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Hajime and Tokio: Chapter 4 - Important Documents

by Angrybee

'So many wounds,' Tokio thought as she re-wrapped the bandages on her husband's arm. 'So many scars. I can't believe I never noticed before how many scars he has. But then, I've only seen him without his shirt a handful of times, and then only when it was dark. I just can't believe one man could have survived so many injuries. Poor teishu, its inhuman what Japan does to you.'

Although she spent much time thinking about the inevitability of death, Tokio wasn't quite prepared for the scene of gore she unwrapped that night in the front room. She wondered how he didn't die on the horse ride back from who-knows-where, how he still had the strength to talk her through binding his wounds.

Tokio had wanted to fetch a doctor, but Saitou forbid it. "A doctor would ask questions, Tokio. Understand?"

So, gathering all of her mental strength, Tokio boiled her needles, steadied herself, and while her husband bit down on a stick of wood, stitched up several of his wounds. The other, lighter wounds, only had to be bandaged.

"The gash in your side is pretty bad. Long, but not deep," Tokio whispered, "Your right shoulder is bad, too. But, your sword arm is fine."

Saitou didn't respond to Tokio's words. He merely watched his wife put away the bandages and needles. He'd never really had anyone care for his injuries before. During the Bakumatsu, he would merely go somewhere away from his men and stitch himself up. No one saw Saitou Hajime wounded, no one.

No one, of course, except Okita. Okita had ferreted out his hiding places a few times, bringing him water, food, and clean bandages. He would have done the same for Okita, except the younger man never seemed to get scratched. No, his wounds were on the inside, eating their way outwards.

And always, Okita would tell him the one thing that made him rest easy, made him able to tend to his own wounds without hurry and guilt. "Your men are fine, Hajime," he would say, for once forgoing his poetic treatment of words for a simple statement of fact.

"You should sleep now," Tokio said, her back still turned to her husband as she washed her hands in a bucket of well water. "In the morning I will go to market and find something to try to help with the pain."

Saitou closed his eyes, but only visions of battle and bloodshed replayed themselves on the backdrop of his mind. Unlike some men, those Saitou killed did not viciously haunt him. His conscience was clean, for he knew himself, quite vehemently, to be on the side of righteousness. Nonetheless, his life's stunning whirlwind of battle after battle did take its toll in that it was never-ending. War comprised his past and would comprise his future. Saitou wanted only to look away, just for a moment, just to see something amazing and clean and righteous. Just to know it was possible for such a thing to exist outside of his own dreams.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Tokio smirking slightly at him as she picked up his battered gi.

"Stay with me tonight, Tokio."

Tokio tilted her head slightly at the words, as if not understanding. After a moment she nodded slowly. Wordlessly, she fetched an extra blanket from a nearby cabinet and laid down next to her husband.

Saitou gritted his teeth as he turned his head to look at his wife laying on her side next to him. Even in the darkness, he could see the glow of her catlike eyes, watching him back, their owner never speaking. The hot August air clouded his mind almost as much as the pain, but Saitou Hajime knew he wasn't hallucinating when Tokio's hand reached up and lightly brushed his long bangs out of his face.

She'd grown since he met her. Grown from a withdrawn and brooding girl to a woman with amazing and rare qualities. Strength, certainly, but not the kind found at the end of the sword. She had the strength to look him in the eye, to stitch his wounds, to stick out a year by herself without much more than a word from her husband. Strength, courage, loyalty, and devotion to duty.

Just like the men of the Shinsengumi.

'I don't have my men anymore. But, this time I will heal for Tokio.'

Tokio closed her eyes, sleeping soon after. She slept as soundly as always, so she never heard her husband murmur: "Goodnight, Kitty."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I despise August," Saitou Hajime snarled in the direction of his very placid wife.

"Yes. As do I, teishu, as do I," Tokio replied, executing another stitch on a ladies' hair bow she was sewing.

The conversation had been like this all afternoon. Saitou would mention he despised something, and his wife would calmly agree. Tokio had been able to finagle a few days off from work to tend to her 'sick husband', which meant both of them had been spending a lot of time in the front room. She'd tried reading him a newspaper, but the news appeared to agitate her husband even more, causing him even to try to sit up once and snatch it away, so Tokio gave up on that project.

He slept intermittently, but still not enough in Tokio's estimation. At least he ate everything she handed him. He'd grown even more incredibly gaunt during his travels, disturbingly so. Tokio almost asked him why he didn't use the money he had left her to buy food for himself, but decided she probably didn't want to know the answer to that question.

"I despise foreigners," Saitou drawled.

"Yes, they can be quite manipulative and destructive," Tokio agreed.

And so the afternoon continued, with both parties wanting to ask a million different questions of the other, but neither quite wanting to be the one to bring up the subjects. Tokio wondered if that would always be the way things would go between them, with so many things left unsaid, so many questions never asked.

"Give me a cigarette, Tokio," the Miburo demanded.

"No, I do not think so," his wife calmly replied.

Saitou muttered faint curses under his breath. At least the men of the Shinsengumi would have given a wounded compatriot a cigarette if he asked for it. He was pretty sure that, somehow, Tokio was being completely unreasonable today.

Saitou narrowed his eyes and tried a different tactic. "Bitch."

Tokio looked up from her sewing, her eyebrows lifting slightly as she whispered: "You know, you're completely insufferable when you're injured. I hope you're not going to make a habit of it."

"I'd be less insufferable if you gave me a damn cigarette."

Tokio rolled her eyes and went to find the cigarettes she had secreted away in the cabinet. "If you die, I'm not going to bury you. I'm just going to leave you in the woods for the -other- animals."

