Genre

Rating

Spoiler Level

Hajime and Tokio: Chapter 14 - The Boy from Shingetsu

by Angrybee ::: 10.Nov.2003

The boy had been trailing behind him for nigh on two hours now and hadn't yet said a word. Well, Saitou figured, the kid probably had a great deal to think about. Not only had he seen his brother slaughtered, but he had to bury his own parents in the same day. Plus, there had been that screaming weasel girl, and whatever Himura called that little dance he did with Shishio's henchman and that smiling kid. You certainly couldn't call it 'fighting'. Not if you compared it to the fighting he'd seen Battousai do during the Bakumatsu.

Ultimately, it had probably been a day that would burn and eat at the kid's heart for a long time to come. Well, at least he was quiet, allowing Saitou to keep an ear to the forest around them. He really wouldn't put it past Shishio to attack right then, after it seemed he and his smiling prodigy had retreated. Instilling a false sense of confidence in an enemy often proved a useful tactic. He should know, he'd done it on occasion.

'Yare, yare. A kid. What a predicament. Eiichiro, you ahou. Why didn't you wait?'

Of course, Saitou couldn't really blame the man. If he had returned to -his- village after several years and found -his- family under the control of evil influences, -he'd- probably have done something similar. Unfortunately, while Mishima Eiichiro had been a surpassing spy and a diligent employee, he'd only ever been a mediocre swordsman.

And now, of all the ridiculous things, there was this -boy-. This wild-haired little ten year old who had been dragging his brother's beat up sword behind him, leaving a snaking trail in the dirt.

Well, what was he supposed to do? Leave the kid there with those inept villagers? With a group of people who didn't even have the dignity to cut down their own dead and bury them? Especially since this particular kid's bravery had given them the name of Shishio Makoto in the first place. Spirit like that would definitely be wasted on the people of Shingetsu.

But he did absolutely -not- feel responsible for the kid just because it had been by -his- command that his brother had gone to Shingetsu. No. Eiichiro fucked that one up all by himself.

"Mister, um, is it going to be much further?" Eiji finally asked.

"No," Saitou replied, looking out the corner of his eye at the boy as Eiji hurried his step in an attempt to catch up, "About a half hour, and we will reach the next village. It has a police command base for this area. You'll have to stay there for a few days while arrangements are made."

Arrangements. Arrangements to get the kid to Tokyo. And then, by extension, to Saitou's wife. Because that is what one did with human train wrecks. Give them to Tokio and see what she can make of them. Well, it worked for Naoya, somewhat. And even Kozue seemed to have allowed a modicum of Tokio's poise to rub off on him.

Besides, who knew more about seeing your entire family slaughtered than Tokio?

"Will you be staying there too, mister?" Eiji asked, trying to heft the battered sword into his other hand. Saitou's nose wrinkled as the faint odor of blood hit him from the boy's direction. He stopped in his tracks, and looked down at the kid. Confused, Eiji looked back at him, wondering if he'd said something wrong.

Saitou knelt down beside Eiji, bringing himself more on level with the boy, and picked up the kid's free hand. Turning the dirty paw over in his pristine glove, Saitou scrutinized the wounds.

"Uh. I guess I've been holding on too hard," Eiji said mournfully, apparently not noticing the blood until that moment, "And broke open some of my blisters from working in the fields."

"You can't carry an important sword like that, dragging it in the dirt," Saitou noted crisply, giving Eiji back his hand, "It's disrespectful."

"Yeah, but..."

Saitou stood and stepped off the path. Drawing his own katana, or rather, Okita's katana, he sliced a thick piece of bamboo down the middle, creating a two long semi-circular strips. Breaking these from the thick stalk below, he held out his hand towards Eiji. Dubious, the boy handed over the sword, and stood back to watch.

Saitou pressed one strip of bamboo against the length of the katana's blade. The other strip went against the dull side of the sword. These were tied on at the hilt, middle, and tip, by a few strips of bandages that Saitou carried in case of emergency, creating a makeshift sheath.

Kneeling back down beside the boy, Saitou held out the sword, "This is your brother's sword. Now that he and your father are gone, you have to be a man. And you must learn to carry a sword like a man."

Deftly re-arranging the ties of the kid's half-hakama to make a secure spot for the sword, Saitou slid the blade into place.

Eiji fingered the worn hilt delicately as Saitou stood again. He took a step forward, tilting a bit to the side with the sword's weight.

"It's heavy," Eiji said as the two began their journey once more.

Without looking at his traveling companion, Saitou replied, "Yes. It has the added weight of responsibility. Take care to carry it well."

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

Okita looked at the large clock in the train station and shook his head sadly. The train was late. Without much more to do, he took the letter from his gi and re-read it.

The letter from Saitou had arrived two days previous. From what Naoya said, when the police courier arrived at Tokio's house, he had almost given the woman a heart attack upon delivering the crisp envelope. Of course, Tokio mistook the delivery for news of Saitou's death, and had immediately begun to hyperventilate on the engawa, leaving Naoya to read the letter.

After assuring Tokio that the missive contained no such news, Naoya had, apparently, tried to beat the poor courier to within an inch of his life with the end of a broomstick.

The letter said, in precise terms, that Mishima Eiichiro's brother, Eiji, was being sent to Tokyo to be placed in Tokio's care. His parents, as well as his brother, had all been killed by one of Shishio's henchmen. The boy, apparently, buried his own parents, who had been left hanging in the town square. When Saitou returned, they would decide what would become of the boy.

The note was decidedly silent on the topic of Saitou's mission or the present metaphysical state of Himura Battousai.

The whistle of the train blew in the distance, and Okita folded the paper, placing it back inside his gi. Squinting at the tracks, Souji sighed as he finally spotted the behemoth "technological wonder" steaming towards the Tokyo station.

'Is this the future of the world, Seichii? To be filled with noise and smoke? To travel so fast that we can't even see the world as it passes by?'

Of course, Okita had traveled by train many a time, but every time he found himself left wondering if Seichii would write a poem about such things as trains, or merely laugh at the absurdity of a need to travel so fast.

The train came to a stop with a screeching hiss, lurching forward foot by foot like a dying beast in search of a place to rest its weary metal bones. As passengers disembarked in a flurry of color, excitement, and the reunion of families and lovers, Souji scanned the platform.

"Okita Seichii?"

