Author's Note: I know you are all accustomed to my sporadic updates, and I thank everyone who still comes back when there's a new chapter up somewhere. :D

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

From Ashes

Two

After being separated from her sister, Tokio had been brought to the chambers that were said to be hers. Her ladyship's chambers, the earl had said. Did that mean then that his wife was out of town? She didn't suspect the lady would be very happy to know her husband was housing a stranger in her bedroom, or worse yet, outfitting said stranger with her ladyship's gowns.

At least that's who Tokio assumed the gown she was dressed in belonged to. It certainly wasn't hers, and it didn't fit quite as well as it should have. It was too big, at least two sizes around her waist and torso, despite her stays, and several inches too long. The maids were crafty, however, and set the thing right with pins and ribbons.

"I reckon his lordship'll be fittin' you with proper gowns, miss," one of them had said, "so you needn't worry."

"I'm only worried about my sister," Tokio admitted, "we've never been apart."

"Come come," said another, older woman clicking her tongue, "most girls would kill for a night with Lord Okita, let alone taking up residence in his home."

"Is he so handsome?" she wondered, smiling now at Shousha's good fortune.

"Ah now," the old maid said with a cheeky smile, "it's his brother that's the real catch. Katsura. Tall, strong, and handsome. Okita is..."

Tokio leaned forward, "he's...?"

"Adorable."

As the older woman yanked on the ropes of her stays, Tokio inhaled sharply and stood straight. "Is this normal then?" she asked, "the trade of young women between noblemen?"

"Bite your tongue!" she was scolded, "these are men of honour."

"Of course," she sighed, stepping down from the dressing platform and sitting before a vanity, watching as her hair was brushed, combed, curled, and pinned. For all the questions she had, she kept silent through it all. She remembered quite well the servants at her school. Though they knew everything, the information they were willing to pass on was limited, and often skewed for their own entertainment. She wouldn't be taking chances here. She'd speak to the earl directly.

Dinner came quickly, even after having spent hours by herself in her chambers, exploring every inch of the rooms that were certainly not meant for her. The afternoon tea that had been served was heavenly, and though it was most definitely improper, she had polished off the entire tray of cookies by herself.

Now the sun was setting and she had been outfitted in yet another gown, special ear drops, a diamond necklace, and some sort of face powder that had sent her into a fit of coughing. Standing before the great dining room, she felt very much like royalty, but the thought of entertaining another woman's husband lay heavy in her stomach and she wished she were wearing something, anything that belonged solely to her.

She took a breath, lifted her skirt barely an inch, and stepped into the hall. The earl, seated at the head of the table, looked up at her and she was certain she saw him blink. Was he impressed with her appearance? He stood, and she swallowed, doing her best to glide across the marble floor to the place at his right.

She curtseyed, he bowed.

"My lord," she greeted, giving him a pretty smile as she sat and reached for her water glass, suddenly parched.

Saitou returned to his seat, nodding in her direction. "I trust your accommodations are adequate."

"Of course," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Suddenly, alone in his presence (save the numerous maids and footmen scattered across the perimeter of the room), she was unable to feign her courage. He was a large man, tall and broad. He towered over her while they were seated, and his height when standing would not be something she would easily forget.

His face was incredibly sharp, and angular, with narrow golden eyes that bordered on threatening even when at rest. His hair, jet black, was combed back out of his face, save four or so defiant strands that hung over his forehead. He didn't appear bothered by them, but Tokio thought they added to his menacing appearance. For as menacing, and dare she think it, wolf-like in appearance as he was, she found herself taken by his structure and while she ate, she took special care to flick her eyes in his direction, to sneak peeks at him without offending.

Halfway through their silent dinner he lit a cigarette and Tokio did everything in her power not to lift her hand to her nose at the offensive smell.

Fidgeting in her seat, she inhaled. She needed answers.

"My sister is very pretty," she blurted out.

Saitou slid his eyes over to his guest. "I beg your pardon?"

Tokio breathed out. "When we arrived, you called me pretty, but referred to her as 'the other'. She's pretty too."

