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Hajime and Tokio: Chapter 5 - The Seinan Wars

by Angrybee

The year is Meiji 9, three years since the second time Saitou Hajime and Tokio were married for the second time. Saitou Hajime is 34, and Tokio has just had her 22nd birthday. Currently, the couple still lives in Osaka, where Saitou works as a kendo instructor for a local University. Tokio works part time as a cook for a middle-class restaurant.

Life has been relatively quiet, with Saitou leaving only a few times in the past three years to attend to various business.

If Okita Souji were alive, he would be 32.

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

Hunting prey. An engaging task if the prey was clever, alert, dangerous. But, this hunt, well this was just ridiculous. Degrading, even. But, it had to be done. Tokio was going to be...well, not furious. Tokio didn't get furious. Upset? No. Worried. She'd be incredibly worried.

The man known to his students as 'Fujita-sensei' leaned against the wide oak tree in the lawn in front of the school, one knee bent to rest his foot on the trunk. All around him, students walked in groups, their studies being done for the day. And why not? They were going to happy homes to enjoy big dinners, ignorant of the trouble brewing in the south of their country, ignorant of the fact that their Meiji era was threatened even at this very instant.

"Hai, I've got to hurry home! Why don't you stop by and...urk..."

The student in question ran into an incredibly wiry obstacle of flesh. The next moment, he found himself being lifted into the air by the collar of his gi, staring into the feral eyes of the most feared instructor on campus.

"F...Fujita-sensei!"

"You something I require, Rosuu," the instructor snapped. His eyes narrowed as he added, "I'd recommend obedience."

A half-hour later, Rosuu watched in fear as Fujita Goro left the front yard of his house, a small box under his arm. He felt a small tug on the leg of his hakama and looked down to see his five year old sister with tears in her eyes.

"Scary man!!" Besuki cried as she pointed at the retreating Miburo, "Scary man!!"

Scooping his sister up into his arms, the teenager said quietly, "That's just Fujita-sensei, Besuki. He's alright. I'm sure the kitten will be just fine."

'Though, I do have to wonder what exactly sensei wants with a kitten,' Rosuu wondered, 'He's so damn creepy, I wouldn't even be surprised if he boiled the cat and -ate- it.'

"Come on, Besuki, we have three more kittens. We have to find them good homes," Rosuu said to his sister. As he headed into their house he added silently, 'Before that evil man comes back and wants another one.'

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

Tokio smiled minutely at the woman sitting beside her. Tokio never thought she would meet a person more good-natured than Kozue. That is until she met Kozue's fiancee and later wife.

Narajirou Kume radiated happiness. In fact, Tokio felt somewhat certain that even if you told Kume the world would end in a plague of boils and hellfire the next day, Kume would only blink and say, "My, my, my. S'that so? Foo, and I was going to air out the futons tomorrow, tra-la-la."

In short, Kume and Kozue were a perfect match.

"Are you hungry, Kume?" Tokio whispered, as she pulled out a misplaced stitch, "I brought home some spice cake from the restaurant this morning."

"Oh me, Tokio-san, Kume isn't hungry, but baby is a bit peckish," the young woman replied, patting her growing stomach. "Sometimes I wonder if there's a bear growing in there, tra-la-la." Kume broke into a fit of giggles for the umpteenth time that day.

Tokio only shook her head at the sight of the carefree eighteen year old sitting in her front room. She'd taken to looking after Kozue's pregnant wife in the afternoons until Kozue finished his day at the dojo. Though, Tokio really couldn't decide if she did it because the girl was pregnant and had no other family to look after her, or because Kume actually seemed stupid enough to set fire to half of Osaka in a failed attempt to cook rice.

"Oh Kume," Tokio whispered when she was out of earshot, heading for the kitchen, "You really are simple. In another life, would I have been more like you? And what about Hajime? If not for the Bakumatsu, would he have been more like Kozue? Well. No. It is really too silly to think about 'what-ifs'."

By the time Tokio returned with the cake, Kume was laying on her back, staring at the ceiling and humming.

"Eh...uh...Tokio-san. I was wondering, why haven't you and Saitou-san ever had children?" Kume asked, taking a small piece of cake as she labored to sit up, and then another one, just for good measure.

Tokio felt a chill run up her spine as she set the plate down on the nearby table. "Our life has been no place for children," Tokio replied quietly. "But, perhaps...someday..."

Before Tokio could finish her statement, the front shoji opened and Saitou stepped inside, Kozue behind him.

"Oh, look. It is eating again," Saitou observed coolly, dropping his things onto the table and walking into the back hallway. He returned moments later without his bokken, his katana strapped to his side instead. A law had been passed that year declaring the wearing of swords in public to be illegal. It was a law that elicited many spirited nighttime discussions between Hajime and Kozue, for it was a rare point upon which they vehemently disagreed.

Once, Hajime had even thrown Kozue out of the Saitou house over the subject.

"Get out. You are a traitor to everything for which your father fought."

