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Hajime and Tokio: Chapter 10 - Lost Wolf

by Angrybee ::: 11.Oct.2003

"You can tame a dog with food. You can tame a man with money. But no one can tame a Wolf of Mibu!" -Saitou Hajime

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

Yamaguchi Katsu stared at the awkward object on her desk. If she didn't know better, she'd suspect the damned thing had just recently been ripped from the most secret innards of a locomotive. Ugly did not begin to describe this 'typewriter', no. You'd have to add many more words, words like 'hideous', and 'grotesque', and possibly even 'monstrous'.

Katsu adored progress, but why did it always have to be so aesthetically displeasing?

"And you say Hiraki sent it?" Katsu asked her assistant, a young woman named Seisaka whose poor looks and overly clever mind had afforded her no other choice than to work for a living.

"Yes ma'am. It arrived by courier this morning. What, if I may ask, exactly -is- it?"

Katsu had already glanced over the accompanying English booklet, so she had a general idea of what this machine was supposed to be. Nonetheless, one could not help but recognize that even if the machine were a fabulous invention of the new era, it was an eyesore. And she certainly wouldn't keep it in her office.

"It's a sign that both of my brothers are utterly hopeless," Katsu said with an exasperated sigh. "Take it and put it somewhere else. Preferably at the bottom of a lake."

"Speaking of your brothers, Yamaguchi-san, would you like me to bring tea up when Fujita-san arrives?"

"I suppose that would be polite, wouldn't it?" Katsu mused dryly. "And we certainly can't have Jirou thinking we're anything less than utterly polite."

"As you wish. Shall I inform Okita-san of Fujita-san's visit?"

"No." Katsu helped her assistant lift the heavy piece of machinery off the desk. "He left instructions not to be disturbed. His work is exceedingly important, now more than ever. If he comes out, however, do see if this -thing- will amuse him. Okita-san has always been so good to me, and I would find myself deeply remiss if that smile of his were to be lost along his journey."

After her assistant had left, Katsu sat in the plush desk chair that accompanied the heavy wood desk. These, too, had been presents from Hiraki. As one of the top advisors of the Ministry of Finance, he could now afford to send lavish gifts to his sister. And, indeed, he had a tendency to indulge in such a habit at least once a month. Hiraki, she suspected, had never truly forgiven himself for the hardships which had befallen their family, and in particular Katsu, after he had left their home village to seek his fortune.

Well, for now, she had the other brother to deal with. Katsu fumed inwardly as she leaned back in her chair, putting her feet on her desk and staring at the ornate ceiling. Jirou...no...Hajime. That insufferable, manipulative, paranoid, one-track minded prick. Unfortunately, she knew, the list also included: insightful, cunning, talented and dedicated.

If he didn't already know the truth, he'd find out soon enough. She expected that he'd asked to visit due to some growing percolation of doubt in his mind. Katsu suspected she'd have to be extremely careful, or she'd end up risking the lives of everyone involved. Especially Okita. And especially Tokio.

Over the past few months, Katsu had found herself becoming fond of her sister-in-law as well as Tokio's young assistant, Meshibe Naoya. Upon their first meeting, Katsu had found Tokio pleasant enough, if not somewhat dull. It seemed reasonable that Hajime would marry a girl who wasn't altogether bright. Less questions for him, Katsu supposed. And of course, it didn't hurt that the girl was quiet and unassuming.

But, over the winter, when Tokio had miscarried for her second time, Katsu had spent a great deal of time with the young woman. Men, of course, were hopeless with such things, and Naoya, though ever-dedicated to her mentor, was still a bit too young and brash to offer any sort of pertainent wisdom.

She'd found that Tokio had many endearing qualities of her own, even if the quiet woman did often come across as rather prudish, self-defeating, and morose. Patience, a keen eye for detail, and a fierce devotion to those she considered family and friends all made Katsu fond of Tokio far beyond the formal bond of sisters-in-law.

And, of course, as much as they both tried to hide it, it was plainly obvious to Katsu how dedicated Hajime and Tokio were to one another.

There had been a concerted effort between Tokio, Okita, Katsu and Naoya to keep the date that Tokio had become pregnant from her husband. They had intimated to him that it had happened in late November, but Tokio's suspicions placed the time only a few days after she'd first seen the Battousai. This would have meant that she'd been with child during her kidnapping by Fusada Ienobu. All parties involved, especially Seichii for some reason, agreed that it would be best if Saitou not know. No one really wanted to give him an excuse to go off looking for the escaped Ienobu.

Secrets, of course, were also being kept from Tokio. As they had promised, neither Katsu nor Seichii had revealed the scandalous details of Tokio's connection to the Hachinisasareru to the young woman. They had told her only that Ienobu sought revenge against Saitou for killing the elder Fusada, an explanation which Tokio seemed more than ready to accept.

So many secrets. Katsu knew it didn't seem likely that all of the secrets could hold up forever. And the most dangerous one... Okita-san was walking a damn thin line, in her opinion.

But, for now, she needed to fend off her brother's questions as best she could.

"Fujita-san to see you, Yamaguchi-san."

"Send him in," Katsu replied, taking her feet off her desk. Not that she felt her brother deserved some sort of show of propriety, it just bode best not to give him any ammunition.

Saitou Hajime walked into the room with his usual air of commanding ferocity mixed with brusque annoyance. He wore his police uniform, and his sword, as if expecting to confront the criminal element at any moment. The man probably wore the damn thing to bed. She'd really have to ask Tokio about that sometime. Though, the other woman might choke to death upon being asked about her husband's sleeping habits. Katsu found the sight of her brother horribly amusing, so much so that she let out a deep guffaw as she motioned for her brother to sit.

Hajime merely stared at her, waiting for her laughter to cease. He had an inkling that she was, for some reason, laughing at his expense. Damn it. Having a conversation with Yamaguchi Katsu required about as much preparation as going to war. Finally, he said, "Are you quite finished?"

"Yes, yes," Katsu replied dismissively, "How are you, Hajime? How is Tokio?"

"Fine." Saitou did not feel it necessary to get into the habit of exchanging pleasantries with Katsu. Nonetheless, knowing that his sister truly did care for his wife, he added, "She spent the better part of yesterday destroying the flower garden in favor of vegetables."

"So ka? And you let her do this? So soon after..."

"My wife can do as she pleases," Saitou interrupted, the irritation in his voice palpable. Thirty seconds. It took Katsu less than thirty seconds to get under his skin. His sister's adeptness at rubbing people the wrong way made him briefly consider using her when he finally decided to move against the Battousai. But, no. You didn't wish Yamaguchi Katsu even on your greatest enemies.

"Well, are you going to tell me why you asked to see me today, Hajime? Since you don't appear to be in the mood to be even the slightest bit civil to your obliging sister, I assume you have some pressing business?"

"Perceptive, Katsu. Too bad you weren't born a man, you might have actually done this world some good."

Sixty seconds. It had only taken her brother sixty seconds to get under her skin. Katsu's flesh crawled at the intended implications of his last statement. If she were a man. That Ienobu fellow was a man, the Battousai was a man, her -brothers- were men. And what, exactly, had they ever done to truly better this world besides cause war, pain, and strife?

Both brother and sister regarded each other cautiously. As if mirror images of one another, they both reached for their cigarettes, Hajime's in his pocket, Katsu's in the top drawer of her desk. Saitou used a match to light his, while Katsu had some elaborate brass contraption on her desk that produced a small flame after several pulls of a lever. A gift from their elder brother, Hiraki, Saitou assumed.

Brother and sister both leaned inwards slightly, each with one hand on the table. Battle stances. Saitou attempted to read his sister, but found her guarded, as always.

Fighting her with a sword would have been so much easier.

"I want to know what the hell is going on here, Katsu," he demanded.

"Whatever could you mean, brother?"

"I've had it looked into. Your books do sell well, and Seichii makes some money, as well, with his poetry and speech writing. But there is nowhere near enough to pay for this house, your carriage, servants and the amount of traveling that you do."

"What are you implying, Jir-kun?" Katsu asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I do not imply. I will say it quite frankly. Where is the money coming from, sister?"

Katsu stood, turning her back to her brother. She crossed her arms as she continued to smoke, exhaling sharply to the side. "I do not see how that is any of your business. I am an independent woman, and I may do as I please. You have no right to delve into my affairs. Stay out of it, Hajime. I am warning you."

"Or what? What threat could you possibly level against me?" Hajime beat one fist against the table, "If you do not tell me, I will eventually get it out of Okita."

Katsu spun, her eyes aflame with an intensity that Saitou had not expected. "You leave him out of this. That man cares more for you and Tokio, for all of us, than you will ever be able to comprehend. I swear by our mother's eyes, if he ever comes to harm by your hand, directly or indirectly, I will go to the ends of the Earth and beyond to make sure you pay for it."

Saitou flicked the growing ash from his cigarette onto his sister's doubtlessly expensive flooring, and ground it into a smudge with the heel of his foot. "A pretty speech, Katsu. But, I will find out what is going on here. You know you can not hide it from me forever. And if it turns out that you are doing anything to dishonor our family name, I will..."

"Spare me the details, Hajime," Katsu sighed, returning to her chair. "Your righteousness always was a bit simpleminded. No wonder you make such a perfect match for Tokio."

"Hmph. Your feeble attempts to invoke my ire amuse me, Katsu. Unfortunately, they have only fueled my resolve to find out what you are hiding." With that, the lanky man stood, "I'm leaving now. If you decide to come to your senses, you know where to find me."

"Come come, Hajime," Katsu called to her brother as he retreated, "Be reasonable. Stay and have tea with me. Tell me about this 'Himura' fellow that Seichii keeps mentioning. I'll at least pretend to be fascinated."