Flicking some ash into a silver tray to his left, the earl lifted the side of his mouth in an appreciative smile. He was wondering when it was she'd speak to him.

"I suppose so," he agreed, "but I have no use for her."

"And what, may I ask, is your use for me?"

He stared at her unblinking. "I thought that much might be clear."

And before she could think better of it, Tokio opened her mouth.

"I appreciate the hospitality, my lord, but I do have my virtue and no amount of silks and jewels can take that away from me. I won't. . .I simply will not be made a mistress."

Saitou raised his brow. "A mistress?" Though she appeared confident, the slight waver in her voice suggested she didn't know exactly what a mistress did.

Tokio lifted her chin, the tirade giving her back her fire. "I understand your class," she hissed, "and its abilities to turn a blind eye, but I absolutely will not contribute to acts of infidelity." She sat back, wiggling her shoulders a bit before she crossed her arms in a challenge, "no matter how estranged a couple may be."

It was then that Saitou lost sight of the entertainment in her misinformation. With frightening force, he snuffed out the cigarette.

"My wife and I are not estranged," he growled.

This time it was Tokio who raised a brow. "All the more reason for me not to—"

"My wife is dead."

With his cold, and icy calm words, her heart doubled its pace as the blood rushed from her face. A male servant, Saitou's valet, came up behind the earl, laying a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed, sitting back, not even having realized he had moved forward.

"I—I'm sorry," Tokio whimpered, wishing Hell and damnation upon her need to prove she was in control.

Saitou sighed and lit another cigarette. "No," he muttered, "I should have been clear." He had been quite clear at the school, but then again, neither sister had been present when he had announced his intentions.

Licking her lips, Tokio sat back, feeling the eyes of all the servants on her. No doubt they would gossip about this for weeks to come.

"I am a widower," he told her again, "and I have no heir. In need of one, I have brought you here."

Her head snapped up and she looked at him curiously. There was no hint of animosity anywhere in his features, or tone, but his words seemed to trip over themselves, as if this were a speech he had practiced for months and couldn't seem to perfect. He wasn't sure of himself here, and she was quite certain that he was always sure of himself otherwise.

"You wish to marry me?" she wondered aloud.

"We shall wed," he confirmed, turning his attention to his stew, "tomorrow morning. It is all arranged."

Unexpected, unwelcome tears gathered in Tokio's eyes and she gasped for breath. "No," she breathed, shaking her head and shoving her napkin from her lap. She stood on shaky legs. "I can't. I won't."

"I don't see another alternative for you," he reminded her, "this is the only home you have now. I can't imagine a girl like yourself would fare well on the streets, no matter how stubborn your ignorant little mind is."

He had her there.

"But. . .my sister."

Through with his meal, the earl tossed his napkin onto the table and sat back, looking at her directly. He tried to soften his voice, but to no avail.

"You will be permitted to see her."

"I'll be permitted," she echoed.

Grunting to himself, Saitou did his best to hide his internal frustration. It had been so long since he'd conversed with a lady, he'd nearly forgotten how. Despite his lofty position on society, people skills were a skill that he neither possessed, nor made any progress with mastering.

"She does not live far," he amended.

"Why so soon, then?" she pressed, "am I not entitled to a beautiful church wedding and banquet? Certainly that takes more than one night to prepare."

Though his proposal of marriage was not going the way he had planned, Saitou made no motion of his desperation to keep himself above water. He hadn't considered an attic rat to have dreams about something so lofty as a wedding with banquet. He himself hadn't needed to plan out such a feast. He'd been engaged in the cradle and for nineteen years, his future mother-in-law had taken the wedding bull by the horns and planned to her heart's content.

Tokio's eyes were baring into him and he cleared his throat. "I shall give you most anything you desire," he said simply, "but on matters of time, I will not bend."

Her shoulders dropped, and her face fell. "But why?"

Had anyone else questioned his decision, they would have been met by either his cutting words or the sharp sting of the back of his hand. At this girl's desperate plea, he could hear his wife's words echoing in his head from so long ago.

