Author's Note: Once upon a time I told you this would be a short fic. I lied. Right after posting that, a full blown fic, complete with a side fic (that I already posted, wtcrap?). That's a good thing though, right? :D

Most of you know that I like to do a lot of research as I write. (I mean in Fine Lines I spent an hour scouring the internet for mourning wear of widows the Edo period. Really, not that important, but I had to know. Pfft.) Well I'm going to tell you something. The Japanese Police system has my head spinning. I'm sitting here reading about it and I'm just like, "what the..." (Even after reading & watching all variations of Death Note. You'd think some of it would stick after that.) I get it, sort of, so... for anyone more familiar, forgive me as I botch it up, give it up, and just take most of my inspiration from Dexter. (speaking of which, anyone flipping out waiting for season 7? eeeeeee!)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

Chapter Two

In which our hero learns all about our heroine and doesn't quite know what to think

Saitou sat at his desk, clicking through the police database. Criminal database. Nothing. Juvenile delinquency. Nothing. Court appearances. Nothing. Traffic violations.

Nothing.

Grey eyes and a ghost of a smile stared back at him from the computer screen, the identification card of Takagi Tokio. Her driver's license. That, along with her address, home phone number, weight, height, sex, hair color, eye color and date of birth was information readily available to him, but he could not, in any of the public records, find anything further.

"You won't find anything on her."

Immediately closing out of his search, Saitou looked up at Harada, leaning over to read the screen, palms set firmly on Saitou's desk.

"Don't you have work to do?" he asked, discreetly hiding Tokio's work schedule under his keyboard.

"Nope," replied the rooster haired assistant inspector, with a grin and a thumbs up, "I am all caught up."

"Well I do," Saitou clipped, pulling forth a manilla envelope of what he assumed to be more of Okita's work. The truth was, he was all caught up on his work as well, and until they found leads on any of their open cases, he didn't have much to keep himself busy with.

"Stalking Tokio hardly classifies as work," Harada pointed out.

Saitou didn't respond, clicking open his pen and setting to work reviewing the information on the pages before him.

"But," Harada went on, his tone teasingly thoughtful, "she's a tough nut to crack, so maybe you'd be good for her. She's a good kid. Pretty impressive actress too, you might have noticed."

"I hardly see any reason to consort with the likes of her."

With a shrug, Harada ruffled his own hair. "Well whatever, man. Your loss."

Ignoring this, Saitou went on with his work.

xxxx

At her usual seat in the booth just by the door, Tokio sipped on her coffee, legs crossed, and reading glasses perched on top of her ebon curls, tamed tonight by a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

"So he hadn't been in all week?"

Masa shook her head, lifting herself up to sit on the counter, resting her sneakered feet on a stool. "No. Maybe he's busy or something. He was in pretty regularly before," she paused, giving her friend a reprimanding glance, "you talked to him."

Tokio rapped her fingernails against her mug in thought, then winced slightly, "Mom and dad aren't mad at me, are they?"

Masa let out a laugh. "Of course not. Tokio can do no wrong in their eyes."

Tokio smiled at this. Masa's parents owned the diner, along with several others in the city. They loved Tokio as a daughter, despite her career decision, and it was because of this relationship that she had never paid for coffee (or the food) a day in her life.

"Hey Tokio!"

Harada gave her a thumbs up as she flashed him a peace sign. "Hey Sano, what's up?"

He didn't answer her right away, making his way over to Masa and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Hey baby," he crooned, causing her to blush furiously as she always did when he greeted her this way, and bite down hard on her lip to prevent a victorious smile from creeping through. This wasn't a victory, this was routine, but it was wonderful all the same.

Tokio rolled her eyes at the display, placing her coffee back down on the table and leaning forward as Harada sat down on the stool next to the one Masa's feet were occupying.

"How was your day, ladies?" He asked, putting his feet up on the other side of Tokio's booth.

"Fine," Masa replied, setting aside the tray she had been holding to play with the spikes of his hair. "Tokio's been pining something awful though."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, giving Tokio a suggestive grin, "finally gonna get a boyfriend?"

"I have not been pining," she huffed, bringing her glasses down to her nose and turning to her sketches, "I've just been curious."

