In the heart of Tokyo, two worlds exist—parallel yet unseen by most.
The first is the world of light, where ordinary humans go about their lives, blissfully unaware. To them, the only threats lurking in the shadows are thieves, criminals, and kidnappers.
But beneath that fragile peace lies the dark world—a realm inhabited by spirits, monsters, and demons. Beasts from beyond human understanding, feeding on the weak and thriving in chaos. Creatures so dreadful, no ordinary human could hope to stand against them.
For years, an uneasy truce has held the balance between these realms. But there are always those who seek to shatter peace… and unleash havoc.
That is why they exist.
The Taimanin—elite shinobi with supernatural blood, trained to wield both blade and seemingly magical abilities. Warriors forged to battle the darkness and protect the delicate veil between worlds.
This is the story of one such Taimanin.
Shikanosuke Euhara.
Despite what his delicate features might suggest, Shikanosuke was, in fact, a boy—albeit cursed with the kind of appearance that turned heads for all the wrong reasons. With a dainty frame barely taller than most middle schoolers, smooth, porcelain skin untouched by blemishes, and wide, shimmering eyes framed by long, fluttering lashes, he looked more like a porcelain doll than a teenage boy.
His chocolate-brown hair flowed down to his lower back in soft, natural waves, often styled into cute feminine cuts by his overbearing family. His limbs were slender and willowy, lacking any trace of masculine bulk, and his face—soft-jawed with pouty lips and a button nose—only added to the confusion. With a voice that naturally hovered just above androgynous, he was constantly mistaken for a girl, especially since his relatives forced him to dress in skirts, blouses, and cute accessories.
He hated every second of it—but he never fought back.
Which, of course, only led to even more humiliating situations…
Her family clung to an old superstition—one deeply rooted in their clan. It was said that any male born into their clan would be cursed with misfortune, destined for tragedy unless they disguised their true nature.
To ward off this so-called fate, every boy was forced to be raised as a girl, dressed in feminine clothing, and made to adopt a more womanly appearance. Beauty became their shield, and femininity, their cage.
For Shikanosuke, this tradition was nothing short of torment. He was paraded around in frilly dresses and delicate makeup, his protests silenced by generations of blind belief. It wasn't just the clothes—it was everything that came with them.
The stolen glances. The unwanted attention. The men who approached him with impure intentions, mistaking him for someone he wasn't.
Worse yet, there were times… moments he could hardly bear to recall. Things he'd never speak of—not even to himself.
He was a coward. Shikanosuke knew it, hated it, lived it. Whenever danger reared its head, his first instinct was always to run—to hide, to cry, to pray someone else would step in. And someone usually did. He envied people like his best friend, Fuuma—strong, brave, fearless. A real hero. The kind of person Shikanosuke wished he could be but never believed he was allowed to become.
It felt like the universe had already written his story: the delicate femboy, pretty to look at, too fragile to fight. No matter how much he longed for more, he was trapped by the role others forced on him… and by the fear he couldn't shake.
But this is where everything changes.
What if, against all odds, Shikanosuke found the courage to try? What if the call to heroism came—and even though he was terrified, he answered it anyway? What if, when the world was crumbling and there was no one else left to stand, he was the one who rose?
This is the story of a reluctant hero. A boy who will learn that it's okay to be scared, okay to be weak… because true courage isn't the absence of fear—it's choosing not to run, even when you're shaking.
You can be a coward… and still be a hero.
And so, the story begins.
========
Inside a quiet café nestled in the heart of Japan, the afternoon hum carried on as usual. Customers chatted softly over warm drinks, utensils clinked against plates, and the scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air.
Everyone seemed at ease—everyone except for one.
Seated alone by the window was a small figure: a boy with long chestnut-brown hair cascading past his shoulders, dressed in a standard school uniform that did little to hide his delicate, almost doll-like features. With soft lashes, smooth skin, and a slender build, he looked more like a shy schoolgirl than what he truly was.
Shikanosuke Euhara stared into his untouched cup of tea, the surface reflecting his troubled expression.
