Blood on the Chrysanthemum
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 5: Blood and
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 5: Blood and - 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
Yoshida, Mikawa Province - Two Weeks After the Ceremony
They came at sunset.
Kiku was in the training yard, practicing kata with Tsuki no Kage, when she heard the first scream from inside the house.
Her mother’s voice.
No—wait. Her mother was visiting Aunt Fumiko in the next province. Had been gone for three days.
A servant then. And servants didn’t scream unless—
She was already moving, blade in hand, crossing the yard in seconds. The side door to the house stood open. A body lay across the threshold—Tanaka, the old gardener, throat cut, still bleeding.
Kiku stepped over him and entered the house.
The hallway was dark, but she could hear sounds deeper inside. Steel on steel. Her father’s voice, sharp and commanding: “Oda! East side!”
Her brother’s response: “Hai!”
Kiku ran toward the sounds, her feet silent on the wooden floors. Turned a corner into the main receiving room and saw—
Chaos.
Six men dressed in black, faces covered. Ninjas. Moving with practiced coordination, weapons flashing in the lamplight.
Her father fought three of them, his katana a blur of deadly precision. Even at fifty, Fujioka Motonari was a master—each strike perfect, each movement economical. One ninja already lay dead at his feet.
Oda engaged two more near the garden door, his technique aggressive, forceful. He was holding them but barely, sweat already streaming down his face.
The sixth ninja saw Kiku and turned toward her, drawing a wakizashi.
She didn’t hesitate.
The muscle memory of nine years of training took over. She moved forward, Tsuki no Kage rising to meet his first strike. The blades met with a sharp crack. He was fast—professionally trained, experienced.
She was faster.
Her father’s brutal training had prepared her for exactly this. No wasted movement. No hesitation. No mercy.
She deflected his second strike and countered with a slash that opened his throat. He fell, choking on his own blood.
“Kiku!” Her father’s voice. “Help your brother!”
She spun toward Oda just in time to see one of his opponents land a vicious kick to his ribs. Oda stumbled, and the second ninja’s blade flashed toward his exposed side—
Kiku was there. Tsuki no Kage intercepted the strike inches from Oda’s flesh. She drove her shoulder into the ninja, sending him sprawling, then pivoted to engage the second one.
This one was better than the first. Stronger, more skilled. They exchanged a flurry of strikes, testing each other. She felt her arms begin to burn with the effort—he was physically powerful, trying to overwhelm her with brute force.
But power without control is worthless.
She remembered her father’s words. Remembered the yumi training, the hours of holding impossible positions, learning that perfect technique defeated raw strength.
She let him overcommit to a downward strike, stepped inside his guard, and drove Tsuki no Kage up through his sternum and into his heart.
He died with a look of surprise in his eyes.
Two down. Four left.
She turned to help her father—
And froze.
Three ninjas had surrounded him. He’d killed another one—two bodies lay at his feet now—but he was tiring. She could see it in the slight hesitation in his movements, the way his breathing had become labored.
He was still a master. Still deadly.
But he was outnumbered, and these men were professionals.
“Father!” She started toward him—
“No!” Oda grabbed her arm. “We finish these two first!”
He was right. The two ninjas he’d been fighting had regrouped, were advancing again. If she and Oda didn’t deal with them quickly, they’d be surrounded too.
Kiku and Oda fought side by side, the way they’d trained together for years. She went high, he went low. She drew the attack, he countered. They moved like parts of the same weapon, covering each other’s weaknesses.
She killed the third ninja with a slash across the eyes that blinded him, then finished him with a thrust through the throat.
Oda killed the fourth with a brutal overhead strike that split the man’s skull.
Four dead. Two left.
They turned toward their father—
And watched in horror as one of the remaining ninjas drove a blade through his back.
“NO!” Kiku screamed.
Her father’s eyes went wide with shock. He tried to turn, to strike back, but the second ninja was already there, blade flashing. It took him across the throat.
Blood sprayed across the receiving room floor.
Fujioka Motonari fell to his knees, both hands going to his throat, trying to stop the bleeding. His eyes found Kiku’s across the room.
Even dying, even with blood pouring through his fingers, his expression was controlled. Stoic.
Survive, his eyes said. Run if you must. But survive.
Then he fell forward and was still.
“FATHER!” Oda roared and charged the two ninjas.
Kiku ran with him, rage and grief making her movements wild, less controlled than they should be.
The ninjas didn’t engage. They turned and ran—through the garden door, into the darkness beyond.
Oda pursued them for three steps before Kiku grabbed him. “Stop!”
“They killed him! They killed Father!”
“And they’ll kill you too if you chase them into the dark!” She held him back with all her strength. “It’s a trap. They want us to follow. To separate us.”
Oda struggled against her grip, his face twisted with fury and pain. “We can’t let them—”
A sound behind them. Both spun, weapons raised—
But it was too late.
While they’d been focused on the garden, while they’d been arguing about pursuit, the two ninjas had circled back. Entered through a different door.
Oda saw them first. Saw the blade coming for Kiku’s back.
He threw himself between her and the strike.
The ninja’s katana punched through Oda’s chest and out his back.
“No,” Kiku whispered. “No, no, no—”
Oda fell into her arms, blood bubbling from his lips. “Sister...”
“Don’t talk. Don’t—” She lowered him to the floor, trying to stanch the bleeding, knowing it was useless. The wound was too deep, too precise. Fatal.
“Survive,” Oda gasped. Same word their father’s eyes had said. “Promise me ... survive...”
“I promise. I swear it. Just hold on, please—”
But he was already gone, his eyes going glassy, his hand falling limp in hers.
Kiku raised her head, searching for the ninjas.
They were gone. Both of them. Vanished into the night like shadows.
She knelt in the ruined receiving room, surrounded by bodies. Four dead ninjas. Her father. Her brother.
The house was silent now. No sounds of fighting. No voices.
Just death and the copper smell of blood.
Kiku looked down at Tsuki no Kage, still gripped in her hand. The blade was red with enemy blood. She’d killed three of them. Three trained assassins.
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