Masa was one to talk, Tokio thought bitterly. The young waitress ate, slept, and breathed Harada Sanosuke. She'd probably try to drink him and self medicate with his very existence as well if it weren't for Tokio slapping her around every now and then. For all Masa's attempts to win his affections, however, he still treated her like some childhood pal.

Insensitive prick.

"So who is this lucky guy?" Harada wondered laying his head across his fiancee's lap so she could play with the front of his hair. Evenly distributed affection was very important.

"Oh please," Tokio mumbled, "he's just some guy who I bought coffee for. It's no big deal."

"She gave him her work schedule," Masa threw in.

"Whhaaaaaaat?"

Tokio shrugged. "It's really not a big deal."

"This is a huge deal," he protested, "you're inviting someone into your life. You don't do that. What happened to your 'no boyfriend' policy?"

"He is not my boyfriend," she replied testily, "and he isn't going to be. He's just some guy."

Knowing better than to continue to provoke her, he shrugged, lifting his legs up as a customer made their way past them. "Saitou's gonna be pretty jealous."

Tokio froze. "What?"

"Saitou," he repeated. "He was with us at Okita's party. Caught him lookin' up your file yesterday. Never thought he was the type."

He could see her trying to keep her expression calm, searching for a quick answer to the question she knew was about to come up. To this, he grinned.

"Though yanno, I'd really like to know how he found out who you are."

Gritting her teeth, Tokio tried to ignore him. It wasn't important, but he wasn't the type of guy to let things go so easily. Even if she did tell him the truth, Harada would twist it around into some perverse reason for her to get laid, hook up, and simply slut around. He meant well, she supposed, but despite what he clearly thought, there was a lot more to life, and a lot more to men and their dealings with women, than sex.

Which was hilarious, she thought, considering she spent most of her time convincing men that the only thing in life that held any importance at all, was sex.

"It was coffee," she finally settled on, hoping to put a swift end to the conversation.

The door to the diner swung open then and Saitou Hajime himself strode in. Tokio would have been significantly happier to see him if he had arrived just five minutes earlier. Men. Always coming and going at their leisure.

His eyes settled on her and though she pretended not to see him, his gaze pierced her and she had to work ten times harder at keeping her eyes focused on the curtains she was coloring.

Harada removed his feet from the booth, spinning on his stool to face the counter, and even Masa hopped down from her perch and went to work preparing Sanosuke's breakfast for him.

Traitors.

"Generally a table's purpose is best served when it is free of debris."

His cool, slick voice slithered through the air, sending an exciting chill up Tokio's spine, no matter how desperately she tried to stop it. From the corner of her eye, she saw a while gloved hand reach down calmly and, with two fingers, lift one of her drawings up and off the surface.

"Don't touch my stuff."

"I don't like rude hostesses," he told her, still holding the sketch, "It's impolite not to greet your guest."

Tokio looked up, snatching the paper from him. "It's even ruder not to R.S.V.P. at all," she shot back, irritated with him for not having come sooner.

He looked down at her, unamused. "I believe the invitation was open ended."

She couldn't argue with that. "Well, what do you want?" she demanded.

"Don't talk to me like I'm intruding, woman. I've no time for that."

For a moment, they stared at each other, daring the other to make the next move. Tokio took the time to observe him, standing straight and tall, long spidery bangs falling over his dangerous golden eyes, the image of a cage. A caged wolf.

No, she thought to herself. He wasn't a man who could be caged or tamed. The way he carried himself was proof of that. He wasn't a cocky young man, taking advantage of his position, he was a self assured, self made man. As young as he might be (though she was having a difficult time pinning his age exactly), he knew where he stood in the world, no one was going to tell him otherwise, and no one was going to stand in his way as he advanced in it.

That was what had drawn her to him in the first place. At the club, The Empress, he had shown no interest in her. It wasn't that he had been turned off by her, but he was too good for a woman who used her body to entertain. He was a type of man who was above temptation and vice, better than other men, and immune to her feminine wiles.

He was a challenge.

