Author's Note: This is just a little something on the side to go along with my fic Changes in Friendship, a short backstory about Tokio's parents. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCsA Leg for a Wife
Saitou Hajime made his way swiftly down the streets of Kyoto. He had narrowly escaped a trip to market, Tokio having pounced on the block of free time he had come across. Having an appointment, he had unceremoniously shoved her friend Shousha into his fiancee's path, much to the dismay of Okita who had been doing his best to keep the injured wretch from moving more than an inch at any given time.
It was freezing outside but he didn't mind. The cold weather kept his senses alert. He didn't have anything to be looking out for at this particular moment, but it was a habit he had picked up early in his training.
Turning onto a rather unassuming street, he slowed, counting the shacks that lined the dirt road. He would relocate this family, he decided. If he was going to marry the woman, they would no doubt be visiting her home and Saitou would not stand to be seen coming and going from such a disgraceful building any more than he had to.
He gave a small knock to acknowledge that he had arrived and, not waiting for admittance, strolled into the house.
Takagi Kojuro was seated, as he always was, in the middle of the floor, covered in a blanket.
"I didn't think you'd come," he said, smiling as he motioned for Saitou to join him. Tokio's young sister Mitsu hurried away to prepare tea for their guest.
"I'm not so rude as to renege on an agreement Takagi-san."
Kojuro waved his hand at him. "Call me Papa."
Saitou send him a flat look that told him he would rather be devoured by rats than refer to his future father-in-law as papa.
"Well in any case," the older of the two said, shifting his weight slightly, "I asked you to come here because I want to tell you a story."
"A story? You couldn't have just written a letter?"
There were many other things Saitou could think of that he could have been doing other than having storytime in a run down shack in the slums of Kyoto. The first that popped into his mind was enjoying a nice bowl of soba. The second, giving new recruits horrifyingly trying lesson in defense, and the last, and possibly the most tempting, watching Tokio as she scurried about the kitchen making lunch. There was something so entrancing about watching her in domestic mode, like it was her default course of action, even if he knew better.
Nowhere on his list, however, was sitting around swapping tales with her father.
"It is an important story," Kojuro told him. "about my wife and I. It might help you to better understand my daughter."
Saitou leaned back. "I doubt anything will help me understand that woman."
To this, the man only smiled. "I am an excellent judge of character," he said, "and it is because of this that the moment I first saw my Haruko I knew she was no good."
The Shinsengumi captain snorted. This beginning sounded familiar.
"I was very young," he went on, "not yet twenty."
Not yet eighteen. Takagi Kojuro had been a mere sixteen years old when he first laid eyes on Haruko.
It had been a warm spring afternoon and he had just settled against a tree by the river. It was a quiet place far away from the bustle of the city. There was an abandoned shack just a few feet off and even though moss was beginning to climb up its walls, he found peace in its emptiness.
He undid the cloth that he had wrapped around his lunch pail and hummed a small tune while he prepared his meal. It was dinnertime now and when normally this time was spent eating the remains of his lunch, today he had not been able to eat at all. Several of his fellow laborers had decided not to show up and he had suffered for it, slaving away in the fields with only two other men.
Just as he was about to put the food to his mouth, there was a sickening cracking sound from inside the hut. Not a second later, one of the walls burst open and a man soared through the air, the thick trunk of a tree breaking his flight and, most likely, his back.
Kojuro was frozen in shock and when the dust settled and a woman emerged from the hole in the house, he felt himself grow pale. He had been certain he was alone. No one ever bothered to come up this way.
She didn't seem to notice him and he wasn't sure he wanted her to. The man whose pockets she was currently rummaging trough had to have been one and a half of her. At least. There was no telling what sort of damage she could do to a skinny farm boy.
"Damn you," she cursed, slapping the unconscious man on the ground. "and here I thought this would be worth my while."
She stood, running her fingers through her light brown hair. "Well that's what I get for kidnapping."
Kojuro held his breath. If she didn't notice him, she couldn't hurt him. It was, of course, because he didn't want to be seen that she turned, putting him in her direct line of vision.
Though her face was firm, strong, and determined, when she noticed him, her eyes went wide and her lips parted slightly in surprise. This emotion was quickly replaced by anger and she marched up to him, pushing up the sleeves of her well worn peasant coat.