"As surpassingly droll as that sounds, Katsu, I do have other business to which I must attend. Some of us spend our time attempting to fortify this country, protecting the peace and safety you now take for granted." With that declaration, Saitou Hajime left the room.

It took a great deal of willpower not to slam the door behind him.

Katsu only shook her head sadly. 'If only you knew, Jir-kun. If only you knew.'

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

Somewhere above the marketplace of Tokyo, four people sat sequestered away from the din of shoppers and vendors.

Narajirou Kume leaned over the railing, her arms outstretched as if attempting to give the afternoon a hug. "Oi, fa-la-la. Look at the view, Tokio-san. Just look! We're so high up! Hello, Tokyo! Hello, beautiful marketplace!"

"You'd...uh...best come away from the railing, Bunny-chan," Kozue cooed towards his wife. "That wood doesn't look...um...too sturdy."

"Yeah," Naoya mumbled in the direction of Tokio, "She might fall and hit her head. And we wouldn't want -that-."

Tokio suppressed a grin as she continued to feed Fujiko bits of melon. The nine month old child had been greedily taking the fruit and placing it everywhere except her own mouth. This interest in food had led Tokio to decide that the child would become a masterful cook, an opinion which she reinforced by pointing out other items of food on the table and quietly whispering their names to the plump babe in her arms.

"I wonder what is keeping Katsu-san and Okita-san," Naoya mused aloud. "I hate to start eating without them, but, why the fu..." Correcting herself before Tokio could even look up from feeding Fujiko, she said, "Why the fa la la should we let all this food go bad?"

"Naoya-chan..." Tokio began as Fujiko's tiny hands wrapped around a pair of chopsticks.

"Please, Tokio-san! I'm fifteen now!" Naoya hazarded an embarrassed glance towards the Narajirous, who were now both standing near the railing, to see if they had heard. She'd been ever so proud when Tokio-san had invited her along to this very posh restaurant on the second floor, overlooking the marketplace. Obviously, she was to be considered an adult now. Assisting in entertaining guests definitely fell into the area of being a proper lady. Tokio had even commented on how lovely her hair and kimono looked today. Being called 'chan' definitely spoiled the illusion.

"My apologies, Naoya," Tokio whispered, prying the chopsticks away from Fujiko and placing them out of her reach. "We simply can not eat, since this lunch was arranged by Katsu-san. I fear it would be ever so rude to our hostess."

"I'm afraid she won't be able to make it," a cheerful voice said from behind Tokio, "But, I hope I will be acceptable in her stead." Okita Seichii stepped out onto the patio, his radiant smile surpassed in brightness only by the afternoon sun.

Tokio smiled, or rather she tried to smile. In the absence of chopsticks, Fujiko had decided more ready entertainment was to be had by tugging at Tokio's bottom lip. Gently pulling the girl's hand away, Tokio said, "Okita-san, as always your presence brings joy and light to a gathering."

"And what about my presence?" A deeper voice asked, as Hajime stepped out onto the landing as well.

"Ah, yes. And I retrieved your husband, Tokio-san. He seems to think you shouldn't be left alone in my presence. I must be a wicked little man, indeed, that other men should be so protective of their wives around me."

Hajime refused to dignify that statement with a retort. He took a seat beside Tokio, who immediately preoccupied herself with Fujiko so not to have to answer her husband's question.

"Fujita-sensei," Kozue said as he attempted, for the second time, to direct his wife's attention away from the railing. "So glad you could make it. And this must be the illustrious Okita-san that Tokio-san has ano...told us so much about. Pleasure to...uh...please don't lean over so far, my dearest."

"Indeed, I've heard quite a bit about you, as well, Narajirou-san." Seichii remarked. Sitting next to Naoya, Seichii looked at the teenager with impish glee, "I heard you turned fifteen. I suppose now is as good of a time as any to announce our engagement."

"Okita-san!" Naoya exclaimed, blushing for the first time anyone had ever seen. "We're not engaged! Besides, you're far too old for me. And too short."

"I'm deeply hurt, Naoya. Oh well, I suppose I shall have to live on, rejected and broken, as best I can," Seichii replied with mock mournfulness, pouring himself a cup of tea in the process.

"Is there going to be some marrying?" Kume asked, apparently unable to follow the conversation whilst gesticulating excitedly at the skyline of Tokyo. "I do so like weddings, tra la la. So many sweets, and so much sake!"

"It drinks?" Saitou, looking unceasingly bored, barely moved as he asked the question. Why -had- he consented to come along in the first place? Ah yes. To see how much information he could pry out of Seichii about his sister's clandestine activities. And not, he assured himself, to keep an eye on the growing closeness between Tokio and Seichii. No. There would be no reason for that whatsoever.

"Yes! I like sake!" Kume exclaimed. "Sake and making babies! Fun, no?"

The entire patio was stunned for a moment. Eventually, Naoya and Seichii both laughed, Kozue turned bright purple, and Tokio coughed and proceeded to look horrified.

Saitou, on the other hand, grumbled something along the lines of, "Of course. Rabbits are of little use except to make other rabbits."

Fujiko gurgled happily and pulled herself into a standing position on Tokio's lap. Hajime regarded them from the corner of his eye, while keeping the rest of his gaze trained on his accident-prone student and the scatterbrained rabbit girl. 'Strangely, Tokio really is good with children. Every day, Naoya becomes more and more tolerable, less of a whirlwind of tomboyishness. And watching Tokio play with Fujiko..."

A scene of snow and blood twisted itself through Saitou's mind. A girl laying in a bin of trash, bleeding. His sword. His own goddamn sword. No. He would not regret. He would not doubt.

"Is something wrong, Hajime?" Tokio asked. "You had the strangest look on your face just now. Oh, no no, Fujiko. That is hot."

"Hn. I'm just wondering what could be so terribly important to keep my sister away from such a -charming- outing." The acid in Saitou's voice was enough to cause even Fujiko to pout.

"I'm afraid she didn't say," Seichii replied, "But, I would assume there is some problem with her publisher. Some of her books are being translated into Chinese. Terribly exciting, don't you think?"

Naoya resisted the urge to squirm while kneeling. Sitting like this really put a strain on her ankles. What was so bad about sitting cross-legged, anyway? "Not really. Chinese is all gibberish, as far as I can tell. Besides, what's the big deal about some stupid books? The real world is so much more exciting."

"Quite so," Seichii agreed with his usual aplomb, "And in the real world, we must eat. So, shall we?"

"But look," Kume exclaimed, "There is some sort of commotion in the street! Sumo wrestlers..."

Kozue, the blood finally having drained from his head due to the earlier comment by Kume, looked to where his wife had pointed. "Oh dear, that redheaded man has a sword. Ano, looks bad all around."

A flash of glances shot around the table. Tokio looked up from her quiet conversation with Fujiko towards the pair standing at the railing. Saitou eyed his wife. Naoya's head turned sharply to the left to seek a response from Fujita-san. And a chopstick cracked in half in Seichii's hand, as the smile on his face dropped completely away.

Upon hearing the snap, Kozue looked towards the table at the quartet of startled individuals. "Oh, thank goodness, ano, that it wasn't me who broke something this time." Noting the expressions on the faces of the four, he continued, "Don't...uh...worry. Just a chopstick, you know?"

Finally, an almost inaudible whisper issued from Tokio's lips. "I'll go look."

"No," Saitou said, as hand shot out and the crook of Tokio's arm. "Stay put."

"I have to agree with Fujita-san," Seichii agreed softly, "There is really no reason to subject yourself to that, again. It would be awful if..."

"Please. I must. I don't want to be afraid forever. Naoya, if you would hold Fujiko for a moment..."

"I wanted to see, too," Naoya whined.

"I'll hold her," Seichii offered, "I'm good with kids. Besides, if you hand her to Fujita-san, her first words would likely be Aku..."

"Don't even say it, Okita," Saitou warned.

After handing Fujiko to the waiting arms of the poet, Tokio and Naoya stood and made their way to the railing where Kozue and Kume had been observing the action in the street. Both of Tokio's hands clamped around the railing for support. Naoya stood next to her mentor, appearing immensely worried.

In the commotion of the street, Tokio watched the tiny figure with the red hair and disturbingly bright fuchsia gi carry a yoke with buckets on his shoulders. Nearby, she noticed Myojin Yahiko, whom her husband had informed her had fallen in with the infamous Hitokiri. Two other figures stood nearby, a tall boy dressed in white, and a young woman.

But, the hitokiri. Tokio's visage clouded with sadness as she watched how openly they all moved through the street. As if the Revolution had never happened, as if he'd never committed a single crime. How could he get away with carrying a sword in the streets of Tokyo? Of all people, what right did he have to continue to live? To smile? To laugh? What right did he have to speak with such a clear voice, when hers had been stolen?

"Well, he's just silly looking," Naoya commented. "He's even shorter than Okita-san."

"He has hair like a spoiled pumpkin!" Kume chimed in, "Rotten pumpkin-head, tra la la!"

Tokio did have to admit that, from this distance at least, the Hitokiri Battousai didn't appear overly threatening. In fact, he looked more like one of the market's beggars to whom she might slip a coin or two on her way home. And really, it was quite ridiculous the way his hair clashed with his gi.

"Ano, who is that man, Tokio-san?" Kozue asked.

"A volcano posing as a mountain," Saitou responded, watching the foursome at the railing. Seichii, on the other hand, seemed engrossed in playing with Fujiko, cooing simple rhymes to the child as he bounced her on his knee.

"He's..." Tokio began, "He's just a man. No matter how skilled or deadly. He's just a mortal man."