"Sensei, please listen," Kozue had pleaded, "A samurai's spirit can be just as strong, with or without a sword..."

"Then when chaos comes again, if you can protect that rabbit-girl of yours with just your spirit, then I will heed your words. Until then, I will remain convinced that you are too ignorant and innocent to understand anything about what it means to follow the way of the samurai. Now, get out of my house, before I am forced to brawl with you in front of my wife."

After that, Saitou and Kozue hadn't spoken for weeks, as far as Tokio could tell. Then, one day out of the blue, things returned to normal. Tokio never asked her husband, but suspected a great deal of groveling on Kozue's part. Or, it might have had something to do with the discovery that Kume was pregnant. Either way, Tokio noticed the two men pointedly avoided the subject at all times.

In the front room, Kume nibbled on her spice cake greedily. She did, indeed, act rather like a rabbit. Of course, Tokio's husband was the only one who would point it out. His penchant for nicknaming the women in his world after animals always brought a small smile to Tokio's face.

"Kume, darling, uh...perhaps you shouldn't eat quite so much cake, hmm? You'll, um, spoil your dinner." Kozue nudged the plate piled with sweets on the table away from his wife.

"Ah, tra-la-la, don't be a big meanie, anata. 'Sides, I have to walk home and phew, its a long walk. Ohhhh, maybe Tokio-san will let me take a piece along. Oh, oh, you should have one too." With that declaration, Kume shoved a piece of cake in her husband's mouth. She laughed heartily, holding her stomach.

Kozue chewed slowly and swallowed loudly before sighing and standing to help his wife to her feet. "Come on, Kume. Lets go home before we annoy sensei and Tokio-san, mmm?"

"Hai, fa-la-la!"

As Tokio shut the sliding door behind the pair, her husband sat at the table and lit up a cigarette. "I can't believe those two are breeding."

"It is hard to imagine Kume as someone's mother," Tokio replied, "But, I think Kozue will make a good father, when he figures it out. I'm excited for them."

"Are you?" the Miburo raised one eyebrow at his wife. "It is rare for you to get excited about anything, Tokio." Peering lustfully at Tokio he included, "Yare, anything much."

"I like children, actually. Often, I took care of Aunt Junpei's kids. Even though they lived in such a horrible place, and with such a horrible woman, they always smiled. Children have no recollection of a past, so they always believe a brighter future is just around the corner."

"Ah, Kitty, were you ever a child?"

"Were you?" Tokio asked, tilting her head slightly as she sat down beside her husband.

"Touche."

They sat in silence for some time, each delicately contemplating their own private thoughts. Outside, the spring cicadas chirped rhythmically, heralding the dawning spring. Their song was interrupted only briefly by the whinny of the horse that Tokio and Kume had long since named "Stormy". Finally, Tokio spoke.

"Shall I heat your bath, Hajime?"

"No," he replied, putting out his cigarette. "Tokio, I have something serious I need to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Tokio whispered, lowering her eyes, "I have something to tell you as well. But, please, continue."

Saitou stood. He walked to the shoji and opened it, letting the still cool air of early springtime brush into the house. His left shoulder leaning against the post, he gazed into the courtyard for some time before crossing his arms and beginning to speak.

"There is trouble in the south. Saigo Takamori has rebelled against the government. He has many, many supporters, almost all samurai and descendants of samurai. I've been asked to go and help command a katana-wielding police force to prevent the violence from getting out of hand."

Tokio sat up straight. This was altogether unlike the other times he had left, she could tell. First, he was actually telling her where he was going beforehand. And second...

"You will fight opposing the samurai?"

"Aa," Saitou replied, his voice unwaveringly certain. "Merely because one has samurai blood doesn't mean you understand the ideals behind your birthright. These men aren't fighting to protect the way of the samurai. They are fighting for blind revenge, for anger. Revenge is no foundation for a government. I may find the Meiji government distasteful, but an equally or more corrupt one would be no good."

Tokio's posture slumped slightly. 'He will go again. I must not try to stop him. That is my promise to him, to support him in whatever he thinks must be done. To follow patiently on whatever road he chooses. But, why now? This time it will be so much harder than the others to watch him leave. I must be strong and I...I can't tell him. Ah, Hajime, I just can't tell you now.'

"I understand. I will wait patiently for you to return."

Saitou turned to face his wife, attempting to read her face. But, Tokio's long bangs fell forward, obscuring her eyes.

"What did you want to tell me, Tokio?"

Tokio looked up suddenly, shaken from her thoughts. She needed to think of something, and quickly, something he would believe. Digging an unseen fingernail into the palm of her curled hand, she forced herself to remain emotionless while in the piercing gaze of her husband.

"Your smoking," Tokio whispered finally, "I wish to ask you to do it out of doors."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Hn," was the only audible reply. But, internally, Saitou scowled as he turned to look once again at the pinks and purples of the pre-twilight sky. 'Yare, yare. So, Tokio has taken up lying to me. This ought to be interesting. She should know better than to try to hide secrets from the Wolf of Mibu. What are you hiding, eh Kitty?'