Even as she stormed over to him, fist raised in threat, Kojuro found his anxiety wash away when he saw that she was barefoot. He wasn't well off himself, but even he was able to protect his feet from the ground. Her state of dress left little to the imagination, but he knew her intent was not seduction. It couldn't have been. Under her dusty and dirty coat she wore nothing but bandages that bound her breasts and short pants that had to have been made for a small boy.
He wondered if she even had place to call home.
She stopped, towering over him and in a moment of what he wasn't sure was boldness or compassion held the food, which had been so close to entering his mouth, out to her.
"Will you eat with me?" he asked.
As ready as she was to defend herself against this boy, Haruko couldn't hide her surprise as he offered her his dinner. She had seen his reaction to her; he had practically pissed himself. Was this a peace offering?
She had never been caught by a civilian before and wasn't entirely sure how to deal with the situation. She doubted he knew her victim; he was the son of a moderately wealthy, yet lesser known merchant. She would have offered the boy some money in exchange for his silence, but for the son of a moderately wealthy merchant, the bastard had turned out to be broke.
Still, she was hungry.
"Why?"
It was the only thing she could think to say.
Kojuro shrugged, extending the cracked ceramic bowl in his hands towards her as well. He wanted to tell her she looked hungry. She was too skinny and there was an animalistic look in her eyes as she stared at the food.
Not wanting to offend her, he gave her a small grin. "I always eat alone. It gets lonely sometimes."
This seemed to be a good enough excuse so she sat across from him, legs crossed, elbows on her knees. When he passed her the bowl and chopsticks, she looked at him curiously. He was young, at least five or six years younger than herself, but he had an aura about him that told her he knew exactly who he was in this world.
Kojuro watched her eat and learned that she wasn't afraid of what he might think of her. She shoveled the rice into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in days and when she held the bowl out for more, he smiled. She was something else.
He hadn't any experience with women and he knew just by her thuggish attitude and complete lack of manners that she was no good. Getting involved with her would only bring trouble and trouble wasn't something he liked. He was a peaceful soul; he liked things to be orderly and flow nicely. Despite all this, Kojuro knew in those first few moments of meeting her that his life would change forever.
He was smitten.
They sat together for near an hour, watching the river flow. She had eaten all of his food, but as hungry as he was, he didn't mind. He had more at home. He thought it might have been safe to assume that she didn't.
"You're pretty strong."
Haruko looked over at him. "I've spent a great deal of time training myself in various aspects of combat, yes."
He chuckled. What a strange sentence. "Are you a gangster?"
"No," she replied, lounging back onto the grass. "I work alone."
"Oh."
The conversation ended there and after a few minutes, they parted ways. She never thanked him and neither of them had introduced themselves, but when he rose the next morning, he packed an extra place setting.
Just in case.
Sure enough, she showed up wearing exactly the same clothes. This time her face wasn't as rough or suspicious.
"You like this place don't you?" she asked as he served her.
He nodded. "It's relaxing."
She smiled at him and he noticed her brilliant, grey eyes. They sparkled at him and despite her poverty, she didn't seem any worse for wear.
For weeks they met at the tree by the river. Each time he fed her, having cut his own daily rations that she wouldn't starve. They fell into an easy friendship and every day he learned something new.
She had been thieving since she was four, when her parents had died. At first it had been to survive, but as she grew older, she developed a passion for it. Despite being raised on hard work and fairness, he found her defense of this lifestyle relatively solid.
"Stealing isn't getting something for free," she had pointed out. "You work hard all day for money, don't you?"
Kojuro nodded.
"Well I work just as hard, except I get paid however I want. Food, money, or things. It's the same principal."
He hadn't been able to argue at all and he didn't want to. As it turned out, she was very proud of her work. It made her happy and gave her a wild thrill. This made him jealous, as he worked solely to keep food in his stomach and a roof over his head.
He also learned that she was twenty-four, unmarried, and with no real intention to do so. He was slightly disheartened at this, but she laughed it off.
"What sort of man would want to marry me?" she asked when he had questioned her, giving him a light punch in his shoulder.
"I would," he said quietly.