"Yare, yare, Tokio, where'd this attitude come from, eh?" Saitou replied, snatching the dangled cigarette out of his wife's fingers. Leaning over to the nearby lamp, he lit the slim white tube and inhaled deeply.

"I..." Tokio looked suddenly stricken, her face going pale. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." Tokio trailed off, refusing to look at her husband, she instead picked up her sewing once again and whispered, "You were gone for such a long time."

Saitou looked around for somewhere to ash his cigarette and finally decided on a nearby teacup, "Are you saying you were angry with me, Tokio?"

"No. I wasn't angry until you came back."

"I'm hurt, Tokio. Really." Saitou replied dryly. "So, what, your plan is to make me healthy and then kick me out?"

"I don't make plans, teishu. You make plans," Tokio hissed, her hands beginning to shake. "But you never tell me what they are."

"Kuso, Tokio, if you're in such agony with me around, why didn't you leave Osaka when I left you the money?"

Tokio's eyes grew wide with shock. She hadn't even considered that as his motivation for leaving the envelope, "Is that...is that what you wanted?"

Saitou took a deeply pained breath as he sat up, staring menacingly at his visibly shaken wife. "I thought it might be what you wanted."

"No," Tokio whispered, "I just wanted to know. I wanted to know where you were and that you were alright. And now you come back to me, wounded and sickly and I'm angry...that...that..."

"Tokio..." Saitou said, pointedly putting his cigarette out in the teacup. "I'm going to be fine."

Pursing her lips, Tokio crawled over to retrieve the soiled teacup. "Not if you keep ruining the dinnerware."

Saitou Hajime watched as his prey moved ever closer, retrieving her quarry. 'Yes Kitty. Can't stand a dirty teacup. I know you. That's right. Push your hair over your left shoulder. Now bend down and pick it up with your right hand.'

Tokio thought she was reaching for a teacup. Instead, she ended up being grabbed by the wrist and waist by a very clever injured man. Saitou snarled briefly at the pain of moving his wounded shoulder, but concentrated instead on pulling his wife to a position kneeling over him in an almost perpendicular position to his own body. Her hair fell into his face, but he pushed it away as he reached up and placed his hand against her cheek.

Tokio's face suddenly became emotionless, her passive mask falling back into place. But, her trembling lips belied the woman beneath the falsehood.

"Will you forgive me, Tokio-neko?"

Tokio nodded almost imperceptibly. "You won't drink anymore." It wasn't a request so much as a command, a statement of what Tokio decided would be true about their combined lives from now on.

Saitou caressed his wife's cheek gently with the back of his fingers as he stated, "I'll try."

The Miburo lifted his head slightly and pressed his lips to Tokio's forehead. Tokio's breath caught in her throat in a sound almost too subtle for him to hear. Saitou removed his mouth from Tokio's warm skin and licked his lips. Her taste lingered there, the taste of powdered sugar and honey that had absorbed into her pores from her long days of cooking treats for the masses.

Tokio's shoulders rolled back slightly as she observed her husband, their closeness mystifying her with a strange feeling of longing. "You have a very hungry look, teishu."

"Perhaps I am hungry," Saitou replied, his voice turning low and gravely. The incandescent eyes of the Mibu Wolf searched his wife's face for traces of fear. Instead, he found only an incomprehensible look of placidity.

"Shall I...make you dinner, then?"

"Aa," came the answer, as Saitou removed his hand from his wife's cheek. But, before she moved away, Tokio noticed a strange flicker of emotion cross her husband's visage. He wore an amused expression which punctuated itself with a crafty smirk.

As Tokio left the room, Saitou cursed slightly to himself. 'Kuso, Kitty. You're the most illusive prey yet. But, I know, I know what must be done. I can't break my promise to you, not again. But, you'll see. You'll see. You can't stop the Wolf of Mibu once he has a plan. No one will ever stop me from getting what I want. And, come to think of it....'

"Goddamnit, Tokio, get back in here and give me my cigarettes!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Tokio, my sword, quickly," Saitou said, sitting up on the makeshift futon suddenly alert, his body becoming instantly ignorant of pain. Someone was coming up the path to the house at an incredible speed. A warrior, someone with a relatively strong ki but without the sense to hide it.

Tokio, who had been scrubbing the floor in the hallway, stood up immediately, dropping her wet rag. She rushed into the front room to grab the sword from its spot leaning against the wall.

"But you can't..." Tokio whispered hurriedly, handing her husband the sword that he promptly unsheathed. "You can't even stand without..."

Proving his wife wrong, Saitou rolled to one side and pushed himself up by digging the blade of his katana into the wooden floor. Now in a crouched position on one knee, Saitou faced the front shoji.

"Stay behind me, Tokio. There may be others at the back of the house I can't sense."

If he used the strength of his uninjured leg to propel himself forward, he could probably skewer the attacker through the paper door. But, if there were indeed others, like he suspected, he'd be all but useless. At least it would give Tokio a chance to run.

The warrior ki came closer, burning brightly with unchecked and untamed spirit. 'He'll be in the courtyard soon.'

"Tokio, when I say run. Run," Saitou commanded, his voice becoming gritty and calm as his entire body prepared itself for battle.

"Tokio-san!!!" A male voice called from the courtyard. "Tokio-san...you...ano, Tokio-san, there's a horse in your...ooof!"

Tokio would have poisoned all the children in Kyoto just to see her husband's expression at that moment. Unfortunately, all she could see was the back of his head, which moved backwards slightly.

"Who...is...that?"

