In every breath, life or universe

by FallenAngelItachi

A collection of multiple takes on the relationship of the same two people: Saitou and Tokio. AUs galore. Each take will span a couple of chapters, maybe three. Credit to legalronin, she did it first. Just wanted to try my hand, too.

4. My famous(?) new neighbour, Final part

A/N: Hello and I love you all. How have you been? I know, don't tell. I had to write this to get it out of the way, I just had to finish it. So, final chapter, enjoy. By the way, I thought I ended it at a nice place, but if any of you want an epilogue, please say so.

Title: My famous(?) new neighbour.
Genre: Humour, Romance, Slice of Life
Alternative Universe: Neighbours, modernday

---

"I finished it."

It, referred to her knew book; she had received the first copy five days ago, to check the end product and if it was to her liking. For the first time, they had gotten it right from the get go: hard cover, 583 pages. Said cover depicted the black figure of a samurai, standing with his hand on his scabbard looking to the side, as if something had just come to an end. Pink sakura petals surrounded him as well as every part of the cover, front and back, while they were made into a relief. Even the title – The Romantic Samurai: the final duty – was a different texture, almost carved into the thick paper. The point where the samurai's figure ended, that signified the ground, was all black, while the rest was a greyish hue, all splashed by the pink of the petals.

Deeming it satisfactory, she gave them the ok to put it to mass production and then, what else, hand it over to her neighbour whom he'd promised an early release to.

Despite his workload and the fact it was a pretty big book, he still read it in record time; four days for all that? It meant more than a hundred pages per session, making each session longer than an hour. With his crazy schedule, that was too much! He undoubtedly missed sleep over this. And that was verified this night, when Saitou showed up at her doorstep, around four in the morning, with said book in his hands, looking both tired yet restless.

"You do know you didn't have to read it before the week was over, right?"

"Shut up, it sucked me in; and I just finished it."

She laughed weakly, head shaking at the same time. "I am very happy it did but think of your health." She stepped aside and he walked in. "But the fact you're here tells me you want to talk about it?"

"Yes." He didn't really have to respond, she could see it clearly in the purpose in his step or the finality with which he sat on her couch. "Otherwise something will slip at work and Hijikata is going to skewer me for spoiling him."

She was already making the preparations for tea and coffee – since he actually didn't like the taste of tea – and some snacks, as she snorted. "Don't tell him you read the book or he'll threaten you into giving it to him, too."

"True."

A moment passed, as she prepared everything. In a sign of respect and just to build up anticipation, she didn't ask anything until she reached him, beverages and food on the tray touching her table.

"So, what do you think?" She finally asked as she settled in a seat next to him. Folding her legs underneath her, she took the cup of hot steaming tea – in September no less, what's wrong with her – and looked at him suggestively. "Did it live up to the expectations?"

"Yeah, it did," he said as if she was crazy for even asking, taking the coffee mug in his hands "I was particularly happy about the way it ended."

She burst out laughing. "Oh my god, I knew it!" She kept laughing. "I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"Sakura is your favourite character, isn't she?" He looked taken aback; she only chuckled some more. "I knew it…"

He pursed his lips. "Is that bad?"

"No, not at all; she's not as popular as other characters, that's all. I mean, most like her, she's no one's favourite though; usually it's Rintarou, being the protagonist and all, or Kyoushirou or Kotetsu."

"Kyoushirou is a delightful bastard, indeed."

"Right? He's a very entertaining villain, people respond favourably to him! He's always in the top three; once he reached number one, too." A pause. "Honda makes it to top five frequently, too."

Saitou looked at her disturbed. "Why?" She shrugged. "He's disgusting."

"I know…I think they like his despicableness."

And just like that, the night passed with coffee and tea and good company. When Saitou grew too tired to hold up his mug, she gently took it out of his hands, leaving it on her table. She brought a blanket and a pillow from the guesthouse; she propped the second behind his head, in a comfortable angle while she covered him. He was wearing house clothes, so he'd need to wake up earlier than usual to have a shower and change. She decided to set the alarm clock for half past six—barely two hours of sleep and he'd still have to hassle, but anything less would have been unrealistic, even for him.

