He was golden once, he's sure of it.
Jin watched Taiga roll through the flames, pop up on the other side filthy but unscathed, eyes bright and glowing and mouth open in a silent scream of triumph.
This is where he belonged: on the field of battle, the world falling down around him, and not a single soul capable of stopping Taiga as he followed the invisible path that led them to victory every time.
But that was months ago. And what once was golden now lies broken and buried beneath centuries of sand.
It was impossible to look at Taiga now and not compare him to the Hoshibami he had met two years prior. The captain of Sinostra sat across the table from him, one leg thrown up over the arm of the chair while the other held his chin lazily, blank eyes roaming the table full of information like it was one of the mundane classes they were forced to take at Darkwick.
He was leaner, now. The muscles rippled in his forearms like there was barely enough skin on him, like he hadn't had a real meal consistently in weeks. His hair looked as if it had been forced into something manageable, most likely by his vice captain, standing at his shoulder. Where Romeo was a barely contained, cool ball of rage in front of the other ghouls, Taiga was a mat that had been rolled in, just another piece of furniture shoved where it was useful.
And Jin knew all about that, didn't he?
Cursing himself under his breath, Jin forced himself to look away from Taiga. Their tryst weeks ago had been an accident, just pent up energy from two hotheaded ghouls who literally didn't know how to let the past go. Clearly neither of them had any sense, especially now that he was seeing just how close by Lucci was standing.
With Tohma on his right, he couldn't say anything more on the matter without becoming an even bigger hypocrite.
But that was always how it'd been with them, hadn't it? Taiga had reflected back every one of Jin's traits he'd lacked, was a mirror to every shortcoming of character. When they fought, it was like fighting with himself--if his reflection had fire in his eyes inside of ice. The Taiga he had met in his first year was loud, and constantly moving, and had the candor of a carnie while explaining his tricks and proving he'd been right all along. The more naive Jin was quiet and reserved, saving his words for orders to the peasants below him and insults to the ones he was surrounded with.
Taiga was a crackling wildfire, clearing the forest of anything that stood in his way. Jin was the long winter that followed, keeping the dead soil quiet.
But the red haired ghoul across from him now was an empty hearth compared to who he had been last year. Once again, Jin's eyes were drawn from the briefing and back to Taiga, who was staring ahead like he was looking at something else entirely. That blank look had been a constant over the past year, hollow and dull since the clash. Jin had rarely seen him since then, but he'd seen the few pictures his and Tohma's informants had managed to capture. Something had changed him, something was wrong. The old Taiga wasn't there anymore, and the fire had gone out.
"Hoshibami," one of the staff prompted, gesturing to the table. "This was taken in the casino on one of the nights you were there. Do you remember anything?"
Taiga's dull eyes barely blinked, and in a monotone, he responded, "I remember the most boring game of blackjack of my life."
The staff member hesitated, confused by the answer. Clearly they hadn't sent someone who knew what to do with Taiga. Jin rolled his eyes, taking half a step forward.
"Taiga."
Tohma shifted awkwardly next to him, noticing at the same time Jin did that as he had spoken, Romeo had moved his hand to Taiga's shoulder, gripping it tightly. Romeo held Jin's gaze for a moment, the beautiful face stretching into a snarl, but Taiga spoke again before he could speak.
"Are we seriously still on about this? It was nothing but pairs all night." His hand flapped dismissively. "No real winnings there."
Faced with the option of yelling at his captain in front of the other ghouls, Romeo instead chose to antagonize a different target. "If the EITS didn't pick up anything, then this BTH wouldn't have either! Clearly the fault was not with my casino."
Tohma crossed his arms in front of him, one finger daintily going up to adjust his monocle. "I told you it wasn't worth having him at this meeting, he's never fully present anyways."
The instinct to defend Taiga flared up and was shoved down in the same moment. Jin turned away from the table, ready to retreat back to his room and remove himself from this situation that didn't even involve him. Why was he here? Some misplaced nostalgia for something that would never be the same?
"They were irises."
The room was silent, but Jin felt it as his heart skipped a beat, stopped, and started again with the next sentence.
"Purple. Her favorite. The vase cracked right up the side."
How did he remember--
Jin whipped around, and he could feel the snarl on his face at the mention of his mother, but then he looked at Taiga and--
And his eyes--
He deflated a moment later, something warm swirling through his chest and replacing the anger and hurt. Taiga's eyes stared right back at him, yellow and glowing and bright as the sun. Different than how they'd been seconds ago, full of life and sharp as his own sword. What had changed? Had Taiga's mind suddenly cleared? He had his suspicions, that something was going on that was preventing Taiga from thinking clearly, and it would explain why his eyes were dull and glossed over most of the time. Drugs, maybe, with how lean he was. Alcohol. Mental degradation due to eating a demon's soul.
But here was the proof otherwise: Taiga staring at him with a fire in his eyes and a curve to his lips that reminded him of last year, of the year before, of the times when Taiga had been so full of life it was watching a universe be born with every step.
Relief. What he was feeling was relief.
Why bring up his mother? No one had known. It was Jin's grief to bear alone. Tohma hadn't even known until Jin told him, until his calculating mind put it together with the flowers and the extended darkness in his room with curtains drawn.
But Taiga knew. Taiga always knew. Taiga had always known everything before anyone else, and it infuriated Jin to no end in the beginning. Taiga had shown up the night of her funeral, quiet and observant on his balcony, eyes sharp and watching until Jin had exploded.
It was always an explosion between them.
And then his words kicked in, Jin's brain catching up with where he was. Only a second or two had passed, and he was back to focusing on the mission, to solving whatever the hell Darkwick was presenting them with now. As always, one infuriatingly simple hint from Taiga had been enough to point him in the right direction. He bent over the table, pointing out the irregularities in the notes, but couldn't stop himself from looking up at Taiga one more time.
He was fading again. Taiga's eyes were half shut, the glow slowly leaking from the yellow and leaving them an acid green. Gone was the fire-bright captain he had fallen for years before; in its place was a hollow mask of a man, trapped in a cage with only brief breaches of clarity.
Romeo stood next to him, gripping his shoulder hard enough to wrinkle his shirt, and Tohma stood next to Jin, the ever present wall of support. If they weren't in better hands, at least they were in ones more capable to deal with them. Hands that would deescalate, hands that would hold instead of scratch, soothe instead of ignite.
Jin hadn't felt warm in weeks.
Taiga stared back at him, cryptic clues on his lips, like Jin was the one destined to solve the puzzle.
(companion piece to this one)