With feline grace, Tokio stepped around her husband and opened the front shoji a slim crack. "Kozue."

"Kozue? Narajirou Kozue?"

"Yes," Tokio replied, moving towards the cabinet containing the medical supplies. "While you were gone he...well, he was very kind."

"Oi, Tokio-san," came the voice from the courtyard, "I...uh...think I might need a bandage. Ah, kuso, you beast, quit nuzzling me in the...argh...goddamn horse!"

As Tokio turned back around, she saw her husband's torso lunge forward, though the man himself stayed on his knees. Saitou's unnamed sword caught one of the bamboo slats in the shoji and slammed it open.

"Don't curse in front of my wife, ahou." Saitou warned. 'I'm the only one who gets that privilege,' he added to himself.

"Sen...sensei!" Kozue exclaimed in both delight and shocked surprise. "You've returned!" The young man shot up from his position laying in the dirt, causing the nearby horse to skitter backwards and then trot off. Kozue shifted his stance from right to left and back again, testing his legs like a new spring fawn. He brushed the dirt from his clothing.

"And you haven't grown any more focused, I see." Saitou plucked his sword out of the bamboo and shifted himself to sit against a nearby wall.

"Well, I always was your most baka deshi, eh?" Kozue replied with a free spirited grin as he stepped up onto the porch, taking the cloth bandages from a waiting Tokio. "Thank you, Tokio-san."

"Don't be absurd," Saitou snapped, "What kind of man takes idiots for students? Its belittling."

Tokio picked up a nearby blanket and draped it over her husband, hiding his wounds. Unfortunately, she didn't move fast enough to keep the sight from Kozue's keen eye.

"Are you, ano, injured, sensei?"

Before Saitou could reply, Tokio whispered, "It is only a scratch, Kozue. I'm just overprotective. It's silly really."

Tokio turned her back to her husband's stare. She wouldn't let someone else know about her husbands wounds any more than the Miburo would. What hurt his pride hurt her as well. "It isn't anything more than a wife's concern. Anyway, will you be staying for tea?"

"No, I just came to tell you the great news. After I graduate this term, I've been, um, offered a position as an assistant master at a local dojo!"

Tokio clasped her hands together in front of her obi in a subdued expression of delight, "That is wonderful, Kozue. We'll have to celebrate sometime soon."

"Gah. What a menace," Saitou said with a sneer. "We'll be sparring soon Kozue. I won't allow a hazard to be unleashed onto the unsuspecting juvenile contingent of Osaka. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Be here."

"Yes. Of course, sir."

Tokio thought the expression on Kozue's face could only be described as rapturous, like a child who had been told they would be getting a carriage ride to the moon. Suddenly, a dark worry ate at Tokio's conscience. 'Kozue is far too trusting. Far too kind. He could get hurt being mixed up with the pair of us. How can he be a swordsman? He can barely even walk to the market without falling flat on his face. Perhaps teishu sees this, too. Perhaps he will stop him.'

Kozue made his goodbyes to the Saitous, and left the way he came, though he pointedly avoided both the horse and the sinkhole on his way out.

"Yare, yare, Tokio. Exactly how entertained did that young man keep you while I was away?"

Tokio crossed her arms over her chest, "Kozue was a perfect gentleman towards me." Her glare implied the last few words, 'Unlike some men I know.' She took the sword that her husband handed her and placed it back against the wall, "Are you jealous?"

Saitou chucked evilly. Leaning his head against the wall, he closed his eyes. "Of that boy?" Tokio smiled slyly over her shoulder at her husband as he continued, "That's a very amusing joke, Tokio."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Again! And focus, damn it all, Kozue. Quit wasting my time."

Tokio stepped out into the courtyard with a tray of cherry-flavored tea made from the very last of her springtime extracts. With autumn's colors beginning to lick at the ends of the summertime leaves, it would be some time before such a treat could be had once again. Tokio set the tea down on the porch and headed towards the training men..

There, covered in sweat from the afternoon's exercises, stood her husband and his favorite pupil, both holding bokkens in mirror stances of one another. Tokio had seen them practice a few times now, but still found herself surprised each time by the grace with which Kozue executed his moves. He didn't falter even once, his speed becoming deadly even with a wooden sword. How he could exhibit such grace in training while, at all other times, being so accident-prone, Tokio couldn't understand. Still, against the practiced moves of her husband, Tokio knew she had no worry of the two men really hurting each other. Well, as long as Kozue remained obedient, anyway.

"Once you put a sword in his hands, be it wooden or metal, the true samurai in that boy shows himself," her husband had said.

"You aren't going to teach him the Mugai Ryu, teishu," Tokio had replied, surprised, "It is dangerous. He has a good heart, but...well, he isn't exactly the most intelligent young man in Japan."

"He can safely know most of it. But, not my personal modifications. Those were created only to further Shinsengumi ideals. And while Kozue's heart is virtuous and idealistic, his mind isn't strong enough to carry the burden of 'Aku Soku Zan'. Don't worry, Tokio. I know what I am doing."

Tokio watched as the two men charged one another, the sharp clacking of wood on wood ringing through the yard. 'At least he is moving better again. Those first few practices were so stiff, even Kozue could tell something was wrong. Afterwards he was in so much pain, he wouldn't even talk, not even to insult me.'

"Gentlemen, will you have tea?" Tokio whispered as the two continued to practice. Neither noticed the quiet woman's almost soundless request over the din of battle. Tokio attempted a different tactic. She clapped her hands together loudly. Nothing. The training continued as Kozue leapt at his sensei with renewed dedication.