If I am to pass on first, she had told him one day, laughing, I do hope you will seek happiness in someone of your choosing.

He hadn't chosen her, but now was his time to choose, and by God he was going to seek out happiness with this one if it killed him.

For her.

So, taking a deep breath and doing his very best to keep his scathing comments at bay, he gave Tokio a soft smile (though by her reaction, he realized it looked far more like a sardonic smirk).

"I need a wife. Legally. Before anyone can. . ." he paused, thinking on the right word, "Interfere."

Tokio raised an eyebrow, reaching for her water again. "Someone plans to stop you from marrying?"

The steeling of his jaw told her not to question any further on the subject, so she raised her glass to him with a shrug.

"Then why not tonight?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She cleared her throat a bit, and smiled. "Why not marry tonight? I doubt anyone would have much a chance to stop you in what, one, two hours?"

He hadn't thought of that, and snapped his fingers for a servant.

"Wait!" she cried, reaching out to place her hand on his arm. It was the first time she'd ever touched a man before, and while the feel of the strong arm beneath her sent chills up her spine, she withdrew quickly, her eyes wide.

He stared, waiting for her to go on.

"Will you. . ." she lowered both her eyes and her voice, "will you hit me?" she asked, "when you are angry?"

Once again his jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed and his chest rose. "No proper gentleman ever lays an unwelcome hand upon a lady," he let out, his tone harsh and bitter, "to consider that I might brings me great insult."

Tokio muttered an apology that she didn't particularly feel and he turned from her.

"Send for Harada," he told the servant, "my solicitor, and the priest. I expect them all in the West drawing room in one hour."

He thought for a moment, and looked to his bride-to-be, watching as she tried to decipher exactly what was happening to her.

"And tell cook to bake a cake," he finished. He supposed if he would be getting married tonight, there ought to be cake.

With a bow, the servant disappeared and Tokio stood, curtseying low. "I suppose I should ready myself, my lord," she said, happy that he stood and bowed in return. He mustn't have been terribly offended after all.

Turning from him and leaving the room, her stomach was an ocean of anxiety, but through that, she grinned. She was about to do everything Kanako had insisted she wouldn't.

In one hour, she would be a countess.

With ten minutes to spare, she found her way into the room where she would be made a wife. It was a rather silly notion, she thought, to be married in a receiving room, but it was better than being married in a study, a kitchen, or worse yet, a water closet.

No one was there yet, save a maid, dusting off some bookshelves. She curtseyed to Tokio, then went about her work. Tokio herself looked around at the deep woods and jewel tones of the furniture, then down at her own gown, a pale blue evening dress. It was the closest thing to white her maids could find without turning to the former countess's own wedding gown. Though they had offered the garment to her, Tokio had declined, noticing a certain type of sensitivity surrounding her death, affecting the earl in particular. She didn't see any reason to upset her new husband any further than she already had.

Through her musings, Tokio heard small, hurried footsteps and an excited chattering female voice. Her ears perked. Was Shousha here? The booming male voice that accompanied it, however, told her that she wasn't.

"Slow down, Masa!" the man practically pleaded, "you are in no condition to be running through the halls!"

"Oh but I am so excited!" she cried out, "the poor thing deserves some happiness after all he's been through."

The doors slammed open and Tokio spun on her heels, partially in surprise, and partially out of curiosity as to just who was coming to call at ten o'clock at night.

She saw the man first. He was tall, rivaling her betrothed, but where the earl held himself proudly, with a rigid sort of propriety, this man had a lazy smile, a devilish look, and a rather carefree stance. The woman beside him, however, was nearly about to explode.

This, Tokio soon realized, may have been both literally and figuratively. While her hands were balled up into tiny fists of excitement, shaking beside her slightly puffy cheeks, her radiant grin lit up her black, doll-like eyes, and though her sheer joy at the idea of this makeshift wedding seemed to be sending her over the edge of bliss, the enormous swell of silk over her belly also suggested, no, promised, she was nearing her time to give birth.

