The Taisho fire

Japan

Happy New Year to you all. And by the way, this is an Ofuro make of hinoki wood.

The blasted wheelchair looked him in the eye when he glared at it, not the least intimidated by the man who had once been the great dog general. A giggle interrupted his staring contest, and Tōga couldn't help the quirk of his lips. At least, Gwen was amused by his antics.

"It's just a chair, beloved. Two more days and you won't be using it anymore."

"Never again," he growled.

Gwen's grey eyes turned wistful, and she fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt.

"May the Kami hear you," she murmured.

He could see them clear as day, the scars those dragons had left upon her soul. And he hated himself for being so weak, for failing at protecting her. But he couldn't despise who he was, for he felt his primal part awaken. Here, as they trod on wooden floors, surrounded by shōji screens and ancestral tapestries depicting the Inu clan, Tōga's blood ran hard and fast in his veins.

He longed to take flight in the endless sky, dejected that it wasn't possible anymore. But more than anything else, he longed to stand on his own two feet. And, ignoring his little woman's protest, he pushed himself from the mattress and did just that.

The leg still stung like bitch, and so did his ribcage. But he'd be damned if he couldn't go to the restroom by himself. He'd been an invalid for too long !

"Tōga !", Gwen hissed.

"I'm taking this shower, whether you help me or not."

Struck by his vehemence, Gwen skidded to a halt beside him and threw his uninjured arm over her shoulder.

"What say you to a bath ?"

He tilted his head aside, searching her face. Deep lines marred her face, worry and exhaustion alike; mayhap a bath would do her some good as well. And the bathtub was massive. Already, blood was rushing to his head, causing him to sway on his feet.

"Sure," he shrugged, pulling at his injured shoulder uncomfortably.

Gwen dropped a kiss under his jaw – a typical Inu sign of submission, and she wasn't even aware of it - then dragged him in the bathroom to fill the traditional wooden tub. She dropped him on a stool without a word of admonishment, allowing his back to rest against the wall for support. Slowly, methodically, his little lady removed the bandages on his leg, shoulder and ribs. Her hands were soft, her care warm and loving. Her hair, sometimes, fell upon his skin as she reached around his larger frame. It was but a flimsy caress, but every square inch of his skin longed for more.

As she filled the massive ofuro with scalding water, volutes rose in the traditional bathroom. His nose twitched at the scent of cypress – Hinkoki wood -, memories of past lives spent washing grime, dirt and blood from his skin ingrained in his memory. Gore had not frightened him then; the Inu no Taishō didn't fear for his life, for he was the mightiest yōkai of the west. A shiver racked his frame, disturbing his healing ribs with sharp pain.

Without a word, Gwen dropped a heated towel over his shoulders and started lathering his skin. Tōga was so weary that he couldn't summon the courage to stand. It was shameful enough that she had to wash him before he soaked in the tub. Perhaps he could just sink into the futon and drift away, leaving Gwen to a much-deserved bath without the burden to take care of him.

Her little hands slid upon his chest and he sighed. Had it been any other day, he would have, without a doubt, risen to the challenge and pulled her into his lap for a heated make out session. To be incapable of doing so, and so weary that his desire didn't even spike while she gave him the most sensual caresses only fuelled his disgust. Even her little fingers gliding over naked skin, trailing a path of foam, failed at bringing him pleasure.