'He will be judged,' Tokio thought to herself, 'Teishu will fight him, and teishu will win. Because all evil falls to my husband's sword. He has never failed.'

Naoya pointed towards Yahiko. "Look at the little one. He looks kinda like some sort of slimy rat, don't you think?"

"It takes a rat-girl to know a rat-boy, I'd say," Saitou commented, his attention being drawn away from his wife. Something was wrong here, something on the patio. Something having to do with Seichii. But, no. The poet looked normal, if a bit ridiculous, as Fujiko began to climb up Seichii's gi like a miniature mountaineer.

"Don't you want to see, Okita-san?" Naoya asked.

"Not really," the temporary babysitter replied, "I'd probably have nightmares about it. You know me."

Kume pointed at Sanosuke, "What is wrong with the tall one's head? It looks like he's been in an explosion or something. A hair explosion."

Tokio had stopped listening. She couldn't take her eyes off the woman standing with the trio. What had her husband said the woman's name was? Kamiya? Tokio had imagined her monstrous, maybe a bit like Katsu-san with demonic eyes and wearing men's clothes. But this woman, no, girl, wore a kimono, and had her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She didn't appear to be a warrior, some sort of wild Amazon woman of fable. No. Just a simple girl. And the way she looked at Himura Battousai, the way Kamiya-san's shoulders and posture always seemed to mold towards some invisible field emitted by the Hitokiri, stunned Tokio beyond belief. Was this girl...in love with the legendary assassin? Surely not. Surely someone had informed her of the danger that she might be in, even now, even in this most public place.

"Tokio-san? Tokio-san, are you alright?"

"I'm alright, Naoya," Tokio whispered. "I think I'll go sit back down and have some food. Won't you join me? Kozue? Kume?"

"Hai, fa la la!"

Unfortunately, just at that moment another figure stepped onto the landing, a young woman with her left side caked with mud. Her face and hands bore numerous scratches and superficial wounds. She wobbled forward unsteadily as her breath came in exhausted pants. Seisaka, Katsu's personal assistant, looked like she'd just stepped out of one of the worst battles of the Revolution.

"Seisaka!" Seichii exclaimed, handing baby Fujiko back to her mother, "What happened?"

"You must...come quick, Okita-san," Seisaka finally managed to say. "Its Katsu-san. Her carriage...there's been an accident. The doctor says...she doesn't have long."

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

Kneeling beside the western style bed of her sister-in-law, Tokio put her hand gently on Katsu's. On the other side, Okita Seichii sat in a similar position, his ever-present smile having long disappeared. His usually cheerful expression replaced with something akin to the ethereal emptiness exuded by many a polished marble statue, the poet appeared all but immobile.

The only other person in the room, Tokio's husband, lurked in the shadows beyond the glowing circumference created by the two candles on either side of Katsu's bed. Stuttering wisps of incense smoke rose from brass containers at the east and west ends of the room, doing their best to cover the bitter odor of blood and the intangible perfumes of the arrival of eternal sleep. A sliver of light, a dagger of brightness, which had escaped from between heavy curtains drawn to exclude the afternoon from the familial scene, cut through the room diagonally across Katsu's bed.

Beyond the oak doors, the occasional stifled sob or shuffle of feet could be heard as the servants and other family friends waited for the news. The doctor had taken his leave some time previous, asking if a monk or other religious figure should be sent for to perform the last rites of Katsu's choosing. To this, the dying woman had replied, "I need no man to usher me into the next world. I'm perfectly capable of getting there myself."

Katsu, herself, lay beneath several layers of blankets, her unrepairable body as hidden as her own concern for the inevitable. Her face washed and gently graying hair unbound, she seemed older and more frail than Tokio could recall noticing. Although her cheeks and eye sockets appeared sunken, causing her face to reflect a veritable canyon of plains and shadows, Katsu's gaze nonetheless remained steady, still burning with some remnant of the defiance with which she lived her life.

"Tokio-imoto," Katsu began, her voice quiet but steady, "Please care for my brother and for Okita, but never do so at the cost of your own happiness. You are deserving of your own smiles."

"Yes, Onesan, I shall try my hardest," Tokio replied, squeezing Katsu's hand as she fought back tears.

"And Seichii. My dear, dear friend. Try not to worry. Your brother sees all that you do and all that you have done, as do I. I thank you, deeply, for everything."

Seichii, unable to respond vocally, pressed his cheek against Katsu's other hand in response.

"Jirou?" Katsu called, unable to locate her brother visually due to the increasing dimness of her sight.

"Aa," Saitou responded, taking a step forward from the shadows. The oblique angles of his face took on a jagged relief in the unnatural light. With his arms crossed at his chest he said, "I am here, Katsu."

"Jirou, you once killed a man to preserve my honor. And since that day, every decision you have made has been weighed with a true and righteous heart. But, you are not the only person who has ever shoulder the burden of hard choices. Try to be more forgiving of others, Jirou, especially if you feel you must continue to be such an insufferable ass."

After a long pause of consideration, Saitou begrudgingly responded to his dying sister. "Alright, Katsu." His fisted hands clenched only minutely as Katsu's eyes seemed to glaze over, her sight into the world beyond her own body and spirit completely disappearing. Katsu's breathing soon became difficult, but she did not seem to struggle against the pain.

Finally, the matronly elder sister of the Yamaguchi family said with a regretful sigh, "If only...I'd been born a man...the things...I would have done..."

And with those words, Yamaguchi Katsu's face became slack, and she was gone.

Tokio, forcing back her own tears, laid Katsu's hand to rest upon her chest and closed the dead woman's eyes. Okita Seichii, head and shoulders already bent and sporatically convulsing with his silent sobs, pushed his face into the bedding to muffle a heart-wrenching wail.

All the while, Saitou Hajime made no sound whatsoever, his face remaining as stoic as granite. He loomed at the foot of Katsu's deathbed, regarding the scene with what appeared to be an absolute lack of emotion. As his wife stood to move to the other side of the bed in an attempt to console Seichii, their gazes locked. Tokio froze in her path, stunned by cutting precision of her husband's stare, as if the current sharpness in his eyes could only be matched by the blade of his katana. Tokio found the expression unreadable, but infinitely alarming. She'd only seen its match once before, once when her husband had been lost to her for a year and a half.

"Hajime...?" Tokio whispered.

The brooding man made no reply to his wife. Whatever could have been said? He'd seen so many people die, enemies, innocent bystanders, comerades in the Shinsengumi, even Okita Souji. In the end, could anything really be said? The dead were dead. The terrific continuation of the cycle of mortality, just like his own personal moral code, made no allowances for needless shows of sympathy, outrage, guilt or vengeance. Mourning would change nothing.

Besides, he could not express what he did not feel. And Saitou Hajime felt nothing. Nothing at all.

Flicking his wrist in a dismissive movement towards Tokio, Saitou turned for the door. Once outside, Tokio heard him say, "She's gone." A renewed cacophony of sobs and moans made their way through the heavy door as Tokio decided to turn her attention towards the distraught poet.

Kneeling besides Seichii, Tokio put her arm around his shaking shoulders and attempted to pull him away from his position of smothering his cries into the bedding. He resisted on the first and second try, but by the third, Seichii's body pliantly folded into Tokio's grasp, collapsing like a rag doll against the younger woman. Feeling the stuttering sobs issuing from Seichii's small frame against her chest caused Tokio's own tears to finally overflow from her eyes as her throat began to burn and choke with sadness.

Finally, Seichii began to speak haltingly, "I...I failed...I failed him. I failed her...I couldn't...I just wanted to show him...my gratitude...for being there..."

Having no idea what Seichii was talking about, Tokio could only stroke the overwrought poet's hair gently. She found it alarmingly feather soft, like the hair of a child. "Its alright, Sei-kun. Whatever it is, I'm sure she understands."

Together, they stayed by Katsu's side holding vigil far into the night.

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

"The carriage lost a wheel," Seisaka had explained to Tokio between heavy breaths, "I had been riding up with the driver, so I was thrown clear, but Katsu-san...she was...pulled along underneath the wreckage."

Katsu's young assistant had broken down into uncontrollable sobs upon telling her tale, and now sat, leaning against Tokio, soaking the sleeve of that woman's kimono with her tears.

Naoya had arrived sometime after that, having stayed the night at the house on Taito street with Kozue and Kume. After shedding a few tears of her own, Naoya had shown incredible strength and maturity, heading into the kitchens and preparing food for the tired residents of the Yamaguchi house. Since then, young Naoya had been cleaning the formal reception areas of the house in preparation for the arrival of guests who would be sure to come to pay their last respects later in the week.

However, when Tokio had asked if her husband had returned to their house during the evening, Naoya replied that he had not. This disturbed Tokio greatly, even more than the complete emotional breakdown of Okita Seichii.

'Where could you have gone, Hajime?'

That look that she had seen in his eyes reminded her altogether of the hopeless feral look she had experienced in Osaka. He looked like an injured animal, one preparing to strike even the hand that might attempt to free it from a trap. Tokio wondered if her husband even felt anything, if he was capable of feeling anything, for the loss of his sister. He'd seen so much death, he steeped himself in blood, ever unflinching. Was he so desensitized by his own missions that he would be unable to even offer some sort of mild regret over his sister's death?

"Tokio-san?"

Naoya had been standing in front of her mentor for some time, trying to get the other woman's attention. Finally, Tokio looked up, staring dumbly at the young woman in front of her.

"Tokio-san, Narajirou-san is downstairs. He's going to send Kume-san and little Fujiko on to Fujiko's grandmother's house, but has decided to stay and assist with the funeral arrangements."