'They are going to force me...to do something...quite unladylike,' Tokio thought to herself as she balled her hands into fists at her side. Usually, she didn't much mind being ignored. In fact, she relished the virtual social invisibility that her demure nature, loss of voice, and status as a woman gave her. But, the tea -was- very special and it would be improper to let it go stale. 'He's going to tease me about this later, I just know it. How annoying.'

As the two men pushed off from one another, a piercing shriek echoed through the air. Immediately, the two men stopped fighting and turned their heads to witness Tokio taking her fingers out of her mouth.

'Ugh,' Tokio thought, 'Mother always said that only tomboys whistle.'

Composing herself, Tokio bowed her head slightly and repeated her question, "Will you gentlemen have tea?"

Like every evening that Kozue visited, the two men discussed politics late into the night. When they weren't discussing politics, they recalled famous battles of samurai past or discussed the intricate minutia of various fighting styles they had seen. Tonight, however, Saitou was re-telling the story of the 47 ronin of Harima with a fierce and animated vigor that Tokio had never seen in her husband.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"It is the most important depiction of the code of the samurai in Japanese history, Kozue. And the fact that you can't even recall the details properly disturbs me. You've obviously been disregarding your studies."

"In the days of the Shogun Tsunayoshi, one of his damiyo, a Lord Asano, hired an advisor by the name of Yoshinaka Kira-Kozukenosuke. Now, Lord Asano was a fair and righteous man, performing his duties in the name of the Shogun with honor. But, his advisor, Kira, was known to all of Japan to be a greedy cur. He demanded exorbitant tributes for his service, and when he did not receive what he thought to be his due, he attempted to publicly humiliate his employer time and again."

"Fed up with this treatment from a man considered his inferior, Lord Asano drew his sword within the walls of the Edo castle to threaten Kira, to scare him. Unfortunately, he got mildly carried away, leaving Kira with a small wound."

"Because drawing your sword within the castle, by itself, was a treasonous offense, the Shogun had no choice but to order Lord Asano to commit seppuku as a criminal."

"Now, Lord Asano had commanded an extensive group of samurai, 321 in all. And, upon his death, they would, by tradition, become ronin. The castle belonging to Lord Asano would be confiscated by the Shogun. Not wishing to anger the Shogun, most of the samurai disbanded. But, 60 loyal samurai, who were angered by the death of their Lord as a criminal, bound themselves with a promise to Lord Asano's brother, Daigaku, to restore Lord Asano's honor."

"The 60 samurai then disappeared into the night. For two years, they wandered Japan, ridiculed by the people, who considered them honorless cowards who had fled in the face of danger and strife. Many disguised themselves as merchants or street vendors to be able to live, but all had to live with the shame that tarnished their Lord's reputation, as well as their own."

"At the appointed time, the samurai returned to Edo, one by one, in disguise. There they met and planned their next move. However, of the 60 samurai, 13 were sent home by the other samurai. These men had wives who were in delicate conditions, or other relatives who depended on them and them alone to survive."

"Kira, who had put aside the concern of the missing ronin after the 2 years, was living in splendor in Edo."

"In the midst of a snowy night in December of 1702, the 47 ronin loyal to Lord Asano attacked Kira's house. They killed over 60 guards and lost not a single man of their own. They found Kira and offered to allow him to retain his honor by committing seppuku. But, Kira was such a coward that he would not even die with honor, and so the ronin beheaded him."

"The 47 ronin brought Kira's severed head to the grave of their master to show him that his honor had been restored. To signify their own loyalty and the completion of their mission, and because all that awaited them was death at the hands of the Shogun, 46 of the 47 ronin committed seppuku at the grave of their master. The youngest samurai among them was sent to the Shogun as a messenger to relate the story of the events."

"The Shogun was deeply impressed by the loyalty and dedication of the ronin, and allowed the messenger to live. All 46 samurai were buried alongside their master and are honored continually by those who visit there to pay tribute to their courage and loyalty."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You tell that story with such fire, sensei. I never tire of hearing it," Kozue said as Tokio nodded in agreement from the corner. "Well, um, seeing as how I can't top that, and I am sure my presence, uh, is keeping Tokio-san from her sleep, I suppose I will be going. Good evening, Tokio-san. Sensei, I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Goodnight, Kozue," Tokio whispered. "Be careful walking home in the dark."

'Something bad is going to happen to that boy,' Tokio thought to herself, 'Something bad always happens to anything I care for.'

Saitou closed the shoji behind his student and turned to look at the quiet woman sitting in the corner.

"You really do tell that story well, teishu," Tokio whispered, standing to straighten up the room before bed. "You impressed Kozue quite a bit."

"Aa," Saitou replied, digging a cigarette out of his gi, "It is an important story. My father told it to me every night for years."

"Oh?" Tokio asked as she placed all the teacups back on the tray, She found it hard to imagine Saitou as a small boy, much less as someone's son. 'Of course he has parents,' Tokio mentally corrected herself, 'What did you think, that he sprung from the Earth with a high ponytail and a sword in hand?'

Saitou lit his cigarette in silence, and appeared to be considering if telling Tokio more would be of any negative consequence. Finally, he spoke, his voice's usual gravity deepening like a chasm flowing with a river of respect, "My family, we hail from the Harima feud. One of the thirteen samurai forced to return to his family is the progenitor of the Saitou line."

Tokio immediately halted. She put the tray down on the low table and pulled herself up to her full height to regard the man leaning on the sliding door. But, her legs felt weak. Tokio's head swam with a surge of thoughts, her understanding of her husband locking into place in an instant. 'His ancestor was not allowed to participate in reclaiming Asano's honor. And every generation since has had to live with this burden, constantly striving to prove that they would have gone to the grave with the other 47 samurai. A terrible curse, this wish to fulfill the duty denied to one samurai. And, the man who lived has passed it on to his children and his children, and finally to my husband.'

