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Hajime and Tokio: Chapter 15 - The Coiled Snake

by Angrybee

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

An Apple caused mans' fall, as some believe;
         But that old Snake, malevolently wise,

A deadlier snare set when he left to Eve

His tongue of honey and mesmeric eyes.

--The Serpent, Victor J. Daley

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

The houses on Miraiyu street were nothing like the ones on Taito street. Not that Taito street possessed excessive splendor by any means. No. The houses on Miraiyu street merely seemed a little smaller, a little older, and were built just a little closer together.

Perhaps the most remarkable feature of the houses on Miraiyu street did not belong to the structures themselves. The entire line of buildings faced a wide creek that fed into the Kandagawa river. Because of the creek's propensity for flooding during the rainy season, many of the small houses had been built on raised stilts, creating a favorite shaded hiding place for pets, children, and many a snake. It was the latter which had Okita Souji down on his hands and knees in front of his new house, poking fruitlessly into the darkness with a stick.

"Is there a point to what you are doing, Okita?" Saitou said, walking up the pathway, "Because you look like a goddamn idiot."

"Ah! Saitou-kun, you've returned," Okita replied, pulling himself out from underneath the house, barely missing smacking his head on the ledge. "What do you think of my new palace? I've never really had my own home."

Saitou regarded the house for a moment. The ramshackle building seemed to be listing slightly to the left on the eastern side. In addition, the thatched roof bore an obscene amount of tangled moss which dangled down at odd intervals, creating a scattered lace curtain around the engawa. The wood which composed the building's side had long since warped and bent with the moisture from the nearby water. And, the yard, what there was of it, had grown wild with weeds fed off the nutrients of the passing creek. All in all, the place was a dump.

"It is a shithole, Okita. Thank god my sister took care of you, or you would have ended up living in a ditch." Saitou's eyes narrowed at the stick in Okita's hand, offering the question again without words.

"Hai, hai," Okita replied dismissively, tossing the stick to the side, "There's a snake down there I want."

"If you are that stuck for food, I am certain that my wife would be more than happy to feed you."

"No, no, no." Okita threw up his hands, declining the offer of having food stuffed down his throat until he collapsed in pain. "I'm going to raise them. Snakes, that is. In the back. Interesting species. Essentially decent creatures, ridding the world of plague-carrying rats and mice, keeping to themselves unless disturbed, remarkably strong and clever, but at the same time, rather weak of body. Tragically misunderstood, I think."

"Hn." Saitou grunted, as per usual when his friend went on about something that appeared to have no relevance to practical reality. Changing the subject, he replied, "I've come to return your katana."

"Oh," Souji said, stepping up onto the engawa. "I see. I'm afraid I'd offer you tea, but I haven't any. And I decline to offer you sake. I fear my house isn't reinforced enough for such a debacle."

"I didn't realize you were a drinking man, Okita. You used to abstain so vehemently." Saitou followed Okita up the steps and into the one-room house. The dust hanging in clumps from the ceiling, and the permeating smell of mold paid testament to the fact that the house's new owner hadn't yet cleaned. Or hadn't wanted to clean.

"I wasn't, until a few weeks ago. I tried it for a while to pass the time and found it thoroughly unamusing. There were no more answers in the bottom of a sake cup than anywhere else I'd looked."

Okita offered Saitou a seat on the (thankfully) relatively clean tatami and lit a small lantern to fight off the gathering dusk. He left the shoji open, however, giving the pair a view of a few children attempting to catch fireflies near the passing creek.

"You know, Okita," Saitou said, keeping his eyes focused on the flowing water, "You can always come work for me."

"You know I won't," Souji replied with a small sigh, smiling though both men knew the sentiment to be empty, "Though I thank you for the offer. I've already decided what I must do. And, really, I rather look forward to it. You'll see, Saitou-kun. Don't worry about me. I've looked into the waters of time and decided how best to irrigate many fields."

Kami-sama but Souji could be astoundingly cryptic when he wanted. Saitou tried his best not to roll his eyes. Instead, he pulled the katana from the sheath at his side and held it horizontally, balancing the blade on the back of his hand as he returned the sword to Souji's care.

"You didn't kill him," Souji said softly, turning away from his friend to return the katana to its proper sheath and place it on just about the only decent piece of furniture in the room, a lacquered black sword stand that had been with Okita since his days in the Shinsengumi.

"No," Saitou replied frankly, "There was no opportunity to do so honorably. How did you know?"

"Ah. The same way I know about the snake under my house. I feel them both, curled up upon themselves, hoping desperately that no one will push them so far as to require them to strike with the full force of their abilities." Okita turned back to his friend as a firefly dove into the open shoji, flitting about the room as if the curious discovery of the indoors caused unimaginable excitement. "And the other?"

"Shishio is dead. Consumed by flames produced by his own body. We've captured most of what remained of the Juppon Gatana. Those who escaped should be no trouble. Except, perhaps, for Soujiro no Tenken. One of those who turned himself in said that Okubo-kyo's assassin decided to become a wanderer. I expect he'll turn up in a few years."

"Mmm," Okita replied, seemingly at a loss for words for once. Pressing his hands together, Okita touched his lips to his fingertips as his eyes closed. "How did Tokio-san take the news?"

Saitou grit his teeth slightly. "She'll be fine." But, the words were too forced, more of a command than an observance.

The firefly, fascinated with its brother light shining from the lamp dipped a bit too close. A spark of flame caught the enraptured insect and burned it into nothingness.

"You have seen it too, then?"

"Aa. I know her too well," Saitou replied, pulling his box of cigarettes from his pocket. He withdrew one, but did not bring out his matches. Instead, he turned the white stick over and over in his gloved fingers. His wife was hiding something. She had been since he returned from Kyoto. Whatever it was, it had to do with the Battousai. His wife wasn't a talkative person, but she had been even more silent than usual on the subject of Saitou's nemesis. And she'd been smiling, all the time. At first Saitou had passed it off as relief that the ordeal was over. Or perhaps some sort of amusement to be taking care of Eiji and doing so well with her new enterprise in the marketplace.

But, when even Naoya had approached him, asking if Tokio was alright, Saitou knew something was going on. According to the rat-girl, Tokio spent an entire afternoon crying in the back room of Snowflake Sweets. When questioned about it, Tokio had told Naoya that she'd merely been reading a horribly sad novel. A lie, and not even a very good one. Tokio hated reading anything besides recipes and letters, and occasionally the society section of the newspaper.

Noticing the growing scowl on his friend's face, Okita changed the subject, "And the boy?"

"He'll receive the small pension his brother earned from dying in the line of duty. If he still wants, in a year or two, we'll use the money to send him to Osaka to train under Kozue. But for right now..."

"Yes," Okita replied, gazing out of the shoji. Despite the fact that he smiled, an overwhelming sadness seemed to reflect from the creek to his eyes. "Let him be a child for now. Of all the atrocities I have seen in my life, that one proves the most condemning, to rob a soul of the joys and innocence of youth."

Saitou raised an eyebrow, "Do you speak of yourself?"

"And Tokio. And Eiji. If you think about it, Ienobu and Battousai, too. And you, Saitou-kun?"

"No," Saitou replied, standing up and heading outdoors to light his cigarette. "No, Okita, I was born without innocence. I've always known exactly what evil exists in this world. It is the one difference between you and I. For innocence is the virtue I'll never possess."

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

And so time passed for our friends. The summer deepened and spread sticky-hot fingers over the streets and alleys of Tokyo. Springtime's blossoms turned to rot by the roadsides. And the sounds of birds were soon replaced by the croaking of frogs and the rhythmic whirring of cicadas.

