Disclaimer: 
All standard disclaimers apply. None of the Rurouni Kenshin
characters belong to me. They are the creation of Nobuhiro
Watsuki-sensei. *bows* I am merely borrowing for pleasure alone. The
song "Come Undone" is by Duran Duran and all other companies associated
with it. I acknowledge their rights and once more say that NO part of
this song is mine. Absolutely no profit is made from this fanfiction.

Author's Notes: 
Yup, this is the sequel to "Beginnings" (recommended
that you read that first to understand this story) and although I tried
to write some much longer epic it failed miserably. *Sighs* In the end I
just sat and wrote whatever came to mind and tadaa, a one-shot inspired
partly by the song below and the waffy Japanese song I am currently
playing to death. I wanted to get a perspective into what the private
Saitou Hajime is like, he can't be that mean all the time. I do think
the man has soft spots, although they are very well concealed. I know
this ain't exactly an in-depth detailed account (talk about lack of
character development!) but hey, it's the best I can come up with so
far. Tentatively I'll be putting this up but if the response is not good
or if another idea strikes me then I'll take this down. I'll probably do
that latter once I get more time to think things over properly and when
I have more time.

Also, I'd like to thank all the people who have given reviews for my
other fics. The response has been wonderfully kind and encouraging.
Yippee! Arigatou minna!

P.S: Karina, me not from Britain but the system of English here is based
on their model. :0)


Lyrics:

Who do you need
Who do you love
When you Come Undone


One Night


The table was strewn with files and documents. Some of them were stamped
with a red mark, indicating that those cases were finished. Others lay
half open, white sheets peeping out, the edges dog-eared but clean. An
ashtray made of glass was situated precariously at the corner of the table.

With a sigh Tokio surveyed the mess. How did Hajime stand this mess?
More importantly, how he did manage to make a mess out of the place each
time she cleaned it up for him? Pushing the windows open to ventilate
the room, she began by emptying the ashtray, wrinkling her pert nose at
the smell. When she had first handed him that pack of cigarettes, she
couldn't have known that she would be starting him on a lifelong
addiction. She hadn't even smoked the things herself! The papers came
next, carefully she neatened and placed them into two stacks: completed
and current cases. The government gave him far too much work, she
thought. But since he had chosen this life and she had chosen him, she
saw no reason to complain.

"Couldn't take it anymore, hm?"

"Glad you know that," she replied archly, keeping her eyes fixed on her
task. As always he came to her, slipping lean strong arms around her
waist, his breath fanning over the sensitive skin of her neck as he
nuzzled her.

"I have relatively few vices for a husband," he teased in a low voice,
his fingers tugging at the sash of her yukata. "And you have turned out
to be a model wife, shockingly."

A laugh escaped her as she turned around and pushed his hands down. "Not
so soon, I'm still tired," she purred and he grinned, a hint of
masculine smugness making its way into his expression. He really was
very handsome, she had always thought so. As a child he had fascinated
her. As a woman he owned her body and soul. And she owned him in the
same fashion.

Gently he brushed his lips over her mouth and she returned the light
kiss. His hands slipped under her sleeves, caressing warm flesh. The
kiss broke when he encountered the thin scar that wound its way from
elbow to shoulder. There was a similar one that splayed from her left
ribcage over to the right. It was a sober reminder of how fragile life was.

"He almost got me, almost but not quite," Tokio said quietly, noting the
shadows that touched her husband's golden eyes. "And it's been years
already."

"I know," he replied. "But the memory isn't any less vivid." Roughly he
claimed her mouth and she yielded to him, this enigmatic man she had
been bound to since their first meeting. How could they have known even
back then that they were meant for each other ...

................................

Saitou was not a sentimental person, not by a long shot. He would
probably be just as ruthlessly practical and cynical in his next three
lives, as the junior officers under his command had sourly pronounced.
But the sight of his sleeping wife was the last thing he wanted take
with him into the other world, the sound of her breathing, the scent of
her skin coupled with that of their loving.

They lay entwined on the spare futon he kept in the small study room
that was his office away from the headquarters. Her black hair lay
beneath him, effectively trapping her against his body. It was soft as
silk and glimmered with rich red highlights, like wine. Saitou chuckled
self-effacingly. He, one of the terrors of the Bakumatsu no Doran and
the scourge of corrupt ministers, was waxing lyrical about his wife's hair!

Tokio shifted onto her back and the scars that adorned her body gleamed
in the light of the candles. She was right, it had been a long time ago.
Six years to be precise. It was then that their paths had crossed once
more. He had already been working for the government, one of their top
spies, one of the men they used but distrusted. One day he had been
called up on an urgent investigation. The youngest daughter of Takagi
Kojuurou, Takagi Aoi, had been kidnapped and the police believed the
crime was politically motivated.