His nickname for his wife reminded him of the package which had been sitting on the porch. 'Damn. -That- thing. What the hell was I thinking?"

Saitou stepped out onto the engawa and picked up the small box. The creature inside let out a small mew. The lanky man stepped back into the front room and placed the box on the table in front of his small wife, who looked at him questioningly.

"I'm going to bathe."

Without any further words, Saitou left his wife sitting alone. Tokio pulled her self closer to the table, and was startled by a faint noise from within the wooden box. Undoing a leather tie, Tokio opened it. Inside, a kitten with downy midnight fur stared up at her new mistress.

"Mew."

Despite her overwhelming worry and sadness at her husband's departure, Tokio laughed her silent laugh, her whole body vibrating with mirth.

It was true. Her husband wasn't necessarily a kind or compassionate man. But, at least sometimes, he had a pretty good sense of humor.

"I think I will call you Snowflake," Tokio said, picking up the tiny animal and walking to kitchen. She stroked the cat's black fur gently, "A funny name for a funny gift, hm? Everyone will ask why I named a black cat after snowy whiteness."

Tokio sat the kitten down next to a bowl of food and watched it eat for a few seconds. A mischievous gleam reflected in her eye as she turned and stalked down the hallway towards the bathhouse.

'Saitou Hajime, you'll get no sleep tonight,' Tokio thought to herself, 'And no reprieve from teasing for the rest of your living days.'

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

The Seinan wars contained their share of bloodshed, but nothing like Kyoto during the Bakumatsu. Saitou had left Osaka in April, and by the end of summer, things were already winding down. A few scattered holdout forces remained, but nothing of consequence.

So, when his superior asked him to kill one of Saigo Takamori's assistants, Saitou didn't hesitate. Already they were eliminating the higher-ups of the enemy power structure, and soon it would collapse.

He went in the night, stealing onto the grounds soundlessly during a windy interlude. The whole affair reminded Saitou greatly of the efficient and deadly Hitokiri Battousai. That man had lived in the shadows, often killing his prey before they could even scream. The Shinsengumi, however, preferred to attack en masse. Or, they would challenge an opponent openly to a duel, killing them anyway for cowardice should they refuse.

However, Saitou Hajime didn't always have this luxury. To protect the men of the Shinsengumi, he'd been asked to kill spies and traitors several times. And to keep the men from fearing decay from within the group, he'd often had to do it in secrecy.

The man known as Daisetsu owned a fairly expansive house, not quite a mansion, but certainly upper class. He had a only two night guards. More, Saitou knew, would cause suspicion. This man was supposed to merely be a well-off retired samurai who spent his days in intellectual pursuits. Why would such a man need a large force of guards, unless he were hiding something?

Daisetsu's bedroom, however, proved a bit harder to find than the Miburo had expected. After searching three different empty rooms, Saitou finally found the correct one. Thankfully, Daisetsu's wife had been sent away earlier in the year for her own protection, and there would be no need to worry about her screams.

The man who lay on the futon, a wrinkled septuagenarian with very little pepper left in his salt and pepper hair, snored loudly as Hajime approached. Swiftly killing the old man in his peaceful sleep seemed the best the Wolf of Mibu could offer in respect of Daisetsu's ability to live such a long life.

Drawing his sword, Saitou held his breath as he listened to the crisp tone of the katana leaving the sheath. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. The blood in his veins turned arctic. Something was wrong with the room, terribly wrong.

Click.

Saitou spin to meet his attacker, his sword arching towards the precise location of the noise. Upon contact with the sword, the object was pulled downwards. Unfortunately, while such a move would have blocked a weapon such as a katana or kodachi, it had the opposite affect on this weapon. It caused the hand holding the gun to contract, and shoot Saitou in the leg.

The Miburo stumbled backwards as the old man in the nearby futon sprung to life. His savior, a young man no older than Kozue, began to call out.

"Run, grandfather! Run!"

Saitou snarled as he tried to ignore the pain in his leg. 'I'm going to kill my informant for leaving out the part about the grandson.' Adrenaline coming to his rescue, Saitou lunged forward with his upper body. He hadn't even realized that he had taken a makeshift Gatotsu stance when he had been shot. Bringing the thrust forward with all of the might of his torso, he skewered the young man immediately. The move so surprised Saitou that he hesitated a moment before he turned to limp towards the old man now cowering in the corner of the room.

"Please don't kill me, I can give you money, anything you want, anything. Information, anything. I'll give you anything."

"Give me the satisfaction of knowing I have completed my mission," Saitou replied, his voice low and sonorous. He killed the man swiftly, slicing him from temple to jaw with a single stroke. Pulling the sword from the man's head, Saitou flicked his left wrist absently, cleaning the blade with his sharp movement.

His leg began to throb horribly as he tore a piece of the futon's blanket to compose a makeshift bandage. It wouldn't do to leave a trail of blood as he left the property.

'Kuso, guns hurt like a bitch.'

