Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all related characters belong to Watsuki, not me. Tokio's character in this does belong to me, however, blah blah blah.

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The room Fujita took her to was small and unadorned. The walls were whitewashed, and an empty table surrounded by chairs sat in the middle. There were no windows. It was lit by expensive electric lights and smelled stuffy. The lights hummed quietly.

"Please take a seat."

Tokio sat, but only because her leg was starting to throb. She kept her chin up and glared at Fujita, refusing to let him see she was in pain. He must have been able to tell anyway. He huffed out another cloud of cigarette smoke and opened the door again. Tokio coughed.

"Michio."

A junior policeman stumbled inside and saluted. "Fujita-sama!"

"Bring us something to drink, and something warm for the woman's leg."

As soon as he shut the door, Tokio gave up on pretending and rubbed the sore muscle gently. "That was nice of you."

"I can't have you distracted while we talk." He leaned against the wall again. "How much do you know about your master?"

Tokio focused on rubbing the tense muscle while she thought about it. "You know more about him then I do to be killing him, I'm sure."

"That wasn't the question. You dodge very eloquently. A learned skill?"

She ignored him.

"He was siphoning donated money out of accounts meant for the refurbishment of areas devastated during the Bakumatsu. Do you know what that means?"

Tokio felt insulted despite herself. "Yes, I do."

"Good. What we don't know is what he was using it for."

"His fancy house and his imported cigars aren't enough?"

"We've been over his finances. Everything he owns, he owns legitimately. The money goes from the accounts to him and then disappears."

The door opened again. Michio walked in with a tray, his face screwed up in concentration. Its contents jittered and jiggled. The tea cups sloshed water over their sides, despite his best efforts to prevent it. Tokio took pity on him and stood up to take the tray. Fujita shut the door as Tokio put the tray down and sorted out the mess Michio had made of the refreshments. There was a bowl of warm water, too, and a hot cloth. Tokio made sure to keep her back to Fujita as she shifted her kimono enough to press the hot cloth to her leg.

Fujita took another draft of his cigarette, dropped it and ground it out under his heel. "I ask again, how much do you know about your master? Has he ever had gatherings which you were not to attend?"

Tokio flushed at the implication, but she couldn't exactly say with pride that her master kept her to himself. "If he's having secret meetings somewhere then I don't know about them."

Fujita tapped out another cigarette and rolled it between his fingers. "Have you ever heard him say things you found strange? Talked about things that seemed out of place? Things that made no sense?"

Tokio frowned at her kimono, trying to think, trying to remember. Most of what he said she ignored. "Did you kill him because he was a thief? Is that the only reason?"

"He'd stolen enough to buy a small fleet. Whoever he's giving the money to needed to be cut off."

"But you've no proof that he's giving it to anyone. What if he's just hiding it?"

She looked up at him. He look he gave her was frigid.

"You do have proof."

He tucked the cigarette between his lips and pulled out a small box of matches. "I'm a bit surprised that he would choose someone like you for your… position. Granted, you're pretty enough." He scraped the match along the box's side once, twice, three times before it finally caught. He tossed it aside as soon as the cigarette began to glow. "But your tongue would take away the appeal for any sensible man. Satisfy my curiosity. Was it because he knew you couldn't run? It would fit the person I've researched, something like that."

She felt a strange something—a sudden blaze, a flash of anger. She swung to slap him and he caught her wrist. He was smiling again. She tried to jerk away and he held her still.

"So, you can get angry. If all that was left of you was that shell you showed back at the mansion, I would say you really were better off dead."

She twisted and he let her go, releasing her with a shrug as though to say, "really, so moody." She felt off-balance for the first time in years. She felt surprised and confused and hesitant and angry that this damn man could make her stagger through so many emotions at once.

"Bastard."

He knocked twice on the closed door. It snapped open and Michio stumbled in.

"Fujita-sama!"

"Tsuka-san. Until this matter concludes, you will stay here. There are rooms on the upper levels—Michio will take you to one of them. Michio." He turned to his awe-struck subordinate. "Find the woman some spare clothing."

"Sir!" Michio saluted again and bowed to Tokio. "If you'll follow me."

He vanished down the hall without waiting for an answer. She started to follow, then hesitated. Tokio looked over her shoulder at the wolf-man. He was smirking at her still.

"Why didn't you finish me?"

"What would be the point of killing an unarmed, limping woman? You're as much in my power here as you would be anywhere else."

Again a snap of anger. "Bastard," she said. He tilted his head in a bow. Tokio gritted her teeth and left.

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"Damnit! Another one of our men, another, and we're no closer to the end of this than we were six months ago."

"At least this time there was a witness."

The room was dim. Lamps chased shadows into the corners and up against the roof, but did no more than that. There was a table in the center of the room, with a map of Japan spread across it. A little red-topped needle marked the latest death. There were six men present. There should have been seven.

"He's getting too damn close. If this keeps up, we'll be finished before we've really had a chance to begin. We're losing our connections. We have to find out who's doing this now."

"We need an excuse to see the girl they've taken in."

"Us? Ha!"

"Patience." The speaker rested his hands against the table, tracing the lines of color-coded pins with one finger. He was easily the youngest person present. "There is no evidence that the police even know our true purpose. They believe they're still dealing with a few corrupt officials and an opium ring." He brushed back his dark hair and smiled. The expression spread across his face like a slow frost, glittering savagely in his dark eyes.

"They will see their mistake, my friends. Make sure our man inside is watching this witness girl. We will wait for our chance. We can afford to be cautious. We can afford to be patient. We can afford to hide for a while."

He tugged the red pin free and pricked his thumb with it. A bead of blood rose against his skin. He smeared a rusty X through the city of Tokyo. "Patience and persistence, my friends."

He laughed.

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