'I finally understand his fire,' Tokio thought as she stepped towards her husband, 'And why he feels he can never, ever, stop fighting for the honor of Japan.'

"Teishu..." Tokio whispered. Liquidly, golden eyes focused on Tokio. The young woman raised her hand to touch her husband's neck, tracing the veins and tendons there cautiously, like one might do a particularly skittish animal. But she had to know, know for the moment that the creature before her was real, solid, and not a product of some encroaching insanity.

Saitou did not flinch at her touch. In fact, he did little more than continue to smoke his cigarette, turning his head slightly to exhale away from his wife. Suddenly, the slender woman pressed her face against his chest, throwing her arms around his waist. She clenched him tightly as she murmured, "You're a good man, Saitou Hajime."

Saitou snorted in reply, though the intoxicatingly honeyed scent of his wife combined with the fragrant smell of cigarette smoke was in danger of making him dizzy. Wrapping one arm around his wife's form, he cracked the shoji with the other and tossed his cigarette into the yard.

They stood together for some time, Saitou running his fingers through Tokio's unbound hair, as she breathed quietly against his gi, causing her warmth to seep into his chest.

"Where did you go?" Tokio finally asked, looking up at the sharp features of her husband's face.

"Yare, Tokio, are you sure you want to know?" He pushed some of her inky bangs behind one of her ears, "It isn't pleasant. It will be dangerous for you to know."

"I want to share the burden of that which you must carry. I can't not wield a sword, but unlike Kozue, my mind is strong enough to bear the weight of the execution of your ideals."

Saitou only nodded. He gazed at the ceiling for a few moments, beseeching Okita to forgive him. Then, he forced himself to look his wife straight in the eyes as he told her.

"I executed seventeen of the former samurai with whom I had been working, roughly sixty percent of the entire group. They met my sword, the ones who betrayed our mission for an easy life of corruption and bribes. Their leader was the Captain of the Seventh Shinsengumi troop. He knew I was coming for him and he hired two dozen expert bodyguards. That is how I was injured. But, in the end the bodyguards were for naught. The former Captain, a friend of mine, died by my blade as well."

Retribution for betraying the ideals of the samurai. Death to preserve the honor contained in an idea. The story of the 47 ronin flashed through Tokio's mind. She had no doubt that their spirit lived on in her husband.

"I understand," Tokio whispered, "But, the others...you did not kill?"

"No," Saitou explained, "They had either opposed the dissolution of the group, or were truly leading lives of virtue."

Tokio nodded and then pressed her face once again against Saitou's chest, inhaling deeply. He smelled of cigarettes and metal and sage. She felt his hand rubbing her back softly.

"What is wrong, Kitty?"

"I think I am growing fond of you. And everything I attempt to cherish turns to ash and blows away in the wind."

Saitou clasped the young woman to his body, holding her so tightly he was sure he must be hurting her, but she made no move to escape his embrace. 'Damn. She's grown so precious to me. It annoys me when things happen without careful planning. But, I need her now. I can't send her away. Nagakura was right, the old fool, a good woman stands to rekindle the flame which fuels our fights. Kuso, Tokio, don't give up. I'm going to put things right between us.'

"Tokio, I'm not going to lie. I have to leave again before winter. But, I promise I will return before the new year."

"You have never broken your promises to me, so I will trust in what you say. But, teishu...?"

"Aa?"

"May I kiss you?"

The fact that she asked made Saitou smirk evilly before replying in a wanton tone, "Aa."

Tokio pushed herself up on her toes, and Saitou suppressed a growl as her body shifted against his own. But, even stretching her legs, Tokio couldn't quite bring herself level to Saitou's towering height. The young woman furrowed her brow in consternation, trying desperately to figure out how to rectify the situation. Her husband, on the other hand, let out a quiet chuckle.

"Is something wrong, Tokio?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow quizzically, taunting her.

"You know exactly what. You're too ta..." Tokio's words were cut off as her husband's head dipped forward and he caught her mouth with his own. Saitou's kiss seemed deceptively demanding for all of its simplicity, barely grazing against her lips. His long bangs brushed against her eyelashes as he pulled away, causing Tokio to blink several times as if the fine hairs rimming her golden eyes were trying to recapture the unintentional caress.

"Do it again," Tokio commanded innocently, the warmth of her whispered breath slithering up the length of her husband's jaw.

"No, Kitty," Saitou replied, firmly pushing his wife away by her shoulders. Saitou cursed inwardly. 'If that happens again, there really will be promises broken. There's enough adrenaline in my veins right now fuel several Bakumatsus. What is she doing to me? I never thought a woman would be able to drive me to the point of losing my composure. I can tell this is going to be a long autumn, with an even longer winter.'

Tokio only stared at her husband unable to comprehend his denial of her request. Trembling slightly, Tokio closed her eyes briefly and then bowed her head. "I see."

'He's only been indulging me. Why, I am not sure. Maybe he thinks that it will make me worry less. Or maybe he thinks that placating me will make his own life easier. Why did I ask to kiss him? I don't love him. No. Love is futile and for idiots. How infuriating he is for making me doubt that.'

Without any more discussion, Tokio picked up her tea tray and headed to the kitchen. Scant minutes later, she blew out the candle in the bedroom crawled into her futon. As she fell asleep, she heard a familiar rustling of newspaper coming from the front room.