In late July, Saitou left again, this time to investigate an arms dealer by the name of Yukishiro Enishi. Chou, proving himself moderately useful, had been able to procure a suitable replacement for Saitou's katana. It, too, had no name, but the markings at the base of the hilt declared it to be of the same maker.

Saitou, did not, however, tell his wife of Battousai's involvement in the case. Nor did she, strangely enough, ask anything at all about what he was leaving to do. The morning he left, Tokio merely sat at the low table in the front room, practicing her calligraphy over and over and over again.

Okita watched over Tokio, Naoya and Eiji whilst Saitou was gone, but save for those few weeks, Souji rarely showed up at the house on Taito street, or at Snowflake Sweets. When he did, he looked exceedingly tired, so much so that he hardly even appeared to have the energy to wear more than a ghost of a smile.

Naoya, too, sunk into a funk, though hers seemed to be punctuated more by expletives than anything else. Before they left, Officer Chou had somehow found a reason to come by Snowflake Sweets at least twice a week. When he'd leave, Naoya would always escort him to the other side of the square, where they'd stop, Chou would say something, Naoya would laugh like a hyena, and then return to the shop. If Tokio had known that Chou was telling Naoya jokes so dirty they'd make a sailor pale, she probably wouldn't have let him in the shop anymore. But, the absence of the odd looking man from Kansai caused the teenager to become far more surly than usual.

The only one of the group who remained unaffected by the cloud of depression was Eiji, who grew less glum and withdrawn by the day. He made several friends among the children of the marketplace vendors, and spent his mornings catching frogs, turtles, and crickets in a nearby creek. The children would then race whatever they caught, betting baubles and candies on the winners. Hot afternoons were spent lazing around Snowflake Sweets, making origami creatures and playing official taster to whatever Tokio and Naoya might be cooking.

Saitou and Chou returned on August 12, 1878.

It was one week later that all hell broke loose.

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

August 19, 1878. Afternoon.

Tokio looked up at the half-sky created by the awning of Snowflake Sweets. Even in the shade, the heat bordered on sadistic. 'Not a cloud to be found,' Tokio mused, 'They must be hiding from the sun as fervently as we.'

Tokio and Naoya sat on stools against the flat of the shop wall, both ladies fanning themselves as steadily as they had all afternoon. Due to the weather, most sane individuals had opted to stay out of the market, deciding instead to find whatever cool spot of shade they could.

Eiji, perhaps more used to spending his days in the blistering heat, crouched on the wooden patio in front of the women, working ravenously on his newest project, a kite. If he finished by the end of next week, he would be able to participate with the other children in helping to open a festive kite exhibition in a nearby park.

"It's looking very nice, Eiji," Tokio noted, stopping her fan for a second, "I have a few ribbon scraps you can use for the tails, when you wish."

Eiji looked up and smiled, "It's going to be a dragon, you know."

"It looks more like a frog," Naoya replied, tilting her head to the side, "Or maybe a snake."

"Well, any of those are still better than what Kiyoshi-kun is making. His is a butterfly because his little sister pestered him not to make an owl, like he wanted. I'm so going to laugh at him."

"Isn't it kind of the kite makers to allow the children to open the ceremony?" Tokio mused to herself, smiling the same empty smile that had been gracing her face for weeks.

"Oh, it's a very serious thing, Auntie Tokio," Eiji said gravely, "They are going to judge them. And the owner of the best one gets to meet Masakazu Hidu. He's the most famous kite-maker in the whole country, you know."

Tokio merely nodded in reply. Eiji, had, in fact, already related this knowledge to her several times over the past few days. 'I hope he doesn't get his hopes up too much,' Tokio thought sadly as she resumed fanning herself, 'Such a kind boy surely doesn't yet realize how hoping for happiness almost always results in being left wanting. I suppose he is much stronger than I, though. Already he has begun to carry himself with a confidence which I could never conceive for myself after losing my parents."

In the distance, a piercing shriek echoed through the marketplace. The three figures on the low porch of Snowflake Sweets all looked up from their private thoughts and activities and regarded the disruption. Across the square, a petite figure in a light purple kimono appeared to be screaming at a local tea vendor.

"You sold me the wrong kind! You said that this was the highest quality maccha, first flush from Shizuoka! But, I tried it and it is just bancha swill. It even has stems in it. You can't have stems in maccha! You're a thief!"

Eiji stood up from his spot on the porch as Naoya leaned over to Tokio and said, "That's the third time this week, isn't it?"

Tokio only nodded sagely in reply. The tea vendor always tried to pass off lower quality tea to anyone who looked gullible enough.

Suddenly, a group of very familiar people started encircling the screaming girl, fruitlessly attempting to calm her and keep her from striking the vendor in question. The girl pulled at her long bangs and wailed so loudly the entire market could hear her end of the conversation, "But, that's all the money I brought to buy Aoshi-sama's tea! It was supposed to be special! It was supposed to be a gift! What am I going to do -now-?"

Tokio lifted one eyebrow to look at Naoya, who returned the exact same expression. The people standing around the girl were none other than the Hitokiri Battousai and his infamous friends. In their surprise, however, neither Tokio nor Naoya noticed that Eiji had stepped off the porch and started walking towards them.

"Misao?" Eiji asked, though it was apparent that the young woman could not hear him over the racket she was making. So, Eiji tried a different tactic. "Itachi-onna!"

Misao's head swiveled around so fast her braid caught Sanosuke in the face. Sputtering wildly, the ex-gangster wiped at his mouth, muttering something about, "Gross. Weasel hair."

"Eiji-chan?" Misao mouthed, suddenly forgetting about the incident with the tea vendor. "Hey there, Eiji-chan! What are you doing here?"

Eiji rolled his eyes and replied. "I live here."

Back on the porch, Naoya and Tokio sat dumbfounded. Tokio watched as Eiji greeted not only the screaming girl, but appeared to have a few words for Battousai, as well.

"How does he know..." Naoya began, her eyes growing wide with concern. The teenager stood up, ready to dart off the porch and scoop up the boy at any sign of trouble.

"I'm not certain." Tokio's free hand had already placed itself atop the scarf around her neck. "But, it looks like they are coming this way."

"Go inside, Tokio-san, I'll tell them you aren't feeling well."

"No, Naoya," Tokio whispered, forcing her hand to return to her lap. "I want to look into the eyes of this man. I want to see for myself if he carries any shame for what he has done. The see if he understands the repercussions of the death he wrought with his blade, if he knows that sadness still lingers because of his actions."

Halfway across the square, Misao scrunched up her face and repeated the last words Eiji had just said, "Fujita Tokio? You mean, the wolf's wife?"

While Kaoru and Sanosuke both blinked in complete surprise, their mouths falling open as if they were fish waiting to be fed, Yahiko's eyes narrowed. "Fujita. Fujita...Tokio. Fujita...Goro. Oh. CRAP!"

"What is it, Yahiko?" Kenshin asked quietly, giving a small smile to Eiji. The boy was looking so much better, and after only two months. He appeared to be well cared-for, wearing a new set of gi and hakama. The scrawny kid from Shingetsu had even begun to fill out a bit, likely from being fed on a regular basis.

Yahiko's hand struck his own forehead. "It's such a common name. How was I to know that Fujita Tokio was Saitou's wife?"

"I gotta see this," Sanosuke declared, grabbing Misao by the wrist to keep the aptly named 'weasel girl' from lingering near the tea vendor. Much more interaction between Misao and the object of her ire would likely only result in a flurry of kunai.

