomFuzzy with his 1968 VW Bus Beach Noodle Food Truck. And their on again/off again mad scientist Sheep Demon lover: GhoulSpawn with his 1974 AMC Gremlin time machine. Time Travel setting swings back and forth between 40th century Maine after a comet hit the moon decimating the planet, and the 1970s, Maine. Quaraun in the main character, he and BoomFuzzy are a married gay couple. GhoulSpawn is their shared live-in lover. Art by Wendy Christine Allen.

BoomFuzzy

Quaraun

GhoulSpawn and BoomFuzzy

GhoulSpawn

GhoulSpawn and Quaraun

Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post

The Pink Necromancer: The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane aka The Twighlight Manor Series

🌸🦄🌸 Furry Yaoi Fiction about Elves and Faeries and Satyrs and Demons and Unicorns and Technomancer Wizards and Liches living in a Lighthouse and surviving as Travelling Merchants and Food Truck Chefs in Cyberpunk Dystopian 40th Century Maine, and Zombie Apocalypse and Time Travel but it’s Slice of Life Vignettes of Mundane Daily Lives of The UnSeelie Court’s Royal Family trying to survive after a comet hit the moon and turned the Earth into a CyberPunk Ice-Age. 🌸🦄🌸

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