This fan fiction is based on the Rurouni Kenshin manga. Rurouni Kenshin characters are the property of creator Nobohiro Watsuke, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Sony Entertainment, and VIZ Comics. This is a non-profit work for entertainment purposes only. Permission was not obtained from the above parties.
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Hajime and Tokio: Chapter 9 - The Fires Within


by Angrybee


Snow. That winter, there had been so much snow. So much snow that the university had been closed, and every sensible vendor in the market had shut their doors. Hajime, always prepared, had cut so much wood that the pile almost reached the roof of their house in Osaka. It never ended, falling day after day, night after night, suffocating the world.

In the whirlwind of life, the storm of events that propelled a person through time, Tokio saw those two weeks as the eye. So much stillness, deafening. Such incredible brightness, a landscape coated in white, as if nature itself was a virgin unaware of the alluring secrets locked away beneath her own gowns.

The whole house had been so cold that morning. Tokio remembered how the floor had felt like a frozen lake of ice against the bottoms of her feet. Mornings such as this, one dreaded to give up the warmth collected overnight within such thick blankets. Thankfully, Hajime had already risen, so she had no regrets about keeping herself wrapped in the blankets as she rose and stole into the hallway.

The aroma of food being cooked hit Tokio's senses only seconds before the realization that the only other resident of the house, her husband, must be the one doing the cooking. The fact that Tokio could remember less than a handful of instances that she'd actually seen Hajime in the kitchen only compounded her intense curiosity over a very simple question. Could her husband cook?

And, more importantly, why would her husband cook?

She found him in the kitchen, standing in front of the wood stove, a cigarette hanging unattended from his lips as he stirred some concoction that Tokio could not identify. Soup, perhaps? On the nearby counter, various vegetables had been chopped and lay in immaculate rows, like miniature soldiers lined up for battle. Her husband's long hair fell around his shoulders, wavy from the rigors of sleep. However, his grey sleeping yukata contained not a single wrinkle, looking just as crisp as the black gis he wore for teaching kendo. At least this particularity didn't mystify Tokio in the slightest, as she knew Hajime had not worn that yukata last night. In fact, he had not worn anything at all.

The thought tugged at Tokio's lips, coaxing a smirk that arrested itself as her husband spoke with his back to his wife. "It wakes."

Tokio pulled her blankets more closely around her body as she replied, "Are you cooking, Hajime?"

"No, Tokio, I'm laying siege to Hokkaido," he retorted. Removing the cigarette from his lips and putting it out in a nearby urn, he continued, "Think before you ask stupid questions."

Yawning slightly, Tokio leaned her head against the wall. Whatever it was that Hajime had been cooking actually smelled rather nice, and made the emptiness of her stomach much more pronounced. She had several more questions to ask him, but after thought, decided to just let the issue be. It didn't really matter why he was cooking, after all, and the effort of prying the answer from her husband would only destroy the most amusing mystery.

Hajime looked over his shoulder at her, and Tokio found herself wondering how her husband could manage to look amused while frowning. She pulled part of the blanket up over her head in an attempt to warm her ears as she glanced at the nearby counter. A wooden bowl lay there with a cloth over it.

"Hmph. Simple logic dictates that you'd be warmer if you stood closer to the stove," Saitou informed her as he lifted a chopping board and pushed a line of onions into the pot.

Tokio shuffled forward, glad to be invited into her husband's space. She stood next to his rows of chopped vegetables, and colorful lines of diced spices and stared into the large pot that had just begun to boil. Even the way he stirred mesmerized her. Most people would stir in a simple circle, but Hajime's ladle traveled a crisp and unending figure eight.

Looking at her husband, and then at a chopped cucumber, Tokio's stomach sunk. 'Strange how watching someone else cook can make a person twice as hungry. But then, I suppose that would be because...' After stealing one more glance at her husband to make sure his attention was on the soup, Tokio reached out and took a slice of cucumber, which she promptly popped into her mouth.

"Do you know what today is, Tokio?" Hajime asked. His voice startled Tokio so much that she swallowed a large bit of the cucumber slice prematurely. To make up for the unchewed piece, she stole two more slices, deciding her husband either wasn't paying attention or just didn't care.

"Thursday," Tokio whispered, "Or Friday. The snowstorm makes it hard to keep track."

"We've been married for a year."

Tokio stopped nibbling on the cucumber slice long enough to gawk at her husband, her eyes growing bright. Was that why...he was cooking? Turning her gaze back to the counter and her attentions back to the cucumber she whispered, "Four years, Hajime."

"No," he corrected, "Only one."

"One," she whispered in agreement, not caring to quarrel over technicalities. Pulling her blanket up over her mouth she added, "Though every year with you seems more like ten."

"I'm not deaf, Tokio. Maybe if you made yourself more useful on occasion the time would go by faster. Now, hand me that bowl over there."

Tokio turned to her right and picked up the wooden bowl laying on the counter. Pulling the cloth aside, she found a half dozen eggs laying bunched together. Tokio gasped at the sight. Eggs had been rare all winter due to a sickness the previous fall killing many of the chickens in Osaka.

"Eggs, Hajime!" Tokio whispered excitedly.

The lone Wolf of Mibu rolled his eyes and replied, "I know what they are, Tokio."

"But...when did you...where did you..."

"I was going to get you the whole chicken, but after remembering what happened to the last bird that fell into your clutches, I decided not to chance it." Without looking at the delighted expression on his wife's face, he continued, "Yare, they're yours. Do with them as you will."

"Thank you, Hajime," Tokio whispered as she put the eggs away in a nearby pantry. How he procured eggs during an egg shortage and a snowstorm would, Tokio knew, remain a secret. If Saitou Hajime didn't want to tell you something, you would not be told. Tokio felt briefly sorry for any enemy that might try to torture her husband for information.

"Your fire is going out," Tokio noted as she returned to her place next to the stove, "Would you like me to rekindle it?"

