Blood on the Chrysanthemum
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 7: The Broker
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 7: The Broker - 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
Okazaki, Three Days Later
They reached Okazaki at dusk on the third day, their horses tired, their supplies running low. The town was larger than Yoshida—a proper castle town with merchant districts, sake houses, and the kind of thriving underworld that men like Nakamura Hideaki needed to operate.
Kiku and Miko took a room at a small inn on the edge of town, paying extra for discretion. The innkeeper asked no questions, took their money, and showed them to a cramped room on the second floor.
“We’ll rest tonight,” Kiku said, checking her weapons. “Tomorrow we find Nakamura.”
“How?” Miko sat on the thin sleeping mat, exhausted from three days of hard riding. “We don’t know where he lives, where he does business—”
“Then we ask. Carefully.” Kiku unwrapped the throwing darts she’d brought—small, balanced blades designed for silent kills. She’d been practicing with them since she was twelve. “Men like Nakamura don’t hide completely. They need to be found by the right people. We just need to seem like the right people.”
“And if someone recognizes you? There’s probably a price on your head by now.”
“Then we deal with it.” Kiku’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “Get some sleep, Miko. Tomorrow starts early.”
The next morning, Miko went to the market while Kiku waited at the inn.
It was safer this way—a young woman asking questions drew less attention than a warrior. Miko moved through the stalls, buying rice and dried fish, chatting casually with merchants, listening for gossip.
By midday, she had what they needed.
“Nakamura has a house near the north gate,” she told Kiku when she returned. “Not large, but well-guarded. Two men outside at all times, more inside probably. He does his business there—people come and go, always at night.”
“Defenses?”
“Stone wall around the property, maybe seven feet high. One gate in front. The house itself is two stories, wooden construction. Windows on the second floor.”
“Guards’ routine?”
“They change at sunset and midnight. The midday guards are the laziest—they sit more, pay less attention.”
Kiku smiled slightly. “You’re good at this.”
“My father taught me to observe people. How else do you know if a customer is honest?” Miko sat beside her. “What’s the plan?”
“We go tonight. After the sunset guard change, before they’re fully alert. We go over the wall at the back where it’s darkest. Kill anyone who sees us. Get to Nakamura before he can raise an alarm.”
“And then?”
“Then I make him talk.”
They approached Nakamura’s house at the hour of the dog, when darkness was full and the streets were mostly empty. The stone wall loomed before them, solid and imposing.
Kiku had Miko wait at the corner with the horses, hidden in shadow. “If I’m not back in one hour, ride out of Okazaki. Don’t wait for me.”
“Kiku—”
“Promise me.”
Miko’s eyes were bright with fear and love. “One hour. Then I come in after you.”
“Stubborn.”
“You love me for it.”
Kiku kissed her quickly, fiercely. “Stay alive. Please.”
Then she turned and moved toward the wall.
The back of the property was darker, just as Miko had said. Kiku used a nearby tree to boost herself up, caught the top of the wall, and pulled herself over in one smooth motion.
She dropped into the garden on the other side, landing silently.
Two guards patrolled the grounds—one near the front gate, one circling the house itself. The second one was closer, maybe twenty paces away, his back to her.
Kiku drew a throwing dart, weighted it in her palm, and threw.
The blade took him in the back of the neck, severing his spine. He dropped without a sound.
One down.
She moved quickly to the house, staying low, keeping to the shadows. The first-floor windows were shuttered, but she could see lamplight through the cracks. Voices inside—at least two people, maybe more.
She circled to the front where the second guard stood by the gate, bored and inattentive. He was smoking a pipe, watching the street rather than the property behind him.
Kiku approached from his blind side, another dart already in hand.
This one took him through the ear. He crumpled against the gate, the pipe falling from his lips.
Two down.
She tested the front door. Locked, but not heavily. She drew Tsuki no Kage and slid the blade between the door and frame, lifting the simple bar latch from inside.
The door opened silently.
Inside, a hallway. Lamplight coming from a room to the left. Voices—one male, deep and rough. Nakamura, probably. And another, younger, responding with deference.
Kiku moved down the hallway, her footsteps soundless on the wooden floor.
She reached the doorway and looked inside.
A dining room. Nakamura sat at a low table, eating rice and fish. He was maybe forty-five, powerfully built despite his sedentary profession, with scars on his hands that suggested he’d been a fighter once. Across from him sat a younger man—early twenties, well-dressed, probably a bodyguard or assistant.
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