"Traitor," she jokingly accused Hiru, when she saw her cuddling up on the guest's feet.

Then she put her phone next to his mug, close to his hand, and decided to prepare a new batch of coffee, for him to make in the morning with the simple push of a button. She wrote him a little note that said just that, coupled with "breakfast in the fridge", and after checking that breakfast was indeed there – she had made it for herself four hours go, but he'd need it more than her – she too went to sleep, a faint smile on her lips.

Oh!

Springing out of bed, she ran to the living room, as silently as possible, finding her pen and paper again; she then proceeded to scribble the second note that said:

PS You can shower here, I'm a heavy sleeper. Just use the towels on the right (when you look at it from the sink). Take them with you, I'll wash them tomorrow.

Deeming her penmanship readable – she too was quite tired and could barely keep her eyes open – she dragged her feet back to her bed. She was out in seconds.

Next morning, she woke up around ten; early, all things considered. Yawning, she made her way to the living room, where she found things almost exactly as she left them, with one key difference: the blanket was nicely folded, pillow on top of it. There were two coffee mugs in the sink, she later found, and none on the coffee table. Her phone was lying there with a post-it note attached; she read.

Thanks for everything; I'll return your towels. Breakfast was not sweet enough though.

She chuckled, still unable to open both of her eyes. She had cooked it for herself after all, it made sense it would taste a little different…but to think he had a sweet tooth. How cute.

.

.

"You really look like shit man," Okita commented for the hundredth time that day.

It was uncalled for, it didn't follow any string of rational thought and they had no conversation about it. He just randomly decided to say it again. And it must have been the tenth day at a row he kept doing that.

Alright, he got it; he worked too much. but these things needed to be done and the cases wouldn't magically solve themselves. The Shinomori rookie had a knack for it, but he tended to get too sucked in. Not in a personal way, just…invested. He couldn't let go of things. He reminded him of himself, but even he wasn't to this extent. It would hurt more than help him, but it wasn't his place to say.

No matter, the kid shouldn't handle more than one case at a time for his own good and the rest were already up to their elbows in files. He was a fast closer, faster than the rest without sacrificing the quality of his work. It made sense to take on more responsibilities…but that left him tired. Really tired. He hadn't pulled an all-nighter for more than a year and he had forgotten what it felt like. Well, now he did! His back and neck, too.

That still didn't mean Okita had to comment on it every ten goddamn minutes. He hadn't cared at first, but now it was starting to aggravate him.

"Who would have thought you'd sleep in the office after such a long time?"

"And what's your point?" He couldn't hold his tongue back anymore, he just reacted. "You think I can't work as well as any other day?"

"No, but I do think you can't function as well as any other day…you dropped a spoon in the rice you were already eating with chopsticks; you must be on your eleventh coffee. You are fuelled purely by caffeine at this point…"

He snorted. "Did Tokio put you up to this?"

Okita's eyes became smaller, interest evident. "Say what?"

"She's been calling me on my cell whenever twelve hours pass and she hasn't seen or heard from me once. And she's been talking my ear off about getting proper sleep and giving up on the coffee." His chin jutted out to the container with said rice, half eaten. "She's been sending me food, too."

Okita just sat there looking at him…after the moment passed, he burst out laughing! Saitou was not amused by his joy, or the way he had to hold on to his stomach not to trip. "A, are you serious?"

"Yeah, she's driving me crazy." A pause. "I do appreciate the concern but it gets too much."

"Dude, are…are you dating?"

Saitou gave him a look. "What?"

The shorter man shook his head, disbelieving. "Are you two together?"

"I'd have told you, idiot."

"Then why?"

His question was spoken through laughter but the question was very much straightforward. And it was a fair question…one he too had posed himself, that day he woke up on her couch by her alarm clock, wrapped in a blanket, to find a cat and two notes that explained the situation to him, two weeks ago. She had actually taken the time to brew him a new batch of coffee – or at least prepare it for him – and even gave up on her breakfast.