Kojuurou had been an important figure in the Bakumatsu, a close friend
of Matsudaira Katamori, the Daimyo of Aizu. In the new Meiji era,
Kojuurou had been offered a new role and a place in it on account of his
reputation for high honour and capability. Like Saitou, the older man
had seen no point in useless resistance; service to the country that
needed him came before all else. And like Saitou, his actions had
branded him a traitor to those who still remained loyal to the old
regime. His daughter had been taken as part of a wave of strikes against
men like him who worked with the fledgling government.

Within a week Saitou had tracked the kidnappers to their hideout. They
had stormed the western-styled mansion where the girl was being held
only to find that someone else had gotten there before them. At first he
had been under the mistaken impression that she was there to snatch the
politician's daughter amidst all the chaos.

What a sight she had been. Criminal or no, the first thought that had
entered his mind was that she was the most magnificent thing he had ever
set eyes on. The house had been burning and in the smoke, shadows and
flames Tokio shone like an ethereal being, the katana she held
glimmering like lightning. When she had attacked him he had actually
been reluctant to kill her. That was the closest he had ever come to
betraying his motto of Aku. Zok. Zan. They had only stopped fighting
because his men had gotten Aoi out and because the flames were steadily
consuming the house. He had gotten the upper hand outside though. Eyes
like black ice had smouldered angrily as he lifted her chin with his
blade. He had been about to arrest her when Takagi Aoi spotted them and
screamed that he was not to lay a finger on her nee-san.

...........................

"You're thinking about the past again," Tokio murmured, her eyes closed.
Against her hair she felt Hajime smile and the hands that had been
stroking her back with languid strokes tightened by degrees. "When I
look back on the time when we met again I can't help but think how
stupid I was. Aoi was the only thing on my mind, I didn't even pay
attention to the uniform you were wearing. I was so frightened that they
might have killed her by then, that I was too late."

"You should have just left the matter to the police," he remarked and
she elbowed his ribs playfully. "Bounty hunters are nothing but trouble."

"Hah! If you really thought I was that much trouble why did you even
make enquires about me after my sister had been safely returned?" she
retorted.

........................

(Flashback)

"Nee-san!" Aoi skipped into the room, her light brown hair bouncing
about her shoulders. At fourteen her stepsister was already turning into
a beauty, slender and petite with huge crystal blue eyes. In form and
feature she took after her father. When people looked at them, it was
obvious that Tokio, taller with dark eyes and black hair, was the
adopted one.

"What is it, Aoi?" She had been confined to her room after her
stepfather had found out that contrary to his pleas, she had not left
the 'vagrant' lifestyle she enjoyed leading. To his horror, all her best
friends were either bounty hunters or mercenaries. In a fortnight or so
his temper would settle and he would once again be resigned to letting
her have her way. Besides, he doted on her too much, the only daughter
of his sworn brother Fujimiya Takumi who had agreed to raise Aoi in
secret, far away from Kojuurou's enemies. Both girls had enjoyed an
immense amount of freedom and an unusual upbringing as they moved from
one province to another, making friends with people from all walks of
life. Takumi had been a wanderer himself, a man who moved where the wind
took him until age finally slowed him down. A debilitating illness had
ended his life but not before he delivered both girls safely to
Kojuurou, asking the latter to adopt Tokio as his own. Kojuurou had
consented at once.

"The police inspector is here again," Aoi whispered gleefully, snuggling
close to Tokio.

"I thought the case was finished a while back," Tokio said absently,
wondering when the next opportunity to escape from the house would
present itself.

"Ahh, but he is not here about me. He is here about you. The servants
heard him asking Tou-san about you."

Tokio's ears perked up at once. That infuriating policeman who had
insulted her and told her father that she should be disciplined, he was
here asking about her? When she called his image to mind the first thing
she saw were those rich dark amber eyes, so much like a wolf's. There
was a restrained and hidden wildness about him that she saw beneath that
self-possessed exterior. Uncomfortably she reflected that it mirrored
the same streak that ran in her own blood. And oddly enough, she found
his face familiar as well.

"So what? The servants shouldn't be gossiping about matters that are
none of their concern," she brushed the topic aside lightly.

"Nee-san," Aoi's face broke out in a mischievous smile then, "I think
you like him!"

(End Flashback)

...............................

"Imagine if I hadn't asked your father about you, I might not have known
the little rascal of my earlier years was the woman who tried her
damnedest to slit my throat," Saitou countered. Tokio's eyes crinkled up
at the corners although she resolutely refused to smile at him. "Come
now, tell me you weren't the least bit flattered that I came courting."

"Oh no, not in the least. I just waited everyday to hear what my
busybody servants could find out."

He laughed, tucking her closer to him.

"But I was surprised that Tou-san told you my entire history," she mused.

"Your stepfather and I have a history together. As the Third Captain of
the Shinsengumi I was very much acquainted with all the important men of
the Shogunate. We were constantly guarding against assassination
attempts by the hittokiri. And he knew better than to lie to me," Saitou
added. It might have been easily misconstrued for arrogance on his part
but Tokio recognised that statement as simple fact. As the Third Captain
of the Shinsengumi, Saitou had been famous for his unswerving code of
justice and honour, bowing to no man, regardless of rank and position,
and choosing to follow his motto uncompromisingly. Friend or foe, both
feared and respected him. As her Tou-san had once commented: "There are
men who follow in the steps of others. Saitou Hajime walks his own path.
And not many can follow where he goes."