Tokio normally had little interest in men. Her job as Ophelia was nothing more than an act, a part she had learned to play perfectly, and a skin she could easily shed. No, Takagi Tokio was perfectly content sitting in a diner at five in the morning, enjoying what was dinner to her and breakfast to everyone else, surrounded by her few friends, and her designs.

But then he had come along, all not caring and condescending and she thought that maybe the regular presence of a man might not be so bad.

Sanosuke didn't count.

"Well then," she said, more gently this time, tucking away her project into various pockets in her giant folder and sliding it back into her portfolio, an unspoken invitation for him to sit. "why did you come?"

"While I don't approve of associating with your type," he began, sliding himself onto the seat across from her, "one thing has me vexed."

"And what might that be?" she asked sweetly, handing him a menu. He frowned at her and she added, "I'm buying."

Setting the menu down, he folded his gloved hands and looked her directly in the eye. It was the sort of look an interrogator might use to deliver the final case cracking question to an eyewitness, the culprit.

"You have no criminal record."

"And this surprises you?" she asked, opening up the menu, even though she knew exactly what she'd be eating.

"I don't believe we need to touch upon the reason I had assumed you would have several offenses in the system."

"Oh well, you know what they say about assuming."

Saitou didn't blink, but his tone darkened. "I beg your pardon?"

Glancing up, Tokio gave him an innocently questioning look. She could hear Harada snickering beside them.

"All I meant, officer, was that-"

"Inspector."

She blinked. "W-what?"

"Inspector," he repeated. "That is my title."

This impressed her. "How old are you, inspector?" she asked with no hint of mockery in her voice. She was curious, genuinely curious. He didn't look old enough to hold such a position, but she supposed anyone dedicated enough could make his way anywhere. She was living proof of that.

There was no reason for him to reveal his age to her; it would affect nothing, but he couldn't stop himself as the number twenty-six slipped through his teeth. A separate part of his brain must have known this was a good decision because yet another part of his mind took pleasure in her awed expression.

"I know why you're here," she said, sitting back and crossing her arms. His arched brow was an indication for her to continue. "You want to know my story. Your strong desire to carry out justice needs to know how a woman such as myself could possibly do the job I do and have no background in crime. You want to know exactly how it is that I ended up where I am, praying that I slip up and whatever it is I've been involved in comes to surface. You think I've been flying under the radar and you are here to administer the appropriate punishment."

"You are far more perceptive than I originally gave you credit for," he mused, turning to reach for the cream as Masa poured his coffee.

"You'll find me much more everything than you originally gave me credit for," she told him, sticking her glasses back into her hair.

A smile appeared on his face then, a thin, forced thing, but a smile nonetheless.

"Enlighten me then, Ophelia. Tell me all about the saintly stripper that you are."

She snorted. "Saintly? Maybe not, but if there's one thing I can assure you of, it's that I'm not snorting coke off my kid's pencil case."

He didn't react to this statement, not knowing whether it was meant as a joke or not, and she didn't give him any indication either way. Settling in on her seat, she took a pencil in her hands, tapped it on the table a few times in thought, and began her tale.

"I was born in the country. My parents own a small dairy farm out there with a bed and breakfast. I grew up there, went to school, you know, the whole nine. We weren't really poor, but what we had to spare really depended on how good the vacation seasons were. Some years we got a lot of customers, some years we didn't. All in all we were happy.

"I met Masa when I was eight. Her family stayed at my house for a long weekend and we became best friends immediately. Our parents grew friendly and they came back to stay with us for one long weekend every year. Some years in the summer Masa would stay with us for a whole week and those were always the best summers.

"One year, I came here. I'd never been to the city before, but after staying here for a whole week and seeing everything that there was to see, I dunno, I fell in love.

"I had picked up a few magazines in the bookstore, really fancy decorating mags that we didn't get way out in my neck of the woods. I couldn't believe the things people could do with space. With rooms. With houses. It fascinated me and I became obsessed.

"By the time I entered high school, I was rearranging my parents' house twice a month, just to get my fix. I knew that I absolutely had to go to school for design. My parents wanted me to help them run their business, but they knew how much I loved it, and being as supportive as they are, they wanted me to live my dreams."

"Isn't that sweet," Saitou drawled, lifting his mug to his lips.