Flicking her eyes back up to the man, Tokio concluded this man was the Harada that had been sent for, as he didn't look like the solicitor type, and as far as she knew, priests were not allowed to be married.

"Hello," she greeted, bobbing a curtsey at them both.

"You are lovely!" Masa squealed, dodging her husband's calming hands and rushing forth to place her own on Tokio's shoulders, "I am so happy for you," she breathed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Harada rolled his eyes, prying her from the girl before her who was keeping together remarkably well for someone about to be married with less than twelve hours notice.

"Sorry," he apologized, "she's not usually so extreme." He shrugged then, with a careless grin added, "the baby, you know."

"Oh," Tokio said, not knowing at all. She'd never been pregnant before, and had never known anyone to be.

"Lord Harada Sanosuke," he greeted, taking her hand and brushing a polite kiss across her knuckles. His wife giggled behind him. "Baron of Matsuyama."

Tokio curtseyed again because she didn't know what else to do. For all of her education, no one had expected her to be in the presence of nobility and had never instructed her in the proper ways of conversing with them.

"And this creature," Harada continued, jerking his thumb back, "is my wife, Masa."

Though he attempted disdain in his voice, Tokio could see the tenderness in his eyes, and the care in his hands when Masa nearly toppled over in her curtsey and he set her upright. She wondered if the earl would ever care for her in such a way.

It was a silly notion, and when the man himself walked in, followed by an even surlier looking gentleman and a squirrely priest, she tucked it away immediately. This was a marriage of convenience. Romance was for novels.

He greeted Harada in a brotherly sort of manner, an embrace, even if his side of it was stiff and practiced. He bowed to Masa and kissed her hand. Then, he did something that surprised Tokio. He grazed her belly with his knuckles, and smiled at her. It was small, and it was slight, but it was warm. He was close to these people.

Then he turned to her. "Everything is arranged," he said simply, gesturing to the desk.

She took a few steps forward, noticing the legal documents sprawled out for them to sign. The solicitor cleared his throat.

"Are we ready to begin?"

The earl nodded, but Tokio snapped up even straighter than her stays already had her. "One moment!" she cried, slapping her hand down on the documents and turning to the narrow eyed man to her left.

"Might I ask you a question?" she queried.

He raised a brow. "I suppose, if it can not wait fifteen minutes."

She sighed. "What is your name?"

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Tokio let out a small laugh. "I should have asked earlier, but I forgot. I just thought, if I am to be changing my name tonight, I might like to know what I will be changing it to."

Masa stifled a giggle behind a cough. Harada was less discreet, chuckling lowly behind them. He had never known his friend to leave out any detail of his well thought up and overly particular types of plans. To think that he intended to wed without even introducing himself to the bride was something Harada would not soon be forgetting.

"Saitou," the earl said, hiding his embarrassment with expertise, "Saitou Hajime."

Tokio flashed him a pretty smile. "Thank you. We may continue now."

Without any emotion, the solicitor reviewed the marriage contract and all of the documents that went along with it, telling them to sign here, here, and here, before instructing the baron and his wife to do the same, as witnesses. When he stamped down his large seal across them, he muttered a small congratulations to Satiou, then whisked the documents away, making room for the priest.

The ceremony was brief, nearly incredibly so, with a few prayers over the couple, and the exchanging of vows. Tokio found particular amusement in the to love and to cherish bit, when she wasn't even certain they'd get along. Still, she supposed even if this wasn't a particular romantic wedding, she could come to love him in some way, couldn't she? Surely fondness could grow with familiarity.

When it came time for Saitou to kiss his bride, he looked down at her, gauging her resolve. She'd been calm throughout the entire night, but he was certain she had never kissed anyone before. When she looked up at him, she offered him a hopeful smile and he found himself rooted.

She was the prettier of the two girls he had taken home with him, that much would never be argued, but there was also something fierce about her that he couldn't place. There was no weeping, no covering up of her trembling hands. Once she had made up her mind to accept him, she had shown nothing but determination to do exactly as she said she would.