Souji turned to find himself face to face with a man in police uniform, a man whom he recognized being in the employ of Saitou Hajime. Beside the officer, the ten year old boy that Okita had met after following Kamatari to Shinegetsu stood, looking disinterested in much more than the ground. He wore the same clothes that he had in the field, and carried no belongings whatsoever.

"Aa?"

"I'm to remand this boy into the care of Okita Seichii or Fujita Tokio. If you are the former, please sign here."

Okita took the clipboard and signed his brother's name. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Eiji wobble slightly, and reach out a hand towards the outer wall of the train car to steady himself. As Souji gave the document back to the officer, he found a long object wrapped in white cloth being placed in his hands.

"The boy's brother's sword," the officer informed Souji before turning on his heel and stalking off towards a food stand.

Okita looked down at Eiji, who now had his eyes closed shut so tightly that pearls of sweat, or perhaps tears, had formed in his bottom lashes. As Souji bent down in an attempt to find out of Eiji was alright, the kid suddenly lurched towards the edge of the platform, fell to his knees, and let out a sticky murk of vomit.

Eiji coughed several times, trying to get out the foul taste and the last remnants of whatever might be contained in his stomach. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his arm, Eiji hazarded a glance at the man standing nearby.

"You alright, Eiji-chan?" Okita asked softly, not wishing to startle the boy.

"Yeah."

"First train ride?"

Eiji nodded as he scrunched up his face and spit at the side of the train. Wiping furiously at his eyes, Eiji whispered, "D'ya think anyone saw?"

"Likely, but it doesn't matter. Tokyo is a huge city. Except for me, you'll probably never see anyone in this train station after today. Can you walk?"

Eiji paused for a moment, as if asking his legs the same question. Nodding, he pulled himself up on Okita's extended hand, and the two left the train station.

Outside, the city of Tokyo blossomed with the full weight of a horrifyingly splendorous spring. The afternoon sun bathed the world in such intensely white light, the two had to squint away their blindness as they stepped into the outdoors. The entire city seemed to possess the aroma of fermented cherry wine, mixed with a salty twang that one usually associated with the seaside. Eiji appeared to notice this as he wrinkled his nose and said, "This city smells strange."

"All cities smell different. I think it is so we can remember where we are when we close our eyes." Souji demonstrated this fact by closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. As he exhaled he murmured, "Try it."

Taking in a cleansing breath, Eiji closed his eyes and let it out slowly. "I guess so," he replied, opening his eyes to look up at Souji. "I know you. You're the man from the bushes. You work with Fujita-san, right? Are you a policeman, too?"

"No," Souji replied, "I'm just a friend of his, really. We were in a war together."

"Oh. So, uh, what -do- you do?" Eiji asked, kicking a stone as he walked beside Souji. The rock tumbled down the street and off into a clump of weeds.

"I'm not exactly so sure anymore, myself."

They walked together in silence for some time, heading out of the commercial district into a more peaceful neighborhood. Both the wild-eyed, disheveled boy and the only mildly taller man contemplated their own separate thoughts. Thoughts of lives fraught with loss, with struggle, with what often amounted to ceaseless confusion.

And then Okita remembered why he had worked so hard to convince Tokio to come let him pick up the boy alone.

"Eiji-chan," Okita finally said, "I know we've only barely just met, but I have to ask you a favor."

"Huh?"

"When you met Fujita-san, was there a man with him? A red-headed swordsman with a cross-shaped scar on his cheek?"

"You mean Himura-san?" Eiji perked up a bit, actually deigning to take his eyes off the road and look up at Okita. "Yeah. He's the one who defeated that bastard Senkaku! What about him?"

Okita bristled only slightly at the admiration which shone in the boy's eyes, but endeavored to hide his concern behind a gentle smile. It wasn't often, Okita found, that he actually had to use his smile in a less than sincere manner, but this time, the situation warranted the mild lie. "I have to ask you. Eiji-chan, not to speak of that man to Tokio-san when you meet her. Not ever."

"Eh? Why not?"

Okita -almost- launched into the entire story before he caught himself. Considering the boy's recent past, it probably wouldn't be the best idea to expound on the death of someone else's parents. "You really don't want to know."

"Ungh. Adults are always saying that sort of crap. You say that I don't want to know, but what you really mean is that you don't want to tell me."

"I'm sorry Eiji. You're right." Okita said with a small sigh as the pair turned down Taito street. "A long time ago, during the war, Himura killed Tokio's parents. He was an assassin."

Eiji stopped walking for a moment. Okita slowed his pace to allow the kid to gather his thoughts and catch up. Obviously, it would be quite confusing for a ten year old boy to hear that the man who ostensibly saved your village once killed people for a living.

Finally, Eiji jogged up beside Souji and said, "You're right. I really didn't want to know that, after all."

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

Darkness and darkness and darkness and darkness. The permeating blackness of the cell left a man without much more to do than consider his life while rotting away in the stink of sweat and mold. Shit. You couldn't even take a proper piss around here without calling the guard to unlock your arm shackles.

Still, Chou decided, the alternatives to being in this cell didn't really possess any appeal. The cops probably figured that he just wasn't important enough to the Juppon Gatana for Shishio to send an assassin. Which, of course, wasn't exactly true. He'd never been employed to assist Shishio achieve his 'Kuni Tori' or whatever that crispy critter ultimately wanted.

No, he'd been part of a package deal. For this reason alone, Chou knew, he still lived.

"Where is that sudare-atama?" Chou muttered to himself, leaning his rather impressive coiffure against the wall behind his chair. "What does he think, I have all day or something?"

Realizing how impossibly stupid his last question to himself had been, Chou closed his eyes and pretended he'd never even said it.

Finally, he heard the very welcome sound of a ring of keys being fumbled at the thick metal door to the jail cell. The door swung open a second later, revealing the daunting silhouette of the policeman they called "Fujita Goro".

A man who, it seemed, single-handedly supported the import of foreign cigarettes into Japan.

Sawagejou Chou craned his head to the side, trying to get a good look at the hallway beyond the cop. "What? You didn't bring the damn roosterhead with you this time? Shucks, and I was hoping for a re-match."

"As amusing as it is to watch two complete morons play at fighting, I'm afraid I've rid myself of -that- nuisance for the time being," Saitou replied, stepping into the dank cell. The ex-Shinsengumi Captain examined the other man with the keen eye developed from more than a decade of scrutinizing one's enemy. Chou wanted something, and whatever he wanted, he wanted pretty badly.

