12 Married Before Love

At this very moment, two pieces of news lay before Hanami.

Good news: Sesshōmaru has awakened.

Bad news: His mind is broken.

The bad news was somewhat ambiguous; it was unclear exactly what kind of memory he had lost.

Could someone with amnesia really give themselves an entire wife? No, humans wouldn’t, but demons just might.

Hanami gave him a curious look, hesitated to speak, glanced at him again, and hesitated once more.

She vividly remembered how, when she introduced herself to Sesshōmaru, he had greeted her with disdain and arrogance.

But now...

A subtle thrill rose in Hanami’s heart, and a thought formed in her mind: those who wander into the world must eventually repay their debts.

Sesshōmaru, always proud and aloof, showed no change in expression, yet his gentle caresses gave Hanami the illusion of being cherished.

As if—he truly loved her—what a joke!

She absolutely refused to believe it; surely he had amnesia combined with a short circuit in his brain.

A dog of a man, no wonder he could switch personas so effortlessly.

Unaware of Hanami's relentless and all-encompassing mockery, Sesshōmaru calmly reclined on his fluffy tail, slowly lifting his eyelids.

He paid no heed to her odd expression.

His palm slowly stroked the exposed skin at her waist, feeling smooth and delicate; further down was cold snake scale, and naturally, Sesshōmaru wrapped his plush tail around her hips.

The friction between the scales and the soft tail, warmed by his touch, sent a tingling sensation through Hanami’s body, nearly causing her to surrender.

Indeed, she admired Sesshōmaru’s face very much, especially when he calmly uttered the word “wife.” Her heartbeat, not exaggerating, soared instantly to two hundred.

To put it in perspective, snakes hunting have a heart rate of only fifty to one hundred, so one can imagine how agitated—frightened—she was.

But!

Beauty is precious, love even more so; yet for the sake of life, both can be forsaken.

She, Hanami, cherished her life!

After all, it was Sesshōmaru—when he remembered...

Imagine the cold-faced Sesshōmaru shivering violently.

Hanami didn’t hesitate; if a sane Sesshōmaru saw his current “clingy” demeanor, she’d definitely be torn apart limb from limb.

Faced with such beauty, she struggled to maintain her fragile rationality; the alluring plum blossom fragrance kept invading her senses, trying to soften her resolve.

Her waist softened, her tail relaxed, her entire body tingled as the warm, delicate hand slowly caressed her back, tracing down her spine to rest at her hips.

“…”

So skillful.

If she didn’t know Sesshōmaru had once been a young cub and had grown alongside her, Hanami would never believe this proud and cold man to be so innocent.

Cold and aloof doesn’t necessarily mean abstinent.

After all, demons have no concept of human chastity. Although, to be fair, even humans in this age hardly held to such values—this was the Warring States period, not a time when grain stores were full and etiquette flourished. People barely had enough to eat, so expecting fidelity was absurd.

Back when Hanami was still a human princess, she already knew her “second elder sister” was not only involved with a general but also with the neighboring city lord.

Her mind raced with messy thoughts. As a demon, her instinct in choosing a mate was to seek the strongest—and Sesshōmaru was undeniably powerful both in bloodline and ability.

Strong, handsome, just coming of age, a pure white dog demon—he had been her love at first sight.

“…” Hanami’s heart fluttered, deeply stirred.

“Well, Sesshōmaru actually—” Hanami struggled to speak.

Faced with such beauty, her reason wavered.

“Hm?” Sesshōmaru, lost in thought, responded faintly as fragmented images flashed through his mind.

Countless demons gathered outside the barrier, white snakes coiled in ancient trees, blue thunder filling the sky...

His brow furrowed slightly, as if recalling something—perhaps demons intending to kill him.

“Do you know my name?” Hanami attempted a subtle approach.

If she bluntly said, “I am not your wife,” Sesshōmaru, with no memories and a troubled mind, might sneer coldly with a mix of disdain, cunning, murderous intent, and dominance: “Woman, whose wife do you think you are?”

She feared being struck down in a flash of lightning, blackened outside and raw inside.

Ahem, if he truly believed she was his wife, it wouldn’t be entirely impossible.

Interrupted in her thoughts, Sesshōmaru looked up at her, his gaze resembling that of someone staring at a fool.

Hanami, treated like a fool: …

His thin lips parted, clear enunciation: “Hanami.”

“Eh?” she replied dumbly.

Ignoring her foolishness, Sesshōmaru calmly propped his chin and continued to recall the fragmented images in his mind, his golden-red eyes half-closed, killing intent flickering within.