Why was she being so considerate?

"It's her nature," he gave his friend the same answer he himself had come to. Actually, he had come to plenty of conclusions, but that one was the one with the less complications and implications and chose that one. "And we haven't had the most normal of acquaintances."

"True," Okita receded "but it still looks a little bit too involved. Have you…I don't know, talked with her about it?"

"I don't ask things I don't want to know the answers to; and I don't care how her mind works, so long it makes me food that tastes well."

Okita's laugh was honest but short-lived. "Well, seeing how you burn the candle both ways, it does make sense for her to notice and maybe worry a little, but, as a friend and as a man, I'm telling you: she cares too much. Not that that's a bad thing. But address that shit. You never know what road that'll lead to…!"

Saitou waved him off; Okita clicked his tongue.

"Address that shit."

Saitou rolled his eyes; Okita shook his head.

"Or don't. What do I know? I've just been friends with you for over a decade and have seen you both married and divorced; and I don't ever recall Yaso being that involved with your schedule, health or food." A pause; a smirk. "To think she sends you meals…"

"Two proper meals per day," he stated, mimicking her attitude "anything less than that and apparently, I'll keel over."

A side glance. "Well, she's not wrong…go home, Saitou. Rest. We can survive a day without you."

"I'll think about it."

"And address that shit."

"Say that one more time."

"You'll do what? Glare me to death? You can barely stand."

He still received a smack upside the head, though Saitou took his advice and went home that night after all.

It wasn't early, and it wasn't pleasant. He had to drive and he didn't even know how he made it back to his building, but he saw he had arrived and he was relieved. He wouldn't have, if it weren't for the rookie, actually; just as Nagakura and Harada were chiding him for the exact same reason, when they met in the lunch room, Shinomori walked in, black eyes landing on the taller man. When Saitou turned to greet him, the usually stoic new recruit looked surprised.

Then he did the most unexpected thing; he bowed. Deeply. "You work hard, Hajime-san," was all he'd said and simply turned around and walked out.

That was when he knew: he needed to rest. Even the overenthusiastic newbie thought it too much. Hopefully, Shinomori wouldn't follow his example because it was two thirty-five and he could barely see the elevator button.

.

Tokio was lying on the couch, looking at her phone; she always enjoyed reading fanfics of her works and whenever she just couldn't go to sleep, she'd be on the app, reading till tired. She had her own account, too, wrote a couple herself, and checked in to see how they were going. Ironically, her own non-canon ships were not popular at all, but at the very least, whoever read her story told her she wrote very much like the author.

The fact no one had figured it out yet amused her greatly.

And tonight, was a night like that, hence her lying on her stomach, on the couch, on her phone, trying to pass the time. She had just finished typing a passionate review on a fellow writer when she heard sounds at the door; she went perfectly still, neck craning, to hear and see the door better. There were more sounds then and she was sure she heard jiggling of keys. She didn't sit up, but she did put her lights out, trying to discern if this was an emergency or not.

She turned her screen off and waited.

Then she heard it; that tiny, familiar snap and her door opened effortlessly. In walked, none other than, Saitou Hajime in all of his overworked glory.

She stared.

She watched him take off his shoes unceremoniously, not even using his hands; he threw the keys on the kitchen counter and, yeap, there goes the jacket, too, right on the chair, falling off because he didn't care to put it right. With as less movement as possible, he untangled himself from his clothes; first it was the tie, falling on the floor, followed by his shirt. Socks went off next and just as he was about to take off his pants, too, the phone rang. It was in his pocket.

He took it out and without a shred of hesitation he chucked it at the wall!

She remained on the couch, unmoving, astonished, watching the scene unfold. The phone didn't stop ringing and she heard him swear, but she also lost him from her field of vision as he disappeared behind her bedroom door. Then, even that shut violently and that was that.

She just stayed there, for a very big moment, but after it passed…she burst out laughing. Saitou was not only dead on his feet and agitated, but also confused again. Shaking her head, she turned on the lights and retrieved his cell phone. Just as she did, she watched it ring again. Without a second's thought, she put it on silent mode and let it ring itself out.