Saitou's head turned so quickly to look at his wife that it startled her. The violent movement caused some of his hair to fall into his face, partially obscuring Tokio's view of the blank stare that rapidly morphed into a rare expression of softness as his amber eyes glowed with some sort of private bemusement. Her husband's brow unfurrowed for once, as if his everlasting singular concentration had been temporarily broken.

Tokio stood bewildered as her husband's voice, rimmed with lustfulness, pronounced, "Aa, rekindle my fire."

Finding her fire poker, she bent in an attempt to stoke the flames a bit. Adding two more small pieces of wood, she looked up at her husband and asked, "How is that?"

Hajime looked down at his little wife peering up at him through a shroud of blankets and a curtain of bangs.

And that is when he exclaimed: "Goddamnit!"

Suddenly, Tokio felt herself being thrown backwards as her husband's foot connected with her sternum. She landed against a stand of pots and other cooking utensils, which crashed around her noisily. The wind knocked out of her, Tokio's arms and legs suddenly called out for a now-missing warmth. Her vision swam from the impact, but when the room stopped throbbing, she saw her husband, sword drawn, a rapidly burning blanket hanging from the tip of the blade.

Hajime snarled at the fiery mass for only an instant before making his way towards the southern end of the kitchen and pulling back a heavy shoji. The burning blanket flew out into the yard, creating an angry hiss as it landed in the extinguishing embrace of the snow.

So fast. It had happened so fast. Tokio hadn't even known that she had been on fire until she saw the flame-covered material hanging from her husband's sword. She sat, stunned, as Saitou re-sheathed the katana and then picked her up out of the pile of toppled kitchen utensils. He placed her on a clean spot on the counter, sitting with her upright with her legs dangling a good foot above the floor.

Hajime began a cursory examination of his wife by grabbing her bare arms and turning them over, looking for burns. His nostrils flaring slightly, he dropped Tokio's arms and decided instead to slide his hand around her neck and pull her hair over her shoulder. Finding the tips of the left side of her hair slightly singed, he pulled his pliant wife forward by the shoulder to crane his head and take a look at her back.

"I...I..." Tokio finally stuttered in her hushed whisper, "I'm not b..burned, Hajime."

Saitou let go of his wife's shoulder, letting her turn back to face him. She began to shiver violently as his hand traveled to the collar of her yukata and pulled it open, exposing her torso down to the top of her stomach. Rough fingers explored Tokio's chest, twice causing the young woman to wince when they brushed over the area where her husband's foot had applied the most force. Finally satisfied, Hajime looked up from his work, the deep consternation so recently lifted from his face already carved again into his features.

"No broken ribs. But you'll have bruises."

Through lightly chattering teeth, Tokio replied, "I'll heal. Th...thank you. I didn't even ss...see."

The expression that Tokio had come to understand as wickedly playful tugged at the corners of her husband's eyes as he gazed down from her face over her unprotected upper body. Tokio resisted the urge to squirm as she realized how lurid the scene had suddenly become. Hajime stood between her parted knees as she perched upon the counter, easily able to access any part of her body he might desire.

Dipping his head forward until his hair brushed lightly over her naked collarbone, he asked, "Shall I warm you, eh Kitty?"

In answer, Tokio wrapped her legs around her husband's waist, locking them at the ankles. With wanton hunger, both parties collided in a kiss, a conflagration of passion that Tokio's mind imagined melting the drifts of snow for miles around. She slipped her hands into the front of his warm sleeping yukata, seeking out the taught shoulder muscles which seemingly often had to bear the toughest duties and most starkly harsh responsibilities of the world.

Tokio felt her husband's hand slide behind her neck, resting at the nape for only a moment before his fingers flexed upwards into her hair. He broke their kiss by using a firm grip on the downy tresses he caught and pulling backwards, causing her neck to arch forward towards the demanding ministrations of his teeth. The combined sensations of Hajime running the tips of his pronounced canines over her old scar and his hand pulling at her hair caused Tokio to grind her hips unconsciously with exigent lasciviousness.

In response, her husband growled darkly and renewed his efforts at the sensitive hollows and peaks of her collarbone. As his mouth traveled to the uppermost swell of her breasts, Tokio felt his grip on her hair melt slowly away. That same hand traveled down, over the back of her yukata, pressing her shoulder blades forward towards the ravenous lips attacking her front.

"Hajime..." Tokio finally managed through addled senses.

Her husband exhaled sharply through his nose, the warmth of his breath spreading across her exposed breasts. "Aa?"

"The...the food..."

"Let it burn," he replied, looking up from his task, his eyes alight with rabid voracity, "I have other hungers now."

As if to illustrate his point, he sunk his teeth into the underside of one breast, savagely claiming possession of the fragile skin. Her husband's perfect knowledge of the hidden threshold between pleasure and pain unfailing, Tokio's eyes closed as her mind whispered, 'Yes. Let it burn.'

"Now, about those cucumbers you stole..."

"Hajime..."

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

Wonderful dreams that swirl unbidden from the depths of time, like a kiss in the night from an unseen stranger, can leave one breathless. Especially when one's breathing is already hampered by the restriction of an obi, tight binds around one's hands and feet, and the stifling confines of an enclosed wooden crate.

Tokio found herself suddenly awake. Memories of the past still playing across her mind's eye, Tokio had to wonder briefly if this might be what it would be like to be dead. Darkness. Unable to move, unable to speak, cast adrift in a lonely sea with only remembrances of one's life as companions.

Was she dead? Had she died?

With extreme effort, Tokio lifted her head a bit and attempted to shift herself upwards. It took several minutes to make it into a sitting position, and even then she had to remain crouched, for her head easily reached the top of the crate. Pressing herself against that barrier, she found it immobile.

Still, she could taste fresh air from several directions, so it seemed likely that she hadn't been buried alive, only imprisoned in some sort of wooden box. Her captors had been kind enough to leave some slats removed to allow her air.

Oh yes. There had been a fight.

Tokio groaned inwardly on recollection of how she came to be kidnapped. The woman with the purple hair, who during the course of Tokio's abduction had been revealed to be a man, had come to their door asking for water for a traveling companion who had suddenly taken ill.

