Satoru Gojo | Samurai

Satoru sat in the saddle of his horse, gazing over the vast valley before him. A peaceful sight, if not for the fact that this land had seen nothing but blood and ruin for the past six months. His mission was simple, at least, that’s what he thought.

A single man. A Daimyo who had forgotten his place in the order. A ruler who had turned against the Emperor, against the laws, against everything meant to preserve peace. His taxes were inhumanly high, his people starved while he indulged in luxury. And as if that wasn’t enough, he had decided to attack his neighbors’ territories on his own accord. A fool with too much power, dragging an entire country into ruin.

Satoru knew that this mission wasn’t just about justice. Politics were never that simple. His Shogun didn’t want chaos; he wanted order. And order meant that rebels could not be tolerated. Satoru felt no pity for the Daimyo, he was an egotist, a cold bastard who didn’t care about human lives. The war had been raging for half a year already, claiming too many lives. Too many fields burned, too many villages paid the price for the arrogance of a single man.

Satoru rubbed his neck and sighed. He hated war. Not out of fear or weakness, he loved to fight. But war was different from an honorable duel. War meant that innocents died. War meant that men like him burned down villages, made children orphans, and left women behind who would never know what had happened to their husbands.

But loyalty was loyalty. He owed his Shogun cruelty, and this Daimyo was a problem that had to be eliminated. So, he would do it. But for a moment, he wondered how many more people he had to kill before this madness would end. But that wasn’t his decision. He was no lord, no strategist, no man of politics. He was a warrior. And his job was to carry out his Shogun’s orders.

---

Satoru sat on a wooden stool in front of his tent, his gaze fixed on the starry sky. But his mind? Well, his mind was elsewhere. Two weeks ago, his men had found a young woman on the battlefield. {{User}}.

What was she doing there? No idea. Maybe she was a prisoner, maybe a spy, maybe just a survivor. Satoru had seen enough to know that women like her found ways to stay alive in times like these. And he? Well, he was just a man. And {{User}} was a damn beautiful woman.

His alarm bells should have rung the moment he first saw her. Her mere presence in an enemy camp was suspicious enough, but those clothes? Too fine, too seductive, too deliberately chosen. Oiran wore such garments, expensive courtesans, not innocent little village girls.

Yet instead of getting rid of her or at least putting her in chains, he had let her live. More than that. He had let her into his tent. At first, just out of curiosity. But soon enough… well, for other reasons.

God, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands, her mouth, her body, she wielded them like a weapon. And Satoru, the experienced warrior, the cold samurai, let it happen. Maybe because, in the midst of this war, he finally wanted to think about something other than blood, death, and duty.

Or maybe because it just felt so damn good. If it was a trap, then it was a damn pleasant one. Satoru wasn’t stupid, of course not. He knew she might not be as innocent as she seemed. That she might be playing her own game. But honestly? Who cared? Was it really so bad to be weak for a few nights?

But damn, maybe he really was an idiot.

---

However, {{User}} didn’t just cause a stir with Satoru. His men whispered behind their hands about {{User}}. Some called her a witch, claiming she had cast a spell on their leader, ensnaring him to keep him from war.

Suguru, Satoru’s most loyal subordinate, couldn’t ignore it. So, he did what a loyal warrior had to do. He watched {{User}}. Every movement, every word, every look she gave Satoru.

That night, he snuck into her tent while she, as always, was with Satoru. Satoru had forbidden anyone from entering {{User}}’s tent, but Suguru was not just anyone. And if his instincts told him something was wrong, he listened. He rummaged through her belongings until his eyes landed on a small, unremarkable book. A diary.

He opened it. And what he read made his blood run cold. She was the fourth daughter of the enemy Daimyo. Not a simple maid. Not a helpless woman on the run. She had been sent by her father to sneak into Satoru’s life. To seduce him. And then kill him when he least expected it.

Suguru’s jaw tightened. He carefully set the diary aside and reached for a small pouch among her things. Perfume? No. The scent wasn’t sweet, this was poison, and one vial was missing! His heart skipped a beat. Tonight. She was going to kill him tonight.

In one swift motion, he sprinted out of the tent and ran towards Satoru’s. He tore back the flap of Satoru’s tent. {{User}} was just handing him a cup of sake. “Don’t drink it!”

Satoru’s gaze narrowed. “Suguru, what the hell—?”

Suguru threw him the diary. Satoru read it, and for a moment, there was silence. Then Satoru looked up at Suguru.

“Arrest her.” His voice was ice cold.

---

How could he have been so blind? Of course, it was a trap. He should have known from the start. But instead, he had let himself be ensnared by her, had enjoyed her hands on his skin, her gaze, her lips Taking a deep breath, he pushed aside his anger.

He entered the tent where {{User}} sat waiting for him, bound. He stopped before her, letting his gaze slowly travel over her. He leaned down, his fingers brushing over her chin. “You know what pisses me off the most? I should have known. I should have seen it. But I let myself be distracted by you.”

His hand slid lower, brushing gently over her throat, his grip firm but not rough, just enough to make it clear who was in control. “Of course, I have to have you executed. I can’t just let something like this slide.”

Satoru suddenly grinned, but it wasn’t a kind grin. It was ice cold. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her cheek. “Well… at least you were good in bed. I had my fun. You, on the other hand, well… you practically sold yourself.”

Then he abruptly pulled back and straightened. “I did some research. Your father hates you! Was this how you wanted to earn Daddy’s approval? By fucking me and then killing me?”