"Huh?" Eiji said. Suddenly, a brief conversation he'd had with Okita-san only two months prior filtered back into the forefront of his mind. "No, I don't think that..."

"Oh, come on, Eiji-chan," Misao whined, "Introduce us."

As the group headed towards Snowflake Sweets, Kenshin looked down at Eiji and said, "Eiji-chan, it's good to see you again, it is."

Kaoru offered the boy a small smile as well, having heard the entire story of the tragedy at Shingetsu from Misao. Eiji replied, "Ano, good to see you, too."

Though, at that point, he really looked like he doubted it would be good for long.

"Ano, Tokio-san," Eiji mumbled as the group arrived, his face turning sheepish with the knowledge of his error, "I'd like you to meet some...friends...of mine. They, uh, helped save my village. You know, with Fujita-san."

Tokio said nothing to this. Her fan continued to flutter rhythmically at her face, as amber eyes focused on one figure and one figure alone. The smile which had graced her face for weeks fell away into nothingness as the woman became an impassive stone sculpture.

"This is Himura-san, and Misao-chan, and...I'm afraid I don't know the rest."

Kaoru stepped forward to Eiji's rescue. "I'm Kamiya Kaoru. The tall one here is Sagara Sanosuke, and this is Yahiko."

Tokio's eyes bored into Kenshin's skull, probing the man for any sign of recognition. Here he was, standing before her, smiling as innocently and brightly as Okita Souji might do when he hoped that one of his silly jokes would make her laugh. Battousai. Smiling. It was just....-wrong-. 'He shouldn't be allowed to smile. He shouldn't even be allowed to breathe the same air as the good people of Tokyo.'

Naoya coughed slightly at the growing silence, drawing Tokio's attention away from the red-headed man.

"Yes," Tokio finally whispered, her eyes moving liquidly towards Kaoru's face. "Myojin-san and I are acquainted."

"Myojin...san?" Kaoru repeated, dumbfounded. The rest of her friends echoed the sentiment by all turning to look at Yahiko, who shrugged.

"What? Can't I know people besides you, busu?"

Fire burned in Kaoru's eyes, and a hand inched behind her back as if searching for some sort of weapon that should have been stashed nearby.

Tokio, however, bowed her head forward and whispered, quietly even for her, "This is my assistant, Meshibe Naoya."

"Huh?" Sanosuke said, "What? What did she say? I can't hear a damn word she says."

As Tokio stood, her hands pressed together in front of her obi, she looked at Eiji, who currently didn't possess the courage to look back. "Eiji, won't you invite your friends to stay for tea?"

"Auntie Tokio, I...."

"No, please, Eiji-chan. We must show our appreciation towards the ones who helped save your village." Tokio's face, however, looked more lifeless than appreciative. Turning to enter the shop, she whispered, "It is the least we can do."

"Why can't I hear a damn word she says? Is she even talking?" Sano asked again.

Naoya scowled frightfully, adjusting her obi for the tenth time that day. Her nose in the air, she declared, "Tokio-san's voice was injured when she was a little girl." A look of death was shot towards the red-headed rurouni who had remained silent throughout the introductions, "She can't speak above a whisper."

"How sad!" Kaoru exclaimed. "If I couldn't yell, sometimes, I don't know what I would do."

"Life would certainly be a lot more tolerable without you screeching all the time," Yahiko replied.

"Why you little..."

"Maa, maa," the grinning rurouni finally interjected. His voice caused Naoya to flinch. He certainly didn't sound at all like she expected. "Your voice is quite nice, it is, Kaoru-dono." Stepping forward, Kenshin nodded at Eiji, "Please tell Tokio-dono that tea would be quite nice, Eiji-chan."

Eiji, who had turned incredibly pale in the last few moments, muttered something akin to "Great" and scurried inside.

This left only Naoya to entertain the guests at Snowflake Sweets. The teenager crossed her arms at her chest and said nothing, forcing the group to start the conversation on their own.

"So, Tokio-dono works here in the market?"

Naoya glared incredulously. This guy wasn't scary. He was just -stupid-.

"What sort of shop is this?" Sanosuke asked, stepping onto the porch and peering into the door. "Hey! This shop is full of cake and candy."

Correction, they were -all- stupid.

"I still can't believe Saitou is married," Misao muttered to Kaoru. "Of all the bizarre things in the world, who'd want a man like that?"

"Oh, I don't know, Misao," Kaoru replied, "Perhaps you should ask Aoshi when you get home."

Misao, not getting the joke, only nodded furiously. Of course. Aoshi-sama knew everything.

Eiji returned only few moments later, dragging a bench and extra stools. After the group had set these up to their satisfaction, Naoya excused herself inside to help Tokio bring out the tea.

"Are you doing well now, Eiji?" Kenshin asked, taking a seat on the bench, Kaoru beside him.

"Aa." Eiji plopped down on his corner of the porch and said little else. He cast several sidelong glances at the group as he returned to working on his kite.

"That's a pretty good kite," Yahiko said, crouching down near Eiji. "Is it a snake?"

"No. A dragon. Snakes can't fly, anyway. They just slither around on the ground, waiting for their prey to come to them. Not like dragons, which seek out their victims from high in the sky."

Tokio and Naoya re-emerged from the shop, between them carrying enough tea and cake to satisfy ten Juppon Gatanas. These were placed on a small folding table as the women began to pour for their guests.

"And, how do you take your tea, Himura-san?" Tokio whispered, pressing her fingers together in front of her obi as she leveled her gaze at the man.

"Oh! Oh!" Naoya exclaimed, almost spilling the tea she handed to Kaoru. "Tokio-san can tell everything about a person, just by how they take their tea."

"Yeah?" Sanosuke leaned against one of the posts on the porch. "I had an aunt once who claimed she could tell everything about a person by looking at their tongue. She was a damn fruit bat."

Kaoru shot a glance at the tall man, warning him to pipe down. "Can you really, Tokio-san?"

Tokio nodded and waited for Kenshin's response.

"Sessha takes it with honey, when possible."

"So ka?" Tokio replied, raising one eloquent eyebrow at the rurouni. After dribbling the honey into the murky green liquid, Tokio lifted the small cup and balanced it on the very tips of two extended fingers, handing it to Kenshin. As the man took the teacup, Tokio hissed, "A man who covers his tea with the taste of honey can only be hiding from something. I find it is most usually himself."

Perhaps Tokio removed her fingers too quickly. Or perhaps merely the tone of her whisper startled the man, but the teacup began to descend rapidly towards the porch. Tokio's hand flipped over with incredible grace, catching the falling container on the backs of the same two fingers. "Do be careful, won't you, Himura-san? There are many things that, once spilt, cannot be replaced."

After giving Kenshin a demure smile, Tokio turned back to her task.

Kaoru looked down at the tea Naoya had handed her, "Oh! Do me, Tokio-san, I like my tea with just a drop of warm milk."

Tokio regarded Kaoru for quite a few moments. Yes. The Kamiya girl. Tokio had forgotten all about her. So fresh and young and...so very innocent and happy-looking. Could this man, this horrible man who assaulted Tokio's thoughts on a daily basis...possibly make her smile? Yes. It was obvious that she smiled for him. It was evident in the way she sat so close, in the way looked at him. As if she thought...she could protect -him-.

"A lady who takes just a drop or two of milk in her tea shows great care. The milk protects the delicate glass from being shattered by overly hot tea. It means you will be a good mother, Kaoru-san."

Kaoru blushed profusely, staring into her cup to avoid the stares of everyone else on the porch. "Well, I don't..."

