The Taisho fire

Sesshōmaru

She'd never thought she would set foot in a private jet someday in her life. The truth was that Gwen didn't find it in herself to care. Between the gnawing worry for Tōga who was still unconscious, and the shock of the previous battle, Gwen was at the end of her rope. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Tōga's first born was alive, let alone that he looked no more than forty years old.

Shaking, Gwen had yelped in distress when the proud daiyōkai had gathered the massive body of his former father as if he weighed nothing. Adrenalin crashing down, she'd only nodded when his smooth baritone had ordered to hold onto mokomoko. She had not even been able to muster enough energy to bat an eyelash when the huge, fluffy appendage appeared on his shoulder out of nowhere, or when he'd taken flight, dragging her with him.

Fortunately, mokomoko had wrapped around her and kept her secure as they flew over London buildings. All she was able to do was to hang desperately, and refrain from screaming in fright.

Now that Sesshōmaru was lowering his father onto a bed – a bed, in a jet ! – his golden eyes wary, Gwen felt her knees buckle. Strangely, she didn't hit the ground as a set of strong arms prevented her from crashing down. Startled, the young woman found herself looking into a pair of blue-ish eyes that shone unnaturally.

"Take a seat, miss," the middle-aged man ordered her in an accented English.

"Tōga," she whined as he lowered her into an armchair.

"I'll take care of him."

The man's voice was gravelly, but kind. Short, dark hair framed his face, greying at the temple. If not for his eyes, she might have been fooled into thinking he was a regular human. But she knew better.

For the moment, though, Gwen had no care about the dangerosity of those that surrounded her, for her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Now that Tōga lay sprawled upon the bed, she could assess the damage he'd sustained. A deep laceration had torn his slacks over his thigh. Blood seeped from the wound, soaking both the fabric and the sheets below. Three buttons of his shirt had given way, the fabric revealing a giant bruise and several cuts on his ribcage.

Tears sprang from her eyes, and she bit her fist in anguish at the sight of the purple bruise over his temple.

Dear Gods. Let him be alright.

Blows coming from the side could cause brain damage too easily, and those yōkai were insanely powerful. Who knew what bruises hid beneath his clothes ? What injuries he'd sustained ? He could be bleeding internally, seconds of his life ticking away.

"We must take him to hospital," she rasped, her voice shaking. "He could have internal bleeding, or a concussion."

"Both," the dark-haired man confirmed grimly as he released a tendril of golden energy over Tōga, his face scrunched in concentration. Time seemed to elongate, like an elastic that keeps being pulled on but never snaps. Gwen's heart thundered in her ears, her blood roaring, numbness taking over her mind.

Internal bleeding.

As none of the yōkai seemed too eager to obey her plea, Gwen turned to Tōga's son.

"Sessh..."

"No," he cut, his tone stern. "yōkai medicine is more efficient than any of your ningen contraption. Haru is his best chance."

There was no arguing against such a powerful being, especially in her condition. So her eyes returned to the middle-aged man. She waited, with bated breath, until the tendrils of golden light retreated and he started assessing his patients in more conventional manners. Eventually, he checked her lover's pulse and nodded with satisfaction.