As he stepped over the young dead gunslinger, Saitou clicked his tongue and muttered, "Ahou, didn't anyone ever tell you? You never bring a gun to a swordfight when a Wolf of Mibu is involved. Idiot."

As he left the premises, however, Saitou Hajime didn't feel altogether too annoyed. At least the kid had helped him to perfect the zero-stance Gatotsu. Perfect a move that would rival a point-blank rifle blast to the chest. A sly technique, possibly uncounterable, and massively effective.

Until he remembered, "Shit. I got injured. Tokio is going to be angry."

And -that- thought annoyed him.

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

Osaka, the magnificent City of Water, situated on a sparkling bay, once shone above Japan with her picturesque temples and palaces. But, as Saitou Hajime returned to the city Nobunga Oda once called "The best place in Japan", all he could see were the hideous western-style houses that had been set up for foreign immigrants, Plumes of smoke wafted from the city's new industrial factories. What had once been a pinnacle of education, medicine, and the arts had already begun a slow descent into the grotesque banality of progress.

Saitou walked through the streets towards his home. He's actually been released from his duties three weeks previous, but had spent the entire time gritting his teeth while forcing his leg to heal, willing himself to walk properly, rebuilding his muscles. 'Thank whatever benevolent Kami that my knee wasn't been shattered by that impudent moron,' he grumbled to himself.

Finally arriving at the little house upon the hill, Saitou opened the front gate. Immediately, he could tell something was wrong. The air in the yard smelled sticky and moldy, as if coated in the scent of death and sadness. The small garden in front of the house lay unkempt, littered with weeds and rusting tools. Someone had taken black paint to several of the outer shoji, coating them in a slapdash manner, half-finishing the job. And several of the trees had large chunks taken out of their trunks, as if someone had begun to chop them down and then lost interest.

Saitou tried to sense his wife, to find out if she was even here, but stopped when Kozue slid open the front shoji and stepped out onto the engawa. Hopping down, the young man approached the other figure standing in the courtyard.

"Sensei..." Kozue began, his voice seeming tight in his throat, "I tried to write, but no one would tell me where you were stationed..."

"What has happened here, Kozue? Where is my wife?"

"She's inside, but..." Kozue stopped and closed his eyes for a moment as the loose folds of his blue gi flapped in the breeze, "Tokio isn't well."

"Tokio is ill." Saitou said, believing he had found the answer to the confusion.

"Physically, she's -should- be fine now, but she doesn't seem to be. And, mentally..." Kozue shifted his weight and searched the ground with his eyes for an easier way to tell his sensei the news. "Tokio was pregnant when you left for the Seinan War. But, unfortunately, she lost the child about a month and a half ago. Things have been very bad since then. We weren't sure she was going to make it, sensei. She won't eat, won't leave the house, hardly says a word. She just sleeps."

Kozue told Saitou the whole story. How they came over one day to find Tokio in a pool of her own blood, the miscarried child wrapped in Tokio's sewing basket. After that, Tokio hadn't cried, hadn't spoken, she only stared into space, almost catatonic. They had come over every day to bring Tokio food and to have Kume help her bathe. Once, they had found her in the yard, fruitlessly trying to chop down the trees with an axe, mumbling something about 'extinguishing all the remaining life'. Another time, they found that Tokio had splashed black paint on the exterior of the house. Things had gotten so bad that Kozue had asked his mother to come stay with Kume and their new child so that he could keep constant watch on Tokio.

Hajime's lips set into their patent frown as his pupils contracted, leaving his eyes a syrupy amber. Although his exterior remained calm, focused on what Kozue had been telling him, his gut felt like it had been shredded with a steel claw. What could he do? Even if she had told him, he wouldn't have stayed. And, even if he had stayed, it wouldn't have prevented her from losing the child. Yet his mind turned the situation over and over. If she hadn't lied, if only she had told him, he could have planned...something. 'Stubborn woman. Damn stubborn woman.'

After Kozue finished his explanation, Saitou said, "Go home to your wife, Kozue. I'll see to Tokio."

Kozue only nodded and started for the gate. He stopped walking when his sensei included darkly, "Congratulations. You have a son?"

"Eh? Oh. No. A daughter, Fujiko." Kozue said without turning around, his voice clouded with the sadness that the other man would not express. What odd ways the world had, giving one man a healthy wife and child, and depriving another of both.

Saitou said nothing to this, and the two men parted without further discussion.

Entering his house, Hajime began to search for Tokio. He found her moments later in their bedroom, sleeping. Or, rather, she appeared to be asleep. Her eyes were closed and her face placid. But, his Tokio always talked in her sleep, moving her mouth and making odd facial expressions. This person, this person could have been dead. And, her ki seemed completely dormant, undiscernable and unreachable.

Saitou removed his sword and leaned it against the outer wall. Kneeling beside his wife, he placed one hand on the side of her neck. 'Even her pulse seems weak,' he thought. He examined her skin for a moment, finding the pallor unnatural and translucent. Sickly. Too sickly, even for depression or insanity. 'Damn it, Tokio. I know what you've been doing. Did you really think I would be fooled?'