"I prefer sake," Sanosuke announced, declining the tea Naoya was holding out in his direction. "And I don't care what that says about me."

Misao jabbed an elbow into the ribs of the tall man in response. "It means you're a useless layabout."

Tokio motioned for Naoya to sit and began to pass around some of the white-bean jam and raisin monaka made earlier in the day. "Please eat as many as you wish. We certainly won't be able to sell all we made. Not in this horrid weather."

Kaoru picked up one of the small wavers and nibbled on it delicately, "My goodness. These are..."

"Really good!" Yahiko finished, cramming as many of the treats into his mouth at one time as he could.

Eiji just laughed at the other boy and picked up only one. "Careful, Yahiko-chan. Auntie Tokio's ultimate plan is to cause all of Japan to explode from overeating."

Sanosuke picked up one wafer as well, staring at it with deep curiosity. 'She is Saitou's wife. What if this is some sort of trick? What if they are poisoned?'

A voice from Sanosuke's past, a whispered voice, replied, 'Actually, it -is- poisoned.' Sano shivered, but couldn't remember where he had heard those words before. Nonetheless, he decided right then and there that Fujita Tokio was at least as creepy as her husband.

"So," Tokio whispered, at last drawing her own cup of tea and taking her place on her stool. "I take it, then, that you are acquainted with my husband, Himura-san and Misao-chan?"

"Yes. We accompanied him on one of his recent missions, we did," Kenshin said. Now it was his turn to scrutinize Tokio. The woman's catlike eyes hardly ever looked away from him. Was she just curious about his appearance, or was there something more? Exactly how much had Saitou told her? Did she know about her husband's past? About his past? Kenshin's danger sense told him something was out of sorts. Something with this woman's ki was...off. Tilted. What was it?

"How terribly exciting. Are you with the police as well?"

"No. Sessha is...sessha was..."

Yahiko chirped, "Kenshin is a great swordsman. Best in all of Japan!"

Tokio lifted a small leaf of sliced ginger off the tray and placed it into her teacup. "Is that so? And here I was led to believe that my husband held that particular title. Well, no matter. It is good that the two of you work together then. It would be devastating if two such great swordsmen came to blows."

Sanosuke opened his mouth as if to say something, but found Misao's hand already clamped over his lips. "Yes. That would be bad, wouldn't it?" the genki girl replied.

"Tokio-san," Kaoru murmured softly, desperately wishing to change the subject, "Just now you put ginger in your tea. What does that mean about you?"

"Ah. Ginger cleanses the palate. In one's tea it expresses a desire for the end of bitterness and a renewal of one's spirit."

"What a lovely sentiment!" Kaoru exclaimed. "I think, perhaps, next time, I will try ginger in my tea."

The tea progressed from that point without much more of interest. Eiji explained about the kite contest, pointing out, yet again, that his kite was definitely a dragon, and not a snake. Misao extolled the virtues of Shinomori Aoshi, a man who, from what Tokio could deduce, was either the girl's guardian or her direct superior at some sort of posh restaurant in Kyoto.

As the group finally gathered themselves to take their leave, Kaoru drew Tokio aside, and the two spoke in hushed tones for several minutes before returning.

"It has been quite lovely, Tokio-dono, thank you for the tea."

"Yes, thank-you," Kaoru added.

"You are quite welcome. Do come again, hm? Friends of my husband are certainly smiled upon at my shop, any time."

Both Yahiko and Sano, thankfully, had their backs turned to Tokio, allowing them both to freely make faces expressing their overwhelming disgust.

When the group moved away from Snowflake Sweets, Naoya began to pick up cups left behind by the departing guests. "Ano, Tokio-san..." the girl began, looking up at her mentor who stood on the edge of the porch, watching the retreat of the man she hated above all else, "Just wondering, but, how does Fujita-san take his tea?"

"Plain," Tokio whispered dryly, "Because it gives nothing away."

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

Kaoru held her small yellow bag in front of her kimono, walking cheerfully beside her friends as they returned to the dojo. Well, all of them except Misao, who had run off in a last ditch attempt to find something to replace the bad tea she'd bought for Aoshi.

"Tokio-san was nice, don't you think? I'm glad we met her."

Yahiko gawked openly at his instructor, almost tripping on a large rock in the road. "You have to be kidding me, busu! Argh. You're so stupid."

"I'm not stupid," Kaoru said with a small pout.

"You don't get it, do you?" Yahiko sighed, as if he had to explain -everything-. "She's a spy. She works for her husband keeping an eye on the marketplace."

Kaoru pouted slightly, a confused look gracing her face. "I don't think that could be possibly true. Not a woman like her. She's so refined. Did you see how she handled those teacups?"

"Well, I don't like her, either." Sanosuke declared, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "That woman is creepy, and she certainly can't be trusted. You have to be deranged in the head to marry Saitou, just for -starters-."

"Yes, but, Sano, you don't trust anyone. You two. I swear, I thought you were better judges of character." Kaoru looked towards the one person who had remained silent during their walk. "Kenshin, you think Tokio-san is nice, don't you?"

The diminutive man in the pink gi dipped his head a bit, hiding his face. "Well. Sessha..." There had definitely been something -wrong- with Saitou Tokio. But Kenshin just couldn't put his finger on it. "Sessha thinks it would be best to be careful, it would. Tokio-dono may not be what she seems."

"Not you, too!" Kaoru put her hands on her hips and stopped in the street, "Well, you had all better get used to the idea of Saitou Tokio being around."

"Huh?"

"She's going to be coming over on Tuesday and Thursday mornings to teach me how to make some of her cakes and candies."

"Great," Yahiko groaned. "I'm -so- not going to be the taste tester for that project."

"Jou-chan's cooking is far more frightening than fighting Shishio," Sano added.

"Aaaarggh!" Kaoru's bokken appeared as if from nowhere. "If you don't like it then..."

"Maa, maa," Kenshin said, in an attempt to prevent the fight. "Your cooking is very useful, Kaoru-dono. Why, if you hadn't been feeding him all week, I'm certain Enishi would have been twice as strong when sessha fought him, he would."

"Himura Kenshin! You're going to get it now!" Kaoru yelled, lunging at the rurouni with her bokken, producing a very large lump on his head.

"Ororororooooo."

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

"So ka?"

Eiji nodded furiously at Saitou as he stood up from his perch on the engawa, dusting off the back of his hakama. Around them, the night air brought with it relief from the sweltering day. The stars above twinkled their undying approval for the night's clarity.

Saitou regarded the little boy who had just given him the news of his wife's meeting with Himura Battousai and friends. Eiji's face glowed pale in the moonlight, awash with worry and sleepiness. In fact, the boy -had- been dozing off as Saitou came up the walkway.

"That was this afternoon," Eiji said, stifling a yawn, "And when we got home, she went into the kitchen, and she hasn't come out since then. I looked in on her a few times, but she was crying and she told me to leave."

"Hn." So, Tokio had met the man. And now she was, ostensibly, falling to pieces in the kitchen. "Go to bed, Eiji."

"It's all my fault, Fujita-san. I completely forgot what Okita-san told me until it was too late." The little boy rubbed at his eyes as he turned to enter the house. "Please tell Auntie Tokio how sorry I am. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"They live in the same city, Eiji. It was bound to occur eventually."

Eiji bit his bottom lip and disappeared into the house, followed shortly by Saitou. The tall man removed his gloves, katana, and outer shirt, noticing that, for the first time in a long time, Tokio was not there to take them and put them away.