At that moment, Hanami had only one thought: Damn! Sesshōmaru still remembered her name even with amnesia?

Could it be he truly fell in love with her at first sight?

Hanami instinctively touched her arm, feeling a chill of horror.

Nestled in his plush tail, Hanami’s myriad thoughts crystallized into a heavy gaze: “…Do you really think I am your wife?”

Again interrupted, Sesshōmaru narrowed his eyes, casting a cool glance that commanded without anger. Hanami, uneasy, instantly grew obedient.

His fingers slowly traced her side, pressing her gently into his embrace, a cold and clear voice with a hint of warmth sounded: “Be quiet.”

“…” Her ears felt pregnant—triplets, no less.

Who on earth was this gentle voice coming from?

Compared to humans who think with reason, demons obey instinct and desire.

For example, right now.

Enchanted by beauty, immediately surrendered to desire, Hanami stared unblinkingly at Sesshōmaru’s overwhelmingly handsome face.

When she first watched “Inuyasha,” Sesshōmaru’s debut was as a villain, yet Hanami resolutely adored him as her male deity—not for any other reason than his looks and her penchant for white-haired men.

Now, Sesshōmaru held her with a lazy, relaxed demeanor, more enticing than his usual indifference.

His pure white snake tail, veined with faint blue patterns, coiled around his wrist. The scales shimmered uniquely in the sunlight, captivating Hanami.

Drawn closer, Sesshōmaru’s eyes shifted slightly; his palm pressed a bit firmer, decisively seating her on his lap.

Hanami chose to follow her heart, leaning forward without changing her expression, her pale blue-tipped white hair cascading over his chest.

She heard a heartbeat.

Sesshōmaru’s heartbeat.

She clearly felt his presence pressing down on her; from her viewpoint looking up, the sharp jawline and the shadowed, handsome face became visible.

“…” It wasn’t her fault.

She was a face-lover.

Noticing her gaze, Sesshōmaru lowered his eyes, tilting his head slightly.

Long lashes drooped, shielding his eyes; when he opened them, the clear and beautiful golden-red beast eyes met hers without obstruction.

Frozen.

Instinctively wanting to look away, her body refused to obey, eyes fixed on his gaze.

There was no biting coldness, no disgust or killing intent—just calm, unruffled beauty reflecting her own image.

Sesshōmaru slowly lowered his head, the distance between them shrinking endlessly, leaving Hanami’s already tangled mind blank for several seconds.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice calm as still water, his eyes lacking their usual icy chill, gentle even without much emotion.

After a moment, he called her name again: “Hanami.”

When his thin lips moved to speak her name, the vibration from his chest caused Hanami’s brain to overload with a loud boom, her scales on her body bristling in response.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly; her breathing quickened.

Who could withstand this?

Gentle Sesshōmaru!

Where the feet go, the path follows the heart.

Hanami knelt, instantly aroused by the allure of beauty. Isn’t it just about becoming a wife!?

She was! She absolutely was!

Who said she wasn’t? She wasn’t afraid of anyone!

Once Sesshōmaru remembered, it would have been his own doing! What did it have to do with her? She was forced—indeed, the victim.

With that thought, Hanami’s waist stiffened, her backbone straightened, adopting a confident and righteous stance.

Better to die beneath peonies than live as a dull ghost; Hanami grabbed Sesshōmaru’s collar tightly, tilting her head up to look at him, voice resolute: “Yes, I am your wife!”

Sesshōmaru’s eyes flickered with doubt: Wife? What is that?

Choosing to follow her heart, Hanami contentedly and justifiably nestled in his embrace, shamelessly marking him with her scent.

Quickly drafting a plan, Hanami decided that life was short for demons and to seize the moment. Once Sesshōmaru regained his memory, she would make her escape.

Seeing her suddenly obedient, Sesshōmaru had no further thoughts.

He continued pondering another matter, feeling that the demons who had attacked him carried a familiar aura.

That aura seemed within reach but elusive; a flicker of annoyance crossed his brow as his fingers unconsciously scraped the scales at her waist.

Lost in warmth and the plum blossom fragrance, Hanami drifted toward sleep.

The plush tail spread out, enveloping her completely—from inside out—including the thick, long snake tail.

On her body, the snake tail moved faster than hers, instinctively entwining with Sesshōmaru’s plush tail.

His golden-red eyes scanned the intertwined tails.

Soft plush and cold snake scales interlaced.

Seeing this, understanding flickered in Sesshōmaru’s eyes.

She truly was his wife.