The man stood and peered around the room. He knew he wouldn't be able to find his quarry by merely searching visually. Tokio would be too clever for that. He'd have to smell it out, faint though it may be. Saitou ran through the list of aromas which belonged in the room. Blood was the first to his nose, that would be his sword. Cigarette smoke, again a scent of his own, as well as the sage he used when bathing. Then Tokio's smells, the fragile bouquet of honey and sugar, of fired wood from the stove. Past this, he recognized the fragrances of the room, the cat he had given her, the acrid scent of paper and the musky smell of wood blended with the perfume of light incense Tokio sometimes used.

And then he caught it, ever so slight, a bitterness covered by the smell of almond and mixed with the piquant odor of fruit. Once he could recognize the distinct aroma, it didn't take long to find the actual object. Pulling away a section of paper hanging between overlapping shojis, he discovered a small bundle wrapped in white cloth tied with a blue ribbon. Inside, he found what he expected, a handful of orange candies. The Miburo scowled deeply as he secreted them inside his gi and kneeled back down beside his wife.

"Tokio," he said firmly, hoping that for once he'd be able to wake his sleeping wife. In compliance, two golden eyes opened, but they refused to focus. For Saitou, they seemed far too much like the eyes of every man just before they took their last breath. "Tokio, look at me."

As she slowly seemed to become a bit more aware of her surroundings, Tokio whispered something too quiet even for Hajime to hear. "You're going to have to speak louder Tokio. Tell me again."

"Go away, Kozue," she whispered, "Let me sleep."

Hajime exhaled through his teeth. 'Goddamnit, already whatever she's been taking has begun to blind her, dull her senses, and obviously weakened her to nigh the point of death. Damn, damn, damn. Stupid, stubborn, impudent Kitty. I am so goddamned angry with you right now. How could you break your promise to me? And Kozue, how could you not notice what the hell was going on here?'

"I'm not Kozue. And you are not going back to sleep."

Tokio's right arm flinched slightly and then began to move upwards, searching for the person right in front of her. But, after only a few inches, she gave up, letting her arm fall back to her side. "Teishu..."

"Aa."

"No, you're not back yet. You have to stay gone because..." Tokio trailed off, her face corpselike. After a second she stated, "You're not really here anyway. It doesn't matter. Let me sleep."

"Why, Tokio? Why do I have to stay gone?" his resonant voice demanded.

Tokio closed her eyes as she rasped, "I don't want my husband to see me. Now, please, whomever you are, let me sleep. It hurts to be awake."

"You're really pissing me off, Tokio.

Hajime knew it was a good thing that his anger at the situation overwhelmed all other emotions. Anger would prepare him, push him into battle mode, clear his mind, force the necessary calmness he needed to function. Without it, the gnawing pain growing in the depths of his chest would very likely overtake rational thought. The word 'panic' did not exist in the vocabulary of Saitou Hajime. He needed a plan. Yes. Nothing could defeat him if he had a good plan.

'First, I have to get her to eat, to start to flush whatever godforsaken toxin she's been putting in her body. After that, I can work on her mind."

Tokio already appeared to be asleep again. The sinewy man by her side leaned, scooping up his wife easily and standing. Even with his leg still healing, he had no trouble carrying the young woman out onto the engawa. In health, she had always been lean, but now his young wife seemed positively waiflike in his arms. He knelt and placed Tokio in a sitting position, her head lolling obscenely to the side. Saitou disappeared back into the house and returned moments later with a plum and a small knife, as well as a cup of water.

"Tokio, wake up," he persuaded stolidly, sitting in front of the sleeping woman. Her eyes opened slowly and winced at the intake of afternoon light.

"Go away," Tokio whimpered in her breathy voice. "Please leave me be."

"Like hell I will," Saitou muttered, pressing the knife into the flesh of the plum. Pulling away a bit of the orange colored pulp, he leaned towards Tokio, "Eat this Tokio."

Tokio only turned her head away from his hand apathetically, refusing the food.

"Are you going to disobey your husband, Tokio?"

"He's gone," Tokio replied, her head nodding forward, "Gone to war. I don't want..."

"Damnit, I'm here, Kitty. Now, don't be stupid. Eat this," Saitou demanded.

Tokio appeared to stop breathing for a moment. Her eyes flickered back and forth, left to right, as if trying to see through an impenetrable fog.

Finally, she whispered, "Hajime?"

'She recognizes me. Good. Good, Kitty.' Minor relief washed over Saitou as he drawled, "Aa. I'm home. And I am very angry with you. Now, eat for me, hm?"

"No."

"Yes. You will." Saitou grabbed his wife's chin and pushed the fruit between her lips. Grotesquely, Tokio let the unchewed flood slide back out and drool down her chin. As he removed his fingers, he realized that her paper-thin skin had already begun to discolor and bruise from his moderate touch.

'I'm not going to be able to force her to eat. There has to be another way. She has to want to eat. But, how? I need...leverage.'