Tokio nodded in response. Good old Kozue. Tokio didn't doubt that this decision by Kozue had something to do with the disappearance of her husband. Just like in Osaka, she knew, her friend would stick by her side until Hajime returned. Although the similarities between Kozue and Okita Seichii had not gone unnoticed by Tokio, both men being good natured and quick to smile, it was not hard to realize that both bore completely different hearts. While Okita Seichii burned as brightly as a sun, lavishly bathing the world around him in the glow of his own radiant personality (or, in this case, starkly depriving the world of said glow), Narajirou Kozue could be more easily likened to the moon. He reflected some unknown light, leading the wayward and fallen through the darkness towards a comforting peace.

"Thank him for me, will you, Naoya?" Tokio whispered, "And would you please take Seisaka downstairs and perhaps assist her in finding some food and drawing a bath? It would do no good for all of her scratches to become infected."

"Yes, Tokio-san. Though, you too should think of having some food soon." The deep concern on Naoya's face caused Tokio to resist responding with the truth, she didn't feel able yet to eat.

"I shall, I promise. But, first I'd like to look in on Okita-san. He's such a gentle soul, and he has taken this so hard."

As Naoya led Seisaka down the stairs, Tokio stood and headed towards Seichii's room. It would be best, she reminded herself, not to trouble the diminutive poet with the disappearance of Hajime. Seichii had been with Katsu now for perhaps five or six years, maybe more. He had likely grown attached to the woman as almost a surrogate for his own brother. No wonder he had practically collapsed in grief.

"Seichii?" Tokio whispered, pushing open the door. The futon lay empty, and Okita Seichii was nowhere in sight.

'Oh, Seichii. Not you too.'

Trying not to panic, Tokio searched the nearby rooms. Eventually, she found him standing in Katsu's office and library, staring blankly at one of the walls of books. Seichii's arms hung limply at his sides, seeming suddenly too small for his olive colored gi. As Tokio approached, she found herself disheartened by the look in Seichii's eyes. Like her husband, he seemed lost, unable to comprehend the world around him. But, unlike Hajime, his eyes contained none of the cutting ferocity and piercing disdain. Seichii looked just like some confused little boy.

"When I was young," he began in the breathy voice of someone who had recently shed too many years, "My brother used to sometimes read to me. I remember how he sounded, so clear, reading each word as if it he truly meant it, as if he were right there with the characters. He would tell me later that it didn't matter what the author said, merely that they had the strength to say it. Just like Katsu-san. She always had the strength to say exactly what she thought, to put everything right out in the open."

"As do you, Seichii, as do you," Tokio whispered.

"No, Tokio-san. I am a coward, too afraid of losing those I love. Always too afraid of what others will think."

"You are part of our family now, Seichii. No matter what, you will always be most dear to us." Tokio placed her hand on her friend's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Please. Let me make you some tea that will help you sleep."

Instead of responding to her suggestion, Seichii's hands flinched as if shocked by a brief pulse of electricity. "Saitou-san is gone, isn't he?"

"Yes. I'm afraid he is," Tokio replied, attempting to sound much calmer than she felt.

"Just like a wolf to go off and nurse his own wounds. Don't worry, Tokio-san. He'll return."

"Yes. I know he will. He's never broken a promise to me yet."

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

It started with a footnote. Just a single comment on the bottom of a file, one that could have easily been overlooked. Especially in a document as thick as the Kanryuu file, the one brief passage likely would have escaped the notice of any other, less dedicated, man. But nothing, no matter how small, ever slipped past Saitou Hajime.

Almost distrusting his eyes at first, Saitou read the comment again in disbelief.

"The true capabilities of Kanryuu's advanced Gattling gun are detailed in document 46175 by Okita Seichii."

Okita Seichii? Why would a poet and political speech writer have a document on file regarding one of the most powerful weapons of the age? Saitou quickly requisitioned the document in question, and found exactly what the footnote had promised, detailed plans for the black market Gattling gun that Kanryuu had purchased, along with a list of prices.

All in the overly exacting handwriting of Okita Seichii.

Saitou slammed the document down on his desk, furious. What was this? He had to know, and he had to know now. Thankfully, the criminal in question, Kanryuu, lay imprisoned in a jail cell only a short walk from his office.

Gathering his gloves and brushing an errant bit of ash from the sleeve of his uniform, the Miburo headed out the door. Already, the sun had set for the day, and the halls of police headquarters had become barren of most life, the night shift being sparse and mostly already deployed to trouble spots around the city. The few officers who remained steered far clear of the lanky man storming down the hallway, having already heard the rumors about the exacting deadliness of Lieutenant Fujita Goro.

Especially now. Over the past two weeks, Officer Fujita had been a constant presence at headquarters. A frightening presence, at that. He'd even pinned an underling up against a wall for only the most minor insubordination. And once, it was said, he had drawn his sword during a disagreement with the police chief. But, no one could confirm that rumor, and none of the officers wished to risk their very jobs by confronting either of the two men in question. Nonetheless, everyone knew that Lieutenant Fujita worked extremely late into the evening, and arrived far before the day shift arrived.

Saitou hadn't returned home once in the two weeks. Instead, he chose to take up temporary residence at an inn near to his office, allowing him closer proximity to his work. Distractions now would be unforgivable, now when surveillance on Himura Battousai was so important. Tokio would understand, as always. His mission, sacrosanct to his very being, could not be avoided. She had to know that nothing could sway him from this path, not even the death of his sister. Besides, nothing could be done for Katsu now. Funerals were merely elaborate rituals to comfort the living, and he had no need of such comfort.

"Lieutenant Fujita!" one of the guards exclaimed as the tall man appeared soundlessly from the oppressive darkness of the underground jail. "Here to see Kanryuu again?"

"Aa."

"Good. That guy is a bastard. Plus, he cries at night like a girl. Anyway, here are the keys. Have fun. I promise, if anyone asks, I didn't hear nothin'."

Saitou walked to the end of the hall and opened the heavy iron door to find Kanryuu still awake, sitting in the absolute blackness of the cell, staring into indeterminate space.

"I've already told you everything I know about the Battousai and the Oniwabanshu and the opium and the gun. There's no point in asking, because I have no more to tell," Kanryuu explained, his voice the droning murmur of a broken man.

"So ka?" Saitou asked, taking out a cigarette. As he lit it, he watched Kanryuu's pupils contract at the introduction of light. "Then perhaps a different line of questioning is in order. Tell me what you know of Okita Seichii."

"The name doesn't sound familiar."

His free hand traveling to the hilt of his sword, Saitou asked, "Would you swear your left eye on it?"

Being a generally cowardly man by nature, Kanryuu didn't need long to consider the threat. "Yeah. I know him. We met at a rather lavish party held by a chemist acquaintance of mine about a year ago. The place was stocked with Tokyo's most elite intellectuals. Anyway, somehow I got into a conversation with Okita-san about recent advancements in weaponry. He had some very provocative insights on the subject, and seemed most interested in the Gattling gun in particular. Later, after we had a few more meetings, he revealed to me his true profession: an arms dealer. Posing as a poet and a political speech writer, he was able to travel freely between intellectuals, inventors, and scientists...and politicians interested in his wares."

"Clever," Saitou said, not revealing one ounce of the anger that had begun to churn within his innards. "I assume you bought the Gattling gun from him?"

"No," Kanryuu replied, "The model I had was the very latest in technology. Okita-san wanted to get his hands on my contacts so he could turn around and sell them at an obscene profit to the most interested party."

"The most interested party?"

"The Meiji government, of course."

Right then, Saitou Hajime needed a drink.

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

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since she'd seen her husband. Really, though, Tokio knew she didn't have any reason to be alarmed. He'd left before, and he'd leave again. 'He does tend to tell me he is leaving, though, nowadays. I suppose I can't really expect him to be able to do so all the time. Still, he didn't even come to Katsu's funeral. Is he upset? Does he even care? I know they didn't get along too well, but this seems mildly excessive. Hajime isn't completely heartless. Surly and focused, perhaps, but not heartless.'

"Ano, Tokio-san, this is all so complicated," Kozue said by way of observation, indicating the piles and piles of paperwork stacked on Katsu's desk. "I wish Hiraki-san could have stayed. He...uh...seems good with things like these."

Yamaguchi Hiraki. He had, of course, shown up for the funeral of his sister. Tokio liked him well enough, but found him lacking the passion and fire of his two younger siblings. Mostly, he seemed to be a reserved and scholarly man of few words. "Yes, but it would be too rude to keep him from his important job at the Finance Department just to help us sort out Katsu's household expenses. Besides, we just have to worry about this month and next. After that, I'm certain that Okita-san will be well enough again to deal with such trifles."

"I should have paid more attention to my studies," Kozue replied, plopping down cross-legged on the floor of Katsu's office to go through stacks of paper which had even accumulated there. "These transactions, ano, are all so confusing. Good thing I'm decent with a bokken, because I'd, um, make a horrible bank clerk."

"I'm afraid I'm in the same boat as you, Kozue," Tokio whispered. Besides the little money she made in the market, which her husband considered hers, Hajime took care of all the finances. "I just don't understand all these notations and names and..."

Right then, the door to the office slammed open so loudly that Tokio could have sworn the hinges should have cracked. Both of the room's occupants jumped, with Kozue dropping an inkwell on a stack of papers, and Tokio's hand flying to clutch the scarf around her throat. Looking up, she half expected to see the person in her life with the greatest predilection towards slamming doors, her husband. Instead, in the doorway, ragged from his recent lack of sleep, stood Okita Seichii. His head bowed, he took giant gasps of air, as if he had been running.

