Disclaimer: I do not own Saiunkoku Monogatari.

When Seiran returned from a third tour in the military, he never expected to find an eccentric duo of father and daughter in his house. No, he couldn't help them at all. In fact...he wasn't even supposed to be there! (AU)

Chapter 1: Home

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It was dark, but he had long ceased to even notice the time. As essential as time was on the battlefield, he didn't think the same attitude was worth taking in the gloomy streets of his hometown. All he wanted was his list of priorities to be indulged: a nice bath and a nice bed; wasn't that what a returning soldier deserved?

A right turn. Past the 7-11 located in the corner; down, further down. Just there, no, now in the back, was a small crate, always full of unwanted kittens. Some bloke probably refilled it every now and then for amusement of the many tourists. On the right was a set of old warehouse buildings, a place fit for even the most adventurous of children, like him and his brother.

"Seien!"-dear little Ryuuki would always slip through the door and tuck himself into his older brother's bed without a word, "Can I stay with you tonight? Being with you makes the darkness brighter."

And always without invitation. But always so positively adorable that Seiran could only sigh and pull an extra fistful to his side of the bed, knowing for a fact that by morning all of the blankets would be draping the floor in all of their splendor whilst he huddled sullenly against the wall, completely daunted by another day.

He was now practically shuffling down the street, the rolling of his luggage against the cracked concrete echoed quite distinctively amid the nightly chill.

To the left and slightly past the dirty flourescent sign that positively broadcasted 'PUB' in winking lights (but only ten of the fifty bulbs worked, as usual) was a large looming structure. Saiunkoku's library. Pale white marble all around, as well as where the most beautiful flowers bloomed all year through practically any season. Roses, lilies, and don't forget the dandelions.

The man chuckled, faintly wondering if the trio of odd archivistes, men by the surname of Shou, Sa, and Sou, would still be there. It had been them, after all, that had helped him through many trials before, including that one stage of life in which he was so often chased by females. The old geezers had even sent an especially ardent fangirl crawling home; bless them.

By now, the familiar stiletto of his rented apartment stood out quite clearly against the dim background, the street lamps illuminating the worn walls, particulary the shaken condition of the stairs, crumbling slabs of stones that could barely aid any being above a certain weight.

But home is home, no matter how ugly it is; home is a place of comfort, after all.

He dreadfully hoped the pitiful excuses for stairs could support his own weight...not to mention that of his luggage as well. At the second thought, he slouched, discomfited. The chances were extremely slim, they could even be rounded to zero.

He would see to it tomorrow. For now, at least there was a back door...

The exterior of the building was quite distasteful but, with his newly acquired persuasion skills, he was quite sure the landlady would allow him to repair it himself, and hopefully in exchange for that month's rent. Even the great Seiran, so skilled in many tasks, had to find a job, and hopefully a well-paying one.

Seiran smiled to himself as he clumsily adjusted the valves of the lock, turning the wheels to reflect a single line of numbers. The lock clicked. He twisted the top and pushed open the gate, a hand pressed against the smooth metal grids.

For some unknown reason, the back of the apartment was in much better condition then the front. Small sprigs of basil smiled innocently up at him from a newly dug garden (it had to be! the landlady originally didn't know how to take care of one!). His eyes drifted to the corner to narrow in on the empty pottery neatly piled in stacks of five. So that was what happened to his own plants...

He let himself in from the back entrance, taking care to silence the jingle of his keys with a cupped hand. He would check his mailbox tomorrow, the landlady was probably head-over-heels trying to find him after his sleek disappearance. A friend had given him a call recently, wondering why he hadn't bothered to reply the many letters he had sent.

Seiran gave himself a pat on the back. It had always erked him how the landlady was so bossy, and he had long hoped for a chance to give her a taste of her own medicine.

His combat boots were surprisingly loud in the confined room and his rather heavy luggage didn't help either. He took off his shoes, knotting the laces together so that they would hang lopsidedly over a shoulder. With his lips tightly clamped over the gilded edge of his key ring and both of his hands tucked through the cloth handles of his baggage, Seiran set out to conquer the stairs.