And then, an idea entered Saitou's mind that he knew would work.

"This knife is extremely sharp, Tokio. You should know that. It is one of your very favorite kitchen knives. Now, I'm pretty good with blades of all sorts. But, if I am worried about you not eating, I might get distracted while cutting this fruit."

Tokio looked up quickly, blinking blindly into the overwhelming light as she whispered, "You wouldn't."

"Will you eat, then?"

"No."

Hajime's frown grew even more intense. "Well, then I will just have a piece for myself." He waited until the courtyard was devoid of sound and pushed the blade against the plum with his thumb, moving his index finger in the way on purpose. As he sliced, the blade serrated the edge of his finger, causing a few drops of blood to flow from the cut over his fingernails and onto the wooden porch.

Saitou glared knowingly at his wife, wondering how much she could actually see, "Damn. That hurt. Well, nothing to do by try again until I slice this plum properly. Hope I don't cut off my finger next time."

"Don't." Tokio's lips trembled as she spoke, "I'll eat."

"Good choice, Kitty."

That afternoon, Tokio only ate about half of a plum. The next day, she ate an entire fruit. Saitou kept her on the porch for much of the day, wishing to keep an eye on his wife while he repaired the damaged shojis and cleaned the yard.

On the third day, he spent most of the morning doing kata. He needed to make sure that his leg had healed and was trustworthy. Plus, Saitou assumed, the outside air did Tokio much more good than staying in bed all day, even if she often fell asleep on the porch. She'd eaten a bit of breakfast this morning, some squash-flavored soba. Nonetheless, though she appeared to be getting physically stronger, her attitude and aura didn't change one iota. Mostly, she just stared blankly into space and refused to respond to anything he said.

Visions of his wife laying in a pool of her own blood kept invading Saitou's thoughts as he ran through his moves. Tokio sickly pale, her light green yukata soaked through with crimson. Her ebony hair coagulating with clots of sickness. Their stillborn child already decomposing in her basket, returning to nothingness.

Saitou noticed that he had completely stopped moving, losing his place in his kata. Damn. Something had to give. He could tell that Tokio's apathy for existance, her overwhelming death wish was sucking him in. If she couldn't be made better, he'd be consumed as well, eventually being made useless. So far, he'd been able to keep the gnawing disturbance at bay, but with every hour it grew harder to stay focused.

Guilt, a completely foreign entity to the Miburo, was trying to take up residence in his soul. Even all the men he had killed could not bring him to indulge such an emotion. Guilt was a plague to be guarded against at all times, one bringing doubt and ultimately destruction.

Sheathing his sword, Saitou turned his head to check on Tokio.

He found her missing from the porch.

'Where did you run off to, hm Kitty?'

Using his superior tracking skills, he padded silently into the house, sneaking around corners and between open sliding doors until he found her. The bedroom.

Inside, Tokio crawled forward slowly, using every ounce of her newly regained strength to propel herself. She stopped in front of the double shoji where she had hidden her poisoned sweets, and fumbled to pull back the rice paper. Reaching her hand inside to feel for the object, Tokio seemed oblivious to the man standing behind her.

"Are you looking for something, Tokio?" Saitou asked, crossing his arms.

The muscles in Tokio's back all shuddered simultaneously as she craned her neck to view her husband. "I..."

"For this, perhaps?" Saitou took the tiny bundle of poisoned sweets out of his gi.

Tokio sat up on her knees, steadying herself with one hand. Although her back was to her husband, she could nonetheless imagine his facial expression, knit into concentration and dismay.

"Yes. May I have them?" Tokio whispered, attempting to make the request sound as innocent as possible.

"Don't imagine me as oblivious as Kozue, Tokio. I know what you've been doing. Did you think that if you killed yourself slowly, we would all just think you died of internal injuries and sadness?"

Tokio felt a sob catch in her throat. "I didn't...I couldn't have you think..."

Hajime knelt down behind his wife, his knees on either side of the slender ankles and calves folded behind her. He slid one arm under hers, wrapping it around, his hand coming to rest on her stomach. With his other arm he encircled her upper-chest, placing his hand on the hollow of her collarbone. Tokio went rigid at his touch, resisting human contact. He leaned in and spoke quietly but firmly in Tokio's ear, hoping to imprint the words on her mind. "You didn't want me to hate you for committing suicide. But, it your heart hurt so much, and you couldn't see any other way to relieve the pain. But, I will, Tokio. If you leave me like that, I will hate you forever. I will curse your name. I will spit on your grave."

"How did you know?" Tokio asked, trembling as a tear dropped from her eye and fell on her husband's hand.

"I just know you, Tokio," he replied.

"I killed it," Tokio said, her timid whisper tinged with fear, "I killed our child. I killed it with my thoughts of happiness. I wanted it too much, so it was taken away."

"No. No, Kitty. It isn't your fault. Just your injury, that's all. If the fault lays with anyone, it is me. My wounding you, my leaving you here. Forgive me, Tokio, forgive me for bringing nothing but hurt to your life."