And things went back to being as they always were in the Saitou household, as if nothing had ever happened.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saitou Hajime left Osaka for the second time in November of the fifth year of the Meiji era. However, this time, he told his wife goodbye.

"You will not tell me where you are going, at least?" Tokio asked.

"Don't be stupid, Tokio. I'm not going to give you information you can be tortured for later. If you won't think of yourself, at least think of Kozue. He's the one who'd get killed trying to protect you."

"Of course," Tokio murmured absently. She'd spent all morning alternating between trying to figure out how to stuff more food into her husband's saddlebags and trying to decide if she should put something in his morning tea to make him so sick he couldn't leave. She decided against the latter option when she realized he'd only delay his journey if he were dead.

'Whatever it is he is going to do, it must be important to risk traveling in the winter snows.'

Saitou tucked his katana into the ties of his hakama as Tokio brought a bundle in from the other room. "Its your warmest haori. I re-sewed the lining and..."

"Tokio..."

"Yes?"

"Stop making a fuss."

Tokio glared at her husband. He took the haori from her hand and threw it over his shoulder, holding it there with one hooked finger. Saitou's other arm slid around his wife's waist and pulled her close.

"Don't worry, Kitty, it isn't dangerous. Just some documents that need to be handled."

Tokio pressed her ear against her husband's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. No fussing. He was right. Women who cried or made scenes were the worst sorts, only making their husbands doubt and falter, breaking their concentration from the task at hand. Anyway, he had made a promise, and every second she delayed him only meant it would be deeper into the bitter winter when he had to return. Tokio extricated herself from her husband's grasp. She moved to open the sliding door, her head bowed and eyes downcast.

"I will return." Saitou said as he walked past his wife into the brisk autumn air. He forced himself not to stop, not to look at her.

"I will be waiting," Tokio whispered, gently shutting the shoji behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The freezing rain had been falling intermittently all afternoon, pelting the grey stones littering the cemetery with shards of slick ice. Fresh and wilting flowers decorating the tombs hung their heads heavily due to the additional weight of the icy water, tiny mourners in the land of the dead. Puddles of water brokenly reflected the stormy sky, only to be shaken from their stilled meditation time and again by a new barrage of raindrops.

In a far corner of the graveyard, a lone man stood under the overhang of a large burial monument, smoking. Saitou Hajime stared into the serene expanse. In the rain, one headstone could not be discerned from another. Death melted into death, person into person. Below the ground, as they decayed, and the flesh naturally stripped itself from the bone and once again returned to the earth, did innocent mingle with guilty? Samurai flow into peasant? Ishin Shishi dance with Shinsengumi?

How many in this place were sent here by his own blade? Would he know them if he saw their graves? Likely not. There was no time to ask the name of every man he cut down. No point in keeping some frivolous tally of the number of men he sent here.

"I must leave before sundown," Saitou said to a headstone. Normally, he didn't talk to dead men. He left that sort of affair to the sentimental or insane. Saitou had never even seen Okita's grave. Okita's family had claimed his body after his death, or so Saitou had heard, burying him far from Kyoto in the town of his birth. But, talking to this particular tombstone seemed right, proper.

"Kyoto is changing," Saitou explained, "All of Japan is changing. But, while a country may decide on different rules, different values, individual men stay the same. So many still remain, with hearts of rot, with minds of greed. It only takes one bad wheel to stop even the best made carriage. Only one malformed brick to topple the most awe-inspiring building."

A rumble of thunder skipped through the heavens in reply.

"Someday, I will bring her here to visit you. Someday when there is no longer any worry of danger from this city, or from this country. Someday when she no longer desires to be by your side. I am not a man who can give your daughter happiness or comfort or safety, Tanagi-san. I am a killer. Nonetheless, I wish her and her alone by my side. She knows my mind, and I know hers. I don't expect you to understand, only to know that your daughter is not alone in this world any longer."

Saitou bowed briefly to the headstones of Tanagi and his wife. He had brought no umbrella, so he walked in the mid-afternoon sleet past the rows and rows of grey and black stones. Names bled into names, becoming a cacophony of identity. But one name, one name stood out in his mind. For some reason, it screamed at him in warning, bringing image after image of his first meeting with Tokio. He tried to shake the visions as he left the cemetery, but couldn't recall where he had heard the name before.

"Himura Tomoe."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saitou returned to Osaka, late at night, during a break in the snows. Tokio found him in the front room the next morning, ruffling through a pile of documents.

"You've returned," Tokio whispered, pulling her unbound tresses back into a ponytail as she sat at the table. "You should have woken me."

Without looking up from his paperwork, Saitou replied, "Don't be stupid, Tokio. What good would that have done? Besides, it takes an act of government to wake you up."

Tokio poured herself tea and refilled Saitou's cup. "Your trip went well? You are not injured?"

"Aa. Everything is fine."

Saitou took his tea and sipped quietly, still pouring over the papers. After a moment, he let the pile fall on the table and looked up to regard his wife. Wisps of hair escaped her ponytail, framing the face which she leaned into one hand, tiredly. She hadn't yet put on her scarf, causing the mangled scar on her neck to be visible. She wore a deep green yukata of her own creation, still ruffled and wrinkled from her sleep. All in all, she looked pretty far from the vision of a practiced lady. In his mouth, Saitou Hajime's tongue ran along the sharp ridge of his upper teeth. 'Damn. I want to ravish her when she looks like that. Good thing I left that part out when talking to Tanagi-san."

"Tokio?"

"Mmm?" she replied, rousing herself from her half-sleep.

"We're going out tonight. Dress nice."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tokio stifled the urge to ask her husband where they were going, though if they had to walk much further, she suspected that even her infinite patience might come to an end.

