A/N: Finally posting this. The title comes from a song, but I can't remember who sings it so the lyrics will be posted later.

***Anyway, this takes place two years before the anime, so there's some things you should note: Saito has longer hair. I'm not dumb, I know he doesn't have a ponytail. He does now.^^

Sanosuke is 17. That makes Saitou 32. The story is AU as in it takes place prior to the anime but does not lead up to the events in the anime. It's its own little story.d

Um....yeah.....I think that's it.....enjoy.^^

Saito Hajime pushed open the teahouse door and paused momentarily, allowing himself a rare moment of relaxation, the wind rifling his hair as much as it could in his tightly controlled ponytail, a gentle breeze that carried on it the scent of summer, ocean, and for some inexplicable reason, a hint of promise.

Saito glowered. He didn't like this turning philosophical, and to be honest, he couldn't afford it. Not at his age and not in his line of work. He paused only a moment longer, just to pull the silver cigarette case out of his back pocket, though he really didn't need to…by now he could light a cigarette in his sleep. No doubt he would die of emphysema, or so his doctor claimed. The old codger was always insisting he quit, while Saito sat there silently steaming and telling himself that shoving a katana up the man's rectum would be in very bad form indeed. Really though, he found it highly ulikely…it seemed much more probable he would die in a ditch somewhere, throat slit, knife in his back and bleeding from multiple wounds. If they could ever get him. He prayed they would. For as much as Saito hated to admit it, on some level, he rather hoped someday he would find someone who could best him. He hated the idea of dying old and alone in bed, no hair, no teeth, shaking with palsy and a cold sweat.

Taking a deep drag on the cigarette (almost as refreshing as the night air, if not more so), Saito stepped off the porch. He didn't bother shutting the door behind him…that was what other people did, and sure enough, a bowing mistress closed the door for him, murmuring her thanks and goodbyes all the way. Saito hated her, for no real reason other than her pathetic groveling. He would have hated her if she hadn't shown her respects either…except then he probably would have killed her. It was a very thin line with Saito Hajime, a tightrope one had to walk or die trying. Most died.

Saito walked down the road, still sucking at that cigarette like it was precious life-force given by God. It was a warm night…too warm, for his liking. There had been geishas in that teahouse, swarms of geishas, crawling all over his Goddamned lap; each and every one of them hoping that with his position and power, he could afford to become danna to one of them. Which he could. The real point was that the day he attached himself to one of those money-grubbing harlots was the day he started buggering young boys.

That damn breeze floated past again, bringing paradox with it. It was the only thing cooling in this night…this damn humid night that made Saito want to tug at his too-tight collar…or worse, remove his uniform jacket all together (SHEER BLASPHEMY!). On the other hand, the breeze still carried with it that scent of promise, so Saito knew he wasn't just turning into a doddering old metaphorical philosopher, some crazy Aristotle or Socrates. Saito Hajime had been around long enough to read the winds. Something, he realized, is coming.

Saito managed to ignore the feeling…almost. For feeling such as this will never go entirely away, and his sword hand twitched the whole way back to his apartment. Still, he figured he was safe for the night….time to smoke one last cigarette as he fell asleep (maybe I'll die that way…in my sleep, when my cigarette sets the house aflame)…and then a voice rent through the hazy and unstable peace of the humid night air.

"Hey."

Saito spun about in a flash, hand not going to his sword (he was far too confident of his own abilities to draw his sword before sizing up his opponent), but twitching again ever so slightly, ready to reach for the katana in an instant if he deemed it so necessary. He came face to face with….

….a boy. Brown hair sticking up in every direction in a way Saito would have thought completely impossible where he not looking at it himself. It reminded him instantly of a rooster. It was hard to judge the kid's age, for he looked young in the face, about sixteen or so, but he was tall, very tall, at least up to Saito's collarbone, and very very gangly.

Saito relaxed..well, as much as Saito ever relaxed. This child couldn't hurt him. "…….what," he growled irritably.

The kid's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "well, aren't we Mr. SmileyPants?"

Saito said nothing, merely stared. It should be extremely evident that he was, in fact, not Mr. SmileyPants, so what point was there in responding? The boy smiled, a very insufferably insolent smile, Saito decided.

"You got a cigarette for me?"

Saito blinked. That in itself was something. It took a great deal to make Saito Hajime lose his composure. The composure was not lost yet, but even to make him blink in surprise was something. For at that last question, the boy had leaned against a fence, his hips jutting ever so slightly forward, and ran a hand through that impossible hair, and his voice had become….yes, there was no mistaking it….sultry. Saito's eyes narrowed.

"Are you…..hitting...on me?"

The boy grinned, making this slightly less disturbing…but only slightly. "You betcha."

Saito stared for a few seconds longer, trying to determine the best way to go about this. Finally, he opened his mouth, pausing only a second or so before replying very slowly "No, I do not have a cigarette for you."

"Aw, come on…" the boy began whining in what he clearly thought was an adorable and winning manner.

"You aren't even old enough to smoke," Saito continued. The boy bristled.

"I'm twenty years old."

Saito snorted. "Sixteen."

The boy eyed Saito, eyes narrowed. "Nineteen."

"Yeah, in a few years, maybe."

"……eighteen!"

"Seventeen, kid, and that's my final offer."

The boy regarded Saito with new respect now, not aware that it was showing across his whole face. This man obviously knew what he was doing.

"Well," he said at last, "aren't you going to invite me in?"

Saito stared. "…..why the fuck would I want to do that?"

The boy shrugged. "Company. I know you spent the whole night with those geishas. Certainly you could use some intelligent conversation."

Saito snorted yet again. The kid had to wonder if he had bad sinuses or something. "And you think you can give it to me?"

That smile again, that damn insufferable sultry smile. "I bet there's a lot of things I could give you. Some better than others."

Saito stared. Something was off with this boy. He wasn't quite sure what it was yet, but for some reason, he had to figure out what it was. He had to get to the bottom of it. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he kicked the door open to his apartment. "Get your scrawny butt inside."

"Gee, you really know how to take care of a lady."

"Don't push your luck, kid. Either go in or get lost."

Smiling a small mysterious smile, the kid moved, walking past Saito and into the house. The man sighed. What the fuck am I getting myself into.

-tbc-