But perhaps his appreciation of her was much simpler than that. Perhaps the reason his breath was caught in his throat at the thick sweep of her lashes, and her soft un-kissed lips was very basic. The fact was, he knew she had been the right choice for him for one reason.

When he looked at her, she never flinched.

Saitou knew he wasn't seductive like Harada, or the charming and cheeky rogue Okita had once been. He most definitely knew he wasn't the perfectly handsome prince that Katsura played. No, when ladies swooned in his presence, it was out of fear, not love.

He couldn't help it. He had been born with a scary face and even when he tried to display softness, he came across as sardonic or unimpressed. Harada had once gone so far as to say when the earl was having fun, he looked like a homicidal maniac.

But this girl before him was not afraid of him, nor was she bothered by his unconventional features. If she was, she hid it well. Instead, there was excitement in her eyes, a curious wonder, and the distinctly hopeful expression of a young woman awaiting her first kiss. He had seen this look only once before, and just as this time, it had been kept away for him, and him alone.

"My lord?"

The priest's voice broke Saitou's reverie and he cleared his throat. "Of course," he murmured, taking his new wife's chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifting her face to his with this gentle command. He watched her cheeks flush, and took pride in it. It had been nearly two years since he'd had a woman in his hands, and it had been even longer than that since any of them had blushed.

When he pressed his lips to hers, despite the kiss' chaste nature, he felt her go rigid beneath him and he nearly laughed. It would seem the strong willed beauty had a very simple weakness.

He released her and turned away, accepting another embrace from Harada, who clapped him on the back at least five times, and Masa who threw her arms around his neck, laying a dozen kisses on his cheek, leaving Tokio trembling in her borrowed slippers. It was no wonder the heroine of that naughty novel thought of nothing but kissing her hero day in and day out. Simply having that man's calloused fingers on her skin had sent her senses reeling.

Harada made his way over to her, and though she had expected him to bow and offer his polite congratulations, he pulled her into his arms, pressing her against his chest. Tokio had never been hugged in such a manner before and she wasn't entirely sure how she should react to such a gesture.

"Be good to him," he begged in her ear, "he needs you."

He removed himself, holding her at an arms length from him, then bent to plop a kiss on her cheek.

"My lady," he said, bowing, "my congratulations."

Tokio blinked, and breathed. Nobility was nothing like what she had imagined.

Saitou cleared his throat and offered his arm to her. She took it, and allowed him to lead her, and their two whole guests, out of the drawing room.

"I do hope you enjoy the cake," he said mildly, holding her fingertips and lowering her onto a settee as they re-located to a much brighter, more feminine salon.

"To be honest my lord," she confessed, "I haven't had cake in such a long time, I'd enjoy it if it were a week old."

A silver tea service appeared before them then, and though at any other time, Tokio, being the lady of the house, would serve, Masa wasted no time in preparing the beverage for everyone. This was a special night, and she was happy to be a part of it.

Harada accepted the floral porcelain cup with a wink, and then smiled at the new countess. "What's the matter?" he asked, "they don't serve dessert at boarding schools?"

"Oh they do," Tokio corrected, smoothing out her skirts as another servant laid the pastry before them all, already perfectly sliced, "it's just that we—my sister and I, that is—lost our dessert privileges when we were twelve."

"How does one lose dessert privileges indefinitely?" Saitou mused aloud. It wasn't that he was overly fond of sweets, but it seemed a trivial sort of punishment. Then again, he supposed twelve year old girls were quite trivial in and of themselves.

"Oh," she said laughing slightly, "we replaced all of Miss Kanako's perfume with ink."

Masa's silver fork stopped just before her parted lips, and Saitou nearly choked on his tea. Harada, however, let out a huge guffaw of laughter and slapped his thigh.

"That's diabolical!" he chortled, "all of her perfume?"

"Every bottle," Tokio confirmed triumphantly.

"Why?"

Excited that someone beside her sister was interested in mischief making, she set down her plate eagerly, crossing her ankles and making a shimmying motion with her shoulders. From his seat next to her on the settee, Saitou watched with feigned disinterest.

