19 "Food Poisoning"

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As the daylight waned, Grandma Yu spoke of the delicate relationship between the nearby yokai and humans—not exactly good, nor entirely bad. It was always a subtle balance. Consequently, half-demons like them survived only in the margins.

The yokai overseeing this area was the “Nuraragami,” named Nurara Nurahyo. Hanami felt the name sounded vaguely familiar but, upon reflection, recalled that no such yokai or figure appeared in Inuyasha.

In Japanese folklore, there was indeed a Nuraragami, a highly respected great demon who, a century ago, abducted a human princess and fathered a half-demon son. Yes, this great demon’s child was also a half-demon.

“Isn’t that outright kidnapping?” Hanami couldn’t help but comment.

“It’s said to have been mutual affection,” Hana added. “The princess willingly followed Lord Nuraragami.”

It felt like hearing a love story between Lord Inuyasha and Kikyo again. Love and conflict between Sengoku-era demons and princesses must have been quite common; Hanami didn’t quite understand it but wished them well.

“However, when Nuraragami saved the princess, he offended the Hagoromo Fox. During their battle, the fox devoured his liver, shortening his lifespan and cursing his clan so they could never bear offspring with yokai,” Grandma Yu explained with some clarity.

Unable to have children with yokai? Hanami instantly grasped the implication: in a few hundred years, the Nuraragami clan would likely vanish entirely.

“But even so, I won’t lift the curse,” Hanami said, waving her hand. She wasn’t truly a mountain deity and didn’t wish to meddle in such matters, though the story sounded increasingly familiar.

Though in this world, reproductive isolation between yokai and humans apparently didn’t exist, a curse like that essentially imposed such isolation.

Tsk, this scientific worldview was about to be utterly shattered.

All in all, Hanami had imagined herself starting various enterprises in the Sengoku era, rising to the pinnacle of life—or yokai life—but she never expected her first venture here to be… as a wish-granting maiden.

Though tempted by gold, Hanami resolutely declined. She wasn’t one to be swayed by a little gold, even if she never had any.

Speaking of which, it was truly heartbreaking for a snake spirit; even if she were reborn as a princess, her stingy old father never gave her gold, nor silver, nor even much copper.

Hanami began to wonder if her situation was just too poor. After all, she was still a great demon!

In any case, after Grandma Yu and Hana left, Hanami continued her serious reflection.

But it didn’t matter. As long as she clung tightly to Sesshomaru’s leg, she could at least make it as a court lady in the Western Provinces.

…Hmm, that sounded pretty good.

Speaking of which, why hadn’t Sesshomaru returned yet?

Could it be that Sesshomaru had run off? Just as Hanami pondered “If Sesshomaru runs away, how will I live off the fat of the land?” shouts rang from outside.

A dark shadow blocked the moonlight, enveloping the entire village in gloom.

Sensing a familiar yokai presence, Hanami pressed against the window and looked up. In midair, a giant white dog descended upon the moonlight, its overwhelming yokai aura more immense and fierce than when they first met.

Since leaving the barrier, this was Hanami’s first time seeing Sesshomaru’s true form.

Almost identical to his depiction in the manga’s Inuyasha graveyard scene: crimson beast eyes, fur flowing in the wind, a crescent moon on his forehead, prominent yokai markings on his body, and a powerful aura.

Larger even than her own true form, Hanami’s mouth shaped into an ‘O.’

Sesshomaru?!

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Is that really Sesshomaru?

The snake tail grew even more excited than its owner, twitching with restless energy.

Hanami pressed down her tail firmly, certain that it was itching to go bind the dog.

Mid-descent, Sesshomaru reverted to his human form, shrinking dramatically.

Seeing many half-demons and humans emerging from the village to curiously watch Sesshomaru, Hanami’s heart leapt instinctively before her mind could catch up: “Make way!”

No one could block Sesshomaru’s path!

They’d be killed otherwise!

With elegant posture and a cold expression, Sesshomaru strode forward step by step. The villagers quickly parted, their awe palpable. Hanami had the surreal impression that Sesshomaru was walking a runway.

“…” As expected of the great dog, his presence, stride, and bearing exuded noble aristocracy to perfection.