'Why…' he thought bitterly. 'Why does this shit keep happening to me?'
The question echoed in his head like a curse.
No matter what he did, no matter how far he came, it never seemed enough. He had completed his Taimanin training, passed every grueling test, and earned his place among the elite supernatural ninja. He'd gone on real missions—faced real threats. And yet...
No one took him seriously.
To the monsters, he was barely a flicker of danger. To his peers and superiors, he was something fragile, something to protect or fuss over—never someone to rely on in the heat of battle.
His grip tightened around the warm ceramic as he remembered what his best friend had told him before leaving.
Shikanosuke contemplated those words now, their weight settling heavily in his chest.
Ten minutes ago.
"Haaaiii…" Shikanosuke let out a heavy sigh as his forehead thumped against the café table.
"Something wrong, Shika-kun?" came a familiar voice.
Fuuma Kotaro—his childhood friend, partner-in-training, and everything Shikanosuke aspired to be. Strong, composed, confident. They'd grown up side by side, but to Shikanosuke, Fuuma always felt a world ahead.
"I just can't take this anymore, Fuuma-kun," the smaller boy muttered, barely lifting his head.
Fuuma raised a brow. "Mind if I ask what you mean?"
Shikanosuke sat up, frustration etched on his delicate face. "I mean, we just turned nineteen. It's our final year at the academy. We're practically full-fledged Taimanin now, and yet… I'm still a joke."
Fuuma leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He had heard this before—but he listened anyway.
"Still hung up on that, huh?"
"How could I not be?" Shikanosuke snapped, his voice cracking. "After all these years, nobody takes me seriously. They still treat me like some kind of mascot! And worse—" he hesitated, his voice trembling. "Worse, they still think I'm a girl…"
Fuuma's brows knit as Shikanosuke continued, a bitter edge in his tone.
"One of the ogres we fought yesterday—he tried to have his…way with me. If you hadn't shown up when you did, he would've—"
He stopped, shaking his head violently, unable to finish the thought.
Fuuma sighed deeply and pressed a hand to his forehead in exasperation.
"I mean, even my ninja art isn't cool!" Shikanosuke groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I summon electric deer that explode! Deer, Fuuma! That's not intimidating—it's freaking adorable! It's so damn cute, it makes me want to puke!"
He slumped forward with a long, miserable sigh. "I just… I can't take this anymore, Fuuma-kun. I wish I was more like you—brave, strong, cool. You've always had that heroic aura. Me? I'm just... this."
For a moment, Fuuma was quiet.
Then came the sharp reply.
"Well, why the hell don't you do something about it?!"
"H-huh?" Shikanosuke blinked, eyes wide as he looked up, startled.
Fuuma let out a tired sigh and leaned forward, his expression turning stern. "Shika-kun, I've been listening to this same rant since we were ten. Ten. And honestly? I can't take it anymore."
He met Shikanosuke's gaze with an intensity that made the smaller boy flinch.
"If you hate how things are, then change them. Stop whining about being weak and do something about it."
Shikanosuke froze, eyes darting nervously around the café as if the spotlight had suddenly turned on him.
"W-well, Fuuma-kun… I can't," Shikanosuke stammered, shrinking into himself. "You know I'm not brave or cool like you…"
"That's your opinion, Shika-kun. Not mine," Fuuma shot back, his voice firm. "You can be cool. You can be strong. You've always had the potential—but you keep choosing not to."
Shikanosuke opened his mouth to protest, but Fuuma didn't let up.
"Like back when we first met—remember those boys who bullied you for looking like a girl? You could've stood up to them. You could've fought back. But you didn't. You just let them hurt you while you cried and waited for someone else to step in."
Shikanosuke flinched, his chest tightening as the memory resurfaced.
It was a warm summer day. His mother had forced him into a frilly dress, done up his hair with ribbons, and sent him off to play. He only wanted to hang out with the neighborhood boys—but when they realized he was a boy in girls' clothes, their laughter turned to cruelty. They pulled his hair, mocked his voice, and started hitting him.
