Steel Wrapped in Silk
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 20: Koko’s Move
Five weeks into the marriage
The attack came from an unexpected direction.
Mio was in her workroom reviewing household accounts when a servant appeared, bowing nervously.
“My lady, there’s a visitor for you. A merchant.”
Mio’s blood went cold. “A merchant? Here? Asking for me specifically?”
“Yes, my lady. He says he knew your ... he says he has business with you.”
No. No no no.
Merchants didn’t visit samurai households to speak with the wives. Merchants dealt with the head of household or his steward. A merchant asking for her specifically could only mean one thing:
Someone had sent him. Someone who wanted to expose her origins.
“Where is he?”
“At the service entrance, my lady. Koko-sama said he should wait there until you dismissed him.”
Koko knew about this. Of course she did.
Mio’s mind raced. If she refused to see the merchant, Koko would spread rumors about why. If she saw him and he revealed her connection to the sword-making trade, her cover would be blown.
This was the attack she’d been waiting for. Koko had found a weapon that could actually hurt her.
“Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
The servant bowed and left.
Mio sat very still for a moment, forcing her racing heart to slow, her panicked thoughts to organize.
Strategy. What’s the play here?
She couldn’t refuse to see him—that would look suspicious. She couldn’t see him alone—that would give Koko ammunition about inappropriate behavior. She needed witnesses, but the right kind of witnesses.
She needed Taichi.
But Taichi was out with his father, reviewing the estate’s boundary markers. He wouldn’t be back for hours.
Think. There has to be a way out of this.
She stood, arranged her kimono perfectly, composed her expression into serene pleasantness, and walked toward the service entrance.
Koko was waiting in the corridor. Of course she was.
“A merchant to see you,” Koko said, her voice dripping false concern. “How unusual. I wasn’t aware you had business dealings with merchants.”
“I don’t, honored mother. I can’t imagine what he wants.”
“Well, you should see him. It would be rude to turn away a visitor, even a common merchant.” Koko’s smile was sharp. “I’ll accompany you, of course. To ensure propriety.”
Of course you will. You want to watch this play out.
They walked together to the service entrance where a middle-aged merchant waited, his clothing decent but clearly not samurai class.
He bowed deeply when he saw them. “Honored ladies. I apologize for the intrusion. I’m Tanaka Jiro, a fabric merchant. I was hoping to speak with Shabazu Mio-sama about a matter of business.”
“Business?” Koko’s voice was ice. “My daughter-in-law has no business with merchants. You must be mistaken.”
“No mistake, honored lady. I was asked to deliver something to her. A personal matter.”
Mio’s mind raced. A delivery. From whom? Her birth parents? Someone trying to expose her?
“I handle all household provisioning,” Koko said sharply. “Whatever you’re selling, you deal with me.”
“It’s not a sale, honored lady. It’s a delivery. From...” The merchant hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “From a sword-maker. He said his daughter would understand.”
The words hung in the air like a blade.
Koko’s expression transformed into something predatory. “A sword-maker? How interesting. My daughter-in-law, you see, was raised in a samurai household. She has no connection to sword-makers. Unless...” She turned to Mio with false concern. “Unless there’s something you haven’t told us about your background?”
This was it. The trap springing closed.
If Mio denied knowing any sword-makers, the merchant might contradict her. If she admitted the connection, Koko would have proof she wasn’t really Kaito’s daughter.
Mio took a breath and made a split-second decision.
“My adoptive father, Mōri Kaito, has connections to several sword-makers through his work,” she said calmly. “He occasionally commissions blade work. Perhaps this is related to his business?”
It was a desperate deflection, but it bought time.
The merchant looked confused. “I ... I don’t know, honored lady. I was just asked to deliver this.” He held out a small package wrapped in plain cloth.
“Give it to me,” Koko demanded, reaching for it.
“No.” Mio’s voice was firm. “If it’s addressed to me, I should receive it first. Propriety demands that.”
Koko’s eyes flashed with fury, but she couldn’t argue with protocol.
Mio took the package with steady hands, even though her heart was hammering. “Thank you for delivering this. You may go.”
The merchant bowed and left quickly, clearly relieved to escape the tension.
The moment he was gone, Koko turned on Mio. “Open it. Now.”
“In private would be more appropriate—”
“Open it now, or I’ll open it for you.”
Mio had no choice. With Koko watching like a hawk, she unwrapped the cloth.
Inside was a small knife in a plain wooden sheath.
Not the knife her father had made—that was still hidden safely in her belongings. This was different. Newer. Simpler.
And there was a note, written in her father’s hand:
“For my daughter. May you always remember where you came from. —T”
Just the initial. No full name. But the handwriting was unmistakable.
Koko snatched the note from Mio’s hands. Read it. Her expression grew colder and more triumphant with each word.
“‘My daughter,’” she read aloud. “How touching. Tell me, Mio—who is ‘T’? And why is he calling you his daughter?”
Mio’s mind raced frantically. Deny everything? Partial truth? Full confession?
Then she saw it—the way out.
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