'Why did I let her...him...inside? Truly, I am as stupid as my husband is so fond of reiterating.'

Hajime. Would he know how to find her? Would he come? And, more importantly, would he be terribly cross at her for being so ignorant as to let a stranger into their house, and so weak as to let herself get abducted?

Of course, she had fought. Tokio had been able to dive for her shuko, but in her haste she'd been unable to fasten it properly. She'd been so stunned when she actually drew blood from her attacker that the purple haired man had overpowered and easily disarmed her.

She'd tried to disable him with her metsubishi powder, as well, but he seemed to know ahead of time to exhale into the cloud of blinding powder to push it away from his eyes and lungs.

After that, someone had shot a small dart into her shoulder. The world had begun to blur, and seconds later, she'd fallen asleep.

Tokio wondered how long she'd been unconscious. Was she even in Tokyo anymore? In Japan?

Would they kill her?

That was not exactly the end she'd envisioned. Death at the hand of some stranger. No. She would not let them. She would not let her husband's last memories of her be of the woman who had cried with fear over seeing the Hitokiri Battousai. Of a woman so scared of the world that she had frightened herself into losing her voice.

Besides, if she died, who would take care of Snowflake?

'Come on, Tokio. This is no time for silly thoughts. Hajime will come. He will. You just have to survive until then.'

If only she could get her hands free, maybe she could whistle. Maybe someone would hear and come to her assistance. Tokio tried her hands, but found the knot too tight to allow for escape.

Tokio found herself getting angry. 'And why not? I have every right to be furious about this. I'm not some helpless child. I don't have to put up with this.'

She clenched her teeth and tried kicking her legs out, to see if she could find a loose plank in the crate. Nothing.

'This is utterly infuriating.'

And with that thought, Tokio leaned her head against the side of the crate and decided that she'd best try to express her anger in a less tiring way, in case she had to struggle with her kidnappers when they returned. For that reason, Saitou Tokio took a deep breath and forced her vocal cords to constrict enough so that she could whisper her first word in two weeks.

"D...Damn!"

Her husband would have been so proud.

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

"Yare, yare. I bet you've been waiting to say that for a while now," Hajime replied crisply. "I can't believe that, with more than a decade of time to think about it, this was the best you could come up with."

"Do you know this person, Saitou-san?" Seichii asked, still gawking at the purple haired gentleman in the kimono.

"No," Saitou answered, "But, from his speech, I would assume that he is the son of the first man I ever killed. Though, few people would have ever termed Fusada Atsuji a man, and from the looks of him, fewer still will call his son one."

Ienobu drew himself up to his full height. "Underestimate me at your own peril, Saitou Hajime. I was known as the strongest of the Hachinisasareru."

"Inconsequential," the tall cop mused through a cloud of smoke. "For, if I have learned anything from my wife, it is this: A man can possess infinite strength and still be a consummate coward. But, even the weakest child can have spirit and bravery enough to survive a thousand hells. Wishing to fight me to redeem the honor of your father is one thing, but kidnapping a woman to achieve your goal reeks of cowardice."

Seichii tapped the sheathed wakizashi against his lips in thought before saying, "So, this wasn't about Tokio-san, after all?"

Ienobu chuckled deeply, his bouncing purple braids discordant with his manly laugh. Both Seichii and Hajime now noted that the ends of the braids had been bound in what appeared to be sharp barbed wire that gleamed in the soft glow of the lanterns. "No. Finding out that Tanagi Tokio was Saitou's wife merely made this all the more delectable. Returning her to Okashira Iyoko shall assure that I shall resume my place within the clan."

"Kicked out, were you?" Saitou taunted.

"Merely forced to take a leave until I could redeem myself in the eyes of the Okashira. And I have little doubt that reuniting our leader with her granddaughter...your wife...will do just that."

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

Sixteen years ago, a ferocious fire consumed the Fusada family house. It grew so hot so fast that my father had to choose between rescuing his wife, and rescuing his son. A ghastly decision to force upon any man. He came to my room first, where the smoke had already overpowered me into unconsciousness. My father sprinted back outside, and put me in what he thought was a safe part of the yard as he ran back towards the burning building.

But, he had no time. The blaze had already made the route to my mother's room impassable. I was but four years old at the time, but I can remember quite clearly waking to the sounds of my father's screams mingled with the crackle of fire.

Unfortunately, my father had sat me next to a warehouse that contained not only opium, but foreign dyes and oils. That building, too, caught fire. Paralyzed with grief, it took too long for my father to realize my renewed peril. Eventually, I was able to crawl away from the inferno, but since that day, my hair and eyes have always been these unnatural colors.

You do not know how harrowing it is to grow up as a young boy, looking like that, being constantly teased by children. And who could I run to? Who would dry my tears? My father soon followed my mother to the grave by your sword, leaving me alone. With a Revolution brewing, not even the saintliest had time to do little more for the world than bandage the fallen. No man or woman had time to care for a freakish orphan.

And who would bring justice to my father's name? No one in the village even seemed to care that he had been murdered. The whispers in the dark alleyways praised the name of Yamaguchi Jirou for freeing them from the oppressive grasp of my father. Praised him! A criminal! Could the people not see that my father had been wronged? That he, a mere merchant, had only been trying to make his way in the world to secure the futures of his wife and son? So what if he had sold opium and made deals with foreigners. It was -their- choice to buy those wares. He never forced it upon anyone.

I became a servant to another merchant family when my father's property was seized and parceled off to the greedy residents of our village. I toiled daily on the water's edge, endlessly loading and unloading cargo. My masters beat me without sparing a single lash due to my age.

One day, beaten in body and spirit, I fell from the pier into the rushing early spring waters of the river. The water, still near freezing from the snows melting in the mountains, numbed every inch of my flesh. I thought for certain I would drown, but the next thing I knew, I had been pulled from the raging waters by the hands of an achingly beautiful girl only a few years older than myself.