They had taken dinner in town, a definite rarity. Her husband had eaten only soba noodles, at which Tokio scowled. Saitou inquired briefly about Kozue, and Tokio informed him that the young man took to his new duties at the local dojo with pride and zest.

But, after leaving, they had not returned home. Instead, Tokio had been following her silent husband through the streets of Osaka for what seemed like hours, the newly fallen snow crunching under their feet. The entire city lay quiet, hidden away in their homes next to the fires that would protect them from the bitter cold.

Tokio pulled at the ends of her long scarf, wrapping the excess length around her face. She'd worn gloves, at least, and her warmest coat. Her husband's hands, on the other hand, were naked.

They came to a small park, empty in the sunset. The pond that in springtime would attract fishermen and children had frozen over, and the trees sagged under the weight of snow. Tokio felt numbness overtaking her feet as she walked, the hush of the city lulling her to sleep.

"Tokio?" Saitou's voice came from ahead of her.

"Yes?"

The Miburo came to a stop, but did not turn around. The air in front of him froze into a cloud of white frost as he asked coolly, "How long will you follow me?"

"Until you stop," Tokio whispered. 'What is he asking me? Is this some sort of bizarre test? Teishu doesn't believe in needless cruelty, so there has to be a reason.'

Turning abruptly to face his wife, Saitou Hajime's eyes all but glowed in the setting sun, a window to the controlled fire within. "This is a very lengthy and dangerous road, Tokio. You'd have to be prepared to walk for a long time through the bleakest of surroundings, with a dead winter world all around you. And sometimes, the snow may obscure your view of me. Are you still prepared to walk behind me until I stop?"

Tokio stepped forward until she stood only an arms length from her husband. "I am prepared."

Saitou reached into the front of his gi and removed a folded paper, "Naruhodo. Then you should see this."

The young woman took the paper in her gloved hands and unfolded it. In the dim light, she had to hold it close to her face to make out the text. 'Some sort of document. My maiden name and my father's name, and the seal of the damiyo of Aizu. But, what...this is a marriage document for an arranged marriage, for -my- marriage, but it is dated next month!'

Tokio looked up at her husband, and back at the paper, "I don't understand."

The Wolf of Mibu plucked the document gently from Tokio's hands and placed it back in the front of his gi. "Don't be stupid, Tokio. I'm asking you to marry me."

"But...we're...already..."

Smirking, Saitou grabbed his wife roughly around the waist and pulled her close. "No, Kitty. Marry me this time because you want to, not because your life depends on it. The documents may be false, but the sentiment isn't. You know I can't change the way I live my life, but with you by my side, the way I live my life won't change me. Because I love you, Tokio. Despite myself, I do."

"Yare, you always get what you want, don't you, Hajime?" Tokio answered, looking up at her husband's very serious face. As she said his common name, he grinned devilishly, the sharp points of his pronounced canines making him look ever more like the wolf of his nicknames. "I will marry you."

"Good." Saitou said. He reached up and unwound his wife's thick scarf from her face, causing her to suck air between her teeth in a hiss as the icy wind hit her face. But, before the winter could steal the heat from her lips, Saitou Hajime kissed his wife, tasting her waiting mouth. Where the last kiss had been gentle, this one demanded a lifetime. Tokio felt the cold drain from her body, replaced with a heated craving she expressed by placing her gloved hand on her husband's neck and pulling him closer.

He nipped at her bottom lip, worrying it slightly before growling playfully and catching her mouth again. Tokio laughed into his kiss, causing him to draw away and quirk an eyebrow, daring her to laugh again. Tokio mimicked his expression by raising her own eyebrow, making her husband sneer wickedly before kissing her again.

They stood together long after the sun had set and the stars had begun to cluster in the sky, until Saitou finally asked, "Are you cold, Tokio?"

"No. I am warm. Very warm."

"Good. Lets go home."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

January, Meiji 6.

They were married for the second time in January, in the snow. Like the first time, Saitou and Tokio were the only ones in attendance at their own wedding, having opted not to tell anyone they knew why they were being married again.

The priest of the temple protested greatly at the pair of lovers which demanded to be married in a snowstorm. Such things were highly unorthodox, not to mention probably bad luck. Nonetheless, he decided not to argue too much, since the groom wore a katana, one which he pointedly refused to remove for the ceremony.

Tokio, Saitou decided, looked even lovelier now than she had three years ago. She had put her hair in an intricate upsweep, peppered at points with white beads. The furisode she wore was white at the shoulders, turning to the lightest lavender at her waist, and dark purple towards her feet and at the ends of the long sleeves. She had a dark green obi, with lighter green underpinnings, which matched the long green scarf around her neck. Saitou, on the other hand, opted to wear exactly the same thing he wore the first time, the only difference being the katana at his side.

As they climbed into a carriage to return to their home, the priest of the temple shook his head and returned inside. "Those two are going to be trouble to someone, someday."

"Tokio-neko. We're home," Saitou said. Tokio had fallen asleep in the carriage, her head drooping forward over and over again until her husband had moved gently pulled her head against his shoulder. "Kuso, you're not going to wake up, are you?"

Tokio continued to talk soundlessly in her sleep, unaware that her husband was lifting her out of the carriage and carrying her up the walkway to their home. He found it slightly amusing that he was carrying his bride over the threshold without her knowledge.

He laid her down in the front room for a moment while he took off his snow-covered haori. Tokio's coat would need to be removed, too, he decided, before the snow could melt and soak into her skin. Grunting slightly at the idea of the task, Saitou kneeled down and pulled his wife upwards, sliding her arms out of the heavy coat she had put on after the ceremony.