"Oh shut up," she quipped, earning her a raised brow, but she ignored it, continuing, "My parents didn't have enough money to send me to the university I wanted to go to, so I told them that if they would allow it, I'd stay with Masa's family and work to pay my own tuition. I took dance as a kid and was really involved in theatre throughout school so I figured I'd be able to get some sort of gig here, maybe a dance teacher or a community theatre group while I waitressed or something.

"As you can imagine, that didn't work out. I didn't have enough experience for teaching dance and community theatre just doesn't pay what I thought it would. I was working here in the diner, but that barely covered the costs for my books. Masa joked to me one time saying I should strip. I have a pretty face and some, as she phrased it, stellar tits."

Saitou sputtered on his coffee. From what he had seen of Sugawara Masa, the phrase stellar tits did not seem to be something she was capable of uttering. Apparently women were very different when in the presence of only each other.

"And this is important," she said sharply, tapping the pencil against the table again, "this is where Masa and I differ. Masa is a one man woman. She's engaged to Sanosuke and that's how it is. She might say some daring stuff, but she'd never act on it. I'm not so conservative. I'm no hussy, but let me tell you, her suggestion wasn't a joke, it was a dare. A dare I was more than willing to greet head on.

"I was surprised at how well my first job went. The place was a dive, an absolute pit and I quit after two weeks. Still, in that two weeks I had made more money than all of my years of part time work combined. Sex sells, after all.

"I got another job at another club immediately after that and within two months I was living on my own and my first year of university was completely paid off. I went from club to club. Some were good, some were pretty terrible, but I never stayed at one too long, always looking for something bigger and better. Everyone who hired me said I had so much potential and most of my clients would ask my why I was there when I could have been at The Empress. That was my goal.

"Potential quickly became tangible. I met Papa G at a place called The Golden Eagle. It's not a bad place. He had me alone for about a half an hour, testing me out, I guess. Got himself a nice lap dance, a couple of glasses of champagne, some good visuals, and then he was gone, leaving me with nothing but the scent of his cologne and his business card.

"Lots of girls have fallen for Papa G. Most of the girls I work with are in love with him. They live to please him and he knows it. But he's a smart man, and his good business sense is what has made The Empress what it is today. I've never loved him, but I respect him for that. He's good to us and he knows that we run the show. We have the final say in most matters involving clients because his philosophy is that happy girls make happy customers."

Saitou held up his hand to stop her. He had heard many a tale of this Papa G, owner of The Empress and easily the wealthiest man in the industry as far as their country was concerned.

"What do you mean by happy girls make happy customers?"

"Well," she said, doodling idly on the placemat, "say I'm making the rounds, giving private dances and this Johnny whose fantasy I may or may not be fulfilling starts getting a little frisky. Regardless of what he's paid for, I can stop, I can leave, or I can have him thrown out. Papa G will have lost one client, but if I had to sit there and take it, I'd be pissed and my performance for the rest of the night would be severely lacking. That could lose him several customers. It's pretty basic, when you get down to it. We get what we want, and he gets what he wants."

Saitou nodded slowly and Tokio took another breath.

"I told you that I started dancing to pay my tuition. That was true. It sucked and I hardly ever slept, but I finished school last year. I have my degree and no student loans or debts to any university."

"Then why do you continue to do it?"

Greed was a factor that often played into the career of a woman in Tokio's standing. Greed and security. He was right. As an entertainer at The Empress, she made quite a bit of money and with only a bachelor's degree in interior design and no real experience, the pay cut she would be taking could very well be unbearable.

Tokio looked at him dead on.

"The dream."

To this, he raised a brow. "The dream?"

She nodded. "Yeah. The dream. As soon as I started working for Papa G, the money that I was taking home each night was unreal. At first I was afraid to even walk home, having so much cash on me. Men really like me because I look so innocent they say. It's pretty gross when you get down to the reality of it, but I have to thank God for all the dirty old men out there. There's a lot of them, and the ones that have deep pockets are more than willing to empty them for a glance at something they used to have.

"Once my tuition was paid off, I started a savings account. One thing that I really pride myself in above all else is that I never let the lifestyle consume me. No matter how stressed I was or how many deadlines I knew I wasn't going to meet, I never once thought, oh I can just quit school and strip until I get old. I know a lot of girls who did that and they regret it, but they're just stuck in this mentality that they have to stay.