"What have you caught there, Keisuke?" another woman asked.

"A most unusual fish," she replied.

As the women gathered around me, Keisuke placed me on a large boulder and patted my back to assist in dislodging the water in my lungs. I looked around in awe, for I had heard the horrible tales of the witches of the Hachinisasareru. But these seemed to be simple women, kind women, they smiled at me, and gave me sweet rice to eat. When they asked me how I came to be in the river, they all gasped with sincere dismay at my story.

And that is when Keisuke said, "We'd best take him to the Okashira."

They took me to their headquarters, set deep into the mountain. There, I was brought to their leader. Imagine me, a boy of only nine, in a den of trained ninjas! The girl Keisuke introduced me to as regal a woman as I had ever seen. Never before had I beheld a woman with the eyes of a hawk, and the grace of a jaguar. I came to know her as Iyoko-sama.

Keisuke bade me tell my story to her, and I did. When I finished, Iyoko-sama seemed to be peering into my very soul.

"Come to me, boy."

I did as she commanded, and knelt by her chair. The Okashira of the Hachinisasareru ran her fingers through my hair and said, "So much beauty can be born of fire and pain. I know what it is like to lose all that you cherish, to be an outcast among your own people."

Iyoko-sama told me that I could take back all that had been stolen from me. My pride. My freedom. My family's wealth. And if I were especially diligent and true, I could even avenge my father's death.

"We will help you, but we of the Hachinisasareru only train kunoichi. And so, if you wish our help, you must forever sacrifice your image as a man. We require that any man who wishes to join us must always dress as a woman when in public."

It did not take me long to agree. And thus began my rigorous training in the Hachinisasareru Akumu.

It may be hard for you to understand that I have no shame for wearing this kimono. For it is simply a symbol of my dedication to the women who saved me, protected me, taught me all I needed to know to take control of my destiny. Dressed as a woman, I am revered by all who cross my path as a pinnacle of beauty and charm. Men throw themselves at my feet, begging for the simplest favor. And women would give anything to possess the secrets of my allure.

The women of the clan gave me more kindness than any had in years, and I became fiercely protective of my many sisters. The clan had only two other men in it at that time, both much older than myself and dispatched on missions, so I spent years and years in the company of only women. To each and every one I was the little brother or son they left behind in their former lives.

Except to Keisuke. As the years passed, I fell deeply in love with the girl who had drawn me from the river.

Iyoko-sama noticed this and said to me, "Kunoichi must never give their hearts away. For therein lays the power over all others. A beauty who is desired needs no sword, she merely commands all those covet her embrace to fight and die in her name. You give away your heart, and you give away your power."

"Have you never loved, Iyoko-sama?" I asked.

"Twice. A husband. And a daughter. And love stole them both from my side. A fitting punishment, don't you think?"

But, I didn't listen to her. When I was finally old enough to be sent on missions, I always begged to be sent alongside Keisuke. And, I think Keisuke returned my affection as well.

I never got the chance to ask.

Iyoko-sama assigned Keisuke to spy upon a certain politician's actions by setting her up to become his wife. I was furious. My Keisuke, having to marry some old, foul, politician. To share his home...and his bed. My sight ran red with the thought that any man would have my Keisuke.

So I did the only thing I could do. I killed him.

Iyoko-sama found out, of course. And for my disobedience, she sent me away from the clan. "You must make a choice, Ienuobu," she said, "Between duty, the duty you owe yourself, the duty you owe your father, the duty you owe the Hachinisasareru...and the inconstant desires of your heart. For the two are swords, one at your back and one at your throat, and fighting both no man or woman can survive."

So I will kill you, Saitou Hajime, Yamaguchi Jirou, proving my duty to my father. My gift of Tokio to her grandmother, our Okashira, will prove my duty and loyalty to the Hachinisasareru. And then, I will return to my sisters with proof that I have chosen duty over love, that I am truly a kunoichi.

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

"There is a problem with your plan," the Wolf of Mibu retorted, tossing his cigarette off the pier into the calm waters below. "You can't truly expect to defeat me in a fight. If my information is correct, the Hachinisasareru are not taught to be skilled warriors."

"The Hachinisasareru are not taught the tactical aspects of using weapons to slice up or bludgeon their opponents. However, I do not need to defeat you in battle to kill you. I need only scratch you. This is the first Secret of the Hachinisasareru Akumu, the Yakusatsu Oku." Ienobu stepped to his right and removed a long spear-like object from behind a crate. Holding it up to the light, he allowed his two opponents to observe the weapon. The long iron pole ended in an outwardly curved "V" of blades. "This is the double naginata, a weapon of my own design. I find it more than adequate for defeating overconfident swordsmen."

"So ka?" Hajime asked, unimpressed. "I suppose I shall indulge you, then."

"Be careful, Saitou-san," Seichii said, stepping out of the way. "You never can trust a ninja to fight fairly."

"Hmph, what would you know about it?" Hajime asked, drawing his katana. The gathering moonlight slid its reflection sharply down the blade as Saitou crouched, his right foot leading his left. A white gloved hand thrust forward, fingers spreading lightly over the tip of the sword as his left elbow drew back.

"Ah. Yes, the Gatotsu," Ienobu mused. "Perhaps I forgot to mention that I know all about your fighting techniques, my friend. Iyoko-sama's best gift to me, as much intelligence as she could gather on the Shinsengumi's Wild Wolf. Perhaps I should point out that my naginata is longer than your sword. If you run at me with the intent to skewer me, you'll likely find your neck cleaved in twain."

"Aa," Saitou grumbled, "I realize this."

Unseen by the other two men, Okita Seichii rolled his eyes.

Fusada Ienobu smirked as he gripped the double naginata. Gripping the end of the pole with his left hand, he raised it high into the air. His other hand, closer to the twin blades, remained at shoulder level, causing the "V" to be pointed slightly downwards.