"Leave...those...things...alone!" Seichii commanded in a growl, his voice lower and wilder than Tokio could remember. "Don't touch anything!"

"Seichii?" Tokio whispered as she slowly stood from her position kneeling among the stacks of papers, "Are you...quite alright?"

As if suddenly remembering himself, Seichii's hand flew to his lower face, covering his mouth and nose as he took a step backwards. Still panting, he let out a short moan of horror. "Oh, Tokio-san, Narajirou-san, I'm so sorry. I forgot...I didn't mean to startle you. Please forgive me..."

Seichii leaned against the doorway, his eyes wide at the horror of his own actions. Tokio's lips pressed together in thought for only a moment before she addressed Kozue. "Kozue, won't you go downstairs and see if Naoya requires any help when she goes to the market this afternoon?"

"Um..." Kozue replied, looking from Seichii to Tokio and back again. For a moment, Tokio thought the young kendo instructor might deny her request, which actually lightened her heart a bit. The very thought that Kozue might believe she'd need to be protected from the harmless poet would have been exceptionally amusing under other circumstances. "Certainly, Tokio-san."

As Kozue left, Tokio made her way across the room. She stopped about two feet from Seichii, whose gaze searched the floor blankly. "Please don't be embarrassed, Seichii. Everyone understands you are not yourself right now. No one will judge you for this. But, please, you mustn't overexert yourself."

"Please promise me, Tokio," Seichii said, falling forwards to end up on his knees in front of her. Grasping one of Tokio's hands, he lifted it to his face, rubbing it against his cheek in an expression of supplication that made Tokio's heart ache with pity. "Please promise to leave these papers for Seisaka. I've been so much trouble to you already..."

Tokio knelt down as well. Crooking one finger underneath Seichii's chin, she lifted his face. "Of course, Seichii, of course. Now, please, won't you go out into the garden with me? Some fresh air will do you good."

"Will you read to me, Tokio-san?" Seichii asked, his voice once again becoming small and childlike.

"Yes. I certainly shall."

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

Sanzou Tsubame hummed a bit to herself as she placed various dishes on her tray. Tae pretended not to notice her young assistant's chipper spirit. 'Might it have something to do with Yahiko-chan's promise to come by tomorrow to help us clean out the ovens?' A wicked grin crossed Tae's face which she replaced with a look of innocence and a whistle as Tsubame walked past.

"Here you go, Ijiti-san, fresh and hot, just the way you like it," Tsubame said, kneeling down to place the plates of food in front of the old woman who nodded happily and began to eat.

'So nice and quiet in here today,' Tsubame thought, 'Especially since Sagara-san hasn't come in today to cause a ruckus.'

Delivering her last bit of food, Tsubame turned to head back to the kitchen. She felt so lighthearted that she wanted to skip, but Tae would probably make fun of her again if she gave in to such a childish impulse.

Suddenly, a fiercely tight grip on her wrist shook Tsubame from her thoughts. It pulled her to the side so quickly that Tsubame stumbled and ended up on her knees in front of the most secluded booth in the Akabeko. Shaking her short hair out of her face, Tsubame looked up to find sinister yellow eyes staring back at her. The man snarled from behind the jutting black blades of hair falling in his face.

"You should be more careful, mouse-girl," Saitou said with a sneer, moving his face close to Tsubame's, his strong hand still crushing her wrist, "Predators lurk in every corner."

"Itai," Tsubame squeaked, squirming openly as she tried to back away.

"Bring...me....more....sake," Saitou said, enunciating each word clearly for the scared waitress. How many times was he going to have to tell her? No wonder he never came into this place. It reeked of blood and burning flesh and the service bordered on reprehensible. The soba shop closer to his house would have been preferable, but...

Saitou released Tsubame's wrist with a quick push, causing the young woman to skitter across the aisle and come to a stop with her back against the far wall. She raised her circular serving tray to cover most of her face, peering back at the aggressive man in the booth as her eyes grew widened. Seconds later, she disappeared, running wildly back to the kitchen with total disregard for the other patrons.

Pouring the last of his sake into the shallow cup, Saitou eyed the package at his side. The name Okita Seichii seared through his mind like hot coals.

Okita Seichii was an illegal arms dealer. The information gleamed from Kanryuu combined with the collaborating document he had found explained so much. It certainly explained Katsu's money. And it explained why Katsu traveled so often. She must have been working for Seichii, either selling arms abroad or meeting with potential clients. She was probably even going on an assignment for that snake when her carriage crashed.

Everything had been such an elaborate act. And now everything had to be called into question. Seichii's concern over the Hitokiri Battousai. Had it been an act to try to find out if the assassin's new plans would involve a purchase of weapons? And what of the convenient disappearance of Ienobu? Had Seichii made some sort of underhanded arms deal with the ninja whilst Saitou rescued Tokio inside the warehouse?

And all the more revolting was the thought that Seichii had been leeching money off the government, draining them by charging overly exorbitant prices for weapons, while probably, at the same time, selling weapons to contrary factions as well. Sickening. Foul. Utterly contemptible.

'Okita Seichii. How could I have been fooled by you? I should have known, but I let my regard for your brother color my perceptions, blind me from the obvious. I let you into my house, trusted you with my sister and even my wife.'

His wife.

Right now, Tokio could be with Seichii. And, if Seichii hadn't balked at lying to them, what else would he be capable of doing? His acting skills were extraordinary. What couldn't he convince Tokio to do in the absence of her husband?

Saitou slammed back the last of the sake, barely noting the bitterness as it slid down his throat. Grabbing the package at his side, he tossed a few coins on the table and left the Akabeko.

He didn't have time to wait around for that lazy mouse-girl.

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

"Do you miss her, Narajirou-san?" Naoya asked as she folded one of Katsu's western "tablecloths" and put it into the crate. They had been going through Katsu's linens and dishes, trying to decide which ones should be kept, and which ones it would be best to pack away for now. "Kume-san, that is?"

"Ano, yes. Very much, Naoya. Two weeks seems such a desperately long time to be away from my wife. I don't know...um...how Fujita-sensei does it."

"I'm glad you're here, though. And Kume-san should be coming back with Fujiko-chan in a few days, ne?"

"Actually," Kozue said, smiling a bit as he struggled to wrap a delicate plate, "Don't tell Kume, but I was a bit glad not to have to see my mother-in-law. She's...uh...a bit scary."

Simultaneously, an uproarious crash came from the next room, and the delicate plate slipped out of Kozue's hands and broke into dozens of pieces on the floor. However, instead of being concerned for the expensive platter he had broken, Kozue sprinted across the room and retrieved his bokken from where he had placed it against the wall.

"Please stay here, Naoya-san," Kozue said as he raced out the door.

Paying no attention, Naoya stood up to follow him, mumbling, "Oi. What the fuck is going on now? I was -trying- to have a goddamned polite conversation here."

They found the front doors to Katsu's house completely demolished. Standing among the wreckage, the late afternoon sun at his back, towered Saitou Hajime, katana drawn, his other hand holding an oblong package wrapped in cloth.

"Fujita-sensei!" called Kozue, glad to slip his bokken back through the loops of his grey hakama. But, why had his old teacher broken the door down? "So glad to...uh...see you?"

"Where is he, Kozue? Where's Okita?"

"Ano, in the gardens, I think, with Tokio-san. But, are you..." Kozue didn't have a chance to finish the question. Saitou had already strode past, heading towards the back of the manor. Kozue and Naoya exchanged bewildered glances and then both took off running off after him.

Spring that year had already taken on the heavy quality that Tokio associated with burden. The burden to live, the burden to grow. Flowers that survived the long winter compelled themselves from the womb of earth only to be met with the horrors of the world above: insects, oppressive sunlight, the possibility of drought. Trees succumbed once again to the process of sprouting blossoms, hoping fruitlessly to impress passerby with the idea that life might continue in such beauty forever. Such was the tyranny of the flora, mocking those with doubtful hearts, ceaselessly taunting humanity with illusory hope.

The light breeze that wandered through the garden played with the open pages of the book that lay by Tokio's hip, creating a whir of paper flipping carelessly without a reader. But, any chill from the wind had been offset by the warmth of the body of Okita Seichii, who lay sleeping with his head and shoulders in her lap. As Tokio leaned her own weary head back against the massive tree under which they sat, she curled one arm around his shoulders so as not to dislodge the sleeping poet.

Seichii really looked so incredibly peaceful when he slept, Tokio noticed. The few times she'd been awake to watch her husband sleep, she noted that he barely looked any less focused than he did while awake. Sleeping, for Hajime, Tokio had decided, must be simply another task that needed to be performed in order to keep the body healthy. But, Seichii, he no longer appeared to even be the same person in his sleep.

Tokio wondered if Seichii's brother had been more like Hajime. Just from few times that her husband had spoken of Okita Souji, she realized that he had been, perhaps, one of the few people who had ever commanded her husband's ultimate level of respect. But, it was hard to imagine a man who looked poet in her lap but who bore the countenance and mind of a warrior.

Poor Seichii. He wore his happiness as plainly as his sadness, exposed for all the world to see. Years ago, she might have conspired to help put the man out of his own misery. She'd considered it unnecessary to feel that much pain. But now, her only thoughts directed her to do everything in her power to assist Seichii to smile again. Without knowing that his smile could emerge from behind even this dark cloud, how could she ever hope to save her own smile?

"Tokio!"

From somewhere between the river between awake and asleep, Tokio heard the voice of her husband. But, from which side did he call her? Tokio's arm wrapped more securely around Seichii as she pulled herself back into the waking world. Opening her eyes, she found her husband standing a few yards away, his katana drawn. He held at his side a long package wrapped in cloth and secured with cord.