Throughout the entire chain of houses he had lived in, this apartment had the worst stairs, scratch that, the worst staircase. And it just had to be the only one in the whole building as the landlady was too cheap to insert elevators because her own rooms were on the first floor.

A creaky fifth step, a cracked eighth, a hollow ninth. Not to mention that the angle was quite steep...

He masterfully slinked his way up the first flight, then up the second.

...a creepy eleventh that made sound akin to squeals rather then squeaks, no thirteenth...a grunting fourteenth...

A small growl formed on his lips as he stared through the empty slit down to the lobby. Why couldn't the darn female put a cover over the hole at least? He was half killing himself here!

Well, at least nothing seemed to be changed.

At last he arrived at the fifth floor, extremely displeased at the landlady and slightly heaving from the exertion. With his keys still in his mouth, he towed his luggage after him to his room.

The walls were a creamy shade of warmth, reflecting beige in the patch of light thrown by the rising sun or even a rosy grey when the sun began to sink below the horizon, coupled by shocks of spiraling lavender along some of the landings. The floor was carpet; forest green. When he had first arrived, the floors were the first to welcome him, already carpeted back when the walls were still somber planks of freshly cut wood, unpainted and untouched by the sorrow he had then felt.

He stopped in front of the door proudly labeled '512' in sloping cursive on a brass plate embedded a short distance from the handle. Just as he was about to take his keys out of his mouth to unlock the door, it opened. And he stared down into a wide pair of brown eyes.

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Despite the shock that suddenly struck him, he couldn't but be pleased that the small girl in front of him looked surprised as well.

"I-I'm sorry! Is there anything you need?" she asked, shyly fingering the inside doorknob.

"Yeah," he breathed, startled. "Can you tell me why you are in my apartment?"

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The next instance found him inside his living room, drinking from his own cup, sitting on the sofa he had brought with his own money.

Seiran brusquely rubbed his head. And all he had wanted was bath and bed. He never had asked for all of these extra problems. Maybe some divine being utterly loathed him. Or maybe all of the divine beings wanted some amusement. How cruel.

"You must be Mr. Seiran?" the young lady was now questioning him as she poured out some tea.

"Unfortunately," the soldier sighed as he accepted another helping.

She blushed. "Kouchou-neesan said that you probably wouldn't be coming back for a while, so that me and my father can stay here for a while."

Just by her quick glance at the window told him that there was more at hand. Wait...

"Y-You're related to the landlady!?!" Seiran spluttered as he straightened, a hand pressed against his mouth to avoid spitting in the prescence of a female.

"No! She just took us in, she said she would help us settle in again," the girl muttered as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"Do you want some cookies?"

"No, thank you. I just want..." Seiran trailed off as he stood up, "Can I use the bathroom?"

"You decide. This apartment is still registered under your name", her gaze sharpened as the young man miserably pouted at her words, "My father and I will help pay the bill. And I will also-"

"No need," Seiran turned back to look at her, "Relax. I'm not angry, just tired. And don't worry. I'll sleep on the couch today." His eyes softened as he considered her surprised profile.

"But-"

"We'll discuss this topic tomorrow, get some rest. Tomorrow's another long day."

He closed the bathroom door, completely satisfied at how well he held out. He sighed as he studied the darkening patches of skin beneath his eyes. It was almost morning, but he sure didn't feel like watching the sunrise. Maybe he should take his own advice too; the couch sure beckoned.

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Possible Preview:

"Can you tell me why you are doing in this city, Black Wolf?"

The man seemed surprised, "What makes you think that I, Kuo Shouka, am an assassin? Do these hands..." He held up his worn hands, a finger of one tracing over the palm of the other.

"Do these hands look fit for the battlefield, Little Whirlwind?"

Seiran could only gape at the man. "So then, what makes you think these hands," he held up his own, making sure to slant it ever so carefully so that the wounds from the morning glistened sadly at the somber face of Shouka.

"-that these hands are-"

"So? Who said I thought?"

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If you have reached this far, I must thank you for reading this. Please review and give me encouragement...I have trouble completing stories.