As the moonlight disappeared underneath a cloud, Saitou rushed forwards, leading with his right foot. But, when he snapped his shoulder to perform the deadly thrust, Ienobu's naginata shot downwards, capturing the katana between the dual blades. The two men stood, snarling at one another, as Saitou pushed his katana upwards, and Ienobu pressed his weapon downwards, neither wishing to release the other.

Finally, Saitou pulled his katana swiftly backwards. The grating sound of metal on metal ended with a loud "thunk" as the naginata continued forward on its arch and stuck into the wood of the pier. Ienobu, too, continued on a downward path, his legs flying over his head. One foot barely missed striking Saitou in the face as the Miburo slashed to the side in an attempt to cut the other man at the knee.

Unfortunately, his katana only struck the iron pole. Ienobu's right hand had let go of the weapon and pushed off against the ground, allowing the Hachinisasareru's Lost Kunoichi leverage to swing himself away from the slice.

Then Saitou remembered the barbed wire bindings in the ninja's long braids. The Miburo jumped backwards just in time to avoid being hit in the shin with one of the two braids that whipped around as Ienobu spun about the pike.

This Ienobu was clever, Saitou had to give him that much, even if he did fight dirty. The ninja wasn't trying to cut him with the naginata. No, Ienobu was trying to scratch him with the poisoned barbs in his hair.

"I knew your threat to match my gatotsu by spearing me with the double naginata had to be a bluff. At the very least, you risked breaking your arm, since you are only trained to defend yourself with that weapon, not to strike with it," Hajime observed coolly as he watched Ienobu flip back into an upright position and pull the naginata from the pier.

"Ah. So, that weapon he has isn't a weapon at all," Seichii observed, "But a distraction."

As Hajime began to draw his body into the second gatotsu stance, the sword high above his head, Seichii shouted, "Saitou-san, wait!"

Hajime's eyes flickered towards the poet, mid-movement.

"If the naginata blades were poisoned, that poison is now on your sword. Be careful not to touch the katana's blade. Even with your gloves on, you can't be certain..."

Looking up and down the length of his own sword, Hajime cursed inwardly. Several of the gatotsu stances required a light touch on the sword's tip when starting to run, in order to direct the blade. He had to disarm Ienobu.

As Saitou struck downwards with the second gatotsu, the Hachinisasareru ninja moved the pole horizontally to deflect the blow. The katana clanked against the iron rod. But this time, Saitou knew, he had the advantage. The force of gravity and practiced muscles on his side, the naginata fell from Ienobu's hands and landed on the wooden pier.

As Ienobu jumped backwards to avoid the oncoming slash, Saitou used his foot to kick the fallen weapon off the dock into the waters below.

The Miburo stepped to his side and leaned his katana against a crate. Sheathing it would only transfer the poison into the sheath, Saitou knew. And he didn't want to strike the ninja with the poisoned katana. Not until he knew where to find Tokio.

"It will be more amusing to beat you with my fists."

"If that is your belief, feel free to try," Ienobu responded. As Hajime leapt forward intending to punch the other man in the jaw, the feminine ninja's head moved forward diagonally, the exact opposite direction that one would expect for a blocking move. Ienobu grabbed the shirt of Saitou's uniform and used it to propel himself around the Miburo as if the cop himself were a slippery pole. Both men ended up back to back, Ienobu in a crouched position. As the two spun, Ienobu's braids whipped around and caught Saitou's overshirt at his abdomen, leaving it with a three inch slash. Ienobu, on the other hand, found himself being propelled backwards as Saitou's fist slammed into the ninja's jaw.

"Damn," Hajime grumbled, looking at his shirt. Not wanting the poison to soak in through the fabric of his undershirt, he tore the top of his uniform off quickly and tossed it aside.

Ienobu, who had landed on his rear, fingered his jaw lightly. "The second of the Hachinisasareru Akumu, the Hitosashi No Hachi. The dodging techniques of my clan are legendary. A broken jaw is a small sacrifice for killing you."

"Too bad those braids of yours aren't an inch longer, then." Setting himself back into a fighting stance, Hajime mused inwardly, 'Dodging. Those moves are exactly like Tokio's. But the moment he tries to attack, he becomes extremely weak. When his focus moves away from dodging my blows, he's no more powerful than any normal man."

Ienobu stood. Placing his feet slightly apart, the ninja clasped his hands together at his chest, right above his obi, with his index fingers outstretched, tips touching. As Hajime rushed at the man, Ienobu's mouth opened, and emitted high-pitched reverberating scream. Immediately, the male kunoichi became a blur of yellow and black. Unable to discern the placement of Ienobu's head, Saitou changed his aim towards the midsection of the blur, hoping to catch the ninja's stomach. Instead, he felt his hand pass through something soft which immediately constricted around his wrist.

The blur and the scream came to an abrupt stop as Ienobu launched himself into the air, leaping over the bent cop. Saitou found his arm being pulled up and over his own head.

Ienobu had wrapped his sash around Saitou's fist.

Hajime landed on his back, his arm firmly bound by the sash. While the cop lay stunned, Ienobu seemed to dance forward, dragging the length of material underneath the other man's head and then pulling upwards. Within a flash, he had composed a strange configuration of knots, securing both of the other man's arms to the loop around his neck.

"You are lucky. Few people get to witness the Third, and most powerful, fighting secret of the Hachinisasareru Akumu, the Sageyoku No Hachi. The vibrations of my voice displaces the air around me, causing me to seem as a blur, and hiding my true movements." Ienobu's voice dripped with the sugary gloat of victory.

"So ka?" Hajime replied, sounding infinitely bored. Testing his binds, he found that any attempt to move his arms only caused the loop around his neck to constrict.

"I wouldn't move, if I were you, unless you want to strangle yourself," Ienobu removed a spade-shaped kunai from his obi, and moved to stand over the prone man. "I told you, I know all of your secrets, Saitou Hajime. You should have never underestimated me just because I am dressed as a woman."

"I know something about you, as well, Fusada Ienobu," Saitou growled, as the kimono wearing men bent forward, aiming the kunai at Saitou's left eye.

"Oh?" Ienobu asked, stopping momentarily.