He had expected her to laugh at him over that, to tell him that he was just a kid and he didn't know any better, but she didn't. Instead, she kissed him.
Right there, in what was now the heat of summer, with his mouth full of rice, she had placed both of her hands on the back of his head, and with absolutely no warning whatsoever, crushed her mouth against his.
She didn't appear the next day. Or the day after that, or the day after that. For two weeks, he waited alone. Had he offended her somehow? He wasn't experienced, so he hadn't known how to react when she kissed him. Did he do something wrong?
Dejected, he sat against their tree, but he didn't eat. He couldn't bring himself to take part in a meal in this spot without her. He had known this would happen; she was no good. She was also significantly older than he was. Why shouldn't she want to toy with him? He was young and naive. This just proved it.
By the third week, Kojuro was about to give up. The place by the river had been his favourite for many years, but now it only held sad memories. He didn't want to sit and reminisce alone and lonely, but he didn't want to leave either. Abandoning this spot was to give up and he couldn't do that.
At the tail end of that week, as he trekked along the bank of the river towards their tree, he saw her. She was there, in their spot, waiting for him. Overjoyed, he ran to her, but froze upon seeing her condition.
She was bruised and bandaged. There were no fresh cuts that he could see, but she was weak and injured. She had always had a layer of dirt on her; it came with the life, but she had never been this dirty, like she hadn't bathed in weeks.
"Haruko!" he cried, dropping the food, "Haruko what happened?"
She looked at him, grinning triumphantly. "I got caught."
He froze. "You what?"
She grimaced as she sat up, reaching into her coat.
"I never got to thank you for feeding me," she told him as she procured a golden bowl from her sleeve. It was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen.
"I guess I just got in a little over my head, is all."
He stared at her in shock. She had gone through the trouble of getting him such a fine gift and she had been caught. Incarceration had not been kind to her, but he knew that the beatings she had suffered were more likely initiated by her and her snide remarks.
Kojuro found himself laughing at this. How could he have doubted her? She was Haruko, master thief extraordinaire, queen of the street urchins. She was a thousand times stronger than he was in both body and spirit and it would take more than punishment for stealing a bowl to put her away for good.
"Marry me," he said. It was a strange time to propose, but he didn't care. He took her bruised face in his hands and laughed at her, kissing her forehead. "Be with me always."
She inhaled sharply, gripping his wrists. "Kojuro you're talking nonsense."
"I'm not," he said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I don't know much about women and I don't have anything to give you. I'm not strong and I'm not smart but one thing I can promise you is that I love you. I love you more than anything I know and I need you."
For the first time since they met, Haruko was completely speechless. Marry him? She had developed a decided fondness for him and she couldn't deny the way his face lit up when he saw her. Actually, she couldn't deny much about him. He had surprised her, that a boy his age could be so mature and easy to be with. He never looked for fights and to the best of her knowledge, and judging by the way he spoke and acted towards her, didn't try to sneak his way into the beds of any of the girls either.
"Yes," she breathed before she could think better of it.
They married almost immediately. The neighbors disapproved, but neither of them cared. Kojuro was alone no longer and Haruko had a roof over her head. Together they made his empty house a home and by the time Kojuro was but seventeen, she was swelling with their firstborn.
Parenthood came rather naturally to Kojuro, having a born fondness for children. It was more difficult for his wife to adjust, itching to take on the town, but she did her best, rearranging her targets in order to care for the new baby.
Two years later, their first daughter, Tokio came into the world.
"She's wonderful," Kojuro said quietly, stroking the baby's full head of hair.
Haruko gave him a cheeky smile. "She'll be my successor, this one."
Together they laughed at the prospect, but as time went on, she proved just how serious she had been. As soon as they were old enough, Haruko began to take the children out with her, showing them the basics of surviving off their own skills. Akira, her son, grew bored quickly, but Tokio proved to have the same determination as her mother, advancing quickly in her training.
"You must learn your numbers," Haruko told her one day. "You must always know how much money you have and exactly what your treasure is worth."
One day, Haruko left without the children. She didn't come home for lunch and she was nowhere to be found at dinner. Just as Kojuro was about to take the children to his sisters that he might search for her, a giant of a man stepped into their home.
Pushing his children behind them, Kojuro, now a strong twenty-five years old, leveled his gaze to the intruder.