She couldn't help it though and glanced at the screen; it read "Okita". She bit her lip. Should she answer it? Would it be too inappropriate? But her dilemma was solved on its own, when it stopped ringing. Well, that was—it started ringing again.

Damn it! Now it read Harada. Then it was Nagakura, then a name she hadn't heard before but was sure was from the precinct and then it was Okita all over again. And the cycle continued. Ten minutes later, she took a deep breath. When Okita called for the third time, she answered.

"Hello, Souji-kun; how are you? I know, it's weird for me to answer but consider this: Saitou's phone fell out of his pocket in the hallway. I rang his bell when I heard it ring, but he won't wake up. So, I took it in and I'll give it to him tomorrow morning."

"I see. well, have another go; Hijikata is trying to contact him."

Their superior; shit. "I will."

She followed the clothes strewn on the floor to get to her door. She walked inside carefully and saw him sprawled all over the bed, facedown, sleeping heavily. She considered. She could try to wake him…or lie some more. She decided to nudge him a little, but he didn't even feel it. Curious, she nudged him a little harder and other than a sound pretty close to complaining in his sleep, nothing else happened.

Interesting.

Immediately she called Okita back to deliver the news. He said thanks and hanged up. Three seconds later, the caller ID read Hijikata.

Fuck.

"Good morning, Hijikata-san."

"So, it is you who has his phone."

She chuckled. "It is. Pleasure to hear your voice, captain." If he winced, she missed it. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to talk to Saitou; put him on."

"That I can't do; he sleeps heavily."

"I know for a fact Saitou would never drop his phone so you either put him on right now or I start asking why he's with you at this time of night."

"Please, do!" She could see his intentions and she would not be bullied. "You think I lied? You are correct; he didn't lose it. He threw it at the wall the moment he heard it ring." She allowed him a moment to process it. "He waltzed right into my house, started undressing and swore at his phone at the same time; he fell asleep in a matter of seconds. I tried waking him up when Souji-kun told me you needed him, but he won't budge."

"Why is he at your house?"

"He got the doors mixed up; he's too tired."

"How does one-?"

"He took the elevator."

"That makes no sense."

"But that's how it is."

"And how did he walk into your house?"

She loved how he was interrogating her over the phone. "He has the key."

"Why would he have a key to your house?"

"I gave it to him."

"Why?"

"I went to America this summer, remember? I needed someone to take care of the house."

"Whatever. Put him on the phone."

"I can't; didn't you hear me? He won't wake; he was so tired he mixed up the doors."

"Put him on the phone."

She sighed. "So, you don't believe me?" He must have nodded his answer because he rushed to say "no" a little curtly. "Fine; give me a minute. Alright? See you in a bit."

She knew what she had to do: a documentary.

She left his phone on her nightstand, still on silent. Then, she retrieved hers and left. She turned on the camera, video mode, and started descending the stairs. Once she reached the fourth floor, she pressed record and started whispering:

Here, we can see the stairs that lead to the fifth floor; large, sturdy steps, going upwards in a rectangle; as we go further up, one can easily see the curve coming to an opening, leading us to our destination. On our immediate left, we can see a door: this is Hajime's door. it reads 501, his apartment number. Opposite it, is mine, 502. But, on our right, one can see the elevator, meaning, whoever lives in 501 would have to take a right to reach his destination. But the resident of 501 rarely takes the elevator.

Now, as we get closer and closer to door 502, we can undoubtedly see the number; ah yes, there it is. Doorbell says, Takagi Tokio. And here, if we go inside, we can distinctly see not Hajime's house. But, gasp, are those his clothes on the floor? I wonder where they'll lead us if we follow them.

A bedroom door; and there's a bed; and oh my god, can it be, that is Hajime Saitou sleeping in it. My bed. How odd. Here is his cell phone, on my night stand. And here, we can see the invader up close. I shall poke him…no reaction. How about a little harder? Hmm, a grunt; a little harder? No, nothing seems to stir him. And here we can finally see the narrator, next to our exhibit. Do you believe me now, Hijikata-san?