"Feh," Chou said, spitting on the floor beside his chair, "Arentcha gonna ask me why I called you down here?"

Saitou said nothing to this, deciding instead to merely cross his arms and flick the tip of one thumbed glove against the end of a cigarette, sending ash onto the already filthy floor of the jail cell. His expression changed not a hair as he continued to gaze apathetically at the prisoner. Yes, it wouldn't take long at all. Perhaps not even the count of three.

'One.'

"Well?" Chou said, shifting his weight in his chair.

'Two.'

"Are you even listening, you cockroach-faced sadist?"

'Three.'

"Look, I want to make a deal with you."

This, it seemed, proved enough of a revelation to cause the cop to raise one eyebrow and dryly ask, "Hn. So ka? What could you possibly have that I would want? You barely knew anything about the plans for Kyoto."

"Now are you going to listen to me? Okay, maybe I don't know a lot of stuff about Shishio's plans, but I could tell you something you'd be interested in. Say, perhaps the layout of Shishio's headquarters?"

"I'm listening."

Chou smiled devilishly, his one open eye crinkling at the edges. "I don't think you'll defeat Shishio. I've seen the kinda stuff he has in his arsenal. But, if you got in you at least half the strength of Battousai, the two of you might cause him some trouble, at least."

"Perceptive," Saitou muttered, turning the back on the young man, to look down the hall, "Did you figure that one out all by yourself, or did you collaborate with the jail's mouse population?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Go on."

"Anyway, I don't give a damn about Shishio. I frankly don't care what happens to the man. But, my sister, she's not no warrior or nothing. She ain't done nothing wrong 'cept be in love with that nutjob."

Saitou briefly tried to imagine a female version of Chou. This basically consisted of Chou with breasts and geisha makeup, which was altogether more disturbing than the time when as a boy he'd, very very briefly, seen his own older sister in the bath. "A sister? Kami-sama must have hated your mother."

"Look, asshole, there's no reason to crack jokes about my ma. Yumi is my half-sister anyway. Her ma and my ma's the same, but my dad was a foreigner. He left my ma, and after ma died, Yumi took care of me. And I was her bodyguard when she was an oiran. That's why I don't know so much about Shishio and shit. My job was to protect Yumi, cause like I said, she ain't no warrior."

"I see. And in return for clemency towards your sister, you'll be willing to give me a precise map of Shishio's headquarters?"

Chou nodded, scrunching his face up a bit. Hopefully, he'd done the right thing. Even with a map, there didn't seem to be any way that these guys could defeat Shishio. Nonetheless, anyone could easily harm Yumi, especially if they cornered her away from Shishio or Soujiro. Maybe if they brought her in, after how cooperative he'd been, he and Yumi could leave Japan. They could go to Europe and see Paris, just like Yumi always wanted. Besides, his collection lacked interesting western swords.

"Very well," Saitou replied after a moment of contemplation. "But, do realize, if a single door, a single wall, is out of place on your diagrams, I will come back and feed you that map. And then I will cut it out of your stomach and feed it to you again."

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

"Eiji-chan, are you hungry? Would you like some lunch?" Tokio asked, barely peeking around the open door of Snowflake Sweets to look at the young man. Eiji sat, as he had for the entire week, underneath the front awning, watching the feet of those marketgoers who walked past. He hardly ever moved from the spot until Naoya and Tokio locked up for the evening and headed home. For any other boy, under perhaps any other circumstances, spending your days with purveyors of tasty confections would be far from a reason to look glum.

"No, thank you, Tokio-san," Eiji mumbled, leaning his head against the newly painted shop front.

"Please do tell me if you become hungry later, Eiji-chan."

Tokio slipped back into the shop, where Naoya remained hard at work rolling dainty pink sakuramoti into perfectly symmetrical balls. The teenager wiped her hands on a nearby rag and said, "Still not eating much, huh?"

"No, not much" Tokio whispered. Eiji had eaten very sparingly since he had arrived in Tokyo. There wasn't much in which he seemed to be interested in at all.

He hadn't been sleeping well, either. At home, Tokio had heard the boy sobbing in the next room several times. She suspected nightmares, but possessed no proof of that assumption. Every time she knocked on the shoji to ask if Eiji was alright, he'd only ever answer between sniffles, "I'm fine." or "Go away."

"What are you going to do, Tokio-san?" Naoya picked up a small basket of cherry tree leaves and began to spread them out on a large section of paper she had placed on the counter.

Tokio took her place beside Naoya as the two began to sort the leaves. "I don't see what can be done. He is mourning the death of his family with his whole small body. I think, perhaps, that becoming lonely after being so warmly loved is the most terrible pain a being can go through. He has to decide for himself if he can live with that pain."

Although the expression on Tokio's face had not changed, something in the way the woman's timid whisper wavered forced Naoya to find a way to change the subject. "Has Okita-san found a buyer for Katsu-san's house yet?"

"Not yet, I think."

"Too bad he isn't going to keep it. What a place to live, huh? My family's flat would inside the front room. Twice!"

Tokio poured hot water from a nearby kettle into a large porcelain bowl and used a pair of chopsticks to mix in a generous portion of salt. "With Okubo-kyo dead, he can no longer afford to keep the place. Besides, it probably contains too many memories of Katsu."

"What do you think Okita-san will do now? Poetry doesn't pay much. We have a poet living next door to my mother's flat and he barely makes enough money to pay rent."

"I'm certain he will think of something," Tokio replied, spooning the secret ingredient into her mixture. Just a taste of honey.

As the amber liquid dripped into the steaming bowl, Naoya exclaimed, "You're not supposed to put honey in sakuramoti!"

Tokio only smirked and stirred in the honey until it dissolved into the salt and water. Her whisper suddenly became oddly serious as she replied, "Naoya, it is unlikely that I will ever have a daughter to whom I can show all my best recipes. But someday, you may have many daughters and granddaughters. I hope that some rainy spring afternoon, your children will come to you, and you will show them how to make sakuramoti with just a touch of honey, just like your friend Tokio used to do."