"What business do you have here?"
The man unsheathed a sword, pointing it at his throat. "You are Takagi Kojuro?"
Kojuro kept his face completely straight. "I am."
"You'll be coming with me then."
"I think not, sir. I will not leave my children alone in the night. You may return when my wife comes home. I will leave then."
The man through back his head and laughed. "It's your wife that sent me. She's got herself caught up in some nasty business."
Kojuro's heart jumped to his throat and he ushered Akira and Tokio from the house. His sister only lived a few streets away.
When he arrived at the spot the man had directed him to, he found himself face to face with an awfully menacing array of men. In the back alley of the scummiest part of town, they surrounded Haruko armed with all sorts of weapons. She had been tied up and was teetering atop a wooden crate, staring at them all with a fiery glare.
"Well lookie here," one of them said. "Here comes the faithful husband."
Haruko looked up and her pretty eyes flashed furiously as they fell on him. "What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped.
Kojuro opened his mouth to speak, but realized he had been duped. She hadn't sent for him at all.
"As much as we'd like to beat the ever living shit out of you, Haruko," another, most likely the leader, began, "I somehow doubt you would get the message we're tryin' to convey."
"Go to hell," she spat.
He grinned. "Thought you might say that."
With a snap of his fingers, Kojuro was held down and Haruko gasped.
"Leave him alone!" she cried.
"No, no," Kojuro replied jovially, ignoring the dirt rubbing against his cheek, "it's alright."
"You're talking nonsense, Kojuro," she said as she always did, wishing she had the freedom to cross her arms.
"So what do you have to offer?" the leader of these thugs asked, crouching low, "I doubt you have any money to buy her freedom if she's still out here at this age. How sad. You don't make enough money to support your family so your wife has to go out and scrape for it. Can't you see she's too old for this? She's getting sloppy."
Kojuro's upper lip curled. "I'd give you anything. Take my life, just let her go."
The man clicked his tongue. "You don't have much bite, do you?"
"Release him!" Haruko shouted from her perch. "He's done nothing to you."
To this, the leader looked up at her with a grin. "You're right. But we need to teach you a lesson. You need to learn a little bit about territory."
"I'll never rob again," she said icily. "you have my word that I'll never step into your territory again."
But he only shook his head. "What good is the word of a thief? I should know," he grinned, "I am one."
She bared her teeth at him, but he had returned his attention to her husband.
"So what do you say?" he asked, "What could you possibly offer in place of her?"
"I told you," he ground out, "take my life instead."
To this he put a hand to his chin and clicked his tongue. "That's it? No. . .children?"
"KILL ME!" Kojuro bellowed. Not his children. Please. Anything but the children.
"I think I've got a better idea," he said, snapping his fingers again. The men holding Kojuro down pulled him up to his feet and they faced each other.
Kojuro breathed heavily. He had never been so frightened in his whole life. He wasn't, however, afraid for himself. He was afraid for Haruko, for what these men planned to do for her. He was afraid for his children, his son who looked upon the world bitterly, and his daughter, his little Tokio, the tiny little ray of light that followed in the footsteps of her mother, the sun. The center of his universe.
The leader gave him a cocky smile. "I'll have your leg."
Kojuro found he was unable to do anything but laugh. "My leg? I think I'm getting the better end of the bargain here."
"Maybe so," he replied, holding his hand out for a weapon, "but you're not the one I'm punishing."
Haruko watched in horror as her captor held up a half rusted serrated blade up to the moonlight. He had a vast array of choices but he had settled for the weapon that would take the longest to get the job done. He wanted to drag it out, to make her husband suffer and let her know that there was nothing she could do.
For twenty minutes she was forced to watch the mutilation. For twenty minutes she struggled against her bondage and for twenty minutes she regretted every action she had ever taken that contributed to them ending up here. She had trained her daughter to be what she was. For what? For her to live the life on the outskirts of society with no real chance for anything more?
What sort of mother was she?
When she was released and pushed from the crate, she tore apart her coat, using the strips of fabric to wrap the half of a thigh Kojuro had been left with.
"Better get him to a hospital," someone sneered.
She ignored them as they burst into laughter, supporting her husband's weight with her own.