She pressed stop and let the video-file autosave as she lay next to Saitou for a moment. She watched him. He must have been too tired, if he didn't even feel her weight hitting the bed. How…irresponsible of him. No one should neglect their health like this. Resisting the desire to smack him, she stood and found the video file. She chose the "share" option and after looking through his contacts, she found Hijikata. She pressed send.

Five minutes later, it was her phone that rang. But she had foreseen it, already silent, and she went to the living room to answer an upbeat "yes?"

"I believe you."

"Perfect! Can I make my demands now?"

"Demands?"

"Yes. To start with, no one bothers him for at least ten hours."

"Reasonable."

"Then, you will give him two days off."

"That's unreasonable."

"Two days off, captain; one to sleep and another to properly rest. I mean, do you really need to go back and see the video again? He couldn't even tell he wasn't in his home…"

"One day."

"Two, pretty please? And I'll give you a great piece of news no one knows about."

"…one day."

A sigh. "Fine. I'll throw in a special copy, just for you." Silence. "The contest I put up? You'll win a spot by default."

"You have a deal."

"Perfect! Thank yo-"

"What's the news? You didn't tell me."

"Oh right…! I am already working on the new book. It will be set in modern day Japan."

"…really?"

"Yeap!"

And the line was dead. Pfff, such an eloquent fellow. But since she got her way, there was only one thing left to do: turn off his phone completely and then grab a blanket from the closet. After that, sweet dreams to her.

"Traitor," she snapped when she saw Hiru shamelessly jump on the bed, on Saitou's side, having abandoned the couch she was so comfortable in with her till ten seconds ago. What was it with this cat that loved this man so much? He barely gave her any scratches. Oh well. "Nighty night both of you," she wished, though no one could hear or understand her and went to the couch to sleep.

When Saitou came to, something felt different. His bed was too soft, the sheets smelt something flowery. His sheets had never done that before, how odd. When he slowly opened his eyes, he found it easy, to his surprise. There was nothing trying to keep them closed, no crushing sense of exhaustion, no heaviness on his limbs. What was even weirder, he woke up relaxed, nothing jolted him from sleep.

The creeping feeling of forgetting something washed over him, but what was it? When his eyes were fully open, he stumbled out of bed and opened the door to the living room.

"Good morning Hajime!"

And there it was, the first sign of things having gone wrong: he was not in his home! No wonder everything felt different, it wasn't his bedroom; those weren't his sheets or his mattress. He had-…

"I mixed the doors up again, didn't I?" He was so disappointed in himself. He sounded the part, too, causing her to giggle.

"You did; but that's okay. You fell asleep in seconds! More like a coma, I couldn't wake you."

"Goddamn it, did I make you sleep on the couch?"

"I wasn't sleeping when you invaded, don't worry; other that giving me a mini heart attack when you came in, you didn't bother me."

"Shit." Embarrassed as he was he looked away…and his eyes fell on the window. The sun was high and the day bright. Too bright. Oh no; he had missed his shift! "Shit." That one was said with despair. No wonder his eyes opened on their own, he overslept. Big time! He looked at his watch and it read ten thirty; the colour drained from his face immediately and—

"Hajime, breathe; don't panic just yet." Her voice brought his mind focus and he looked at her. "You don't have to go to work, Hijikata gave you the day off. He gave you both today and tomorrow actually, so chill."

"What?"

"Legit, you're in the clear."

"There's no way; Hijikata does not give people days off. Did you imagine it?"

She physically walked all the way to him, just to slap his arm. "No, you dimwit; I arranged it." The scepticism was palpable; she sighed. "Look, I don't want you thinking I nosed around your phone, but it kept ringing all the time. They called you twelve times! The thirteenth, I answered. It was Souji-kun actually…and I lied." She explained exactly what she'd said and why. "But Hijikata didn't buy it so he called himself; I answered. We talked…I told him the truth…and once he was convinced, he gave you two days off."

"Why not just the one?"

Her smile was coy; he stared. "…I might have bribed him into it.

