A set of summer tops and Jersey skirts landed 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: 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 held more life than hers. Sure, he used to spend most of his time downstairs. 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 her flat 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. Taishō's apartment 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 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.

A cat indeed.

Once her bag was empty, the young woman folded it, and stowed it under the bed. It was time to consider dinner, and she walked back to the kitchen only to hear the characteristic noise of the front door.

Tōga slid through the opening, silver ponytail swaying behind him. The burgundy t-shirt revealed the muscles of his arms, soft cotton teasing the work of art that dwelt beneath. His long legs, encased in wide uniform pants, kicked his shoes beside her ballerina without an ounce of subtility. Home was home, and no Japanese man would ever wear his shoes on wooden floors.

Gwen smiled; how did he look so good in a plain firefighter uniform ? She longed to see him clad in a traditional suit, or even better, a kimono. Then his eyes caught hers, and she nearly dissolved in bliss.

"Tadaima", he called happily.

"Okaeri nasai," she responded.

Tōga's grin widened, the smile causing the rare laugh lines to crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't get time to start dinner yet."

The Captain blinked, then strode in with his usual gait. She was no longer surprised, now, when he covered the distance in three leaps and circled her waist. The heat of his touch curled around her body.

"I didn't ask you to be here so you can be my housewife," he rumbled, nuzzling her cheek.

Gwen shrugged; she felt like she was taking advantage of his kindness, eating his supplies and lounging in his bed. The self-reliant woman balked at the idea of living in another one's space and not helping out; cooking was a chore she enjoyed, and it pleased him. She felt his hands travel up and down her spine; her muscles relaxed, and she laid her head against his shoulder to take a good whiff of him. Her nose twitched in disappointment.

"You smell like soap," she sighed.

Tōga pulled away with a frown.

"Yes, I had to take a shower after training. What's wrong with my soap ?"

Shit. That came out wrong.

Gwen's fingers travelled up his skin, marvelling that she was allowed to do so. Her wildest dreams had not even come close to this. And when his eyes closed and he actually titled his cheek in her hand, her heart nearly burst out of joy.

"Gwen ?"

"Sorry," she blushed. "I always lose track of my thoughts when you're near."

Her response seemed to appease him, and he tightened his hold, his chest touching hers. The weather was still horribly damp, and the additional heat that radiated from his body almost caused her to pull away. Almost…

"I just like it better when you smell like you."

His eyebrow rose.

"You are a peculiar woman, you know."

Understatement of the year.

Then his lips were upon hers, and her mind mercifully blanked to allow the taste of him to invade all her senses. Large hands cupped her curves, caressing, coaxing her out of her shell and Gwen surrendered all too willingly. Eventually, Tōga pulled away with a satisfied smirk.

"Wouldn't want to smell like a wet dog, my lady."

She rolled her eyes playfully.

"Smell is my strongest sense. And I adore your scent."

Tōga's golden eyes twinkled with mirth as he retorted:

"Did you know kitties have a better sense of smell than dogs ? It only confirms you are a cat."

A good thing he didn't find me curled on his bed.

"Then you are also a peculiar dog…", she purred. "Hanging out with cats and all."

It was Tōga's turn to roll his eyes, albeit his hands still remained locked around her frame. His eyes, though, were fixed upon the bridge of her nose. Gwen crossed her eyes in hope of finding what caused his fascination; he chuckled.

"Your freckles are more visible in summer."

"Blame my mum and her Viking blood."

Curiosity flickered in his golden eyes, but Tōga seemed to decide to store the information for a later date. His hand cupped her jaw, his touch gentle as he focused on those rusty spots that dusted her nose and cheeks.

"They are adorable."

Then, out of nowhere, his tongue darted out and he licked her cheek. Gwen giggled at the unexpected contact; he really was one of a kind.

"Payback for the doggy reference ?" she chanced.

Tōga grinned, then untangled his arms from her frame to grab her hand.

"Come, we'll order out tonight. I have something to show you of greater importance than deciding on sustenance."