Stunned by this, Naoya stood, fingering one of the cherry leaves, her mind grinding in thought. "Come on, Tokio-san," Naoya implored, "I can't take -two- depressed people. Besides, if I ever have daughters and granddaughters, you'll meet them all. Someone's gotta teach them how to be ladies."

"I apologize, Naoya. You are right. It is selfish of me to bemoan my fate while Hajime is..."

The conversation was cut short by a young woman in a yellow kimono walking into the shop. Tokio recognized the newcomer immediately and motioned her over to the counter.

"Kiji-san, how are you today? How is business?"

With a lively step, Kiji Meiko made her way to the other end of the shop, her high ponytail bouncing animatedly atop her head. "Slow. Slow. So much so that I'm closing up shop to take a trip. I was hoping you'd have some more of those sakuramoti I tried last week. I'd like to give some to the friend I'm going to visit."

"Certainly, just now freshly made. Let me find a box."

As Tokio disappeared into the back room, Naoya fidgeted a bit, looking at the counter, and then at the other woman. "Uh, Kiji-san," Naoya finally started, "Is it really true that you can use a poultice of herring eyes and ginger to get rid of toenail fungus?"

Meiko, used to this sort of question, only smiled gently. "I don't think I've ever heard that one before. I'll bring over something that might be a bit more efficient before I leave."

"Thanks," Naoya replied, pulling several leaves out of the bowl and wrapping them around the pink balls she'd rolled earlier. Tokio re-appeared seconds later, holding a small box.

"Say," Meiko said, "Do you know there is a little boy sitting outside of your shop?"

Tokio nodded as she put the sakuramoti into the box, "Yes, that is Eiji. His family passed away and he's come to live with us. His brother worked with my husband."

"Oh, that is terribly kind of you, to take in an orphan. Well, thank you for the sakuramoti, Tokio-san. I'll let you know how my friend likes them."

Kiji Meiko left the shop, sparing another glance at the sad-looking boy sitting in front of Snowflake Sweets before crossing the square towards her own shop, a tiny apothecary that seemed to be able to stay open despite an overwhelming lack of customers. The deftness with which Meiko avoided the other patrons of the crowded market, while at the same time balancing a large box of sakuramoti on one fingertip went largely unnoticed by everyone except the slender, and rather dour, teenager standing in front of the apothecary. The youngster crossed her arms and rolled her eyes as she tapped her foot impatiently.

"I've been waiting forever," the teenager said as Meiko brushed past, entering the apothecary with aplomb. "I've got other stuff to do, you know."

"You didn't have to come at all. I've already given them my answer," Meiko replied.

"Yeah, well...say, what's in the box?"

Meiko shot a deadly glare at the teenager and exclaimed, "Mind your own business."

"It's my job to be nosy," the girl declared.

"No, it's your job to deliver messages. So, I assume you have a letter for me, do you not?"

"Fine," the girl replied, producing an envelope from her obi. This, she slapped onto the counter before pronouncing, "I almost hope you don't change your mind. If not, you'll get what you deserve, Kiji Meiko."

"Pish posh, get out of my shop, runt. Run back to your mistress."

With a haughty harrumph, the teenager stalked out of the shop, disappearing into the marketplace beyond with incredible speed. Meiko picked up the letter with pursed lips. For a moment, she considered crumpling the missive and tossing it away, but curiosity prevailed. Tearing open the envelope, Meiko took out the paper and afforded it a cursory reading.

Then she tipped over the envelope and spilled the remaining contents onto the counter.

Four dead bumblebees.

Meiko snarled at the sight, and with one swift swipe of her hand, brushed the expired insects off of the counter and onto the floor.

If Keisuke wanted an answer, then she'd get one. It had been far too long since Meiko had visited Hachinisasareru headquarters, anyway.

"Well, Okashira," Meiko mumbled to herself as she drew the bamboo blinds of the apothecary, "I hope you like the sakuramoti your granddaughter made, at least."

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

Saitou winced as he tied a strip of bandage around each of his legs. The wounds would not be fatal, but they definitely would slow him down. In the depths of the oddly decorated room, Saitou could hear the rhythmic sound of dripping as droplets of Usui's blood hit the tatami below.

Usui. Definitely a man whom, as Tokio would say, needed to be put out of his own misery. The blind ex-hitokiri for the Bakufu knew little more than his need to bathe his ego in the blood of the weak to soothe the fires of vengeance. Saitou had put the dog down, but at the cost of a few wounds of his own.

Saitou stood again and tested his legs by leaning his weight on each. Painful, but they'd hold. For now.

Pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, Saitou surveyed the scene. Usui lay pinned high on the wall by Okita's katana, far out of Saitou's reach. This presented quite a problem. With his legs wounded, it seemed a waste to chance further injury by jumping to retrieve the sword. Certainly, Saitou couldn't defy gravity as easily as Himura Battousai, but he could still jump high enough, if necessary.

So, the problem remained. How could he retrieve Okita's katana? The room contained no furniture to stand upon. Finding a ladder would definitely take too long. Time, indeed, presented the most daunting factor. Saitou needed to be able to search the rest of Shishio's headquarters before the end of the battle between the two Ishin Shishi hitokiris. If Chou's map proved correct, the entire complex had so much petroleum running under and through it that it seemed unlikely he'd get a chance to search -after- the fight. Not knowing Shishio's pyromania.

Then Saitou spotted the answer right in front of him. Usui's rouchin lay on the tatami, the bladed tip covered with Saitou's own rapidly congealing blood. Trying not to put too much pressure on his wounds as he bent, Saitou picked up the foreign spear and used it as a crutch to stand back up.

Quite an interesting weapon, this rouchin. Usui had used it exceedingly effectively, despite the fact that it felt quite unwieldy in Saitou's hands. Nonetheless, it would prove the perfect lever to retrieve Okita's katana.

Holding the spear by its dull end, Saitou raised it towards Usui's dead body and knocked the flat of the bloodied blade against the hilt of the katana. With a loud thunk, the katana dislodged itself from the wall. Both it, and Usui's corpse, fell ungracefully to the ground below, barely missing Saitou's feet.

Problem solved.

Now, really, only one issue remained. Only one part of the equation required resolution.

Shishio Makoto or Himura Battousai? Which one would meet their death at the end of Saitou's gatotsu?