"Aa, my wife likes to poison her shuko."

"Nani?!?" the ninja exclaimed, recoiling. Seeing the movement he had predicted, Saitou drew his knee towards his own stomach and shot his foot upwards, connecting easily with the ninja's collarbone. A loud snap echoed through the dock as Ienobu flew backwards, landing in a heap by the water's edge.

"Seichii..." Saitou grumbled. The poet scrambled to his friend's side, using the wakizashi to cut Hajime loose from the knots in Ienobu's scarf.

Lending Saitou a hand to pull him up, Seichii asked, "Is that true? Does Tokio really put poison on her iron claws?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Tsk, tsk. That's fighting dirty, Saitou-san," the smaller man chided.

The Lone Wolf of Mibu tossed the remnants of the scarf off to the side and stalked towards the unconscious form of Ienobu. Grabbing the feminine ninja by his collar and pulling him out of a pile of crates, Saitou held the other man in the air and shook him vigorously. Ienobu's head lolled from side to side until finally one green eye popped open.

"Where's...my....wife?" Saitou barked.

"In...inside..."

Saitou tossed the other man back on the ground and grabbed his katana from where he had leaned it. "Okita. Take that wakizashi and point it at Ienobu's neck. If he tries to move, run him through."

"Hai!" Seichii chirped, bouncing over towards Ienobu.

The tall cop walked towards the door of the warehouse and the thug guarding it, his katana aloft. The thug looked right and left, as if wondering how best to escape. Finally, he turned to his side and, after a brief sprint, jumped into the waters below.

Saitou Hajime sneered.

"Good choice."

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

Fusada Ienobu awoke to find Okita Seichii standing over him. In itself, this would not be a terrifying sight. However, the smiling poet had a wakizashi leveled just above the ninja's Adam's apple, so Ienobu couldn't help but utter a short squeak of surprise.

"Ah. You're awake," Seichii said. "That's good. I wanted to be able to tell you how much I admired your skill. Very unusual. Very effective. I hope you don't mind that I took a bit of a souvenir to remind myself of the fight."

Seichii pulled his other hand from behind his back, producing two short cords of purple with the ends bound in barbed wire. These he dangled in front of Ienobu, swinging them back and forth as if to taunt the other man.

"My...braids!" Ienobu exclaimed, his hands flying to the top of his head, only to find that his once luxurious hair had been shorn, leaving only an uneven mane behind.

"They'll look quite lovely on my wall." Seichii's arm shot out horizontally to toss the braids to the side. The two ropes of hair landed in a bundle, coiling around each other like plum-colored snakes. "You should be glad I did you the favor. Long hair is the demesne of true warriors and women. And now you won't be mistaken for either."

Ienobu's nose wrinkled in anger as he beat his fist against the pier. "Why didn't he kill me? Tell me."

"Oh. -That-," Seichii said, the corners of his eyes turning upwards with his enormous grin, "Saitou-san slays evil. And you, Ienobu, are not evil. Sad and pathetic, perhaps, but not what -he- considers evil."

"So, what now? I am to be put in jail, I suppose?"

Smirking, Seichii replied, "No, I'm afraid fate has decided a far more gruesome ending to your journey, Ienobu-san. Because, unlike Saitou-san, I consider anything that threatens my friends to be decidedly in the realm of evil. Now stand."

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

Tokio had almost fallen asleep when she heard a voice calling her.

"Tokio!"

Her eyes fluttered open to darkness. Was this...some sort of hallucination? She was certain she heard...

"Goddamnit, Tokio, make some noise."

Her husband?

Saitou rotated on his heel, inspecting the spacious warehouse. Box upon wooden box climbed towards the ceiling. 'Where is she?'

"Ha...ji...me?" Tokio rasped, finding the production of even her whispered words still raw in her throat, "H..here!" Tokio leaned to the side and then thrust her shoulder against the side of the box.

Hearing the dull thunk, Saitou stepped closer to the pile of boxes on the eastern end of the warehouse. "Again, Tokio."

Tokio beat her shoulder against the wooden planks with all her might. Over and over again, she crashed into the side of the crate. Her shoulder quickly grew sore as she struggled to help her husband find her location. Finally, she felt the box shift, as if moved from the outside. She could now make out dim light between the two slats in the side of the crate.

Saitou slammed the heel of his hand against the wooden latch holding the top of the crate in place. The latch flew off, skittering across the floor, followed shortly by the crate's lid.

"Hh...Hajime..." Tokio whispered to the silhouette towering above her. She found herself being lifted at the waist and thrown over her husband's shoulder, only to be put set down on the top of another crate.

As he bent to untie her ankles, Tokio choked out, "Man...p...purple..."

"It has been taken care of," Hajime explained. Standing to untie Tokio's hands, the lone wolf surveyed his wife. Her face and neck glowed with the thin sheen of perspiration, causing wisps of escaped hair to stick to her cheeks and neck. A line of dried blood ran from her bottom lip over her chin. Her deep green kimono bore dirt and small rips caused by struggles during the abduction. But, despite it all, honeyed eyes peered at Saitou from beneath sparse eyelashes, calm as the ocean in the eye of a storm.

"I see your voice has returned. Too bad, too. I was getting used to the peace and quiet," her husband commented. Noting the blood soaking through the material at her shoulder, he tugged at her kimono. Tokio watched as her husband inspected the wound in silence. The deft fingers of his pristine gloves becoming bloody, Hajime frowned even more deeply and then pulled her kimono back into place. "You'll be fine. We'll bandage it when we get home."

Tokio's reached up to brush her fingers against the deep hollows of her husband's left cheek. His liquid gold eyes blazed with a carefully guarded inferno of emotion. A deeply hidden fire lay within this man that Tokio knew she would be the only one ever allowed to view in its completeness. Maybe he didn't romance her with flowers or sweet words. Maybe his rough ways and caustic words would be seen by the rest of the world as an extreme dislike for his wife. But, Tokio knew the truth. He needed her, she wasn't certain why, when his life certainly would have been easier without her, but he did.