"You're an idiot, Kojuro," she hissed, "I would have gotten myself out of that."
Through the pain he was doing his best to hide, he smiled at her. "It was a fair trade, darling. My leg for my wife. You're safe now. That's all that matters to me."
Treatment was not cheap. Aside from closing up the wound, there was a vast array of medicines he would be taking for the infections that would, over the years, attack the injury. The loss of his leg had robbed him of his income, something he hadn't considered that night in the alley, and there had only been so much that Haruko had managed to scrounge up around the city.
After many discussions and sometimes heated arguments, Haruko had sold the golden bowl she had given to him only moments before he begged her to share her life with him. He hadn't wanted to part with it, its sentimental value something he couldn't put a price on, but she had insisted that without the money, he would die and his sacrifice would be wasted entirely.
Haruko continued to thieve, but as she grew older, found herself falling behind to the children of the streets. Experience only amounted to so much when the body began to age.
Shortly after she gave birth to their third child, another baby girl, things began to fall apart. Kojuro did his best to help her in the home, gladly taking up chores that involved minimal movement. Akira and Tokio had taken to the streets, pickpocketing and worming their way into the houses of the well off before stealing away with their money and goods.
It was on a day much like any other when Kojuro began to feel his life slip from his fingers. He was in the kitchen, perched on the counter, peeling what few potatoes they had managed to buy that day. It wouldn't be enough, but at least the children could eat.
He heard a soft moan coming from the doorway and he looked up to find Haruko, deathly pale and sweating. There was a small dark trail running down her chin from the corner of her mouth.
Blood.
"Haruko!"
Before he was able to slide from the counter, she collapsed in the doorway.
No doctor would treat her. She's a thief! they said. Money first! they demanded. Didn't any of them care that his beloved wife was dying? Did none of them have any sympathy for a one legged man with three starving children?
No, they didn't.
Not knowing what else to do, Kojuro sent his newborn daughter to live with his sister. She had also recently given birth and would be able to nurse the baby and give her the proper care that was required for such a fragile life.
Akira, at ten years old, had found a taste for liquor and gambling. He harbored a great distaste for his parents and their inability to give him a normal life. Having no education or solid set of morals, he had turned to the thugs and the gangsters and quickly began accumulating a deep pool of debt which he had so cleverly put in his father's name.
Tokio, determined to save her family, followed Haruko's example. She became the breadwinner, making her living off the people in the streets. Any trace of survival she fought and she clawed for.
In the end, it didn't matter.
Kojuro sighed, drawing his hand over his face. "I was thirty years old when I lost her," he said, "and not a day goes by when I don't think about her."
Saitou regarded this story with reverence. A few pieces to the puzzle that was Tokio had fallen into place.
"In any case," his future father-in-law started, "despite the strength she inherited from her mother, Tokio does have her demons. I trust you will be able to fight them with her now that you know what they are."
The captain nodded. He had recently fallen victim to those demons himself. This insight was valuable in helping him deal with the slight stinging that their puncture wounds had left in him.
"That bowl," Saitou said, "do you know who your wife sold it to?"
Kojuro shook his head. "She never told me, but I did later learn that it found its way to Yamata house, as conveniently irritating as that is."
What hell that was. The only thing he had to remember his beloved Haruko by and it was in the possession of the wealthiest family in the city. What was worse, was how close both Tokio and Shousha were to this object, yet Tokio did not have access to the room it was kept and Shousha knew nothing of its origin. Now both girls had cut their ties with the house. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but Kojuro couldn't help but feel lost over it.
With little expression, Saitou reached into the folds of his clothing then and procured a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. He handed it over before standing and announcing his departure.
"Haruko-san," he said, hovering in the doorway, his back turned, "would be very proud of Tokio."
The Miburo swept from the house and Kojuro stared down at the package for a moment before tugging on the twine that kept its wrapping secure. The paper fell away and he gasped, looking towards the door, but Saitou was gone. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he let them fall.
"Oh, my Haruko," he whispered, looking down at his gift.
In his hand, shining brilliantly against the brown parcel paper, was the golden rice bowl.
xxxx
Author's Note: That was way longer than I originally intended it to be. Still, I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you like it, even though Saitou didn't get much screen time :3