The Taisho fire

The aftermath

Today, meet with grumpy, bitter Tōga.

Toga awoke with a groan, a splitting headache, and the stench of heavy perfume surrounding him. Kami, why did people feel the need to douse themselves in such horrible things ! Or was it just the stench of her detergent that remained in the sheets ?

One-night stands were always so disappointing – perhaps because of his fierce loyalty to Izayoi. Inu Yōkai didn't sleep around after all, devoted to their mates. But he had no mate, and was so touched starved that the previous night's intimacies had, at least, temporary settled his inner instincts. The woman – who was probably in the kitchen – had allowed his hands to roam every single piece of her with eagerness.

The redhead had called herself a cougar – little did she know that she was younger than he was. But with the way she'd eyed him like a piece of candy, and the cries that had probably awakened the neighbours, Tōga had no doubt she was satisfied with the outcome.

He opened his eyes slowly, smelling coffee in the air. Ah, another one that thought a real man should be treated to dark coffee first time in the morning. A rueful smirk left the muscle of his jaw ticking. Now he remembered what had brought him to the pub in the first place, and the red veil descended before his eyes.

You're barking up the wrong tree, he thought.

What right did he have to be jealous, eh ? Who cared if Gwen had allowed a friend to touch her, to feast upon her pale skin and enjoy the sincerity of her smile ? He simply had no right. But the memory of that evening, at the pub, where her lithe body had curled into his side, her warmth seeping through his t-shirt, and her pure smell feeling his nostrils refused to release his mind.

Kuso !

Tōga dragged himself out of bed, hunting for his boxers and jeans before he found the door to the bathroom, and dipped a towel in hot water. Settling the burning cotton over his face, he sighed in relief – this was a Japanese tradition that agreed with him. He could see himself wipe the stress out of Gwen's tense features, in the mornings, with a warm cotton towel. Would she enjoy it, or send him to hell for daring waking her up ?

Tōga shook his head, wincing when the dull drum resurfaced. Gwen was... too young. She didn't deserve the can of worms that was his mind. What would she make of it, really ? Lowering the towel, Tōga gave his side a suspicious look; the bruise was already healing over his ribs, black and blue transitioning to yellow.

That will teach you to keep your focus. And where is this damn shirt ?

Living room, his mind supplied, flashing him with the memory of a very heated liplock. Yes, the t-shirt had been discarded between the front room and the bedroom. Her presence in the kitchen caused him to pause on the threshold.

Sarah – or was it Clara ? – was fluttering about, wearing a set of see through clothes that were too sexy to be legal. She was a beautiful woman; red hair created a dishevelled halo around her head, baring a graceful neck that dipped into a delicious looking spine and wider hips. Something stirred in the confines of his soul; it was the first time he slept with a woman whose hair wasn't jet black, and japanese straight.

The forty years old woman turned to him and smiled, her eyes roaming the full expanse of his naked chest with an approving hum. Tōga refrained from rolling his eyes, the need to cover himself overwhelming. It was something to know women found him attractive, and another one to be appreciated like a piece of steak.

"My shirt ?", he asked, voice still a little rough.

The redhead smiled, pointing to the sofa. But before he could grab it, her hand landed on his arm.

"This looks much lighter than yesterday evening."

Tōga disengaged himself without violence, grabbing his plain t-shirt and diving into it to hide the bruise.

"Well, it was night."

The redhead frowned, then shrugged as she sashayed to the kitchen, lifting a pot with a cunning smile.

"Coffee ?", she asked, her voice seductively low.

"Thank you, no. I need to get going", he responded as he slipped on his shoes. A disappointed sigh answered him, but he didn't turn around to acknowledge the woman who had used him as much as he had used her. There was a sour taste in his mouth, a mix of too much drinking and guilt that turned his expression to stone. Ensuring that his keys were still in his pocket, Tōga glanced backwards.

"Thank you for the night."

As he reached for the door, she cried out.

"Wait ! You didn't give me your number."

Tōga sighed.

"I know."

He left without looking back.

Tōga walked to the station briskly, relishing in the fresh air that didn't reek of perfumes of detergent; London always smelt better at dawn, before vehicles and people polluted its streets. A quick stop to his lodgings in the last story of the station, and he was ready to start a new day.

A pot of steaming tea sat in a corner of the common room; he left it there, unwilling to take the offering from a woman who had probably treated another man to her delicious sencha this very morning.

Hypocrite.

Yes, he sure was. Minutes slowly tickled as he went about his day, tackling annoying paperwork and preparing to inspect the hoses in the afternoon. Eventually, though, the very object of his ire settled in the common room for her lunch, and send him a gentle smile.

He didn't return it.

"Are you alright, Taishō ?", she asked.

Of course, she would know exactly how he felt with that stupid sight of her. Couldn't a man have some privacy ?

"Fine", he retorted, his teeth grinding around each other. "Had a pleasant evening ?", he added, his tone biting.

Instead of blushing, her grey eyes widened. It didn't take a medium to catch that he had wounded her. Tōga squeezed the bridge of his nose, berating himself for lashing out. Gwen owed him nothing, and wasn't responsible for his inability to recover from Izayoi, neither his own judgment.

"Sorry", he mumbled, taking a sit at the head of the table. "Headache."

The young woman only nodded, sadness oozing out of her eyes so badly that she reminded him of the Shrek cat. His heart skipped a beat as he grunted:

"Don't give me the puppy eyes."

"I wouldn't dare", she retorted a little more playfully.

Yet, the sadness didn't leave her expression and Tōga cursed himself.

Get a hold of yourself, old man.

As she dug into roasted potatoes, he glanced around the room, only to find people milling about without a care for him. This was his chance to smooth out the mess he'd just created.

"Perhaps you could introduce me to the teashop you mentioned last time", he whispered.

Her features brightened at once, and his heart performed a giddy dance.

"I'll show you. They've got everything you could ever dream of."

"Good. Tomorrow at six ?"

She nodded. And just like that, the awkwardness was dispelled, and Tōga swore off one-night-stands.

Sunday isn't sunday without a good read, right ?