"There was the girl," she started, "a little thing, only about seven years old. She had the most beautiful handwriting. Her script was. . .it was art."

Masa set down her empty plate, staring straight ahead and pretending she didn't notice her husband slide another slice of cake upon her dish. She blinked a few times at the countess, the absently picked up the plate again and began to eat.

"Seven years old," she marveled, "I could barely spell my surname then."

"I know," Tokio gasped, "but you see, this little girl could only do this with her left hand. She'd smudge her letters something awful, and have to start all over again."

Saitou grunted in subconscious acknowledgement. He knew the pains of writing with his left hand. Many of his own lessons had been re-written and re-written again as a boy.

"And instead of praising her for having such beautiful script at such a young age, Kanako punished the poor dear for wasting ink!"

Harada frowned. "Are you serious?"

Tokio shrugged and giggled, the memory bubbling up in her throat. "She was so upset that a little girl wasted a little bit of ink, so Shou and I wasted a whole lot of it!"

"And you found this a reasonable solution to the girl's problem?" The earl's cutting baritone caused Tokio to stop, giving him a sour look.

"I was twelve," she hissed in her own defense.

"Yes," he drawled, resting his arms on the gilded back of the love seat and resting against the decorative pillow, his relaxation a reminder of his new authority over her, "and I am sure you have matured. . .so much since then."

Despite his comfortable position, Tokio sat rigid and upright. "Of course I have," she countered, "I've married you, haven't I?"

It was quick and sharp, and everything Saitou had hoped she'd come back with. She would not be boring.

"Well," said Masa, gathering the crumbs of her third piece of cake into a small pile at the center of her dish, "perhaps the countess and I should make our way upstairs. It is getting late."

Tokio tilted her head in question, but the baroness was already on her feet (with the assistance of her husband of course) and tugging at Tokio's arm with a cheeky sort of smile on her face.

"Just give us twenty minutes, Hajime!" she called over her shoulder, surprising Tokio at her familiar addressing of the earl.

"You'll have to excuse me," she told the countess as they ascended the stairs. She had one hand on the rail, and the other on Tokio's elbow, "I'm a bit slow going up these steps."

"I don't mind," she replied, "but what are you coming upstairs for?"

"Bless you," Masa chuckled, "you don't know?"

Tokio shook her head and when they reached the landing, the baroness' eyes lit up. "You haven't a mother dear. Someone has got to prepare you for your husband."

"Prepare me."

Masa nodded.

"I've already been prepared," Tokio argued, "Do you not recall witnessing the marriage that just took place?"

"Well of course there was that," Masa huffed as they entered her ladyship's chambers, closing the door behind them, "but I mean for now. For tonight. Your first. . .your first intimate night together."

The blank stare that she was met with caused her to frown. "Sanosuke had told me you were caught with a naughty novel today. How is it you don't know what I'm talking about?"

"We hadn't gotten that far, I imagine," Tokio confessed.

"Oh," she sighed, sitting on the bed and patting the spot beside her, "then I really must explain it all to then, mustn't I?"

With hesitation, Tokio stepped forward, wondering just what it was this small, pregnant baroness was about to divulge. She sat, and for ten minutes, stared in shock as the details of martial intimacy were laid out before her.

When Masa was done explaining, the maids came in to change her into her nightdress and comb out her hair. They lit candles all about the room and even sprinkled the bed with rose water.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

Tokio grasped for the answer the baroness was waiting patiently for, but as she paced the room in her now only stockinged feet, couldn't come up with anything clever to say.

"I don't think I can do this," she settled on.

"Of course you can!"

"He's so. . . he so. . ." Tokio threw her hands up in the air and let out a small wail, "he's so much bigger than I am! He may crush me!"

"Lady Saitou," Masa sighed, "of all the centuries on this Earth, no woman had died from being crushed by her husband on her wedding night."

"Besides," she said, running an absent hand over her belly, "you've already kissed him. Don't you want to do it again?"