"Hajime, you've returned," Tokio whispered. She allowed her heart to begin to fill with relief briefly, but halted as she surveyed her husband. His police uniform appeared to be...ruffled. No, that wasn't it. His katana had been drawn. No. What was it? What was wrong?

His eyes.

Tokio's mind flashed to a darkened room. On her hands and knees she stumbled towards the back shoji, only to be lifted by her hair and smashed against the wall. Hot breath on her cheek ripe with the smell of sake.

And those eyes. Those feral amber eyes filled with unmistakable disgust.

"Get up, Tokio," Saitou said, the downward-pointed katana in his hand snapping to the side, causing the premature beheadings of several wildflowers.

'Calm. I must remain calm,' Tokio told herself as Naoya and Kozue appeared on the path behind her husband. Placing her hand lightly on Seichii's hair, Tokio whispered entreatingly, "Okita-san is asleep now, Hajime. If I move, he shall wake."

The very sight of that parasite nestled against his wife made Saitou's grip on his sword tighten to a painful degree. Okita Seichii's sinister lies had gotten Katsu killed, had sullied the Yamaguchi family name, had spread a plague of corruption in the Meiji government, endangered the people of Japan, and had almost made a fool of Saitou Hajime himself. He would not -also- have Tokio.

Or, had he already had Tokio?

"I said -get up-!"

Tokio heard the battle cry of her husband only echoed in her mind moments after he had reached out and grabbed a fistful of her kimono at the shoulder, dragging her across the grass savagely and depositing her in front of Naoya. Seichii, who had tumbled out of Tokio's lap, awakened on all fours.

"Tokio-san?" he asked confusedly, blinking at the ground. Finally becoming aware of his surroundings, he turned his head to one side to find the garden's four other occupants staring at him. He smiled minutely as he said, "S...Saitou-san. You're..."

Okita Seichii's attempted smile fell from his face. As he stood, Saitou pulled the cord on the package in his hand, letting the fabric that had encased the object flutter away with the springtime breeze. What remained was a nihonto in its sheath. Saitou tossed the katana at Seichii, and it landed in front of the crouched poet with a clank.

"For your brother's sake, I'll allow you to duel me with his sword. Since you lack any semblance of honor or virtue, perhaps he'll allow you to borrow some of his."

"A duel?" Naoya asked, "Why does Fujita-san want to duel with Okita-san?"

Tokio didn't answer. All of her strength she put into finding her feet and becoming upright. One of her geta having fallen off when her husband had dragged her, she stumbled unevenly towards him. "Hajime...why? Why are you...doing this?"

"Stay back, Tokio. This man is not who he seems. He is a snake who has coiled around our lives so slowly we didn't notice the danger."

"And who are you?" Tokio replied, sinking back onto her knees. He had been drinking, hadn't he? It was that exact same look, the look of a wild beast unleashed, gnashing his teeth at any who might draw near. "My husband is a sane and rational man. You are not him."

As if in slow motion, Okita Seichii grabbed the sheathed katana and used it to help himself stand. He held the nihonto horizontally by both hands in front of his waist. Peering at the object in his hands with tangible despondency he murmured, "My...my brother's sword? I'm afraid that some great misunderstanding has passed between us, Saitou-san. I have no wish to fight you."

"I do not care what you wish. I have given you the tool to defend yourself. If you will not, then I will strike you down nonetheless." With this declaration, the Wolf of Mibu's shoulders rounded as his right foot slid backwards.

"No," Kozue gasped under his breath. "Sensei, no."

Naoya looked around, utterly confused. "Would someone please tell me what in the fucking hell is going on here?"

As a sudden wind shook a rain of blossoms from the tree, Saitou charged, his battlecry more heart-wrenchingly pained than any sound Tokio had ever heard her husband utter. Tokio's hand flew to her throat as her eyes squeezed shut. No. No. No.

Naoya watched as a blur passed in front of Saitou, a blur that forcefully knocked Okita Seichii out of the way. When all motion came to a halt, Narajirou Kozue's shoulder had been pinned to the tree by Saitou's katana. In his left hand he held the half of his bokken that had not been sheared off in deflecting the blow.

"What do you think you are doing, Kozue?" Saitou asked, swiftly withdrawing his katana from the other man's body. Kozue slid down the tree, leaving a path of blood on the bark. Clutching his wound, Kozue grimaced, his usual simple air dissolving in the heat of his battle ki. "I can't let you do this, sensei. Whatever wrong you perceive this man has done, killing him is not the answer, not in this Meiji era. Jail him...if you must seek justice. But, I beseech you...do not let the eyes of these women fall upon the horror of death."

"Naruhodo. You are a fool, Kozue. Your talents were always impressive. But, I find it vaguely amusing that a man who has never killed, yet claims the profession of a teacher of sword arts, seeks to lecture me on the code of justice. Be thankful that your eternal innocence obscures your mind from realizing its own hypocrisy."

"I will...protect. I won't let you...he isn't a swordsman..." Kozue pushed his uninjured arm against the tree, attempting to stand. Blood welled up beneath the fabric of his gi creating a dark patch at his shoulder.

"Hn," Saitou grunted. "Indeed, I bet you would try. Even injured, lacking a weapon, and shamefully outclassed. Unfortunately, I can't have you getting in the way." One powerful punch to the stomach was all it took. Kozue collapsed in a pile at the root of the tree.

"Hajime!" Tokio rasped. "Please stop this. You've hurt Kozue, and you will certainly hurt Seichii if you fight him."

Saitou turned towards Seichii, who had, to Saitou's great surprise, not fled. "That would be the point, wife."

Seichii took a deep breath of air and closed his eyes for a moment. His face becoming slack, he exhaled smoothly and re-opened eyes which shone with immaculate clarity. "Alright Saitou-san. I see. I understand now. I will fight you."

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

"Where is he? It isn't like Okita to be late," Nagakura commented, sitting down on the front steps of Shinsengumi headquarters. "I thought we were going to spar."

"Hn," replied Saitou Hajime, Captain of the Third Company, "I assure you, Nagakura, you need to spar with him far more than he needs to spar with you."

Through the rain, both men watched the gate in silence. It really -wasn't- like Okita to be late. A failure to be prompt could only mean one thing: trouble. Not that either of the two men doubted Okita's prowess, but one man could still be overwhelmed if attacked en masse. Besides, the Hitokiri Battousai had been more prolific of late, killing with a renewed passion that startled even the Shinsengumi.

Finally, a figure appeared at the gate. The frame of Okita Souji seemed even smaller in his civilian clothing. Drenched in mud, Okita lumbered towards the steps, looked not at all like himself. His hair lay plastered to his forehead and cheeks, and rivers of water dripped down his face and leapt from his chin.

"Okita," Saitou said, stepping off the porch into the rain, "Has there been a battle?"

"A...." Okita looked up from the ground, his eyes filled with confusion. "Yes. A battle." Stepping out of the rain, Okita's personable smile finally made its way to his face. "I'm afraid I won't be able to spar with you today, gentlemen."

"Eh. That's alright, Okita," Nagakura replied, hopping up. "I'll just have to find one of my men and give him a little extra training."

"Saitou-san, would you mind accompanying me upstairs?" Okita asked, wringing some of the rainwater out of his rust-colored gi. "I have something about which I would like to speak to you."

Sensing some bizarre mood in the younger Captain, Saitou replied, "Aa."

The rooms of the Shinsengumi Captains all lined one hallway situated above a more massive complex of barracks that had been built for each company's men. Okita Souji's quarters, as stark as any other, had two distinctions that always intrigued Saitou. First, the man kept goldfish, three to be exact. Each swam endlessly in its glass bowl, and gossip among the men said that Okita had named them "Loyalty", "Duty", and "Honor". But, no one really ever had the guts to ask.

The second strange thing about Okita's quarters had to be the permeating fragrance of oranges, no matter the season. This, too, created a mystery that could not be solved. Many a man, upon leaving a conference with the Captain of the First Company, would head into the kitchen and ask for an orange, only to be told that oranges were out of season, and would not be available for a good half year.

Saitou shut the shoji behind him as Okita untied his soaked gi and began a rather arduous search for a dry one. As he did so, he asked, "Have you ever given a thought, Saitou-kun, to what you would do if order had been restored to this city and the Shinsengumi were deemed no longer necessary?"

"No," Saitou replied truthfully, "Making plans for the future seems a frivolous task, one too distracting to be of use." He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, as he watched Okita re-dress. "Have you made plans for the future, Okita?"

Instead of answering the question, Okita walked to the shelf with the three fish bowls, staring at them thoughtfully as he pressed a finger to his lips. "Have I ever told you about my goldfish, Saitou-kun? I bought them right after we first came to Kyoto, after the first time I saw a man killed. I had decided then that I should at least try to keep something alive, to remind me that I must look to the future, to a time beyond war. After buying them in a shop in the marketplace, I was so excited, I even named the fish right on that spot. Then, I headed back here, the three bowls delicately balanced in my hands. However, on the way, I passed a woman being assaulted by some men."

Okita opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a decorative pot. Unscrewing the lid, he pinched a tiny bit of the fish food and dropped it into the first bowl. "Immediately, of course, I forgot about the fish, and dropped the bowls into the snow. I slew the men, just as I had been trained, but by the time I was finished, the woman was nowhere to be found. She had fled."