"Eh?" Tokio murmured, finally waking. Quietly, she looked around, identifying her surroundings. "I fell asleep."

"You sleep enough for both of us, Kitty."

"I..." Tokio sat up, pulling herself away from her husband who, she realized, had been removing her coat. She peered at him for a few moments, a mysterious expression on her face. With a smirk, Tokio asked, "Would you like tea, Hajime?"

It was the same thing she had asked him upon returning home the first time they were married, with one small difference. Saitou chuckled lowly and his voice grew needful as he murmured into her ear, "Aa, that would be agreeable."

Tokio returned with the tea minutes later, placing it on the table for her waiting husband. They drank the warm liquid in silence, having never needed much conversation between them. But, this time, Saitou watched his wife the entire time. Tokio felt not unlike a mouse being stalked by a rather voracious hawk.

"Tokio, I hope you're not overly fond of this tea set." Saitou said, putting his empty cup on the table.

Before Tokio could even ponder the statement, her husband lunged at her, overturning the small table and the rest of the tea, causing and unknown amount of damage to the dinnerware. The young bride found herself pinned in a sitting position against the wall. Saitou leaned on one hand as he attacked his wife with his kiss. Tokio, surprised, at first pushed herself against the wall, but then found that her hands disagreed with this sentiment as they slid up the back of her husband's neck and pulled roughly at his hair in an attempt to remove his hair tie.

This accomplished, Tokio ran her fingers through his hair as they kissed, until finally, both parties broke away, desperately needing air. Brows furrowed in the same intense concentration used in battle, Hajime used his free hand to undo the knot in Tokio's scarf, pulling the expanse of silk away from her skin to reveal her scar. This too, demanded his attention, and he ran his tongue over the fragile flesh, causing Tokio to squirm beneath him.

Tokio's breath caught as Saitou ran the tips of his canines along her scar, down her neck, and over a bit of exposed collarbone. In retaliation, Tokio deftly slid her hands into the front of her husband's gi, pushing it open enough to allow her to rake her fingernails down his sides eliciting a mild howl from the other combatant.

"Bad, bad, Kitty," came the growl, "You'll pay for that."

"We'll see. You may be the greatest swordsman in all Japan, but in this affair, you're completely ordinary," Tokio replied, removing one hand to tug at the pins in her hair.

"Why you..."

As ebony plaits unfolded and cascaded over his wife's shoulders, Saitou's eyes narrowed and he lunged again, pinning Tokio's wrist against the wall as he kissed her. Tokio's only free hand snaked up to his chin, which she pulled to the side allowing her to nip at her husband's jaw line and run her tongue along the outer edge of his ear.

Tokio heard her husband mutter dark curses as he undid the elaborate knots of her obi, one-handed. To distract him, Tokio bent her knee upwards and ran it along the outside of his thigh. She thought she had succeeded in causing him to lose his place, as her husband stopped trying to untie her obi for a moment, until she realized he was grabbing a sharp piece of broken teacup. Expertly, he slid it twice over the silk, tearing the obi enough to allow him to rip the rest of the material away.

"I...liked...that...obi," Tokio hissed, trying to struggle against her pinned wrist.

"Too bad," Saitou chuckled, "You shouldn't taunt a Miburo."

"I'll have revenge."

"I don't doubt it," her husband murmured, already turning his attention to her breast bindings, which turned out to be far easier to remove than the obi. Tokio, on the other hand, used her unimprisoned hand to untie Saitou's gi. Her fingers deftly traced the well-defined muscles of his abdomen, discovering the various scars there.

Tokio felt the air hit her skin as Hajime pulled away the strips of binding. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over her skin, tracing a path from her collarbone, over one exposed breast, to her stomach. His eyes flickered away from his wife's face when his fingers found the raised line of flesh on the bottom curve of her stomach that extended outward to her hip.

"My scar?" Saitou asked, releasing Tokio's wrist suddenly.

"Yes."

For the first time, Tokio thought she saw a touch of sadness tinge her husband's eyes. He bent his head kissed the edge of the wound his own sword had placed on her body. When he looked at her again, his face had once again been locked into sober consternation.

"I'm sorry, Tokio."

"I'm not," she replied, placing her hand on the side of his neck, "I have one scar for losing everything, and one for finding it again. But you...we...we have to be careful..."

"Yes, I know, but we don't have to do this...if you don't want..."

Tokio smiled broadly as she delivered a perfect imitation of her husband, "Don't be stupid, Hajime. Besides, I haven't had my revenge yet."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Yare, yare, Kitty, where'd you learn all that?" Saitou drawled, his free hand running slowly up the spine of the naked woman draped over him. His other hand held a cigarette which he had been smoking in silence for the past few minutes.

Tokio lifted her head off his chest and glared at him, "Aunt Junpei and her friends weren't really futon-makers."

"They didn't make you..."

"No," Tokio replied, resting her head again, "Though they tried a few times."

"Naruhodo, too bad I don't kill women."

Tokio laughed, her body trembling slightly against his, as her breath skittered across his chest, "At this rate, you just might. You had a pretty good battle cry, though."

Saitou chuckled, "Aa. To go along with my Gatotsu."

Tokio rolled her eyes. If she could have groaned, she would have. "That is a -very- bad joke, Hajime."

"If you win, you get to tell bad jokes."

"You didn't win."

"Yes I did."

"No, you didn't."

Saitou ran one finger along the inside of his wife's forearm. "Yare, yare, then I guess we'll have to have a rematch to find out."