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

Tokio tugged at the brim of her straw hat, pulling it lower to help shield her eyes from the early June sunlight. On days like these the heat prevented Tokio from wearing even her lightest scarves, so she had opted instead for a thin layer of bandages around her neck. Usually, if only Hajime were home, she'd wear nothing at all around her neck, allowing the old wound to breathe. But, with Eiji present, Tokio opted to cover the wound as lightly as possible and go about her day without complaint.

Eiji. The boy sat now on the engawa, his knees drawn up to his chest, his face buried against his legs. Several times this afternoon, Tokio swore she had heard him sobbing, but looked up to find Eiji hadn't changed position.

Tokio threw herself in her work. She'd decided that, this being her day off, it would be a good time to plant vegetables. Really, the garden should have had attention weeks ago, but with Kamatari, her husband leaving, opening Snowflake Sweets, and Eiji's arrival, Tokio hadn't found the time until now.

Tokio leaned on her spade, scooping up a fresh chunk of thick dirt and setting it aside. Cucumbers would be best. Right here next to the yams and radishes. If enough grew, she could pickle them for the winter. That would be a nice surprise for everyone on some cold December night.

"You can't plant those all next to each other."

Shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, Tokio looked up to find Eiji standing next to her, his bare feet toeing the dirt. The boy's cinnamon colored hair jutted at unruly angles, becoming even more untamed with each mild breeze that blew through the courtyard. Tokio glanced at her rows of vegetables to try to discern the problem. "Pardon me?"

Eiji kneeled down in the dirt beside Tokio and patted the ground, "You don't have good enough soil. You see? You've planted all the underground vegetables together. They need the same sorts of nutrients, so they will be stealing from one another. Competing to survive. You should plant rows of soy beans in between. Soy beans don't tax the ground as much."

Tokio couldn't help the look of astonishment which crossed her face. "Thank you, Eiji." Tapping her fingers on the end of her spade, Tokio hit upon an idea, "Would you like to help me? I'm afraid I don't know so terribly much about gardening."

"I can tell," Eiji said, kneeling down in the dirt beside Tokio. "You're planting the seeds far too deeply. Here. Let me show you."

The two worked side by side in silence for almost an hour, Eiji digging the holes, and Tokio dropping in the seeds, covering them again, and pouring a bit of water on top. The scathing heat of the sun made both parties sweat profusely, and Tokio found herself itching at the bandages on her neck on occasion, where the sweat from her face and hair kept collecting. Eiji, noticing this, said, "You could take those off, you know."

"I have a nasty scar," Tokio whispered, trying not to look at the boy. "It is how my voice was injured."

"I don't mind," Eiji replied, biting his bottom lip. "Can I see?"

Tokio didn't really know what to say, but since Eiji seemed to be interested in -something-, at least, she decided to humor him. Unwrapping the thin bandages from her neck, Tokio lifted her chin a little to show Eiji the tangled gash. The boy leaned forward and inspected the scar, squinting against the sun to get a better look.

"Did it hurt?"

"I suppose it did, but I don't really remember. I had other things on my mind at the time."

Eiji leaned back on his knees and returned to digging holes in the dirt. "You mean like your parents dying?"

Tokio's head turned so quickly that she felt sweat fly off the back of her neck. Her eyes bored into the back of Eiji's head as she struggled to contain her surprise.

"Okita-san told me."

"I see," Tokio replied as she mentally went through a list of possible punishments for Okita. She -did- need her shed repainted.

"Does it still make you sad to think about it, Tokio-san?"

"Yes. And angry too. But, then sometimes I think it is selfish of me to still be sad. I'm certain my parents wanted me to remember them, but not in ways that bring me pain. So, I try to be the person they raised me to be. That is why I plant this garden, you see. My mother always said that a proper lady has a fine garden, and she gives all that she grows to her family, to friends, or to the poor."

Tokio watched the faintest smirk touch Eiji's lips. "Well, then it's a good thing I came along, Tokio-san. Because, at the rate you were going, you wouldn't have grown enough vegetables to fill a teacup."

"You sound fairly certain of your skills, Eiji-chan."

"I am. I know all about nature."

A twinkle of mischief sparkled in Tokio's eyes. Scooping up some of the wet earth with the hand farthest from Eiji, Tokio tossed the mud over her head. Chunks of moist dirt landed on Eiji's shoulder with a "plop". Putting her hand to her forehead, Tokio looked up, scanning the sky. "Oh my. Say Eiji, you know all about nature, what sort of bird do you think that was?"

Eiji looked down at his shoulder as he brushed off a sizeable clump of dirt. A look of confusion skittered across the boy's face. Was this the same woman who, up until now, had always acted in the most refined and dignified manner Eiji ever seen?

Grabbing his own clump of mud, Eiji darted forward and smeared the wet dirt down the back of Tokio's gardening yukata. "I don't know, Tokio-san. But, it looks like he got you, too."

The mud fight that broke out was perhaps one of the strangest in all of history. The ever-poised Fujita Tokio ended up rolling in the dirt in order to avoid the onslaught of dirt balls being slung by a laughing little boy. Gasping hard for air, due to the fact that she had been laughing so profusely, Tokio grabbed the only thing within her reach: a basket of cucumber seeds. These she tossed at Eiji, and because his entire body had been covered in moist dirt or sweat, they stuck to his gi, neck and face.

Eiji spit and brushed at the seeds which had become affixed to his lips. "Crap. Now I'm going to grow up to be a cucumber."

Tokio laughed so hard that she had to clutch her stomach to keep it from hurting. As Eiji sunk down beside her, looking worn out from the afternoon's activity, Tokio caught her breath and finally replied, "You know, you could bathe. You are rather smelly."

"Yeah," Eiji said, brushing some of the dirt out of his hair with his hands, "Well, you don't exactly smell like a flower yourself, Tokio-san."

"Don't tell Naoya, she'll be so utterly disappointed."

Eiji giggled a bit as he surveyed the damage to the garden. "Tokio-san, um, do you think we could have dinner a little early? I'm awful hungry."

Giving the boy a friendly smile, Tokio sat up and brushed the dirt off of her yukata as best she could. "Of course, Eiji-chan. Why don't you go into the bath and get cleaned up. I've made you a summer yukata, if you would like something to change into."

"That'd be nice," Eiji replied, holding out a hand to help the lady up, just like his mother always said he should. "Oh and, Tokio-san?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think it would be alright if I called you 'Auntie Tokio'?"

