chapter 8

Chapter8

A Caged Bird's Wedding

The morning of the wedding arrived too soon.

Nori had barely slept the night before.

He had twisted and turned in the vast, unfamiliar bed, the heavy silence of the General's manor pressing down on him like an unseen weight.

He was already here.

He had been living in the General's home for weeks, training for this day.

And now, it had finally come.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his restless thoughts.

Then, the door slid open.

The maids entered, their movements swift and precise.

"It is time, young master."

Nori was led to the bathing chamber, where steaming water awaited him.

The bath was prepared with perfumed oils and crushed flower petals, the delicate scent of cherry blossoms filling the air.

He stepped in without a word.

Familiar hands washed him, scrubbing his skin with careful precision.

This routine was no longer new.

For weeks, he had endured their touch, their preparation, their endless lessons.

He sat still, allowing them to cleanse every inch of his body, knowing there was no escape.

When they were done, he was lifted from the water and wrapped in thick, warm towels.

Then came the wedding attire.

Silk, soft as a whisper, in the faintest shade of pink.

The fabric clung to his frame as they wrapped layer after layer, the embroidery of golden cranes shimmering beneath the morning light.

The obi was tied with practiced hands, cinched tight, a silent reminder of his submission.

By the time they were finished, Nori barely recognized himself.

A perfect bride.

A sacrifice wrapped in silk.

A male wife.

The Wedding Procession Begins

When he stepped out of his chambers, the General's manor was alive with activity.

Servants moved swiftly, preparing for the ceremony.

The grand hall had been decorated overnight—red and gold banners hung from the beams, incense burned softly in the corners, and an altar had been prepared.

Waiting at the entrance was the wedding palanquin.

Even though he had already been living here, tradition dictated that he still had to be brought to the hall in a ceremonial manner.

Nori's father had already arrived, along with his family, standing among the other nobles.

Their eyes met briefly.

Lord Yuki's gaze was heavy, unreadable.

Then, with a silent nod, he gestured toward the palanquin.

Nori knew what was expected of him.

He took a breath and stepped inside.

The silk curtains fell around him, enclosing him in soft darkness.

Then, the procession began.

The palanquin swayed gently as it was carried, though it did not leave the manor grounds.

The journey was ceremonial—a symbolic farewell to his past life.

Outside, he could hear the murmur of voices.

Nobles whispered, servants gossiped.

"Such a rare sight—a male wife in such a grand ceremony."

"The General must truly desire him."

"He is delicate, like a porcelain doll. But will he survive in the General's household?"

Nori kept his hands folded neatly in his lap, his face an unreadable mask.

He had been trained for this moment.

Taught not to react, not to flinch, not to falter.

The swaying stopped.

They had arrived.

The Wedding Ceremony

The palanquin door was opened, and soft hands helped him step out.

The grand hall stretched before him, bathed in the warm glow of lantern light.

At the center, waiting like a predator in the shadows, stood General Ryusoke.

Dressed in black ceremonial robes, his tall, imposing figure was impossible to ignore.

His piercing gaze locked onto Nori immediately.

Unwavering.

Unrelenting.

A shiver crawled down Nori's spine, but he lowered his gaze, as he had been taught.

A servant stepped forward, holding a red silk cord on a golden tray.

"Kneel," came Lady Asami's voice, smooth and commanding.

Nori obeyed without hesitation, sinking gracefully to his knees.

The servant approached, tying the red cord around his slender wrist.

A binding vow.

From this moment forward, he belonged to General Ryusoke.

The General's voice was low and unreadable.

"The ceremony will begin."

And just like that, Nori's fate was sealed.

The ceremony began in solemn silence.

Nori knelt before the altar, his delicate hands folded neatly in his lap, his face a perfect mask of obedience.

Beside him, General Ryusoke stood tall and imposing, his dark robes making him seem even more untouchable.

The Shinto priest began the purification ritual, waving a sakaki branch over them, symbolizing the cleansing of their past lives.

From this moment forward, Nori was no longer Yuki Nori.

He was General Ryusoke's wife.

San-San-Kudo: The Binding Ritual

A servant stepped forward, presenting the three-tiered sake cups on a lacquered tray.

Nori's hands trembled slightly as he lifted the smallest cup.

Three sips.

Slow, deliberate, final.

Then, Ryusoke took the same cup, his movements steady and effortless.

Three sips.

The process was repeated twice more, the cups growing larger each time, sealing their bond in three-three-nine sips.

By the end, Nori's throat felt tight—not from the sake, but from the weight of reality sinking in.

There was no escape now.

Nori remained silent as Ryusoke spoke the vows, his voice low and firm, each word carrying an air of absolute finality.

Then, a sacred sakaki branch was placed in his hands.

His fingers curled around it instinctively, though his palms were damp with sweat.

He bowed his head and offered it to the altar, his movements graceful, practiced—the way he had been taught.

The act was simple, yet it signified something irreversible.

His life was no longer his own.

It now belonged to him.

The Presentation of the Bride

Once the rituals were complete, the priest stepped back, signaling the end of the sacred rites.

Now, it was time for the final act.

A servant approached Nori, lifting the sheer veil that had covered his face.

His delicate features were now exposed to the guests, the golden light of the lanterns casting a soft glow on his porcelain skin.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

"He looks like a doll…" someone whispered.

But the only gaze that mattered was Ryusoke's.

The General's dark eyes roamed over him, lingering on his fair skin, his downcast lashes, the slender curve of his neck.

A possession.

A prize.

Something about the way he looked at him sent a chill down Nori's spine.

Then, Ryusoke took a step forward.

In front of everyone, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Nori's cheek.

It was a small gesture—almost tender.

Yet it was also a declaration.

To the entire room, it was clear.

He owned him now.

The ceremony was complete, but the night was far from over.

The wedding banquet began in full swing, tables overflowing with the finest dishes—grilled fish, rice, simmered vegetables, sweet mochi.

Servants poured sake endlessly, and guests laughed and feasted, celebrating the union.

Nori barely touched his food.

He sat beside Ryusoke, silent, composed, perfect.

His father, Lord Yuki, accepted gifts and words of praise, his face carefully neutral but his posture relieved.

With this marriage, the Yuki family had secured their place in wealth and power.

Yet, amidst the joyous celebration, Nori felt the cold fingers of dread creeping up his spine.

The night was not yet over.

And he knew what awaited him once the guests were gone.