Blood on the Chrysanthemum
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 18: The Journey To Freedom
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 18: The Journey To Freedom - A fictional tale of the legendary female samurai Tomoe Gosen A tale of brutal revenge, forbidden love, and the true meaning of bushido. Three women will claim their freedom with sword, gold, and courage.
Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Romantic Polygamy/Polyamory Oriental Female First Oral Sex Petting Revenge Violence
Mountains South of Kyoto - Three Days After the Battle
Kiku’s fever was getting worse.
They’d been riding hard for three days, stopping only when the horses needed rest, sleeping in caves and under trees. The wounds Yuki had bandaged in the ravine were infected now—Kiku could feel the heat radiating from them, the way her thoughts kept drifting, unfocused.
“We need to stop,” Hatsu said, her voice tight with worry. “Really stop. Not just for an hour.”
“Can’t.” Kiku swayed in her saddle. “They’re still hunting us. Need to ... need to keep moving...”
“You’re burning up,” Yuki said, riding close enough to touch Kiku’s forehead. “And these wounds are festering. If we don’t treat them properly, you’ll die before we reach Iya Valley.”
“Better than captured.”
“No.” Hatsu’s voice was firm. “We didn’t kill the Shogun and escape just to watch you die from infection in the wilderness. We’re stopping. Now.”
They were approaching a town—Hachioji, according to the road markers. Large enough to have supplies, small enough that three women might not draw too much attention.
“I’ll go,” Yuki said decisively. “I’m the only one dressed like a commoner. You two look like nobility even in travel clothes. I’ll buy what we need—herbs, proper bandages, medicine.”
“Too dangerous,” Kiku protested weakly. “If someone recognizes—”
“No one knows my face,” Yuki interrupted. “I was just a handmaiden. The wanted posters are for you and Hatsu. Let me do this.”
She was right. The bounty would describe the Shogun’s daughter and the infamous Fujioka Kiku. A small woman in servant’s clothes buying medical supplies wouldn’t raise suspicion.
They found a grove outside town where Hatsu and Kiku could wait hidden with the horses. Yuki took 2 gold coins and headed into Hachioji on foot.
Yuki moved through the market with practiced efficiency, keeping her head down, her movements unremarkable.
She’d spent years managing Hatsu’s household needs. She knew exactly what to look for.
At an herbalist’s shop, she bought comfrey root for the infection, yarrow for bleeding, willow bark for fever. Honey to pack the wounds. Clean linen for fresh bandages.
The shopkeeper barely looked at her. Just another servant buying supplies for her mistress.
At a general goods store, she bought rice, dried fish, tea. Enough food to last them another week of travel.
No one questioned her. No one looked twice.
She returned to the grove within two hours, her bags heavy with supplies.
“How is she?” Yuki asked immediately.
Hatsu looked up from where she sat with Kiku’s head in her lap. “Worse. The fever’s climbing. We need to treat her now.”
Yuki had learned herbal medicine from the palace physician who’d treated Hatsu through childhood illnesses. She’d paid attention, asked questions, studied everything she could about healing.
Now that knowledge might save Kiku’s life.
She built a small, carefully concealed fire and boiled water. Made a poultice from the comfrey root and honey. Brewed willow bark tea for the fever.
“This is going to hurt,” she warned Kiku, unwrapping the old bandages.
The wounds were ugly—red, swollen, weeping pus. One on her arm, two on her torso, a deep gash across her thigh. All infected.
Kiku gritted her teeth as Yuki cleaned them with boiled water, then packed them with the poultice.
“I’ve survived worse,” Kiku gasped.
“Liar,” Hatsu said, holding her hand. “Just ... try not to die. Please. We need you.”
“Not ... planning on it...”
Yuki worked methodically, treating each wound, applying fresh bandages. Finally, she made Kiku drink the willow bark tea despite her protests that it tasted like dirt.
“Sleep,” Yuki ordered. “The fever should break by morning. If it doesn’t...” She didn’t finish the thought.
They stayed hidden in the grove through the night. Hatsu and Yuki took turns keeping watch, monitoring Kiku’s fever, making her drink water even when she was too delirious to recognize them.
By dawn, the fever had broken.
Kiku woke weak but clear-headed. “Did I say anything embarrassing while I was out of my mind?”
“You proposed marriage to a tree,” Hatsu said, relief making her giddy. “Very romantic. The tree said yes.”