Gwen followed him to his bedroom, unfazed by the ancient manner of speech that sometimes seeped into his sentences. Was it the Inu no Taishō that gained more ground as time passed, or only that he was so at ease that his soul could afford to mingle ?

Her musings were stopped short when the Captain extracted a box from a drawer, and handed her an old picture of a beautiful young woman.

"My birth mother had freckles too," he quietly said.

Her mouth rounded in a silent 'O' and she sat on the bed to take a closer look. The picture was dated from 1954, two years before Tōga's birth. If that woman had been twenty at the time, she was now past seventy-five.

It was an official portrait, from up close, like people ordered for their children that attended private schools. Clear blue eyes, a skin of alabaster and long auburn hair.

"She was so beautiful."

Tōga sat by her side, slightly sideways, his larger frame folded over her shoulder as he, too, contemplated the features of his true mother. To say that he looked nothing like her was an understatement - except for the fine line of his jaw, maybe. Humbled, Gwen gave him a gentle smile.

"I bet yōkai souls are stronger than genetics."

"She said my father's looks really stood out. This is what got her attention."

An idea sprouted in her mind.

"Silver hair ?"

"I don't know. This letter is all I got."

Gwen's heart skipped a beat when he handed her a carefully folded piece of paper. When he didn't make a move to open it, the young woman realised the choice was hers. She unwrapped it. Elegant writing covered the entirety of it, betraying that Tōga's mother was both educated, and had taken the time to offer her thoughts to her son. The ink was greying, slightly discoloured by time.

Gwen didn't ask if she could read it; he would never have placed the paper in her hands if he didn't want to share it. And so, she started her perusal.

"My dearest son,

You might not believe it, but I love you. I wish you all the best, even though I wasn't able to stay by your side. I hope my choice gave you opportunities that I couldn't offer you.

I met your father at a cultural convention, in London, in spring 1956. I may have been a little naïve, but I fell in love with him at first sight. He was so beautiful, and so exotic. When he was close, I felt my body humming. It was as if a string was attached to my heart."

Gwen turned to Tōga with a gasp.

"This is the feeling I have with you. I think this is the effect of your yōki."

Golden eyes flashed with understanding, and he nodded, deep in thought. Gwen set a hand upon his thigh, feeling the hard muscle that lay beneath the uniform.

"He looked nothing like the Japanese men I had expected to meet. I hope you look like him someday; I am sure you will be a gorgeous man, if only because you are your father's son.

The truth was that I wasn't ready for a child. My parents were horrified when I found out I was pregnant, they rejected the very idea of me stopping my studies to take care of a baby. So when it became clear that your father had disappeared, I didn't feel strong enough to give you a good life. We would have been ostracised, you and I. Me, for my loose morals. And you, only because you had the audacity to be born.

So I searched a good family for you, and choose to honour your father's inheritance. I found a couple that seemed very eager to welcome a britisho-japanese child, just like them. I hoped it would allow you to reach for your roots.

Even though your dad disappeared into thin air without even knowing you existed, I bestowed upon you his name in hopes it might, someday, lead you back to him. He was a good man, perhaps young and naïve like I was. He would have loved you all the same.

Parting from you was the hardest thing I had to do in my life, but I trust that this choice will give you a chance to be happy.

With love,

You Mum, otherwise known as Jessica Hopson."

Gwen didn't realise she was crying until a raspy wet tongue licked her tears away. The slight shuffle of paper told her he was stowing the letter out of danger.

"Do not cry on my account, Gwen. She made the right choice for me."

Sniffling, Gwen tried to nod, only for the grief to resurface. The letter was bittersweet, loaded with both hope and regret. The sight wasn't making it easy for her; she could feel every single twitch of that woman's heart as she gave away her newborn to adoption. Eventually, his large hands framed her cheeks and she closed her eyes, drinking in the gentleness of his touch.

"Have you found her ?" she asked.

"Yes. For years. I was unsuccessful until the internet allowed me to find a trace … I visited her grave, Gwen. She's been dead for twenty years."