When things went terribly wrong with his wife, he always seemed to come home to someone waiting on his porch. At least Kozue and Okita were grown men. Eiji was a mere boy, one who had just gone through tragedy. He certainly didn't need Tokio's problems on top of his own.

Saitou stalked down the hallway and opened the kitchen shoji.

Tokio sat on the floor, her back against the unlit stove, her knees drawn up to her chest. Sharp fragments of unbound hair fell around her darkened visage, obscuring the feline features of his wife's face: her deep set eyes, the tiny mouth that barely moved, even when she spoke. No tears wet her delicate skin, but as Tokio looked up, it was not hard to discern how long, and hard, she had been crying.

"Tokio," Saitou said, shutting the shoji behind him. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I'm mourning, Hajime. I understand the concept may be foreign to you." She said it not as an accusation, but more as an observation. This difference between her personality and her husband's had always caused the most tension between them. She mourned for their lost children. He did not. She mourned for the loved ones she had lost to war. He would not. And she even mourned for his sister when he, in fact, could not.

"Eiji told you." The whisper floated in the air, so tellingly palpable it could have been caught and packaged as a novel.

Saitou leaned against the wall, his arms crossed at his chest, one leg bent at the knee, placing his foot against the wall. "Aa," he replied, his lips curling even deeper into a lugubrious frown. "What are you doing, Tokio? I know you are planning something. I can smell it on your skin. I can hear it in the way you sigh in your sleep. See it in the way your eyes tremble with fear every time I leave for work in the morning. Goddamnit, Tokio, whatever you are doing, stop. Himura Battousai is a dangerous man. His friends are dangerous people. This is a matter to be decided by law and men. Not by some meddling woman."

Tokio slapped one hand on the floor, looking up at her husband with tightly drawn lips. "Law? And men? I have waited twelve years for justice. You would not wait so long, Hajime. Is that not the truth of your creed, 'Aku, Soku, Zan'? -Immediately-. Is it not what you say?"

"There is a difference between justice and revenge. I fight to protect this country, to protect a way of life, to uplift an ideal of honor, dignity, and virtue for all people. I fight so that women such as yourself can walk to the marketplace in the morning unmolested by thieves, so that children such as Eiji can play without fear of abduction, so that young women like Naoya aren't forcibly pressed into the service of brothels. No, Tokio. My creed does not apply to you. It has never, and will never serve a selfish wish for revenge."

"You wish him dead as fervently as I." Tokio grabbed the edge of the stove, pulling herself up. Her ki struck Saitou suddenly, the shocking realization that her very spirit seemed torn from her body. His wife's very essence coiled in the corner, drawing in upon itself, like a snake curled into a tight ball a moment before it sprung at unsuspecting prey. "You can not deny that fact."

"The man I wish dead is the Hitokiri Battousai, a danger to our country. And, I assure you, when next I meet that man, he will die. But, it is not for you to tamper with the vessel which currently seals away that man. That sort of danger is far beyond what you are capable of handling."

"You once said you would never treat me as some sort of weakness, Hajime. Well, do not consider me weak now," Tokio said as she headed towards the shoji, tossing her head to one side to push all of her hair out of her face.

Saitou's foot slid down the wall and he easily stepped to the side, placing his body between Tokio and her exit. His wife came to a stop only inches before running into his chest. One rough and calloused hand caught Tokio's chin, forcing her face to lift towards his. Hajime searched his wife's eyes, tilting his head slightly as he interrogated her with his persevering gaze. "No. It is not your strength I question. It is your sanity."

"It is not insane to mourn, Hajime."

"Aa, Kitty, maybe you are right." Saitou loosened his grip on his wife's chin. His fingers slid up her cheek, where he touched the outermost corner of her eye, removing the dewy tear which had collected there. Pulling his hand away from her cheek, Saitou rubbed together his moistened thumb and forefinger in front of Tokio's eyes, letting her watch as the tear evaporated into nothingness. "But, there are some things which, once spilt, can never be replaced. Let them go, Tokio. Your parents don't need you to mourn them anymore. They never have."

"I wonder, Hajime," Tokio replied, "If I died, would you shed tears for me? Would you mourn for me for twelve years? For even one?"

Saitou's jaw set, a mild look of disgust obvious in the pinch of his brow. Mourning the dead was a useless proposal, one that invalidated the very lives those people once lived. "No, Tokio. I would not."

"I see." Tokio suddenly looked exceedingly tired, the dark hollows beneath her eyes almost sickly in their pallor. Raising her arm, Tokio attempted to push her husband aside, but encountered far too much resistance. "Please, Hajime, I've had a long day. I wish to go to bed."

"Not until you tell me what you are planning."

"I do not make plans, Hajime. That is your job. I'm merely going to teach Kamiya-san how to cook. She is a good woman, and I can see in her eyes that she could us a bit of kindness in her life. Besides, Himura Battousai is one of the greatest swordsmen of this era. What could I, a mere woman, do to him?"

Saitou's snarl fell from his face as he stepped aside, opening the shoji for his wife. Tokio did not look at her husband as she stepped through the opening and disappeared into the house beyond.

'Hn. If that is the truth, Tokio, why weren't you able to look at me when you said it?'

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

"Mama! Mama!" Tokio-chan ran haphazardly through the yard, her little limbs flailing about as she screamed at the top of her healthy lungs. "Mama! There is a snake in your garden! A big one."

Tanagi Katsuko looked up from her sewing as her daughter came to a skidding stop in front of the engawa. She was, by no means, what anyone would expect in a practiced kunoichi. A plain woman, with no distinguishing figures or characteristics, a woman who would blend into any setting or time. Her beauty lay not in the color or smoothness of her skin, nor in her simple hairstyle, not even in her large brown eyes. The woman's most exquisite feature was the tiny smile which she bestowed upon her daughter, a smile filled with amazing joy and love. It shone as proof of her deepest wish, to protect and teach the child she'd almost never been allowed to bear.

"Tokio-chan, Kami-sama has given you a voice, but this does not mean you must scream loud enough to alarm the entire neighborhood. Now, come and tell me like a civilized lady might do."

Tokio's chubby little arms reached up and attempted to pull the rest of her body onto the engawa. However, the girl's strength gave out during the process, stranding Tokio halfway to her goal. Katsuko chuckled at her daughter's antics and reached down to pull the girl the rest of the way up by the back of her yukata.

"Mama," Tokio said quietly as she scooted next to Katsuko, placing her little head against her mother's chest, "There's a snake in your garden. I saw it. I was so scared. I thought it would bite me."

"Shh, shh. You must never be frightened of snakes, Tokio-chan. They are our helpers. They eat all the little animals that want to eat our vegetables." Katsuko ran her hand through her daughter's wispy hair. "You must always remember that even the deadliest of animals are here for a purpose. Inside each is merely a desire to live. What may seem frightening or scary has been put on this earth, just as you or I, and we must share it with them to the best of our abilities."

"What if it is poisonous, Mama? What if it bit me?"

Katsuko looked down at the little girl now curled in her lap, "Then, you see, I would suck out the poison. Just like this." The comely woman screwed up her face, puckering her lips comically, as if she had just eaten something sour.

Tokio laughed and mimicked her mother's face. "I want to show Papa when he gets..."

Tokio watched as her mother's face fell from amused to distraught. Katsuko's eyes focused on something else in the yard, and her head bowed slightly. The child in her lap turned her head to see what had caused her mother's grief. In the distance, by the front gate, an older woman walked, arms crossed, rapidly approaching Katsuko and Tokio. At her side, a girl about Tokio's age trailed along, occasionally stopping to yawn.