"I've heard that men will do all sorts of crazy things the first time they kill another man. Cry. Scream. Vomit. Try to kill themselves. But, all I wanted to do was to make sure my fish were alright. So, I trudged back to where I had dropped them. Miraculously, two of the bowls had landed upright in the snow. Inside, the rapidly chilling water had caused them to become immobile, but I could tell they were still alive. Yet, the last one, the last bowl, had overturned. A tiny fish corpse lay in the snow, already becoming grey with the pallor of death. Suddenly, I was stricken. It seemed like an omen, and though I am not a man to believe much in omens, it ate at me for some time."

"You see, the fish, to me, were a symbol of the future. If I could be a Shinsengumi Captain, a ferocious Wolf of Mibu, and still be a gentle enough man to care for goldfish in my spare time, then certainly all would be well in my future. I would not lose myself to some irrational madness of violence. But, I had not been able to save all the fish. So what could it mean?"

Saitou quirked one eyebrow and shifted his weight, waiting for the resolution of Okita's tale.

"Should I give up my plans for the future, just because one fish died? Should I condemn the other two fish to such hopelessness? In the end I decided that I could not. Even if a man knows he will not survive, if he knows that he will be lost to madness, to disease, or to the sword, he can not give up his beliefs and dreams. The day always comes, in the end, when we breathe our last. And no matter what we lose before that time, we must, each and every one of us, find something to which we can cling. We must find something in the core of our being which allows us to cast aside doubt and look towards a brighter future, no matter how impossible."

"Hn," Saitou grunted, not completely understanding his friend's story. "But, you have three fish now."

"Yes. I replaced the dead fish," Okita chuckled, returning the fish food to the cabinet. "It would look silly with only two, I think. Anyway, Saitou-kun, perhaps you should get some fish. Quite a calming hobby."

"I think I'll stick to the calming effects of kata," Saitou replied.

"Indeed. Kata is also good," Okita agreed with a smile, "Well, lets go find our own food, hm?"

"Aa." As Saitou stepped away from the wall, he remembered what he was going to ask. "Okita, who did you fight tonight, anyway?"

"A dead man, Saitou-kun. I had a struggle with a dead man." A mysterious smile crossed Okita's lips as he continued. "I have one or two more things to do here. Why don't I meet you downstairs?"

Shrugging, Saitou turned and headed out the door. Okita certainly had been in a strange mood lately. But, it hadn't effected his swordsmanship any. To the contrary, he'd become even more efficient, more precise. Sometimes Saitou had to wonder if the other man was even human.

Back in his room, Okita Souji dropped to his knees and covered his mouth, coughing violently. As drops of blood ran between his fingers, he closed his eyes.

A dead man. Every single day was a struggle with a dead man.

Opening his eyes, Souji peered up at his fish. Swimming around blissfully in their bowls were Saitou and Souji, and the replacement for the fish that had died in the snow.

Seichii.

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

Seichii pulled the long nihonto from the sheath as Saitou moved away from the tree. The poet seemed mesmerized for a moment by the gleam of the sword's metal which reflected into his sorrowful eyes.

As Naoya and Tokio made their way to the tree where Kozue lay, Seichii affected a stance. His body turned to the side and feet slightly apart, only his head remained facing Saitou. Unlike the gatotsu, where the flat of the blade lay parallel to the ground, Seichii held his nihonto's edge perpendicular. He outstretched his left arm and, extending two fingers, placed them underneath the long katana, settling the dull edge of the blade into their groove.

"Yare, yare. You imitate your brother's stance quite well. But then, I've already discovered what a convincing actor you can be." Saitou, too, settled into his stance. "But trying the moves of the Tennen Rishin Ryu without training will likely cause you to cut off your own fingers."

"Before we fight, Saitou-san, I'd like to know what your reasons are for striking me down."

Saitou's shoulder drew backwards smoothly as his fingers slid down the length of his katana. "I know all about Kanryuu. About the Gattling gun. About how you pulled my sister into your world of corruption and tried to use myself and my family to further your twisted intentions. I see all your lies now."

"You are right, Saitou-kun. There have been too many lies, too many secrets," Seichii replied, the breeze softly rippling the sleeves of his olive gi, "But you are wrong about many things. Foremost among them: this is not my brother's sword."

As Seichii ran at Saitou, the wind in the gardens became ferocious, A blizzard of varied blossoms shook themselves from the trees, whipping around violently. As one blossom speared itself on the tip of Seichii's sword, Saitou pulled himself out of his gatotsu stance. Not being given the chance to use his famous offense, he'd have to defend against whatever this pathetic poet had to offer.

As the two men collided, Seichii proceeded with a quick thrust towards Saitou's neck which Hajime assumed was some sort of misstep. Parrying Seichii's stab with a slash to the side, the two men's swords pushed against one another. Saitou's eyes grew wide as he realized that Seichii's power met his own.

This was no poet.

Seichii jumped backwards, landing slightly out of the reach of Saitou's katana. "As I said, this is not my brother's sword. It is mine."

Saitou felt a trickle of liquid on his neck. After reaching one gloved hand to the sensation and pulling it away, he stared at his fingers. The pristine white tips of his gloves were marred with a few drops of blood and a tiny flower petal with a hole in the middle.

"I am Okita Souji."

Tokio and Naoya, who had made their way to the tree where Kozue lay wounded, both looked up from their task of tending to his injury.

Hajime, on the other hand, narrowed his yellow eyes as his lips fell from a sneer to a frown. "Okita Souji is dead."

As Okita picked up the sheath from the ground he said softly, "In a way, Saitou-kun, you're right. Please. Let me explain"

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

"Most of the story I told you was true. I did have a twin brother Seichii, and we were as close as I described. He was sickly, and did get well after I left for Kyoto. After I became ill, he did even stand in for me in the Shinsengumi when Kondou-san forced me to go on retreat to the hot springs.

But, he was no swordsman. No, he was a visionary, a thinker, a brilliant man trapped for most of his life in a body that could barely continue to function from day to day. When I saw him, when he was well, I can not tell you how thrilled I was. Seeing Seichii healthy placed a certain strength into my soul. Every time I fought, no matter the pain within my own dying body, I clung to the thought that if only I could survive, if only for just a little while longer, I could be reunited with my brother. Even if I could see him just for a short time before I finally died, just long enough to see our dream of opening a school dedicated to all of our lofty ideals begun.

After the war, I returned home, and then something surprising happened. Something I deemed miraculous. I didn't know if it was the air in Mibu, or just that I wasn't putting as much stress on my body anymore, but I began to feel better. My parents were so excited, so happy, and of course, Seichii was too. Those were the best days. Seichii and I drew up plans for our school. We would walk in the evenings, something our respective illnesses had never let us do before.

But then, I began to notice that every day Seichii would want to turn back from our walks after less and less travel. At first, I paid no heed. I didn't want to think anything was wrong. One day, I pushed him. I really wanted to see the lake, as we had just heard it had finally frozen over for the winter.

Seichii grew quieter and quieter as we walked, his eyes seeming more and more hollow. I thought perhaps that Seichii was merely in deep thought. But then, only a few yards from the lake, Seichii fell to his knees and began to cough.

I knew that cough. I was familiar with the raw burning it produced in your lungs, the difficult breathing, the taste of blood at the back of your tongue.

"Seichii, gods Seichii, no. Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, dropping into the snow beside him.

"I didn't want you to...be sad, Souji," he replied.

All I could think of were my goldfish. My damn goldfish that I used to keep when I was a Captain of the Shinsengumi. All I could think of was the goldfish that died in the snow.

I scooped Seichii up and brought him home. After that, I made immediate plans to get him into the best hospital in Edo. Some of the doctors there, I knew, used to be sympathetic to the Shinsengumi when they worked in Kyoto. So, I registered my brother under my own name in the hopes that he would get better treatment.

But, I knew Seichii would refuse to go unless I went with him. He believed that if we were apart, I would get ill again, and he would get better. So, I went to Edo with my brother.

The hospital made him as comfortable as they could, I think. I spent as much time as I could just sitting by his side, just as I had done when we were young. Above all, I didn't want him to die alone. I knew how scared he was of dying alone.

We spent a lot of time talking about the future. One snowy day, when Seichii seemed to have very little strength left, I told him about my goldfish. About how they had helped me live every day as a Shinsengumi Captain. He adored the story, so much so that he immediately asked me to go out and buy him some goldfish.

How could I refuse such a simple request from my brother? I picked up my katana and wakizashi and began to loop them through my hakama when Seichii said, "Souji, just this once, why not walk through this new Meiji era as a peaceful man? Your side may not have won the war, but that doesn't mean you must shun any good that comes of it."

So I left my sword, this sword, with my brother...and I went out in search of goldfish.

You, of all people, should know what happened while I was gone. You arrived, and after some time, my brother committed seppuku, allowing you to believe he was me.

Okita Seichii killed the swordsman known as Okita Souji.

Why? Maybe he wanted me to live my life as a peaceful man, to put down the sword. Maybe he just wanted to provide me with an escape from the enemies of my past, men who would eventually seek retribution for my actions as an upstanding member of the Shinsengumi.

Maybe, but no.

The time of Okita Souji had come to an end. From then on, I was to be Okita Seichii. I was to walk the path my brother would have chosen for himself, if only his body had been strong enough to do so. It was the only thing I could do, to honor my brother, to keep some part of our future alive.

After I found the goldfish, I raced back to the hospital, overjoyed to have done something that would put a smile on Seichii's face. But, when I came to the bridge over the river by the hospital, I saw you, Saitou Hajime, walking away from the front door of the building. Walking away carrying my swords.

I gasped, and in my surprise, tripped on one of the planks in the bridge. And wouldn't you know it? Even though I was able to save two of the fishbowls from turning over, the third one got away from me.

The spilled water from the third bowl leaked over the side of the bridge. The goldfish inside fell into the water below...and swam away.