"Of course," Tokio said, biting down on her lip. She did want to. She wanted to very, very badly.

"It is settled then." Masa grasped the bedpost and hauled herself into a standing position. Taking the countess' hands in her own, she smiled, then tucked Tokio's curls behind one of her ears. "I know Hajime. He will be kind to you."

Tokio allowed herself a wobbly smile. "I hope so."

"And believe me," Masa laughed, gathering up her skirts and placing one of her hands on the brass handle of the door, "there may very soon come a time when you desire this yourself."

With another grin, the baroness disappeared into the hall, and Tokio was left standing in the middle of her bedchamber, completely alone.

Out in the hallway, Masa was met with both the earl and her husband (who refused to let her descend stairs alone), both of whom she smiled at.

"She's scared," she told Saitou, taking Harada's arm as they prepared to leave, "but I trust you'll ease her worries."

"Of course," he replied, bowing to his friends.

"We shall call upon you in the week then," she decided, giving an affectionate wave before they turned and found their own way out to their carriage.

It didn't take Saitou very long to prepare himself for bed. Off with his dress clothes, on with the nightshirt. He didn't make a habit of sleeping in one, but he supposed for the girl in the next room over, he could be decent.

When he opened the door that separated their chambers, he heard her gasp. He could nearly smell her fear and he sighed inwardly. It was then that he realized he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Though his previous wife had, of course, been a virgin when they were wed, they had known each other their entire lives. There had been a closeness between them since birth and for the near two decades before they married, no force could separate them.

She had been nervous, but only slightly. He remembered having kissed her before their wedding. He remembered having made himself familiar with her body through her layers of clothing, in secret in the library, or the orangeries, or one time, behind a thick oak tree at a picnic. Then, they had been young, and starving for each other, so the union of their bodies hadn't been dreaded, but needed.

Tokio was different. She was strong and she was rational, but she was so innocent it nearly pained him. But for all the annoyance it was certain to bring him, excitement was nipping at his heels.

She stood before him, burying her nerves with steel resolve. In nothing but a nightdress and stockings, she was vulnerable, and she was terrified, but she would not back down. She could survive the night, and tomorrow would be a new day, and she would still be a countess.

Clearing his throat, Saitou nodded towards the bed. "Lie down."

Tokio did as she was told, and when he was hovering over her on all fours, her tiny body lost in the great cavern made by his lean and masculine form, she felt herself begin to tremble. She couldn't help it. Bravery didn't matter anymore. Not here.

When he pushed her nightdress up over her hips, she whimpered and he kissed her neck. It was a gentle kiss, one of reassurance.

"I shall be brief," he murmured. And he fully intended to be. Tonight was not about pleasure, no matter how badly his deprived body was screaming for it. This was business. All that needed to happen tonight was consummate the marriage, to bind it. Tokio had been an innocent this morning, and now, as he broke through her maidenhood with an apologetic wince as he pressed his cheek against hers, she was not.

It could not be argued.

As promised, he made quick work of it all, and when he removed himself from her, feeling slightly satisfied from releasing two years of pent up tension, the colour was finally returning to her features. He had shocked her, and it was almost laughable. Perhaps if he had arrived at the school just an hour later, she would have read a bit more of that novel and would have understood.

He lit a cigarette, and, standing beside her bed, watched as she propped herself up on her elbow.

"I apologize," he told her, "It will not always be so unpleasant."

She was glad for that, as she had most definitely not enjoyed what had just transpired. As Masa had said, he was kind to her, but he hadn't been particularly warm about it either. He had kissed her, however, even if it had only been her neck, and a few times, the side of her face.

"Thank you," she said. "for being brief, that is."

He hadn't done it for her, but if thinking he had made her feel better, he wasn't opposed to letting her do so.

"I intend to give you a few days to adjust to your new life," he said, breathing out a steady stream of smoke, "and to read some risqué material, if it so suits you."

He was serious, but Tokio let out a small giggle. "You'd allow that?"