"Katsuko," the older woman said. "This must be Tokio-chan. Come, Tokio. Come to me and let me look at you."

"No, Tokio..." Katsuko whispered. Nonetheless, Tokio felt strangely compelled to do what the older woman said. The six year old stood and climbed down the steps of the engawa, stopping in front of the strange woman.

"Lets have a look," the woman gracefully crouched down and examined the little girl, picking up Tokio's hands, tilting the girl's head from side to side. "Has your Mama taught you well?"

"Yes ma'am!" Tokio replied, eyeing the little girl standing behind the older woman. "Who's she?"

"That is Keisuke-chan. She's a little lonely because her parents have gone away. Why don't you show her around a bit while I speak with your mother."

"Okay!" Tokio grabbed the yawning girl by her hand and immediately headed off, mumbling something about, "In the garden..."

Katsuko stood from the engawa and approached the woman standing in her yard, the woman who glared at her with eagle-like eyes. Stopping only a few feet away, Katsuko kneeled and touched her forehead to the ground. "Okashira. Mother. I beg of you..."

"You have no right to beg anything of me," Iyoko replied, stabbing her toe into the dirt so forcefully a thick spray of dust hit Katsuko.

The lower kunoichi coughed as she raised her head. "Please do not take Tokio from me, mother. Do not make me choose between my husband and my daughter. Such cruelty can not exist in the heart of a woman who has taken in and saved so many orphans, who has elevated so many young women."

Iyoko snarled, looking off towards the distance where the two little girls played. "Hn. If you do not teach Tokio the final secret of the Fourth Akumu and place her in the care of the Hachinisasareru, then you yourself must return to the clan. These are the choices which women must make. While men speak of honor, loyalty, and pride, we women have only the choices of sacrifice, patience, and duty."

"Please mother," Katsuko whispered, her voice trembling with fear, "Can't you once see me as your daughter rather than as a kunoichi?"

"I see only a pathetic dog who betrayed her clan. And for what? For love. How poetic. But these are not the epic songs and tales I teach to the women in my care. This is reality. You must give up something for the happiness you crave, and that something will be Tokio. Do not think to deviate from the path I have dictated, or your husband and your daughter both will surely die by my hands."

Katsuko sobbed, a plethora of tears falling from her face into the dirt of the path below her curled body.

"I will return when the girl is thirteen. Prepare her. My eyes are constantly upon you." Iyoko's arm thrust out to one side, and she snapped her fingers twice. In the distance, Keisuke looked up from her playtime with Tokio and wordlessly left, jogging away from the garden towards her mistress without another thought.

After Keisuke and Iyoko had gone, Tokio made her way back across the yard to find her mother sitting on the dirt path, tears streaming down her face.

"Mama....mama...what's wrong? Are you okay?" Tokio's bottom lip quivered as she threw her little arms around her mother's back.

"Yes, Tokio-chan. That lady just came to bring your mother some bad news. But, it is alright now. There, there. See? I'm alright. Did you have fun playing with that little girl?"

"Yes I did, mama. Do you know what she did? She found that snake and picked it up with a stick! She's very brave, don't you think? Can I see her again?"

"Oh Tokio-chan. I hope not," Katsuko replied, turning around to hug her daughter tightly to her chest, "I hope we never see those two ever again."

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

Himura Kenshin was doing the laundry. He was doing laundry not because he particularly -liked- doing laundry, not today. Today he was doing laundry for a strategic reason. It allowed him to watch everything that went on in the dojo. He could see Yahiko practicing on his left, Ayame and Suzume playing on his right, and he was just close enough to the kitchen to instantly be available should Kaoru need his assistance.

Not that she sounded like she needed his help. She had been occasionally laughing and making incredibly impressed sounds all morning, ever since Saitou Tokio had shown up. And, Kenshin had to admit, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Perhaps his first impressions of Saitou's wife had been wrong. She seemed a little strange, certainly, but perhaps to the outside world -he-, too, would seem a bit odd.

In some bizarre way, Saitou Tokio reminded him of another reserved and quiet woman. Something about the way she looked at him sometimes reminded him of Tomoe. 'Sessha supposes it isn't too strange that Saitou took a wife so similar to Tomoe. It is true, in the end, that the thing that irks me the most about Saitou Hajime is how much of myself I see in the man. With only slight deviations in my path, sessha could have ended up quite similar to the Wolf of Mibu. Now, that is a frightening thought, it is!'

"Oh, Tokio-san, I'm so sorry! I put too much rice in, I think."

Kenshin couldn't hear Tokio's reply, but since the quiet woman hadn't yet given up, she appeared to have more patience than most people. 'Well, sessha is glad. Not because Kaoru-dono's cooking needs help, no. Kaoru-dono seems to be enjoying herself. She doesn't do that quite enough, she doesn't.'

"Oi, Kenshin," Yahiko called between swings, "Pay attention. There's someone at the gate."

Kenshin looked up, blinking into the late summer sunlight, to regard the man silhouetted in front of the gate. The short figure, not much taller than Kenshin himself, stepped inside with a quiet, "Hello? Ah. This must be the Kamiya residence."

"Yes," Kenshin replied with a smile, leaning the towel he had been cleaning against the side of the wash bin and standing. "How may be of..."

Kenshin's hand went immediately to the hilt of his sakabatou as the figure walked from the shadows into the light. That ki. Burning with the intensity of the sun, piercing everything around it like molten metal. So vibrant and hot you could almost hear it sizzle against the air. But that man was supposed to be...

"Okita Souji," Kenshin said, as a friendly breeze swept through the dojo, ruffling the hair of both men. "First Captain of the Shinsengumi."

Yahiko immediately stopped practicing his swings and told Ayame and Suzume to go into the kitchen. The girls complied with a rousing cheer, knowing they had been smelling sweet things cooking all morning. After they had disappeared, Yahiko looked first at Kenshin, and then at the man who leisurely sauntered towards the pair. "Shinsengumi? Not another one."

"Himura Battousai," Okita said by way of greeting, though he didn't appear particularly interested in the redhead. Souji's ever-present smile grew wider as he gazed around, getting a better look at the dojo. "Ah, reminds me of my youthful days in Mibu."

Kenshin's eyes never left the man as he said, "Sessha doesn't mean to be rude, but, aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Hai, hai..." Okita replied with a chuckle, "Aren't you supposed to be dead, too, Himura-san?"

Kenshin's grip tightened on his sakabatou as he said quietly, "Sessha does not wish to fight you, Okita-san."

"Oh, that's good, Himura-san. Since, as you can plainly see, I am not carrying a sword." A merry twinkle shone in Okita's eyes. He was certainly enjoying this far more than he had expected. "You're so jumpy, Himura-san. Aren't you aware that this is the Meiji era? Some people, you know, have gotten on with their lives. I could suggest some calming hobbies..."

"This guy was with the Shinsengumi? He looks about as daunting as Tsubame," Yahiko muttered.

"Oh?" Okita replied, a mischievous grin crossing his face, "Well, if you have an extra shinai handy, we could certainly find out."

"No!" Kenshin declared, recalling Rule of Threes as it applied to the ex-Shinsengumi Captain. Okita Souji was equally skilled in three weapons, the katana, the bokken, and the shinai. And, with all, his infamous three-point-thrust worked just as effectively in dispatching an opponent. Yahiko didn't really need a crushed windpipe today. "Okita-san, why don't you tell us why you are here?"

"Oh, that's right. My apologies, Himura-san. I'm merely here to walk Tokio-san home."

It was at that moment that Kaoru and Tokio emerged from the kitchen, being pulled along by Ayame and Suzume who wanted them to come and play.