"I can not forgive you for something that is untrue, Hajime."

They sat together for some time, Saitou's firm chest pressed against his wife's back. After a while, Tokio's head dipped forward as if she were falling asleep. He realized she must be tired, if not physically from crawling around, then emotionally.

"Would you like to sleep, Tokio?"

"Will you...lay with me?"

"Aa."

After standing, he lifted Tokio carefully and placed her on the futon. Laying beside her, Saitou pulled her close, placing her head on his shoulder and moving her hand so it lay over his heart.

"I despise Osaka, Tokio."

"I'm not too fond of it anymore either."

Running his fingers through her hair, he replied, "Let's leave when you are well. We'll go to the north. To Tokyo. It snows more there."

"Yes," Tokio said, "That would be nice."

She fell asleep soon afterwards, though not before coating a section of her husband's gi in tears. Saitou didn't mind his wife's crying, for once. 'Its alright, Tokio. You can be strong tomorrow. Tonight, I'll let you weep for both of us, to mourn for both of us. And I will stand guard against the demons of your world.'

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

"No! I won't do it," Tokio rasped, hiding behind a large tree in the back yard.

"That so?" Saitou replied, lighting a cigarette. He sat on the woodpile, watching his wife teasingly peek out from behind a tree.

A month had passed since he returned from the Seinan War, and Tokio had recovered quickly, even more rapidly than he had dared to hope. But then, when Tokio put her mind to it, he knew, she could survive any injury, even ones to her heart.

"Yare, I'll just ask rabbit-girl to do it then," Saitou said with a mock sigh, exhaling smoke.

"And I will laugh when you come home bleeding from the jugular and looking like a scarecrow."

Snowflake mewed as if in agreement as he strutted around to the side of the house. The cat had grown ridiculously fat, Saitou noted, but then, Tokio had a habit of trying to overfeed anyone she could get her hands on, even animals.

Tokio stepped out from behind the tree, "Alright, I'll do it. Though, I do so only under protest."

"Noted."

The mischievous woman approached her husband with mock sadness. Taking the scissors and comb from his hand, she stood behind him, deftly untying his ponytail. Running her fingers through her husband's long hair for the last time, Tokio whispered, "Are you sure?"

"Kuso, Tokio, it is just hair. Cut it already."

"I feel like I am cutting off your manhood," Tokio replied, giggling evilly. "Which is sad, since I prefer to be married to a man."

"That isn't funny, Tokio. Did you poison your sense of humor, too?" Saitou snapped, looking over his shoulder to see his wife using the scissors to snip at the air manically.

"Do you really think you should insult me while -I- have the scissors?'

Saitou grinned widely as he turned back around. That was the wife he adored. The one with the sickly bizarre sense of humor, the one who alternately impressed him with her virtues and challenged him with her piercing wit and intelligence, the woman with bright amber eyes and practiced feminine elegance. He briefly wondered what she would look like when she were sixty, seventy, eighty even. Her svelte features and catlike grace would make her stately as she aged, he guessed.

"Oh, fa-la-la!" came the voice as Kume and Kozue rounded the corner, finding their friends in the back yard, "Are you going to cut Saitou-san's hair, Tokio-san?"

"No. She's going to use the scissors to poke a hole in the back of my head and pull out my brains. You've convinced me the organ is of no use, rabbit-girl," Saitou said, gritting his teeth.

"Is that so?" Kume mused with a confused smile, patting Fujiko lightly in an attempt to get the child to burp. "How unusual."

"No, Kume, I'm cutting his hair," Tokio explained. "He can't wear it long as a policeman. Against regulations."

Kume laughed heartily, "Oh, you two. You tell the strangest jokes, fa-la-la. My sister told me one once. Let me see, it was about a tiny horse and a monkey with a big nose. Something about a duck..."

Kozue grinned sheepishly as his wife continued to ramble, constructing a joke that appeared to have a whole zoo of animals but no punchline. He placed a hand on her shoulder to quiet her and said, "We've um, come to say good-bye."

"We don't say good-bye in our family," Tokio whispered to her young friend, "It is bad luck. Anyway, you should both stay for dinner. I'll cook a feast and send you home with anything we can't eat, hm?"

"How wonderful!" Kume exclaimed as Fujiko expelled a tiny puddle of white goop onto the cloth on her mother's shoulder. "Oh, tra-la-la, there's she goes."

Tokio watched the mother and daughter pair for a few seconds. She smiled, despite herself. Kume actually did turn out to be a rather good mother, Tokio had decided. And, even though Tokio had lost her own child, she felt relieved that everything had turned out well for the Narajirous. They doted on Fujiko, Tokio knew. She hoped that the happiness she had lost would somehow be transferred to Fujiko, doubling the girl's luck in life.

"Can I, um, hold her now, Bunny-chan?" Kozue mumbled, hoping that his sensei wouldn't pick up on the fact that Saitou's nickname for Kume had become an accepted moniker.

"Aiee, take her, take her. I want to help Tokio-san with the hair cutting."