And she needed him.

"You aren't going to cry, are you?" Hajime asked. "Because you already look dreadful enough."

Or, maybe she was wrong. In retaliation, Tokio's hand shot out in an attempt to shove at her husband's shoulder. To Tokio's surprise, the tiny punch landed, though it didn't seem to dislodge her husband from his position in the slightest. Saitou looked at his shoulder where his wife's hand lay as she grabbed the material of his black undershirt and pulled herself towards his chest. Laying her head against him, Tokio whispered, "Took you...ssso long."

Saitou leaned forward and pressed his face into his wife's hair, inhaling the familiar scent of honey and sugar marred only lightly by blood and sweat. "Aa. But, I'm here now, Kitty." Prying her away by her uninjured shoulder, he continued, "How did you finally do it, Tokio, how did you get your shuko to injure that man?"

A wide and wicked grin crossed Tokio's lips. It had been dumb luck, of course, but she wasn't going to tell him that. Tilting her head to one side, and shrugging nonchalantly, Tokio whispered mockingly, "Aku...Ss..Soku...Zan!"

One sharp eyebrow lifted upwards quizzically before Saitou let out a bemused chuckle. "Very funny, Tokio."

"Good...joke?"

"Aa," he replied, "Best one you've told in at least two weeks."

Tokio pursed her lips and glared at her husband. She was about to inform him that she'd been mute for the past two weeks, when she realized he was teasing her...again.

The couple hadn't traveled three steps towards the entrance of the warehouse when they heard a raucous crash followed by a splash.

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

Saitou reached the deserted dock a few steps ahead of Tokio. The girls bearing the lanterns had long since fled the scene, but now even Ienobu and Seichii appeared to be missing.

No. A splash of water alerted the cop to the presence of at least one person still living. Tokio behind him, Saitou moved to the edge of the pier and looked into the water. The face of Okita Seichii, dripping wet, stared back at him.

"Where's Fusada?" Hajime asked.

Seichii looked down at the water, dejectedly.

"You let him get away?"

"Well," Seichii said, his voice bordering on a giggle, "Not exactly."

Tokio crept towards her husband's side and looked down at her friend. Seichii bobbed violently to and fro, as if pulled by unseen currents. "Do you need hh...help, S...Seichii?"

"Oh, hello there, Tokio-san!" Seichii called, "No, I'll be fine. You two go on ahead. I'll need to wring out my clothes."

"Hmph," Saitou said to his wife as they walked away from the warehouse, "I was wrong. That ahou. He is nothing like his brother."

Back in the water, Okita Seichii waited for several minutes until he knew that his friends had left the scene. Pulling the heavy object he had been forcing below the waves upwards until it broke the surface, the poet placed his free hand on the edge of the pier to steady himself. Ienobu's body floated upwards, the feminine form even paler in death.

"You were wrong about one thing, Ienobu-san," Seichii said to the dead ninja, whose head he held by what remained of his hair, "A man needn't give up love for the sake of duty. The man you fought today has the nobility of spirit to fight for both. That was your true weakness. You hadn't the strength of virtue to have faith in your own heart or the heart of your beloved."

With those words, Okita Seichii removed the wakizashi skewering the dead ninja's neck and released him into the midnight waters below.

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

Five months later: Meiji 10, March

Saitou Hajime is 35, and Okita Seichii is 33. Saitou Tokio has just turned 23. Snowflake is very, very fat.

~*~*~

Flip. Flip. Stamp. Flip. Scrutinize carefully. Flip. Flip.

Sometimes, Saitou Hajime had to wonder about extensive volume of paperwork created by this Meiji government. He snarled. So many of the men who ran this era didn't have the balls to say something unpopular, so they ended up hiding everything under mounds of paperwork. They tried to hamper every decisive action with form upon form, too scared to be blamed should something go bad. 'Imbeciles. Don't they know that paper makes a flimsy shield?'

He sorted the papers into three piles, "Useful", "Worthless", and "To be Destroyed". The "Worthless" pile, he noted, had grown extremely large this afternoon. In contrast, the "Useful" pile contained only one folder labeled, "Surveillance Report: Himura Kenshin vs. Udou Jin-’e".

The ex-Shinsengumi captain glared at the file, deep in thought. 'So. Somewhere buried deep beneath the 'bumbling rurouni' act, the Hitokiri Battousai still lives. Like the building pressure of lava beneath the crust of a volcano, he waits for any crack in the mask he created to survive this era, waits to erupt.'

'This wanderer is no sort of man, merely a shell, a casing, a prison for the assassin locked within. Peace will never be known by him. If the Shinsengumi code had even the slightest concession towards compassion, I'd put him out of his goddamn misery. But, instead, I will have to wait for the inevitable. A volcano may sincerely wish to be a mountain, but the nature of the volcano is to destroy. In the end, this desire to be what he is not only makes him more dangerous for those souls clustered in his shadow.'

Through the partially opened shoji, early spring blossomed with all of the pompous grandeur mustered by the ancient city of Edo. Tokio, he knew, had been ripping the budding flowers out of the garden all morning, and replacing them with vegetable seeds. "I don't have a quarrel with flowers," she'd said once, "Just with flower gardens. They make me think of a prison where the residents have been stripped of the freedom to scream."

She had a tendency to say morbid things like that, from time to time.

Saitou wondered about the Kamiya girl. It seemed clear now that she had to be the Battousai's woman. No wonder he hadn't been able to figure out her place in the whole scheme of things. She'd have to be a nigh-Buddha to put up with the brat, the ahou, and that damn rurouni.

'Surely, you see now, Battousai, how your war with yourself puts those around you at risk. If your old procilvities had not surfaced, the Kamiya girl would have perished by Jin-eh's Nikaidou Heibou, if not by his blade. You can not keep this delicate balance for long. For, in this tumultuous world, a vow not to kill is only a vow not to kill as long as there are other options. One of these days, you'll run out of options, Battousai.'