"I'd like that very much, Eiji. I really would."

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

The impressive heat given off by the growing fires in Shishio's complex created visible waves across Saitou's line of sight as he set himself into Gatotsu stance.

Now was the time. If he was going to kill Himura, best do it now. Shishio had died, killed not by a sword stroke, but by the limits of his own body. And that left only one of the two Ishin Shishi hitokiris that needed to be put down.

The Hitokiri Battousai. Unconscious as he was, being drug along under Sagara's arm, the red-headed ex-assassin probably wouldn't even feel it. But, -that- was the problem, wasn't it? He was an -ex- assassin. Even though the infamous Battousai still lived, as Saitou knew, within the broken body of that rurouni, the demon of the Bakumatsu had not shown his face in -this- battle.

Okita's voice echoed in Saitou's head. "As soldiers we must become something transcendental. In what you are undertaking, you must have no doubts."

Damn morality. He couldn't kill Himura now. The man couldn't even defend himself. Couldn't even hold a sword if you tied it to his hand. Plus, he'd probably have to kill Sagara too, since the damn ahou was standing in the way. Even if he did manage to hit Himura without injuring Sanosuke, the kid probably would probably insist on fighting Saitou until they -all- perished in the growing fire.

No. It just wouldn't work at all. He'd just have to take down Battousai later. In a fair fight. A proper duel. Until then, he'd just have to keep an eye on the man.

Saitou ran at the heavy doors, punching through them with the force of the gatotsu. The kickback from the blow knocked the injured cop backwards, but Saitou landed on his feet, letting out a small hiss that went unnoticed by the other three men standing on the bridge.

"I've gotten through more of these situations than you," Saitou informed Sanosuke, who had just been babbling something about the fact that Saitou was wounded.

Hefting Kenshin over his shoulder, Sanosuke replied, "Lets get out of here."

Shinomori, the silent observer to the chaos, seemed to agree as the trio turned to head for the door. Right then, a thunderous rumble shook the complex, causing more fires began to appear around the men. "Shit," Sanosuke exclaimed, "The battlefield. It's exploding!"

Sagara did, after all, have a penchant for pointing out the keenly obvious.

Suddenly, one of the giant smokestacks fell, and the resulting quake caused half the walkway to fall away. Saitou ended up stranded on the far side. The side -without- the door.

"Saitou!" Sanosuke screamed

"Yare, yare. How annoying," Saitou replied, digging in his pocket to find his cigarettes and matches.

"You bastard, trying to run out again while you are ahead? What about our fight? Answer me, Saitou!"

Exhaling out of the corner of his mouth, Saitou looked at the blood-drenched kid. He really did seem concerned, didn't he? "I just told you, I've seen far more chaos than you've ever known. Shinomori has my map. Just follow the route I've marked to get out."

Saitou turned his back on the trio and headed back towards the battlefield. What did they think he was, an idiot? There were at least two other ways out of the area, possibly more that even Chou didn't know about.

Besides, he needed proof of Shishio's death, or else the Meiji government would continue to be nervous and unsettled. And nervous politicians never make good, rational, decisions.

Using the force of a second blast, Saitou propelled himself into an opening in the iron structure containing the staircase leading up towards the battlefield. One handed, he flipped himself up the rapidly collapsing staircase and, mere seconds later, emerged back onto the platform beyond.

Saitou picked up Shishio's sword. As an afterthought, he grabbed Yumi's tanto and scooped up few ashes into his now-empty cigarette pack. Scanning the burning field of battle for his exit, Saitou found it blocked by fire.

Damn.

This was going to hurt. A lot.

Stuffing Yumi's tanto and ashes down his shirt, Saitou backed up as far as he possibly could on the platform without stepping into the fire. His legs throbbed with pain, but Saitou commanded them to work, just this one last time. With Okita's katana in his right hand, and Shishio's in his left, Saitou ran at the edge of the platform, the growl in his throat competing with the crash of stones and iron as the building fell away behind him.

And then he jumped.

When the dust and smoke cleared from the collapse of the building, one lanky figure could be seen hanging from two katanas thrust into the side of the mountain cliff.

"Yare, yare," Saitou muttered to himself with a small sigh, "The things I do for my country."

Saitou tried pulling himself up, but with his legs now completely useless, he had little leverage to make progress up the cliff face.

Which is why he found himself a bit relieved, a few minutes later when, a rope was tossed down the edge of the mountain, allowing him to grab on, and pluck the two swords from the cliff face. The ride to the top was rather bumpy, jarring his wounded legs, causing them to sting even more painfully.

At the top, a giant hand reached out and pulled Saitou over the edge. The cop rolled himself away from the precipice only to find himself looking into Anji's eyes.

"Monk," Saitou said, his eyes narrowing with the hissed greeting.

Anji nodded quietly and replied, "I want to turn myself in."

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

Six weeks later.

Every single person who passed Sawagejou Chou on the streets of Tokyo stared wide-eyed at his physics-defying hair, his bright red coat, or his plethora of assorted swords. Few things in the world stuck out as much Chou. Among them would be such amazements as blue pigs that spoke precise French and sphere-shaped celery that tasted like chicken.

Frankly, the reverse psychology calculated by Saitou Hajime, his boss, to affect the public at large seemed astounding. Who would ever believe that a man so liable to catch the eye, so ostentatious and loud, would be a spy, a detective, or a cop? No one sane, definitely.

Chou looked briefly at the map in his hands. He'd been walking around this same damn neighborhood for an hour now, and still hadn't found the place. Some officer named "Shinzui" had drawn it for him, and if Chou wasn't mistaken, his sempai had played a rather large prank.

"Hey lady," Chou asked a passing woman carrying a child, "Do you know where Taito street is, eh?"

The startled woman couldn't find her voice. She backed away from Chou slowly and pointed eastwards.

Chou clicked his tongue and shrugged, heading off in the suggested direction. What did she think he was going to do? Steal her baby and toss the kid up in the air on the end of a sword sheath? Alright, so maybe he -might- do that sort of thing on occasion. But, not today. Besides, he would never really hurt a kid, even though he told Himura Battousai that he might kill Iori just to test Arai Shatku's last sword. He liked kids. The damned anklebiters.

Chou continued down the street until found himself at a dead end.

"Damn it. This is some sort of conspiracy."