Saitou's eyes grew wide as he stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby block of wood. His mind reeled.

'Oh, hell no. Goddamnit, Tokio, get that rabbit-girl away from my head."

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

The Narajirous and the Saitous spent their night in each other's company. Everyone agreed that Saitou looked quite distinguished with his hair cut.

"Makes you look five years younger, Saitou-san!" Kume exclaimed.

Tokio stuffed them all with her cooking, bringing out plate after plate of food until they begged her to stop. Afterwards, Saitou and Kozue decided to spar one last time. Kume asked Tokio to show her a complicated embroidery stitch she'd been wanting to learn. Although the heat of late summer still lingered into the night, no one much noticed.

Even Saitou seemed to be in a good humor. Though, Tokio knew that his mental state could be partially attributed to the news he had received earlier in the week. Saigo Takamori had killed himself. The Seinan War was over and one less danger existed to threaten Japan.

Eventually, the entire group ended up sitting on the engawa, watching as the stars twinkled to life in the growing twilight. As Kozue and Saitou discussed everything from the upcoming trip to the best type of sake, Hajime noticed that Kume had convinced Tokio to hold Fujiko. And Tokio was smiling broadly as the women discussed child rearing.

The Narajirous left late in the evening, Kume turning back twice to remind Tokio to "Write soon, fa-la-la, and come visit whenever, whenever. You're always welcome at our house!"

"They're good people," Tokio whispered as she turned to her husband, who had perched on the engawa. "I will miss them." She sat next to him as he finished a cigarette.

"Aa," he agreed. Leaning back on one hand, Hajime looked at the sky.

"You're thinking about your new job?" Tokio asked.

"Aa. Do you think, Tokio, that I...I'm doing wrong by the fallen men of the Shinsengumi to take this position working for the Meiji government?"

"It has nothing to do with the government, Hajime. It has to do with keeping order and removing those elements who threaten the safety of Japan, doesn't it?"

"When did you grow so wise?"

"When did you start asking my opinion of the path you choose? You know I am behind you, whatever you do." Tokio patted her husband's free hand softly.

"You better be," Saitou growled, grabbing her wrist as he flicked his cigarette into the yard. He placed his lips on the soft skin of her forearm and began to nibble lightly. "Are you well now, Tokio?"

"Yes," she replied, shivering a bit from the sensations he had been causing on her wrist. Tokio jerked her arm away and gave her husband a look which demanded he watch his propriety.

Saitou growled a low warning, "Give that back."

"Come and take it, if you think it is yours."

The Miburo's shoulders shifted downwards as he prepared to pounce on his wife. Tokio, anticipating his move, deftly shifted out of the way as her husband lunged at her body. Both parties knew he could have caught her easily if he wished. But, ah, the chase was half the battle.

Tokio rolled out of the way, ending up facing her husband on her hands and knees. Much of her hair had come loose during the roll, and framed her face. The mere sight of his deliciously disheveled wife on her hands and knees was enough to make Saitou bite his own tongue.

"C'mere Kitty."

"No, you come here...baldy."

"Hn," Saitou remarked, leaning back against the shoji. He wouldn't let Tokio provoke him, not this time. No, no, this time she'd beg. He'd punish her for making him worry. "Nevermind. You're not worth it anymore."

A predictable look of hurt washed over Tokio's face. Pouting deeply, she whispered, "You don't want me anymore?" Tokio crawled towards him, watching him in expectation of an answer.

Saitou forced himself not to move, though he desperately wanted to snatch his wife up, press her against the wall and show her the meaning of the word 'wickedness'. The fact that she was -crawling- and pouting certainly didn't help. "What is there to want? Why should I waste my time if you are just going to try to kill yourself..."

"I won't," Tokio whispered, now close enough to her kneeling husband to rub her cheek on his sleeve like a cat begging to be petted. "I promise."

"Look into my eyes when you make promises."

Tokio pulled herself up slowly. She hid a scandalous smirk as she edged the hem of her kimono upwards, allowing her to straddle her husband's knees. She searched his gaunt face, looking for a clue to intimate that he wasn't really mad. Finally, she gave up and the pair locked eyes, "I promise."

Drawing his face closer to hers, Saitou let his spidery bangs nestle against her cheeks. Tokio attempted to catch his lips, longing to kiss her husband. Unfortunately, he jerked his head backwards with a throaty growl.

"Again," he commanded, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her body tightly against his own.

Tokio shifted her weight, tightening her legs around her husband's waist in the most excruciatingly seductive way possible. "I promise, Hajime. Now, please..."

"Something you want, Kitty?"

"To welcome you home properly," Tokio purred, her rasp as thick as molasses. She bent forward to kiss his neck, just below the Adam's apple, delighting in the vibrations of the animalistic noises he made in the depths of his throat. This time, Saitou didn't move away. "Something you'd like, Hajime?"

"Aa," he replied, surging forward suddenly and pinning Tokio on her back. "After I make you promise five or six more times, I'll enjoy watching your futile and soundless attempts to scream."