He wanted to fight. He really did. But his mother's words rang in his ears: "Girls don't fight boys."
So he did the only thing he could.
He screamed. He cried. And he begged for someone—anyone—to save him.
"And it's been this way for years, Shika-kun," Fuuma said, his tone firm but not unkind.
"You get scared, freeze up, or run away. Yeah, sure—you sometimes come back. But more often than not, you don't. So tell me… if fear controls you so much, why did you even become a Taimanin in the first place?"
Shikanosuke lowered his gaze, the question hitting harder than he expected.
Why did he become a Taimanin?
He remembered idolizing Fuuma—wanting to be just as brave, just as strong. But was that really his dream? Or was it just another expectation pushed onto him… maybe even by his mother?
His throat tightened.
Fuuma sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Shika-kun… I love ya, man. I really do. You're like a brother to me. But you've gotta figure yourself out."
He leaned forward, voice softer now—earnest.
"If you want to be brave, then stop running. It's okay to be scared—hell, that's what being brave means. Doing something even when you're scared shitless. It's not about being fearless… it's about not letting fear own you."
Fuuma gave a small, crooked smile. "You've got it in you, my man. You just need to believe that for yourself. Alright, dude?"
Shikanosuke stared down at his tea, his reflection rippling with the faintest tremble of emotion.
"T-thanks, Fuuma-kun…" he whispered.
Fuuma stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Well, I gotta head out. I'll see you around. Just… think about it, yeah?"
Shikanosuke gave a quiet nod as Fuuma walked away, leaving the café—and his words—lingering in the air.
Back in the present, Shikanosuke had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, staring into the now-cold cup of tea. Minutes? Hours? Time had slipped away, swallowed by the storm of thoughts in his head.
Did he really want to be a Taimanin?
Did he even want to be a hero?
Was he okay with the life his mother forced on him—dressing like a girl, living a lie?
She always claimed it was to protect him, that their family was cursed, that every male born into the clan was doomed to die young.
"That's what happened to your father," she'd say—coldly, firmly. But every time he asked about his dad, she shut him down with anger and threats. There were no photos, no keepsakes… not even a name. Just silence. And fear.
And despite all the confusion, one truth screamed louder than anything else:
He was not happy.
Not with this life. Not with this identity that had been stitched onto him like a costume. He didn't want to be some dainty porcelain doll trapped in lace and silence. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to be a hero—like Fuuma.
'Then what's stopping me?' he thought.
Oh, right… I'm a coward.
I get scared easily.
I run away.
But I always try to come back...
Is that enough?
Could I do more?
Could a coward… be a hero?
As the thought echoed in his mind, something outside the window caught his eye—and froze the blood in his veins.
Down the street, just beyond the edge of the café's warm glow, a group of men was leading a young girl into a narrow alley. Their intentions were written all over their twisted grins and predatory body language. The fear that slammed into Shikanosuke was immediate, cold, and paralyzing.
Every instinct screamed at him to call Fuuma—to let him handle it.
But this time… he didn't.
Even as his hands trembled and his heart pounded like a drum in his ears, Shikanosuke rose to his feet.
'W-welp…' he thought, his soul shaking with dread.
'O-only one way to find out.'
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I don't own Taimanin.
[ E/D: Below are notes by the original creator. ]
[ A/N: The reason why I made this fanfic is I wanted to make a Taimanin fanfic but with different protagonist I don't really like chad heroes like fuuma that's super confident and gets all the girls that's boring I like hero's that become chads that's when I found shikanosuke. Now I won't lie to you he is meant to be a femboy fetish but not in this fic after researching him I found he is a well meaning coward despite being Taimanin that wants to be a cool hero but nobody takes him seriously because of how girly he looks he is the perfect protagonist for an underdog fic I love cowardly underdog heroes like my favorite one.
I love this dog he is a scared but brave hero that gives his all to protect his family on just willpower alone and shikanosuke would be perfect to be like him well till next time. ]