The Taisho fire

The letter

A set of summer tops and Jersey skirts were thrown in an overnight bag, rolled up just like her grandfather had taught her; it prevented clothes from wrinkling when travelling. As she shuffled through her diminutive closet, Gwen's head was titled to the side on her phone.

"I want to see that dress again," Tōga whined on the other side of the line.

Gwen smiled at his puppy tone.

"Which one ?"

"The one that shows your cleavage and flares on your hips."

His voice was almost unrecognisable on the phone, for it cut the lower frequencies. And Tōga was nothing but a delightful bass. Yet, she couldn't help but be completely aware of his presence; the Captain was probably in his office right now, door closed, a set of molten chocolates lost in his first drawer.

Gwen roamed her thoughts to find out exactly which dress he was talking about – she always wore her uniform at the station - then remembered the day Jolyne lost her bet.

"Ah ! The one with dots ?"

"No, the one from the teashop."

This time, she grinned; she'd never taken the Captain to be a man to notice clothes. She tended to forget he'd been a lord, once.

"It's twice the same, but with different patterns. Got them from Boden, I love their stuff."

"I can send them a mail to congratulate them on the design. You look ravishing in it."

This time, the heat that rushed up her cheeks had nothing to do with the weather, and anything to do with the gorgeous specimen of a man – yōkai ? – that awaited her, and her overnight bag in his home. Ever since he had kissed her in his office, Gwen had not managed to separate herself from his side. His smiles were addictive, his attention demanding, and his skin... mmm.

She was so consumed by him that nothing else existed at the moment. Stuffing a few other necessities in the bag, Gwen sat on her lonely bed and continued her conversation with Tōga. Stupid, really, since she'd seen him the very morning, had shared lunch with him, and was about to eat dinner and spend the night at his place. How addictive could a man be, really ?

As he spoke sweet nothings in her ear, Gwen's eyes took in her little studio. It was so... empty. It was always thus, as if it missed a part of herself. When her father sold the house, the young woman had rented the first studio she'd found around the station. And her piano, too heavy to be taken to the third floor, ended up at the fire station.

Despite Tōga's sobriety, his apartment felt more alive than hers. Sure, it wasn't much lived in. But the hard wood and partitions gave it a warmer look.

"I'll be here in a few," she eventually told her lover. HER man.

"Neat. I'll join you in an hour or so, provided the world doesn't end by then."

Gwen locked the door and walked back to the station, rounding the building to use the backdoor. She spotted Jolyne's dark curls next to the piano, and deployed her best ninja skills to sneak upstairs; she so wasn't ready to tell her friend where she and her overnight bag were going. The apartment door was unlocked, as was usual when the Captain worked.

Gwen walked to his room and pushed the curtain aside, storing her few clothes in the space he'd cleared for her. Her feminine garments laid beside his more sober wardrobe, the neat contrast the perfect picture of a couple's closet. For a moment, Gwen just stood there, wondering how her status had changed so drastically that she now lived in another man's den. The scent of him lingered everywhere in his room; from the sheets, to his clothes, everything smelt of Tōga. The urge to roll into a ball and fall asleep on his bed was strong; she just adored it.