“Good. I’ve always wanted to marry a tree.”
Yuki checked the wounds. Still infected but improving. The poultice was working.
“We can travel,” she said. “Slowly. But we need to keep treating these every day.”
“Then let’s move,” Kiku said, struggling to sit up. “We’re too close to Kyoto still. Too easy to find.”
The Road to Uenohara
They traveled carefully over the next week, avoiding main roads when possible, stopping frequently to rest Kiku and change her bandages.
The wounds were healing slowly. The infection receded day by day, though Kiku remained weak, unable to fight if they were discovered.
“If bounty hunters find us,” she said one evening as Yuki treated her wounds, “you two run. Don’t try to protect me. Just run.”
“Not a chance,” Hatsu said flatly.
“Hatsu—”
“We’ve had this argument. You lost. We stay together or not at all.”
Kiku looked at Yuki for support. Found none.
“She’s right,” Yuki said, applying fresh bandages. “We’re family now. Family doesn’t abandon each other.”
“Stubborn women.”
“You love us for it.”
“Unfortunately.”
They reached Uenohara after ten days of travel. A small town at the base of the mountains, the last real settlement before the difficult climb toward Iya Valley.
“We need a guide,” Kiku said, studying the peaks ahead. “The Kobotoke Pass—there’s a barrier checkpoint. We can’t go through officially. Too much scrutiny.”
“So we go around?” Hatsu asked.
“The tanuki paths. Secret routes the locals use to avoid checkpoints and taxes. But you need someone who knows them to guide you.”
They found a villager in Uenohara—an old man who asked no questions when offered enough gold. He studied the three women, clearly guessing they were running from something, and just shrugged.
“Tomorrow at dawn. Bring your horses. It’s steep.”
The Kobotoke Pass
The tanuki paths were brutal.
Narrow trails that wound up impossibly steep mountainsides, barely wide enough for the horses. Places where they had to dismount and lead the animals by hand, one wrong step meaning a fatal fall.
The old man guided them with the bored efficiency of someone who’d made this journey a thousand times.
“Why’s it called the tanuki path?” Hatsu asked, gasping for breath as they climbed.
“Because only tanuki—shape-shifting tricksters—would be clever enough or crazy enough to use these routes,” the old man said. “Or people who really don’t want to be found.”
They climbed for two days, camping on narrow ledges, the horses trembling with exhaustion.
Finally, they crested the pass and looked down into a different world.
The valley below was green and isolated, tucked so deep into the mountains that it seemed to exist apart from Japan itself.
“Iya Valley,” the old man said. “You’ll be safe here. Nobody comes here unless they’re running from something. And nobody asks questions about what you’re running from.”
He took his payment and headed back down the pass, leaving them standing at the edge of their new life.
Iya Valley - First Arrival
They descended into the valley slowly, leading the exhausted horses down gentler paths than they’d climbed.
The valley was beautiful—terraced fields climbing the slopes, small houses scattered among the trees, a river cutting through the center. Remote. Hidden. Perfect.
They found lodging at an old woman’s house on the edge of the main village. She took one look at them—three exhausted women, one clearly injured, all carrying themselves like people who’d been through hell—and just nodded.
“One gold coin for the week. No questions.”
“Deal,” Kiku said.
The house was simple but clean. One large room, a small cooking area, an attached bath.
For the first time in two weeks, they could truly rest.
Yuki treated Kiku’s wounds with the last of the herbs. The infection was nearly gone now, the wounds healing cleanly.
“You’re going to live,” Yuki said with relief.
“Told you I wasn’t planning on dying.”
That night, all three slept in a pile on the floor, too exhausted to even think about propriety or separate sleeping arrangements.
They were safe.
For the first time since fleeing Kyoto, they could breathe.
Building a Life - The First Month
The old woman’s name was Oba-san—or that’s what everyone called her. She’d lived in the valley for sixty years, raised children here, buried a husband.
“You’re running from something,” she observed on their third day, serving them rice and pickled vegetables.
“Yes,” Kiku admitted. There was no point lying.
“Imperial trouble?”
“The worst kind.”
Oba-san nodded. “Most people here are. Fugitives, criminals, people who didn’t fit in the world outside. We don’t judge. Long as you don’t bring your trouble into the valley, you’re welcome.”
“Our trouble’s behind us,” Hatsu said. “We just want to live quietly.”
“Then you’ll fit in fine.”