Blood on the Chrysanthemum
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 8: The Hunted
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 8: The Hunted - 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
The Road to Kuroda - Day One
They rode hard through the night, putting as much distance between themselves and Okazaki as possible. By dawn, they were deep in the mountains, following a narrow trail that wound through dense forest.
Kiku finally called a halt when they reached a small stream. The horses needed water and rest. So did they.
Miko dismounted stiffly, her body aching from hours in the saddle. “How far to Kuroda?”
“Two days, maybe less if we push hard.” Kiku led her horse to the stream. “But we can’t risk the main roads anymore. Too exposed.”
“Because of the bounty?”
“There’s always a bounty after something like last night. Nakamura was connected—he had protection, paid the right people. Someone will want revenge. Or the reward.”
Miko filled their water skins while Kiku kept watch, her hand never straying far from her sword. The forest was quiet—too quiet. Birds should be singing at dawn. Instead, there was only silence.
“We’re being followed,” Kiku said quietly.
Miko froze. “Are you certain?”
“Not yet. But something’s wrong.” She scanned the trees, looking for movement, for the glint of metal, for anything out of place. “We’ll rest here for one hour. Then we ride again.”
They ate cold rice from their supplies, not risking a fire that might give away their position. Miko tried to sleep but couldn’t—every snapping twig, every rustle of leaves made her jump.
Kiku didn’t sleep at all. She sat with her back against a tree, both swords across her lap, watching the trail behind them.
After an hour, they mounted and rode on.
Day Two - Afternoon
By the second day, Kiku’s suspicions were confirmed.
They’d crossed paths with a merchant caravan that morning, heading south. The merchant had looked at them oddly, his eyes lingering on Kiku’s swords, her bearing.
“You traveling alone, ladies?” he’d asked, his tone too casual, too interested.
“We have business in the north,” Kiku had replied shortly, not stopping.
After they’d passed, she’d glanced back and seen the merchant talking urgently to one of his guards, both men watching Kiku and Miko ride away.
“They recognized you,” Miko said when they were out of earshot.
“Probably. Or at least suspected.” Kiku urged her horse faster. “Word travels fast on these roads. A young woman warrior traveling with a merchant’s daughter—it’s not subtle.”
“What do we do?”
“We get to Kuroda before whoever that merchant sends after us. Kill Hayato and Kaito. Get what information they have. Move on.”
“And if we can’t get there first?”
“Then we fight.” Kiku’s voice was flat, emotionless. “I’m not stopping, Miko. Not until every single person who had a hand in killing my family is dead.”
Miko looked at her lover’s profile—the hard set of her jaw, the cold focus in her eyes. This wasn’t the girl who’d made love to her in the storage house. This wasn’t even the grieving daughter who’d buried her father and brother.
This was something else. Something harder.
A weapon that had found its purpose.
Day Three - Evening
They reached the outskirts of Kuroda just before sunset on the third day. It was barely a hamlet—maybe twenty houses clustered around a crossroads, with a small inn and a sake house serving travelers.
The kind of place where people minded their own business and didn’t ask questions.
Perfect for two ninjas trying to disappear.
“We need to find them before dark,” Kiku said, surveying the hamlet from the tree line. “Once night falls, they’ll have the advantage.”
“How do we know which house?”
“We don’t. So we ask.” Kiku dismounted and tied her horse to a tree. “You stay here with the horses. I’ll go into the hamlet, ask around. If I’m not back in two hours—”
“Don’t.” Miko grabbed her arm. “Don’t tell me to run again. I’m not leaving you.”
Kiku looked at her—this girl who’d given up everything to follow her on a path of blood and revenge. “If something happens to me—”
“Then it happens to both of us.” Miko’s voice was fierce. “We’re in this together, Kiku. Stop trying to protect me.”
For a moment, something flickered in Kiku’s eyes. Something almost like the girl she used to be.
Then it was gone, buried again beneath ice and purpose.
“Stay with the horses,” she said. “If you hear fighting, ride toward it. We might need to leave fast.”
Before Miko could argue, Kiku turned and walked into Kuroda.
The hamlet was quiet, most people already inside preparing evening meals. Kiku approached the sake house—if anyone knew about strangers staying in Kuroda, it would be the sake house owner.
She pushed through the door and found a cramped, smoky room with three customers drinking at low tables. The owner—an old man with a scar across his nose—looked up from cleaning cups.
“We’re closing soon,” he said. “But I can get you one drink if you’re quick.”
“I’m looking for two men,” Kiku said, approaching the counter. “Travelers. They would have arrived about a week ago. Staying somewhere quiet, keeping to themselves.”
The owner’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who’s asking?”
“Someone who means them harm.” Kiku placed two silver coins on the counter. “I’m not here for trouble with anyone else. Just those two men.”
The owner looked at the coins, then at Kiku’s swords, then at her face.
“East edge of the hamlet,” he said quietly, pocketing the coins. “Small house with a red door. Two men, like you said. They pay well to be left alone. Haven’t caused any problems.”
“They won’t cause any more.” Kiku turned to leave.
“Girl,” the owner called after her. “Whatever you’re planning—do it quiet. I don’t want the authorities involved. Bad for business.”
“It will be very quiet,” Kiku promised.
She left the sake house and moved through Kuroda’s darkening streets, heading east. Found the house with the red door easily—small, set back from the road, with shuttered windows and a fence around a tiny garden.
Hayato and Kaito were inside. She could feel it.
The two men who’d actually driven blades through her father and brother. Who’d escaped while she’d been trying to save Oda. Who’d left her alone in that blood-soaked receiving room.
Finally.
Kiku circled the house once, checking for exits, counting windows, looking for defenses. It was a simple structure—one floor, maybe three rooms. Only one door visible from the front.
She could go in hard and fast. Kill them both before they knew what was happening.
But she needed information from at least one of them. Needed to know more about Sato, about who’d hired them, about the chain that led from Kuroda all the way to whoever had ordered her family’s death.
Which meant she needed one alive long enough to talk.
Kiku drew both her swords and approached the red door.
Inside, she could hear voices—two men talking, relaxed, unsuspecting.
They thought they were safe here. Hidden. Forgotten.
They were wrong.
She kicked in the door.
Inside the House
The two ninjas were eating dinner when their door exploded inward.
Both men reacted instantly—training overriding surprise. They rolled away from the table, reaching for weapons that were never far from hand.
But Kiku was already inside, already moving.
The first ninja—Hayato, she guessed from his age and build—had his sword halfway drawn when Tsuki no Kage took him across the throat. He fell backward, blood spraying, dead before he hit the floor.
The second ninja—Kaito—was faster. He got his blade fully drawn and engaged, steel meeting steel with a sharp clang.
He was good. Very good. One of the best fighters she’d faced.
But Kiku had been training for this moment for nine years. And she was driven by something he couldn’t match.
They fought in the cramped house, blades flashing in the lamplight, furniture splintering as they moved. Kaito was professional, controlled, trying to keep distance and wear her down.
Kiku was relentless. She pressed forward, both swords moving in perfect coordination, giving him no room to breathe, no chance to reset.
Within a minute, she’d driven him into a corner. Within two, she’d disarmed him, sending his katana spinning across the room.
Kaito backed against the wall, breathing hard, knowing he was finished.
“You’re the Fujioka daughter,” he said. Not a question.
“Yes.”
“How did you find us?”
“Nakamura told me before he died. Just like you’re going to tell me about Sato.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You killed Nakamura? In Okazaki?”
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