"Okita-san," Tokio said, greeting her friend by walking forward and clasping one of his hands, "You've come all this way?"

"Hai, hai. I went by your shop, but when Naoya told me where you were, I thought I would come and keep you company on your way back."

Tokio gave Okita a shaded but knowing look and turned her attention to the others in the yard, "You've met Himura-san and Myojin-san, I see? This is Kamiya-san, and little Suzume-chan and Ayame-chan."

Okita bent down in front of the two girls and outstretched his hands. "Lets see. I seem to recall.... Yes. Little girls know magic. Perhaps you could tap my hands and make magic rocks appear."

The girls giggled. Each one tapped one of Okita's fisted hands. The laughing poet turned them over and opened them, revealing a tiny polished glass pebble in each. The children squealed in delight as they stole the shiny prizes from the impish man's grasp and uttered their thank-yous.

Tokio and Okita made their goodbyes, with Tokio promising to come again on Thursday morning. When the pair left, and Kaoru returned to clean up the mess in the kitchen, Yahiko walked over to Kenshin and said, "You look spooked. That guy doesn't seem so bad."

"Mm," Kenshin replied, lost in thought. "Okita Souji was always reputed to have a kind disposition and a big heart. Unfortunately, it didn't make him any less deadly. He was the only member of the Shinsengumi who could have possibly stood toe to toe with Saitou Hajime. But, when I fought Saitou, I came away with wounds in my body. Fighting Okita always proved far more dangerous, wounding my mind as well."

"Why is that, Kenshin?"

"Because fighting Okita was a lot like fighting myself."

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

"Might I inquire as to why you -really- came, Souji?" Tokio asked as the pair walked back towards the market.

"Well, what good is it to be a legendary swordsman known to be dead, if you can't pull a prank on your former nemesis every now and again? Ooooo. I'm a scary ghost."

Okita wiggled his hands in the air, demonstrating his post-mortem supernatural abilities. Though she laughed, Tokio shook her head sadly. Who could be afraid of Okita? It took a great deal of imagination to even picture her friend running through the streets of Kyoto, striking down revolutionaries with his blade. But, certainly, if he were a frivolous sort of man during the Bakumatsu, there would have been no way he could have befriended Hajime, much less survived. Could a man really change so much in ten years?

"Souji," Tokio whispered, taking her friend's offered arm, "Hajime said that the Battousai still lives within Himura-san. What might that mean?"

"Ah," Okita replied, patting Tokio's hand, "It is simple, if you think about it. Though we might change or grow, we keep inside of us an aspect of every period of our past. Just as an adult carries within them the spark of their childhood, allowing them to play and smile when their spirit needs it, Himura contains the Battousai. That part of his personality emerges when necessary, I suppose."

"But, what could possibly bring out such a terrifying aspect of the man? I can understand that a person might need to laugh, why a person might need to protect the child within, but I can't understand what would cause a man to hold on to the very demon of death."

"Only Himura, himself, could say for certain. Yet, I feel I suspect the truth. It lays in a man's need to protect the world around him. A lady, such as yourself, keeps safe her children. Everyone knows that it is unwise to target a tiger cub when the tigress is about. But men, lacking this maternal instinct, must look to the world at large. Himura knows, deep down, that Battousai is his trump card, when all else fails, to protect his world. But, the Battousai can not exist in the Meiji era, so he must be hidden away as deeply as possible until he is needed. I suppose that, perhaps, Himura feels that if he were to indulge this aspect of his personality for too long, he would be unable to even understand what it was he wanted to protect in the first place."

Tokio took a sharp breath and exhaled through her nose, melancholy swimming in her brief sigh. Her eyes unfocused for a while, as if all of her thoughts had turned inward. Finally, she replied, "What of you, Souji? Do you still contain the First Captain of the Shinsengumi?"

"Yes, Tokio, I do. And, you know, if my extended family were in trouble, you, or Naoya, or Eiji, I would be there, blade in hand, ready to defend you. I do not take kindly to the innocent being threatened." Souji flashed Tokio his wickedest smile, which came off more charming than frightening.

"And what about Hajime? Would you even protect him?"

"Oh, Tokio, you know your husband is capable of protecting himself in battle."

Tokio stopped in the road, grasping Okita's hands tightly in her own. Her honey colored eyes searched his, importing the seriousness of her demeanor, "No, that isn't what I meant. I know you mean a great deal to him, my friend. I believe that often, he measures his own heart by the vibrancy and direction of your own. My husband may be a stoic and seemingly unemotional man, but he is just that. A man the same as any other. He needs someone to believe in him. To believe in his goal."

"But, you will always believe in him, will you not, Tokio?"

"I will for as long as I can, Souji, for as long as I can."

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

Officer Sawagejou Chou stepped onto the porch of Snowflake Sweets, his hands behind his head, as he breathed in the intoxicating scent of mochi and cakes and straw. Straw?

Fwap.

Chou rubbed the side of his face, opening his eyes to peer down at the angry-looking teenager who had just slapped him with the end of her broom. Strange. Usually it was his -hair- that endured "broom" taunts.

"Can't you see I'm sweeping here?" Naoya said, poking the frighteningly tall cop in his stomach. "Haven't you got a lick of sense? Never step in a woman's dust pile."

Chou rolled his eyes and stepped -out- of the now-scattered pile of dirt. "That time of the month -already-, Naoya? I thought I had a few more days to get m'self to Shanghai."

Naoya's lips tightened into an angry pout, "Why you...unmannered...!"

"Rat."

"Moron."

"Ugly."

"Bastard."

"Bitch."

"Oh, oh, you did not just..."

"Brought ya somethin'."

"You did?" Naoya's white-knuckled grasp on her broomstick loosened as she walked towards Chou -through- what remained of her pile of dirt, kicking it everywhere. "What is it?"

Chou reached into the pocket of his long red coat and retrieved the well-made tanto. It was just like the one he had given Yumi all those years ago, sturdy and, frankly, polished to an impossible degree. "It's a tanto, see?" With a click, the knife slid from the sheath, reflecting the sunlight onto Naoya's kimono. "Don't use it for chopping vegetables or nothin'. It's for protection, cause I know you live in a dangerous neighborhood and all."

Naoya couldn't possibly have blushed more deeply as she took the offered gift from Chou. "Ano, Chou...I don't think I'd know how to use..."

"Of course ya don't. That's why I'm gonna teach ya. Tokio-san may know all about how to be a lady, but that ain't gonna getcha very far if some pigfucker assaults you on the street. I'll teach ya where to stick a man..."

"I know exactly where to stick a man," Naoya declared, poking Chou with one outstretched finger once again.

"Don't poke me unless ya wanna be poked in return."

The lecherous tone in Chou's voice, and the way his usually-closed left eye opened to peer sinfully at the teenager caused Naoya to fumble, her anger diffusing as quickly as it built. "Um. Thanks for the tanto."

"A tanto?" The whispered question belonged to Tokio. Naoya spun around, wondering exactly how long her mentor had been watching the exchange. "What an interesting gift."

"Oh, Tokio-san. Um...Chou-san was just...uh..."

It was absolutely incredible how the funny looking man from Kansai could make Naoya trip on her words.

"Officer Sawagejou," Tokio began, removing her apron, "What a pleasant surprise. Just the man to whom I wished to speak, too. Naoya, would you be kind enough to watch the shop while the officer and I take a bit of a walk?"

"Sure, Tokio-san," Naoya chirped, taking the apron that Tokio handed her. "I'll even make tea for when you return."

"That would be lovely. Officer? Shall we?"

