The Taisho fire

Taishō

Hey. Not my best chapter, but my son just came back from school with his nose broken. He's five, and it breaks my heart :'( I just needed a bit of Toga fluff.

He had almost lost control. Well, not almost. He swore he had nearly been able to smell Gwen's fear as she was hurled to the ground. The little lady was his to protect. A precious one that stirred his instinct. Tōga clenched his fists, feeling his blood boil anew. People knew, by now, that attacking his men was a slight against him, the feared team leader of southern London.

No wonder his dreams painted him as a great dog general. Inu no Taishō indeed. Fierce, loyal, and too resistant to kill. Except that he battled morons and delinquents, not dragons. With a sigh, he settled at the far side of the table in the common room, allowing the sunrays to warm his back.

Had Izayoi been right all along ? Was he going stir crazy from PTSD due to his years in the field ? Was his protectiveness just another bout of paranoia ? His dreams a way to quench the violence, the need to dominate that flooded his veins ? He'd learnt, early enough in his life, that his restraints only kept the beast at bay. Whatever he was, he had no clue. His birth parents were illustrious strangers. His only clue; his insistent flirt with anger than made him so powerful that he'd strived to learn control from a very young age. And that red veil that descended before his eyes...

Except that no one had even seen it; Izayoi said it was in his mind. When his wife had filed for divorce, seven years ago, he had been crushed under the weight of her abandonment. Izayoi, his princess in anything but title, couldn't accept whom he had become. Said that no child could ever be safe with a delusional father, refusing to give him the family he craved. And even though Tōga felt like age brought him closer to his inner self, it only frightened his wife who backed away, year after year, until she passed the door one last time never to return.

His pleas that they were only rehearsing a past life went to deaf ears – karma was a bitch. Worst, the look of pity upon her face had only matched her insistence that he went to therapy... again. Of course, shrinks had helped him deal with the aftermath of modern wars. But the dreams never disappeared, and he had no one to talk to. No one who would believe him without sending him to the nuthouse...

Shrinks couldn't explain why he still looked so young. Why he was so strong, so lithe, so incredibly fast. Why he could almost feel the beast take over when he needed it, that instinct that awaited to spring freely, coiled deep in his belly.

Was it really a construction of his mind to cope with the violence of his past ?

No one to talk to...

A familiar teapot landed on the table, extricating him from the depressing thoughts. Gwen sat in front of him with a snack, Jolyne folding her long limbs by her side. The youngest member of the team endeavoured to fill her mug to the brim with the delicious smelling brew.

What had Gwen seen ? The frightened expression upon her face was carved in his mind. It grated his nerves that she'd been more afraid of him than of the men who nearly slashed her beautiful skin. A line of blood that would have marred the lovely pattern of freckles around her cheekbones.

"There, Taishō," Gwen said, pushing the teapot in his direction. "There's some left."

Jolyne gave her colleague a puzzled look, wondering if she had just insulted him with the dry use of his family name.

"Why do you call him like this ?"

"It means General in Japanese," she quipped, bringing the cup to her nose to take a long whiff of sencha. He could smell it from there, calling to him. Tōga rose to get his own mug, hiding his shock; the little lady had done her research. It couldn't be a coincidence that she suddenly decided to dub him 'General'. Of course, his family name called for it... but still. How much did she know ?

"I'm captain, not general," he deadpanned, returning to the table to fill his own cup.

"Nani nani", she sing songed.

Tōga's eyes widened for a second. Since when did Gwen speak Japanese ? Suddenly, he realised he knew next to nothing about her. What made her tick ? What pleased or displeased her ? What was her family like ? The only information that came to mind was that she had a little brother, and a father that dwelt in the south coast – somewhere around Plymouth ?

And that she played the piano, because the massive instrument dwelt in the bowels of their station. Unconventional, perhaps, but efficient. His teammates now relished in Gwen's free time when she played for them. And if not the little lady, Erik sometimes took the helm with more classical compositions, but no less skilful.

Tōga had dismissed the concerns from their chief easily; it was way too easy to sway their opinion with the concept of team building. But again, his unit run so smoothly that most stations envied them. Even the higher ups tended to avoid clashing with him if they could; Tōga almost always got his way.

The Captain wasn't stupid, though; he knew Gwen only expressed her feelings though the music... or by beating senseless a dummy in the gym. The young woman was a tough cookie to crack. Out of the fifty people he handled, she intrigued him. It didn't help that she was fucking gorgeous, with her long tawny hair that brushed her tiny waist when it wasn't bound. He shouldn't, either, have spotted the freckles across her cheeks. Shouldn't allow his eyes to linger on the small of her back when she cooked in the common room... what could he do, except remember he was old enough to be her father ?

Pining his protectiveness on her youth, Tōga wondered if she had guy. Gwen could handle of herself, or course, but sadness always lingered in her eyes. She needed someone that would look out for her the same way she took care of her colleagues. A tea drinker, maybe, that could return the favour she bestowed upon him by keeping the teapot always full.

"You could be Captain General."

Startled out of his musings, Tōga lifted a dark eyebrow. Was this a reference to one of his favourite authors ?

"Boromir ?", he prodded.

Gwen nodded, grey eyes brightening in glee that he had caught it. The comparison was flattering enough to warm in his chest, but he dismissed it for hero worship. More than half his men still looked at him as if he had hung the moon, the little lady was no exception.

"What ?" Jolyne spluttered with mock indignation. "Why not Legolas ? Or, even better, King Thranduil. It fits with the hair."

Tōga nearly growled in his tea – he certainly wasn't a prissy elf – and sent his subordinate a playful glare.

"I like swords better."

Gwen snorted at that, coughing something about a fistfight as she sipped some of her tea. Unfortunately, no amount of coaxing got her to meet his eye, and he found himself debating the cowardice of using firearms instead of meeting the enemy head on with Jolyne while their youngest team member seemed to placidly enjoy her brew.

In the end, Jolyne shook her dark curls and stood.

"You're medieval, Capt'n."

Gwen smiled knowingly.