attack... wait, what?

Shiro moved to the girls, promptly offering her their sushi and sake as she settled on the bed. The blond started to massage her shoulders slowly, the busty samurai sighing contently as she opened her mouth to be fed the raw fish and took a small glass poured for her. It was a refreshing turn from a life on the road.

The girls giggled playfully as they started to undress her, setting aside her robes and scandals and her sword in the tidy unison of much practice. Shiro’s breath and heartbeat picked up its pace, thrilled by the sensations of the three girls touching her. It also warned her that there had been four girls.

She jerked instinctively to one side, knocking the redhead to one side just before her own blade cut through the mattress where she’d laid. Makoto cursed under her breath as the samurai dodged, the other girls’ soft demeanors breaking as their ruse was lost.

Shiro smirked as she regained her footing, wearing just her loin-cloth-like fundoshi for underwear. “A knife would have been more efficient and quieter,” Shiro corrected. “You clearly don’t know how to wield that thing.”

Makoto frowned and tried shifting her grip on Shiro’s sword, but it was still visibly amateur at best. The other girls drew various weapons, a pair of brass knuckles on the brunette while the blond slid a dagger from her shirt, the blond American drawing a small revolver.

“Things are about to get ugly, girls,” Shiro smirked. “Either you start talking or the heads start flying.” she spoke confidently, as though the numbers and weapons wouldn’t make a difference against her skill.