As the mismatched pair walked through the streets of the market district, they garnered twice as many stares as they would alone. Whispers flittered about. Though inaudible to Tokio's ears, she knew exactly what they were saying. Who was the man with the funny hair and the swords strapped all over his body, and why would he associate with Fujita Tokio, the woman who had dirt on everyone?

"Sawagejou-san, I really must, respectfully, ask what your intentions are towards my pupil. You come by most every day now, and I shan't allow this to continue unless I know."

"Shit, Fujita-san, put me on the spot, why dontcha? I ain't done nothin' wrong by her, and I ain't gonna, if that's what yer thinkin'."

Tokio pressed her hands together in front of her obi, shooting a sharp glare at a local cooper who appeared to be walking a bit too closely. The man picked up his pace and strolled ahead, leaving the pair to once again speak. "That is indeed good to hear, Sawagejou-san. Naoya may seem a bit rough at times, but I assure you, she is thoroughly a lady. If I were to find that you had less than honorable intentions, I don't know if I could stay my lips from warning her against you."

"Aw, ya wouldn't do that, would ya, Fujita-san?" Chou looked at the woman through his one opened eye, trying to gauge the seriousness of her threat. Tokio, however, kept her eyes affixed firmly on the road before her.

"Well, you do know what they say about men from Kansai. Plus, you have a remarkably checkered past, Sawagejou-san. You may not be suitable for Naoya. I've worked quite hard, as has she, to come to a point where she will be able to live a dignified life. Did you really think I would allow you to jeopardize her fragile reputation?"

"I didn't mean t'put Naoya at risk. I only want...ya know... She's a real sweet girl, Tokio-san, and fuck if I know how this shit is s'posed to be handled. The only girls I ever been around were the geishas and oirans that were with Yumi-nesan."

"Of course, of course," Tokio replied, giving the blonde man a simple yet knowing smile. "I could certainly help you woo my young friend. And, at the same time, since my reputation is less fragile than hers, help to protect her from gossip. All I will need is a miniscule favor from you."

"Eh? What sort of favor?" Chou did not like where this was going. Not one bit.

"Tell me, Officer, you know a great deal about swords. You might even be considered an expert, ne?"

"Aa."

"Do you know much about the sakabatou carried by Himura Battousai?"

"The sakabatou?" Chou's brows furrowed deeply, "Yeah. I know all about it. Why do you ask?"

Tokio's tongue darted out, rapidly moistening her lips before she said, "I need you to procure a replica for me. But, one with a double-edged blade."

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

Yet another Tuesday had come to pass. Kenshin found the sight of Saitou Tokio showing up at the Kamiya residence became less and less disconcerting with each visit. Today she had brought some delicious spice cakes for breakfast, and had spelled out the names of the dojo residents in cinnamon on the tops, causing quite a squeal from Kaoru, Ayame and Suzume, and an incredible display of gluttony from Yahiko.

But, as the morning pressed on, Kenshin noted that the dojo had become bathed in an odd silence. Even Yahiko had stopped practicing his swings. The rurouni was just about to go to the kitchen to find out what was happening when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Tokio walking towards him.

"Tokio-dono," Kenshin said, smiling brightly as the woman approached his pile of laundry. "It's still so early. Are you and Kaoru-dono done already for this morning?"

"No," Tokio whispered, as she spread her arms to indicate the sky, "The heat. It seems to have made everyone sleepy. They've all gone to take naps, Yahiko, Ayame and Suzume-chan, too. I thought I would come and speak with you for a while before I leave."

"Oh." Kenshin leaned forward to twist the water out of one of Yahiko's training gis. He racked his brain for something conversational as Tokio knelt down beside the washbin. "Sessha is quite glad that Kaoru-dono is enjoying herself. She speaks quite highly of your training methods, that she does."

"Kamiya-san has proved herself to be an excellent pupil. She learns much more quickly than Naoya, that is certain. She says that you cook, too, is that true?"

Kenshin nodded as he uncoiled the shirt and stood to hang it on a nearby clothesline. "Sessha tries. I can only hope to be helpful to Kaoru-dono, since she does let me stay here for free, she does. Sessha has no talent or skill besides being able to wield a sword. It tends to make one feel quite useless in this Meiji era."

"Speaking of your sword, Himura-san, I couldn't help but notice that some of the laces on your katana's hilt have become frayed." Tokio put her fingers to her lips, peering at the sword hanging at Kenshin's hip. "I'm not an expert of repairing sword hilts by any means, but I could certainly stitch them down until you could get the proper repairs. I can do extremely tiny stitches. See, just like the ones on my kimono's hem here."

"Sessha would very much appreciate that, Tokio-dono."

"Well, I just happen to have a needle and thread in my basket in the kitchen. Why don't I do that now? It shouldn't take more than a second."

Kenshin wiped his hands on his gi and pulled the sakabatou, sheath and all, from where it hung from the ties of his hakama.

And he handed it to Tokio.

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

There exists a point, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, where a man is able to sense a problem in the world beyond dreams, but still yet unable to reach that world. This land's most frequent visitors are drunks, opium addicts, and the extremely ill. Saitou Hajime, currently being none of these, and therefore unused to such a sensation, yelled. He yelled both in his dream and in the waking world, a resounding howl that succeeded in pushing his unwilling consciousness to the surface, where his eyes opened only to be flooded with light.

Light.

That was absolutely -not- right.

Saitou rolled onto his side, pushing back the covers of his futon as the world came into focus. Morning. -Late- morning. How could that be? Saitou couldn't remember the last time he had woken -after- the sun had already risen. And, Tokio, she wasn't in the bedroom, so why hadn't she awakened him?

Saitou growled miserably as he forced himself to stand and grab his unused sleeping yukata off a nearby counter. Didn't the world seem a bit -fuzzy- today? Well, he passed it off as the after-effects of sleeping for longer than he had in months, possibly years. Hajime tied the belt of his yukata with a grimace. He would definitely be late for work.

And that is when he heard a clattering crash from the direction of the kitchen.

Grabbing his katana from its place against the wall, Saitou thrust open the bedroom shoji and made his way quickly through hallways and rooms until he arrived at the kitchen.

Eiji lay sprawled on the floor, a half-eaten spice cake still crumbling in his curled hand.

"Eiji! Pick yourself up off the ground, ahou. You look like a goddamn idiot down there."

Nothing. The boy didn't move one inch.

Saitou bent down next to the prone boy, pressing his fingers against the boy's jugular to check for a pulse. Slow, yes, but present. Running his hand over Eiji's forehead to check for a fever, Saitou looked around the kitchen. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary except...

The oven was open.

The scent hit Saitou's nostrils only one scant second after his eyes caught sight of the pan laying at the very back of the unlit oven. Crawling over Eiji, Hajime reached inside and pulled out his quarry.

Half a pan of delicate spice cakes, minus the three that Eiji had eaten, lay still untouched. Saitou lifted the food to his nose and inhaled. Sugar. Ginger. And something...acrid...something...unnecessary...

It was Tuesday.

Saitou threw the pan back into the oven and kicked it closed as he stood up.

Last night Tokio had made his favorite. Kake soba. He and Eiji had eaten quite a bit but she...she hadn't touched it, saying that her stomach hurt.

Saitou took a deep breath, picking Eiji up, shaking what remained of the spice cake from the boy's hand. Moving quickly through the house, Saitou deposited the boy on his still unrolled futon.

Tuesday. And there could be no doubt for whom the other half of that pan of spice cakes were meant.

'Goddamnit, Tokio. What the hell have you done?'