"Well I didn't really care for all that money just sitting there, so I bought a house. Then I got my license and bought a car. I always wanted my own car. So what I'm telling you, inspector, is that my dream, the dream, is to be completely debt free. My house is the only thing that I have any debt left on. My car is paid, I have no credit cards left, and like I said, my tuition is done.

"I have six months left on my mortgage. I have a savings account that I could live on quite comfortably in the event I ever lost my job, and three smaller savings accounts for when I have kids, for their educations. I made myself a promise that once I had everything I needed in life, savings and no debt, I'd quit dancing, but I would work as hard as humanly possible to get there in the shortest amount of time possible."

When she stopped to breathe, Saitou could do nothing but stare. Was she serious? Surely she did, in fact make enough money for this sort of thing, but lifestyle choices simply did not allow for her to actually have the clarity to go through with it.

But she didn't appear to be lying.

"And your savings-"

"I could live for fifty years on my savings alone," she said firmly. "And my children will have the funds to attend Yale should they so choose."

She wasn't lying. He could see it in her eyes. She was absolutely serious and had gone to an extreme that most normal people would never even think to consider in order to fulfill her dreams.

Smiling, Tokio picked up her coffee. "The good thing about being a dancer is the anonymity. All the makeup, the wig, the different personality, I get to leave it all behind at four-thirty when I leave. Once I quit, I can leave it behind forever."

"Not forever," Saitou reminded her, "It will be on your resume, your job history."

Tokio shrugged. "Yeah. It might take me a while to get a design job, but worst case scenario I start my own studio. That's why I'm doing this," she motioned to the bag at her side, "I'm freelancing on my days off so I can build up my portfolio."

For several minutes, Saitou said nothing, sitting there with his coffee while she stifled yawn after yawn. Harada had clapped him on the back some time ago, signaling that he was off to the station, and Masa was busy scurrying around keeping up with the breakfast rush.

"You have determination," he said finally.

"You're impressed," she said with a smile.

He scoffed. "Hardly. Anyone can make money selling their bodies. You happen to do so in a high class establishment."

"Hold it!" she cried, sticking her palm in his face. "The Empress may be a place where sex is encouraged but like I've said before: We run the show. I have never had sex for money. I'm not desperate, inspector."

He blinked. "You've never had sex for money."

"No," she said, offended, "Ophelia may be a vivacious minx, but when all is said and done, she is still me, Takagi Tokio, and no matter what is written on my resume, I'm no prostitute."

"I can't imagine your dear parents approve of this career choice, Takagi-san," he said, pulling out a cigarette from his breast pocket.

"They don't know," she said offhandedly, "I've been pretty vague with them about what I do here. I don't like the idea of lying to them, but they've been too good to me to put shame on them. Masa's parents won't tell them either. They don't really like what I'm doing, but they're good people and they know the difference between Tokio and Ophelia."

"Besides," she added, chuckling, "they know that once Sano and Masa finally get married, I'll probably be paying for most of it. That's pretty hard to dislike."

"Indeed," he mused.

Tokio sat back again, flashing him a friendly grin. "So now that you know the truth you can stop looking at me like I'm a stain on humanity."

He stood abruptly then and she bit back a laugh. "It was just a suggestion," she said gently. "I'd hate to ruin your upstanding reputation as a protector of our city."

She was teasing him, but this was different than the last time they had met. There was no sensual undertone, no hint that she was trying to pursue what lay in his pants.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning to discuss your relationship with Harada," he said smoothly, "I'll be expecting pancakes."

Tokio smiled smugly. "Sorry. I'm not working tonight."

Placing the cigarette between his lips, he cast her a dominating glance.

"I know."

xxxx

Author's Note: I did all the math for Tokio's salary. It's legit. Tempting, too. Roughly 780k/year (USD, that is) Makes me wish I could dance. Or didn't have the body of a 12 year old boy.

'Round here though we have The Foxy Lady. Not really all that classy. They do have a Legs n' Eggs breakfast special. I think that's pretty hilarious