It had been such a surprise for him, uncanny but pleasant, when he
realised who she really was. He had never forgotten the little girl who
had wandered the forests and countryside with him all those years ago.
When they finally met weeks later, Saitou had to admit that he was a
little nervous. Their first meeting had been tense and rather stormy,
with not a few subtle snipes, a careful dance of words and wit in which
they gauged and took the other's measure. But beneath it all lay a
chemistry and attraction that both of them did not deny. And eventually,
he had told her who he was, who he had been to her in the past.

..........................

(Flashback)

"Hajime-nii?" She looked positively astounded. "Iie, that can't be."

He kept silent and let the news sink in, giving her time to adjust.
After a few moments he spoke again. "Tokio, it is me. You mentioned
yourself that you somehow feel you've seen me before. And you have."

"Then, then why did you not tell me sooner?" No wonder he had always
seemed uncomfortable when she addressed him as Fujita-san. That was his
alias, not his real name.

"I couldn't, not until I was sure. My identity remains a strict secret
even within the government." Most women would have thrown a tantrum, not
because they found the explanation insufficient but because they simply
wanted to be placated for the necessary deception. Tokio just nodded in
understanding; it was never an issue with her.

It had been an intensely happy afternoon. She had asked him about all
kinds of questions about his life after he had left the village and he
had responded willingly. He had changed his surname from Yamaguchi to
Saitou, choosing to leave his family safely out of the civil war least
his enemies be tempted to come after them. "Besides, I disobeyed my
father's command. I did get involved in the Bakumatsu," he added flatly.
By the time he had managed to find information on his father, he had
been a year too late. His apologies had been said to a cold grey
headstone with the surname 'Yamaguchi' engraved on it, nothing more.

Until then he hadn't been sure if it would be fair to ask her to share a
life with him. He had been living alone for so long, his job demanded
almost everything he had, neither would he have given anything less than
his full commitment. But Tokio had not minded. As long as he loved her,
she said. That was all she asked for. After their meeting came to an
end, Saitou had gone to Kojuurou and asked for Tokio's hand in marriage.

They were married that same year, Meiji Year 4 1871 in autumn, with
sakura blossoms that filled the air with clouds of scented white.

(End flashback)

.......................

Tokio was about to say something when a sudden gust of wind rattled the
window shutters. At once she tensed, her eyes flying to the window, hard
wariness in them.

Saitou said nothing but kept his arm around her. Tokio had her pride and
they both knew that nothing was going to come through the window. Not
tonight. Not since that night. She gave him a smile before settling her
head on his chest. Tightening his hold on her, he started talking about
something at work. She let him, grateful for the distraction.

Gradually her pulse slowed as she relaxed. He on the other hand was
unable to stop from recalling the morning when he had returned from a
long distance case. They had been married for barely two months and he
had been eager to get home. It had been a good thing that he had left
Kyoto as soon as he could. If he had been half a day later Tokio would
have been beyond the reach of even the best doctor on earth.

An old enemy had discovered his marriage and had sent an assassin after
Tokio as a form of bitter revenge. She would not say much about what
happened, only that the man had broken in through a window and attacked
her in the early hours of the morning. Saitou had been beyond furious
and panicked but even as he had cradled her bleeding form in his arms,
Tokio had managed to give him a wan smile and point out that the
assassin had come out the worse for the fight. Indeed, he was found dead
in their hallway. Later Saitou had dug out the culprit responsible for
the attack. The coroner's report would later state that the deceased had
been practically slashed to ribbons. From then on Tokio travelled
together with her husband. She recovered in time but there were some
scars that would always remain.

.............................

Saitou woke up and flinched as the bright sunlight stung his eyes. At
once a cool shadow fell between him and the window. There was the sound
of curtains being drawn and then the touch of his wife's hand on his
shoulder as she kissed him good morning. When he had washed and dressed,
she was already in the process of laying the table.

"Here, let me," he said, taking the dishes from her. "Where would you
like to go today?"

"To the theatre. And then we can do whatever you like," she replied.

"Hn, in that case after the play, we can come back here..." He left off
the sentence, shooting her a meaningful look.

"Hajime! I'm going to get pregnant at this rate," she teased.

His eyes held hers and Saitou asked seriously, "Would that be so bad?"
Tokio's dark eyes softened as she caught the underlying meaning of his
question. She went to him and he held her against his lean frame. "No,
it wouldn't be," she murmured. "Not at all."

Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her long and hard. Such days
together were rare, days where his work and the problems of Japan could
be laid to rest in the shadows for a while. "Thank you, Tokio. And happy
anniversary," he whispered against her lips and felt her smile in return.

"Happy anniversary, Hajime."


OWARI

------------------------------------------------------------------------