Turning around, Chou retraced his steps. Well, at least the weather wasn't bad. The thick cloud cover blocked out the harsh sun enough to make the heat bearable. And, you couldn't exactly wear a hat with hair like Chou's.

Of course, he'd started dressing so oddly back when Yumi had been an oiran. It wasn't so much that he wanted the attention that Yumi garnered from her admirers. No. It was just that...well...the more odd he looked standing by her side, the less likely people were to leer at Yumi and stare at him instead. Chou always knew he could protect his half-sister from any attacker, but protecting Yumi from what people thought always proved much harder.

Yumi.

Damn Shishio. Damn him, damn him, damn him.

Saitou Hajime, as Chou knew him now, had returned from the battle with what remained of Yumi, which wasn't much, just some ashes and Yumi's tanto. The story Saitou told seemed fantastic, almost unbelievable, but knowing the remarkably cruel ideology of Shishio, and after checking the story with a certain Oniwabanshuu ninja also reported to be present in the battle, Chou found he had to come to terms with the gruesome circumstances of his half-sister's death. She'd been stabbed clean through by her lover, Shishio Makoto, just so he could injure Himura Battousai, who had been standing in front of her.

What an asshole.

But, thanks to Saitou, at least he'd been able to give Yumi a proper burial. And, he had a job. A completely -stupid- job which involved walking around the same neighborhood looking for his boss' goddamn house for hours on end, but a job nonetheless.

"Hey you," Chou called to a passerby, "Do you have any idea where Taito street is?"

"You're standing on it, mister."

Chou grumbled some rather choice expletives in reply and whirled around to examine the gates of the nearby houses. Katamoto. Hiroyasu. Kouji. Fujita.

Aha! Fujita!

That Shinzui character would get his when Chou got back. Well. Now to find the Wolf's wife. Hard to believe the old cockroach was married. Seemed like the kind of guy more likely to raise deadly blowfish than a family.

Chou entered the gate to find two figures hard at work in the front yard. A little boy, no older than ten or eleven, appeared to be pulling weeds from a small patch of garden near the fence. And on the engawa...

Who was that adorable creature sweeping the engawa?

"Oi," Naoya said, stopping her broom as she finally noticed the extremely hard-not-to-notice gentleman standing in the yard, "Who're you?"

Upon hearing Naoya's voice, Eiji turned around to peer at the newcomer. "Geez. City folk sure do dress strange," he mumbled to himself.

Chou shifted his weight as he continued to gawk at Naoya. Why was he here again? He'd completely forgotten. Oh right. The boss' wife.

"I've come for Fujita Tokio," Chou finally replied, suddenly completely aware that he had nothing to do with his hands. So, like always, he rested one on the hilt of the sword hanging at his hip.

Naoya, apparently coming to the realization that the man wore several katanas, scowled menacingly. 'Come for Tokio? With that many swords this guy can only mean to... Shit!'

"Eiji!" Naoya yelled as she leapt off the engawa, broom in hand. "He's here to kill Tokio!"

"Nani?" Chou replied, backing away from the advancing teenager, who really looked even more lovely with her brown eyes flashing daggers. "No I..."

"No? Liar. No one comes here with that many swords just to have tea! Who are you with, huh? The ninjas? Those Juppon Gatana people?"

"The...Juppon...Gatana?" Chou repeated incredulously, wondering how a spritely girl with a crooked obi knew about Shishio's henchmen. "How..."

"I knew it! I knew it! Quick Eiji. Go get Tokio-san out of here." As Eiji scrambled onto the porch, a furious rain of broomstick blows began to fall on Chou. "You bastards! Why can't you...leave her alone?"

Chou deflected the blows as best he could, using his thick arm guards to shelter the more sensitive parts of his body from the rapid onslaught. He had to figure out what to do. Drawing a sword would definitely just scare the girl even more. And he certainly couldn't -punch- her. Not only would she get hurt, but, knowing his boss, he'd probably end up being assigned to the police stables to shovel horse shit until his hair turned grey.

So, Chou did the only thing he could think of to do. He picked up seventeen year old Meshibe Naoya by the collar of her kimono, and kissed her.

Hard.

Naoya squirmed and beat her fists against Chou's shoulders. But, being a good foot and a half in the air, she found herself without an escape. And, in addition, she discovered that she rather liked...no, she didn't. Yet, whatever he was doing to her lips was...well, it felt...no. Definitely -not-.

Gathering every ounce of resolve she possessed, Naoya did exactly what her mother always taught her to do in times of crisis involving men. She kneed him directly in the groin.

Or rather, she tried.

But, due to the fact that she couldn't really see what she was doing, and because she did feel suddenly a bit dizzy, Naoya ended up only thumping her knee against his thigh.

Finally, Chou pulled his mouth away from Naoya's, and stared at her, one eye open, one closed, trying to predict the spirited young woman's next move. "Are ya gonna listen to me now?"

"Why'd you do that?" Naoya asked, a bit too breathlessly for her own taste. She placed her hands on top of Chou's gloved fists in an attempt to wrest herself free of his grasp.

"Cause, I'm trying to tell you. I'm not here to kill anyone. I'm a policeman, see? I work with Fujita-san. I'm here to take Tokio-san to see him."

"Oh," Naoya replied as Chou set her gently back down on the ground. Brushing herself off, and setting her kimono collar straight, Naoya tried to hide the growing redness crossing her cheeks. "Ano...sorry for...ano...you're really tall."

Well, that was about all she could think up at the moment. It -was- her first kiss, after all.

Chou, on the other hand, only smirked. His height wasn't usually the first thing people noticed about him. No. It was -never- the first thing people noticed about him.

Suddenly, the front shoji of the house slid open with a bang. In the doorway, Chou found himself looking at a svelte woman with burning amber eyes, who appeared to have some sort of spiked weapon attached to her right hand. The boy from before stood next to her, carrying a sword so badly worn that it might fall to dust if you even spit on it.

"Kindly remove yourself from my yard. Or else." Tokio rasped, trying to look far more menacing than her abilities allowed.

"No, no, Tokio-san. It's okay. He's with the police. He's here to take you to see Fujita-san."

Tokio's left hand fluttered immediately to her neck, as her other hand fumbled at the shuko. "My husband? He's back?"

Chou, deciding that these people were just about the strangest group he'd encountered since the Juppon Gatana, merely nodded in reply.