Fortunately, Sesshomaru showed no interest in killing villagers; the bloodshed Hanami feared did not occur.

Ignoring the worshipful gazes around him, Sesshomaru entered the barrier, immediately locking eyes with Hanami, who stood holding a bowl with a blank expression.

So foolish.

As if unable to bear looking, Sesshomaru shifted his gaze away.

Visible disdain.

Hanami thought: What happened to the saying “a dog doesn’t disdain a poor home”?

What was one supposed to say at a time like this? Hanami silently met Sesshomaru’s calm demeanor and, feeling awkward yet polite, raised a hand to greet: “…You’re back.”

“Hmm.” Sesshomaru replied simply.

Silence stretched again.

As a confident and outgoing half-demon, Hanami rarely felt awkward, but now she was, forcing out an embarrassed yet courteous smile: “Haha, so, how was your walk?”

Sesshomaru looked back at her, his eyes carrying a hint of pity for her foolishness.

Hanami: Damn!

She should have kept quiet.

Ignoring his offhand comment, Sesshomaru strangely felt accustomed to her chatter, his expression unmoved as he calmly raised a fruit-like plant toward her. “Eat.”

Sesshomaru handed over a branch resembling willow leaves, dotted with a few small, red, plum-sized fruits.

Fruit?

Seeing fresh, attractive fruit in the dead of winter was rare.

Had Sesshomaru picked these for her on his walk? The thought barely formed before Hanami felt like slapping herself—how vain could she be?

Vain is a sickness, and it must be cured.

So, it was most likely that Sesshomaru had simply brought her some fruit during his stroll.

A little embarrassed, Hanami intended to refuse, but when she looked up to meet Sesshomaru’s indifferent expression, she understood—there was no room for refusal.

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Decisively, she accepted.

Playing the give-and-take game, Hanami smiled ingratiatingly: “Sesshomaru, want some chicken soup?”

He gave her fruit; she offered him soup—reciprocation to foster harmony.

The aroma of chicken soup wafted in the air. Sesshomaru must have noticed it. His gaze fell on the pot simmering over the fire—no spiritual or yokai energy, just ordinary broth that would add digestive burden but no benefit.

He, Sesshomaru, would never eat human food...

“I think my cooking is quite good,” Hanami said, proactively ladling soup into a pristine, unused bowl for Sesshomaru.

There was chicken breast in the soup, which she knew dogs liked; the white dog form should be no exception.

“Want some?” she asked sweetly, sensing this could be a crucial step in their relationship.

Sesshomaru looked down at the bowl, his expression indifferent. Just as Hanami thought he might take it, the contrarian voice rang out clearly and coldly: “I, Sesshomaru, do not eat human food.”

“I’m a yokai!” Hanami insisted.

“…” This time Sesshomaru truly doubted her sanity. Food lacking spiritual or yokai essence, no sun or moon energy—if it wasn’t human food, what was it, yokai food? What did it matter that she was a yokai?

Having just exerted his yokai power and feeling fatigued after eating many spirit fruits, Sesshomaru grew somewhat drowsy. Seeing her still babbling on, he reached out.

Hanami suddenly found her mouth stuffed with leaves.

Wait!

She only wanted fruit, not leaves!

Irritation flickered in his brows as Sesshomaru decisively grabbed the fruit and, without a hint of tenderness, shoved it straight into her mouth.

Upon tasting the leaves, she discovered they were quite delicious and chewed a few times, eyes sparkling: “Wow, this is so good—”

Before she finished speaking, her eyes rolled back, and Hanami fainted on the spot, a perfect demonstration of “fainting upon speaking.”

In her final moment of consciousness, she thought: That dog Sesshomaru—could he have poisoned me?

Sesshomaru caught her as she fell, calmly lifting her into his arms and returning to the tatami mat.

Her fluffy tail naturally unfurled. Sesshomaru leaned against it, holding the now-sleeping Hanami.

Closing his eyes.

His yokai energy dissipated.

The snake tail, still unconscious, wound itself once more around the white dog’s tail.

Seeing the snake tail entangled with his own, Sesshomaru lifted his eyelids slightly and chose to ignore it with calm composure.