Of course, there is no need to even describe the state I found myself in after my I found out that my brother had died. I've lost much of my memory from that time. I can only say that I've never known a pain its equal. Neither sword wound nor illness could ever compare.

And I had no idea how to put down the sword and become a poet. What did I know of grand words and subtle expressions? Sure, I'd been able to inspire my men into battle, but this was a different thing altogether.

I found myself taking a job as a bodyguard at a brothel. The women there were extremely kind, and seemed to intuitively understand my sadness. To a one, they had all been through their own hardships. Most of them had lost family, husbands, brothers, fathers, in the war.

And it was there that I met Yamaguchi Katsu.

I kept seeing her out of the corner of my eye. Something pulled my gaze towards her. I could have sworn that I knew her, that I had seen her face somewhere before, but I just couldn't place it. And I couldn't bring myself to ask her about her past for fear she might ask me about my own. Besides, a brothel isn't really the right place for inquiring about such things.

But, Katsu being Katsu, she approached me. She sidled up to me one evening, that cigarette holder of hers between her fingers, and said:

"I assume you know my brother, Saitou Hajime, then."

"Pardon me?"

Katsu had come to Kyoto after being forced to leave your hometown. She had meant to set herself up as a writer, but times being such as they were, she had been forced to find money any way she could. And that meant seeking refuge in the last resort of all women, a brothel.

One night, she'd been assaulted by some men on the street who wanted to take advantage of her services without her permission. She'd thought all was lost, but then she saw a young man carrying three fishbowls dressed in Shinsengumi uniform at the end of the alleyway.

Me.

The first men I ever killed, I had unknowingly killed in defense of Katsu Yamaguchi.

But, realizing who I was, Katsu had fled. She had somehow found out while in Kyoto that her brother had joined the Shinsengumi. And, she absolutely couldn't have me bring her back to the station to be questioned. It meant that she would chance running into you, chance her younger brother finding out what she had become.

Had fortune smiled upon me? Were the fates trying to tell me something? Saitou Hajime had been there for my brother when he died. Could I somehow begin repay him by helping his sister?

I struck up a deal with Katsu. I would get her out of the brothel and help her set herself up as an authoress, but in return she would tutor me. I needed to become a poet.

Together, we traveled to Tokyo. Money, however, was tight, and we had to live hand to mouth for quite some time. I began to doubt that I had done the right thing, for myself, for Katsu. I had to do something, and fast, or we would both die of starvation.

So, under a false name, I wrote a booklet detailing the inner workings and tactics of the Shinsengumi, including details on how we won many of our battles. This booklet I sold to the Meiji government in the hopes that they could use our hard won knowledge to help keep peace in the new era.

One week later, a carriage pulled up in front of the longhouse where Katsu and I had been staying. Out stepped famed Okubo Toshimichi, the director of the Department of Internal Affairs.

The booklet I had written had somehow gotten to his desk. He had been suspicious of the unknown author who had detailed so intimately the inner workings of the Shinsengumi. So, he had the handwriting compared to samples brought from the old Shinsengumi headquarters. And that is how he discovered who I was.

I'm not certain why he came. Perhaps he wanted to assure himself that Okita Souji would be no threat to the people of Tokyo or the government of Japan. Maybe he wanted me to use my sword in defense of this new era, instead of by the code of Aku Soku Zan.

But, after hearing our stories, Okubo-kyo said: "Okita-san, I have read the booklet you have written, and studied many documents penned by you during your time in the Shinsengumi. Just as you helped pick the strongest and most worthy men for the Shinsengumi, I need you once again to be the judge of men's hearts and minds. If this Meiji era is to survive, we need men of intellect, men of great vision, men who draw this country from the soil and help it blossom. We need the most progressive scientists, visionary poets and artists, the best doctors, and incorruptable politicians."

Okubo-kyo helped set Katsu and I up in this house. In return for his financial assistance, Katsu and I scour not only Japan, but the world beyond, looking for those bright men and women who can help bring about Okubo-kyo's vision for our country. Katsu-san being an author, and I being a poet and speech writer, we were able to travel easily among the intellectual circles and find such people.

At times, I also provide council to Okubo-kyo on military tactics, but he understands that I will not swing a sword for the Meiji government. The swordsman in me belongs only to the Shinsengumi. It is not Okita Souji who assists Okubo-kyo, it is Okita Seichii.

When you came to Tokyo, Saitou-kun, it was Okubo-kyo who passed that news to me, and I told Katsu. That is how she knew how to find you.

But, we were both afraid, afraid of you finding out the past. Katsu didn't want you to know about what happened to her. She thought you would be ashamed that she had been in a brothel. And I, I just didn't know what you would think of me if you found out that not only had I not died all those years ago, but that I worked to assist the Meiji government to become stronger. So I kept up the illusion that I had for many years.

I wanted to show you, to let you know that Katsu was alright, to have you see how well we had both done. And I wanted to thank you, for being there...for Seichii."

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

Saitou had long since sheathed his sword. He stood now, arms crossed, a cigarette between two gloved fingers. But the bestial expression with which he had entered the garden had fallen away, to be replaced with a terse visage of discountenance. "And Kanryuu?" he asked, ashing the cigarette into the breeze.

"Kanryuu was an accident," Okita replied, "I met him at a social gathering where Katsu and I were looking for inventors. Later he revealed to me that he was to come into possession of a Gattling gun. After discussing this with Okubo-kyo, we decided that under no circumstances could we allow black market sales of such equipment to continue. I pretended to be an arms dealer in an attempt to find out Kanryuu's sources. But, now that he has been arrested, those sources are likely already alerted to the danger. I can only hope we've frightened them out of Japan for the time being."

"Naruhodo." Saitou turned his head to look at his wife. She had Kozue now, laying on her lap, while she tended to his wounds. That was it, wasn't it? It was the sadness of loss which bound Tokio and Okita together, which fortified their friendship. The loss of Tokio's parents, and the loss of Okita's brother. Somehow, Tokio could sense the sadness behind the other man's smile. Whereas Saitou had the ability to read a person's motivations, it was Tokio who could sense their gloom.

She was just his friend, and that was all.

"Well, are we all going to just stand here? We gotta get Kozue inside, and I ain't fucking carrying him," Naoya announced, breaking the tension.

"Aa," Saitou replied, "Lets get that damn idiot inside."

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

Tokio trailed behind her husband, one hand lifting the skirt of her tomesode slightly to keep it incurring the wrath of the small puddles of mud in the cemetery. Her other hand held her basket, in which a bouquet of fresh purple flowers could be seen.

Hajime walked along briskly, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. They hadn't spoken much to each other since the incident in the garden two days previous, but he had returned home, at least. This morning, when her husband had suddenly announced that they were going to visit Katsu, she'd taken it as a good sign. Things were beginning to return to normal.

Saitou stopped suddenly and turned to his wife. Without a word, he bent and crooked his arms around her knees and behind her back, lifting her over the large puddle in the path. Tokio shuddered at the sensation of his touch. Two weeks had been longer than she realized.

He placed her back on the path just as wordlessly, and they continued their search for Katsu's stone. They found it minutes later, a small black obelisk bearing the name Yamaguchi Katsu.

Saitou dug his heels into the ground a bit as Tokio stepped forward and arranged the flowers in front of the stone. After pressing her hands together and saying a short, silent prayer for the older woman, Tokio added mentally, "I've brought Hajime, Katsu-san. Please don't be angry with him. I'm certain that he misses you more than he will tell anyone, even himself."

Tokio backed away from the stone and stood beside her husband.

"Are you angry with me, Tokio?" Hajime asked, his gaze on his sister's tombstone not wavering.

"No, Hajime, not anymore." Tokio reached out and curled her hand around one of her husband's gloved fingers. "Katsu-san was a good woman, ne?"

"Aa, she was." Nodding slightly to the stone he added, "Goodbye, my sister, you old wolf."

As they walked home, Tokio could smell the post-rain freshness of the springtime air. Kume and Fujiko would return tomorrow morning, and their friends would leave the day after that for their home in Osaka. Perhaps this is how the world always was, a blur of people entering and leaving your life, new friends and old friends coming and going as quickly as the seasons.

But, at least no matter how many times he left, Hajime would always return to her. She had to have faith in that, to cling to it in the core of her being, or be lost to despondency.

"Hajime?" Tokio asked quietly.

"Aa?"

"If you drink again, I will poison your soba."

The only reply was a deep chuckle.

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

"Fujita-sensei, uh, where are we going?" Kozue asked, motioning with his hands until he realized, for the tenth time that say, that doing so hurt his injured arm.

Refusing to answer the other man, Saitou continued across the bridge to the marketplace. Kozue merely shook his head and picked up his pace to catch up with the other man. At Kozue's side hung a bokken, one that due to his injury he couldn't currently use, but with which he would refuse to part. Fujita-sensei had handed it to him earlier in the morning, saying only:

"I used this one when I taught in Osaka. It will be a suitable replacement."

They had left after a light breakfast, Kume and Tokio being content to stay home and play with Fujiko.

Finally, the two men reached what Kozue assumed was their destination, since the other man came to a stop in front of a small storefront.

"Stay here," Kozue's mentor said, as he stepped into the store. He returned minutes later holding three glass containers with goldfish swimming inside.

"Uh...goldfish...Fujita-sensei?" Kozue asked. Having been passed out during the entire interlude between Saitou and Okita, the sentiment eluded him. "Do you...uh...want help carrying those?"

The Wolf of Mibu rolled his eyes as he started off down the road towards the part of the city where his sister's house stood. Kozue carry the bowls? His accident-prone student with the injured arm?

You had to be kidding.