"Naoya, please, show this gentleman inside right away. Eiji, would you put away your sword and my shuko?"

As Tokio and Eiji returned to the house, Naoya found herself alone, once again, with the tall stranger. "So, uh, you got a name?"

"Sawagejou Chou. You?"

"Naoya. Meshibe Naoya. And if you ever try that shit again, I'll tell Fujita-san exactly how much of a pervert you are."

Chou grinned devilishly.

Death by gatotsu? Well. He might just have to chance it.

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

"Ano, Naoya? Why do you have that silly grin on your face?" Eiji asked as Tokio and Chou left the front yard and headed down Taito street towards police headquarters.

"Shut up, Eiji. Just shut up."

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

"Officer Sawagejou," Tokio whispered as she twined the end of her scarf around her hands to keep it from dragging in the street. "I didn't want to ask in front of Eiji and Naoya, but I assume since you are taking me to see -him- that my husband was injured fairy badly?"

Chou shot a glance at the woman walking beside him. Well, at least she hadn't cried or done any of that other stupid girl stuff. Tokio had merely offered him a very formal (and mildly confusing) tea, and then said quietly, "Shall we?"

"Yeah, he -was- injured. But, that was six weeks ago. He appears to be fine now, but, see, that's the problem. He won't let the damn doctor look at him. He won't stay in the police infirmary. He just keeps getting up and going to his desk."

"Then, if he is well, why doesn't he come home?" Tokio asked, wondering what could keep Hajime from returning to their house.

"The police commissioner, Kawaji-san. He says that the boss isn't allowed to leave headquarters until the doctor checks him out and dismisses him. Police rules, he says."

"I see," Tokio whispered with a smirk, finding her husband's stubborn nature to be infinitely amusing. "So, you want me to convince him to let the doctor look at him."

"Yeah. That's about right."

Tokio tittered, her eyes shining with the knowledge that her husband was more than alright, he was very much himself. "Would you also like me to cause snow to fall in July?"

"Huh? Couldn't hear you that time."

"Ah, nevermind, Officer. Thank you so very much for your assistance in this matter."

At the end of their journey, Tokio found herself being led into police headquarters, a place she had never before been. To Tokio, the place seemed dark and dreary, coated in the scent of paper and sweat. The halls lay mostly barren, except for a few signs and the occasional notice or plaque. She found herself easily lost as she followed Chou through a labyrinth of walkways and stairwells which all seemed to be bathed in the same dim green glow. Windows appeared to be rare, though some of the hallways did sport benches. All in all, Tokio was hoping to leave as soon as possible.

"Well," Chou said, "This is it. You go on in, Fujita-san. His office is the door on the far side of the room."

Tokio nodded to Chou and turned the handle on the western style door, stepping inside. The antechamber contained several tables, maps, and chairs, all set in immaculate order. The incessant ticking of the brass clock on the wall made the only noise until a deep grumble from behind the far door said, "I'm not going to the infirmary. Get out or face consequences beyond your control."

Tokio moved quietly across the room and grabbed the handle of the second door. There was no point in trying to talk to him through a door, even with Hajime's exceptional hearing she doubted her whisper would carry. Taking a deep breath, Tokio turned the knob and opened the door a crack.

"Haji..."

Tokio's arm slipped from the door handle as she found herself being forcibly yanked into the room. She would have said something, anything, if she hadn't immediately been lifted off the ground, and smothered by her husband's hungry kiss. His lips crushed hers so powerfully, Tokio felt she might bruise by morning.

Tokio's hands didn't seem to know where to go. She ran them through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back, and around his hips. All there. He really was all there. Yes. It felt like him. Tokio took in a sharp breath through her nose, reveling in the smell of smoke and sage. It smelled like him.

As his lips pulled away from hers, and moved up her jaw to her ear, Tokio heard, "I told you the consequences would be beyond your control."

It definitely -growled- like him.

"You knew it was me. You tried to frighten me."

"Hn. It worked, didn't it?" Saitou replied, sitting down on the edge of his desk, and pulling his wife across his lap. Tokio pressed her face into the side of his neck, fluttering her eyelashes several times against the sensitive skin, which caused Saitou to tighten his grip around her shoulders.

"Hajime, your mission, is it finished now?"

"Aa," Saitou replied, "But, you should know, I didn't kill him. Not yet."

Tokio bit her bottom lip slightly, not knowing exactly how to respond to this news. She had taken it for granted that the return of her husband would mean an end to the nightmarish face that had plagued so many of her thoughts.

"Are you angry with me, Kitty?"

Tokio curled her knees around Saitou's waist and pulled herself up to look into his eyes. Was he...worried? Worried what she would think? No, the idea was preposterous. "Will you see the doctor so you can come home?"

"No."

"Then I shall be quite cross with you, indeed."

"So ka?" Saitou said with a snort, flipping his wife over onto her back on the desktop. Crouching above her, on his hands and knees, Saitou continued, "And do you think that after traveling the length of Japan, fighting some of the most experienced warriors in the world, and saving the nation from impending doom, I would really so easily give in to your wiles?"

"You can't stay here forever, Hajime," Tokio whispered, grabbing her husband by the belt of his pants and pulling him closer.

"And why not?"

"Because I..." Tokio found herself looking into eyes that seemed to stare far too deeply into her mind. Somehow, he already knew. He was just waiting for her to say it. He just wanted to hear it. "Because, I would miss you."

"Hn," Saitou replied, one of his hands finding Tokio's, their fingers intertwining, "You'd best figure out a way to make me want to come home, then."

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

Chou leaned his head on one fist as he sat in the hallway, trying very hard not to fall asleep. Really, he very much wanted to pass out for about five days straight. That, in fact, was the -real- reason he'd ultimately gone to find Tokio. No one could keep up with the boss. He never slept! All of Lieutenant Fujita's men were just worn the fuck out. They just wanted to go home.

An elderly man slipped out of the door beside Chou, clipboard in hand. Sinking into the chair offered by the officer, the old man shook his head with dismay, the blood having long since drained from his face.

"And how long have they been doing that?"

"'Bout an hour, I reckon, doc." Chou replied, rolling his eyes.

The old man scribbled on his notepad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to Chou. "If he can do that, he's certainly not injured enough to warrant keeping him here. Send him home."

Thank Kami-sama. Chou could finally get some damn sleep.