The shoji slid further open, shedding a large rectangle of sunshine upon the tatami mats. Tokio stood silhouetted in the springtime afternoon, escapee wisps from her simple ponytail glowing from the backlighting. Her gardening clothes were slightly smudged at the left hip, and the fingers of her thick gloves hung limply downwards, tucked into her light green colored sash. Snowflake skittered past her feet and entered the room ahead of her, moving to an already warm spot on the tatami in preparation for his ninth nap of the day.

"Won't you have some tea, Hajime?" Tokio stepped inside carrying the black lacquer tray.

"Aa," he replied, waving his wife away dismissively. "Later."

Tokio pursed her lips and knelt carefully, setting the tray down and beginning to make tea, even though her husband had declared otherwise. As he was not one for ceremony, Tokio prepared the tea alone, and then stood to bring the cup, along with a small bowl of soba, to her husband. "Later", she knew, meant she would come back later only to hear the same answer again. And he just simply didn't eat enough for a man his size.

Hajime placed the rest of his papers lengthwise over the Battousai's file, No need to alarm Tokio this afternoon. He'd already told her everything she needed to know about the man, currently. Delving into Himura's latest swordfight would do Tokio no good whatsoever.

Setting the food and drink on the low table that her husband used for working when not at his office, Tokio whispered, "I've had a letter."

"So ka?" Hajime asked, picking up the chopsticks Tokio had brought and beginning to eat.

Tokio remained kneeling beside her cross-legged husband. Putting her hands on his knee as if to brace him for the news, she continued, "From Kozue and Kume."

The answer to that revelation was a derisive snort.

"They are traveling to bring Fujiko to meet her grandmother, and will be passing through Tokyo. I've asked them to..."

"No," Saitou interrupted. "Absolutely not."

"Only for a few days, Hajime. They will only be staying for a few days."

Placing his bowl of soba firmly back on the table, Saitou responded, "I'd rather rip off my own arm and use the severed limb as my weapon in a duel with the Battousai,"

"That isn't funny, Hajime."

"You're right," he replied, scowling at the paperwork laying before him, "It isn't funny at all."

In Our Next Chapter: A visit from old friends turns dark. An accident puts one of the Saitou-gumi's lives on the line. Grief sets friends at each other's throats. And our friends make fun of the Kenshin-gumi.

~*~*~*~ Character Notes: ~*~*~*~

* Fusada Ienobu - Now that I think about it, I liken Ienobu's looks to those of Nuriko from Fushigi Yuugi. Both have purple hair in braids, and both are men who often dress as women. However, Ienobu is decidedly straight.

I should also point out that Ienobu uses the word "kunoichi" more as a title than a description. He is proud of the skills he has learned from the women of the Hachinisasareru, much as Kaoru is proud of being a woman in what was generally considered a man's profession.

I drew a rough sketch of the double naginata, but couldn't figure out a way to transfer it from .bmp to .gif.

* Okita Seichii - Ok. I decline to comment on Seichii for this chapter, merely because I don't want to ruin the next chapter for you.

~*~*~*~ Chronicle and Misc. Notes: ~*~*~*~

* A lot of people asked about the last line from the last chapter. Yes. I did steal it from The Princess Bride. Yes. That was somewhat corny. I apologize deeply.

* I don't know about you, but I would much prefer a man who can find fresh eggs in a snowstorm to a man who makes a gift of an expensive ring he finds in a catfish. But, maybe that is just me. At any rate, I hope the flashback at the beginning of this chapter didn't confuse anyone. If you are wondering about the "rekindle my fire" conversation, I'd recommend going back and reading the first scene from Chapter 1.

* If you were wondering how Ienobu found out about Saitou and Tokio, its because I probably didn't make it very clear. One of the servants in Katsu's household was a Hachinisasareru-loyal spy. That is why Seichii recognized one of the girls holding the lanterns.

* The Hachinisasareru. I had a lot of fun coming up with their techniques. Of course, it is easy to see that most of what Tokio knows about defense and poisons and such comes from her mother's training. In case you are wondering, here are the rundowns of the 3 of the 4

Hachinisasareru techniques revealed so far. 1) Yakusatsu Oku - The hundred million killing poisons

The first thing the Hachinisasareru women learn is how to grow, concoct and manipulate various poisons. Tokio is most fond of putting hers in sweets, as we know, but there are many other applications. Kunoichi were fond of poisoning small, concealable weapons such as the dirk, needles, and spiked rings. Ninjas had slow and fast-acting poisons, poisons that caused failure of a specific organ, sleeping poisons, and even poisons that changed the scent of sweat to make their prey easier to track.

2) Hitosashi no Hachi - Dance of the Bee

These are the dodging techniques of the Hachinisasareru. They tend to use the inertia of the movements of an opponent, as well as the body of the opponent, in order to dodge blows. Ienobu, of course, also uses his naginata for this purpose. Tokio's ability in this area is good, but not perfected to the level of Ienobu, since if Hajime wants, he can usually pin her down with his superior speed and strength. The point of the Hitosashi no Hachi is, of course, is to dodge long enough to make one scratch on the opponent with a poisoned needle, or spiked ring (or barbed wire bound braid!) and then to flee.

3) Sageyoku no Hachi - Flapping Wing of the Bee

This is the "blur" technique that Ienobu uses. According to the story, the high-pitched scream displaces the air, turning causing the ninja to appear as a blur. Of course, due to her voice, it would be impossible for Tokio to use this technique, even if she knew it, which she doesn't.

4) ???? - There is a fourth "Akumu" of the Hachinisasareru. It will not be revealed until much later.

All the Hachinisasareru techniques, as well as their uniform and name, are predicated on a bee theme. What can I say? I like bees. The names, of course, are made up as best I could with a Japanese-English dictionary. And I adore the techniques of the historical kunoichi, which tended to be exceedingly crafty and manipulative.

*~*~*~ Note Notes ~*~*~*~

Oh my good lord. What is my problem? I've got to cut down on the notes. Maybe I should just save all comments for the very end?
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