"I told you I would give you most anything you desire," he replied factually, his tone suggesting irritation that he might renege his initial proposition.

She smiled. He was a most interesting man.

He snuffed out his smoke on the doorframe, something he knew his servants would lament over when they saw it.

"One you have become familiar with your new status, I shall visit you in this manner as often as I like, at any hour I desire. When you become pregnant, I will let you be."

Tokio stared ahead, devouring all of his instructions. She didn't realize marriage came with a to-do list.

"After you have born me a son, a healthy boy, it will be your decision as to whether or not this door opens for me." He turned to her. "Are we clear?"

Ah, that was right. He needed an heir, and said child needed to be born of a wife, not a mistress. Tokio couldn't help but feel just a bit dejected. She knew that most marriages of this day were not made out of love, but certainly he saw her as more than just a vessel for his legacy.

She observed him for a moment, standing with his lips turned down into the frown she had noticed him displaying more often than not, and a causal disinterest in his eyes.

Perhaps not.

"Might I ask you something, my lord?"

He nodded.

"When Lady Harada was explaining to me the events of tonight, she told me I might. . .that I might come to desire this," she swirled her finger in the air, "this act, on my own. That perhaps I would seek you out. Is that true?"

This caused a small spark of amusement to flicker in Saitou's eyes. Masa. What a minx.

"It has been known to happen," he replied, "particularly when fondness grows between two people."

"Oh that's good," Tokio said, flopping onto her back and wiggling into her pillows with a grin, "I shouldn't like to dread this for the rest of my days."

"And you predict you will grow affection for me?" Saitou wondered, earnestly hoping she would. He'd done fantastic job botching their first day together, he'd be genuinely surprised if she thought him any less than a boor.

"Well," she sighed, "you are the most handsome man I have ever met. That's a start, I think."

And genuinely surprised he was. No one had ever said such a thing before.

"The most handsome man?" he queried. "My lady, are you in need of spectacles?"

"I mean it!" she protested flipping onto her side and furrowing her brows at him. "I've wanted to say it all night, but thought it improper to do so before we were married."

"And Harada?" he pressed, crossing his arms, "do you not find him attractive?"

Tokio blinked. Was this man truly incapable of receiving a compliment?

"He is handsome, I suppose," she agreed, "but his hair is strange. Like a—" she paused, gesturing up towards her forehead, "—like a chicken."

"A rooster," he corrected, "yes, it is a common thought."

There was silence for a moment, a silence that left him uncomfortable, so he cleared his throat. "Until tomorrow then."

She smiled. "Yes, until tomorrow."

Returning to his own chambers, he shut the door, and turned the key. It was done. He was married again.

It was an oddly peaceful feeling, having a strange woman in the house, and he was more than willing to admit to himself that he liked her. He had known he would like her since the first time she opened her mouth.

This is good, he thought, shedding himself of his nightclothes and sitting on the edge of his bed. He was moving on, securing his family, as a man of breeding ought to.

Tomorrow would be a good day. He would have a peaceful breakfast with his new countess and give her a tour of the estate. She would most likely want to spend lunch with her sister, and he would permit this, tending to his own responsibilities. The lunch would probably extend all the way into afternoon tea, so while the girls did whatever it was they do in the drawing room, he would take his tea in the study, and work until dinner.

Dinner would go over much better than it had tonight. He'd write up a list of questions to ask her. He hoped she'd answer them. After dinner, he would sit down to a game of chess with himself while she possibly entertained herself with needlepoint. Then, they would part. He would let her be, as he had promised, and they would repeat the sequence again the next day, and the next, and the next.

Life would be normal again.

It had to be normal again.

xxxx

Author's Notes: I have never written Masa after she marries Harada, and until now, had never imagined how much his carefree personality would give her wings. She's going to be so much fun.

I really challenged myself with this fic, because I decided that Saitou would be the romantic this time around. I've always been able to write him in love with Tokio after they banter and bicker for a while, but never really took the plunge to make him the one to pursue her affections. Even though he isn't doing a very good job of it just yet, I hope I am. :3