He was not expecting to hear that.

"I promised him a special copy and I told him something about the book I'm thinking of writing next." She shrugged. "And he gave in."

"Wait, you requested the leave?" She nodded shyly. "Why?"

"Wh—you need to ask? You were exhausted! You didn't realise you came into the wrong apartment, you needed the time off." She shook her head, obviously indignant. "Don't neglect yourself. You're only human, after all. Killers won't catch themselves and you're good at it but if anything happens to you, then they'll definitely walk, right? Just," she heaved a dreadful sigh "don't be an idiot. Anyway, I'm cooking if you're hungry."

Her tone changed completely. It reverted back to her usual upbeat tone and the smile was there, wider than ever "you wanna go over to change and sleep some more? Just wait till I'm done and take your portion with you, I'll eat alone. They said they wouldn't bother you with work until midday, so don't you dare pick up a phone till then. Also, don't you dare go to work, I'll be watching you."

She winked and went back to her previous chore, cooking breakfast, with a skip in her step. Then Hiru rubbed herself between his calves, per usual, as the clock kept ticking away…leaving him dumbfounded in the middle of the hall. What the hell had happened? When did his life went off the rails and when did this tiny round person came to restore the balance? What was going on?

He must have been there a long time, because the kitty, now bigger than ever, meowed at him. He looked down to see her distressed; in an uncharacteristic move, he picked the cat up and walked to the living room, sitting exactly where he'd sat the first time he was ever in her home, when he'd fallen asleep with her in his lap; where he had slept two weeks ago. Where he had spent many evenings with a cup of coffee and her talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

He sat there, petting Hiru who blissfully played with his hand or turned this or that way for more pleasurable scratches. The more time that passed, the bigger the thoughts became in his head. He was not going to lie, he was emotional about this, in a positive light, too. No one had cared like that for a long time. It was intrusive, definitely, and a little left field, yes, but it felt nice, to know someone cared enough. Ever since he broke up with Yaso he didn't have-…

Wait.

As he replayed countless times of him fighting with his ex-wife about his schedule, he couldn't recall a single instance of this nature. Indeed, Yaso wasn't as meddling, she respected his privacy, she would never do something so forward. But was it that bad after all? Sure, he'd suffer once he went back; Hijikata would get back at him for two entire days off, but in the end, he got what he needed. And Tokio what she wanted.

Oh wow, Okita was right; Yaso was never this involved in his work life. He turned his head to the kitchen slowly, watching Tokio cook while humming a tune in another language he did not know. He looked at her for a long time.

Why was she so invested? And why did he not mind?

"Tokio," he decided to indulge "why are you doing this?"

"Hmmm?" She turned back to look at him for a second, tilting her ear to him. "Didn't hear you, speak up."

"I asked, why are you doing this?"

She shrugged, turning back to her pot. "Someone had to. You needed it."

"I'm asking for your reason, not mine."

That's when he saw her stop her hands and look down; he appreciated that she decided to put some real thought into it. A moment passed in silence. And then, she shrugged, a little awkward.

"I…care; that's just who I am. If I like someone enough, I don't need another reason."

I see, "thanks." So, he was right. He didn't know why, but he felt deflated. He leaned back on the couch, allowing the cat to escape his grip; she settled right next to him. "When will the food be ready?"

"T-ten minutes!"

"Okay, don't fret."

He didn't miss the sudden rush of anxiety that hit her, but he'd missed all the rest. How she froze the moment he had asked his question; how her eyes became as wide as saucers as she processed it. How she was experiencing an epiphany as she gave an excuse because the truth, it was too much for her to handle at the moment.

Because shit; she was developing a major crush on him. But she was too old for crushes, she knew. So, basically, she was falling in love with her neighbour? Shit was right; deep, too. She was setting herself up for an epic failure. Oh boy, time to supress more feelings. She went back to her pot and tried to make herself forget the last ten seconds ever happened. Maybe if she could avoid him, after his days off…that would work. Wait, no, she said no more thinking about it.

Right. Right…!

So, she tried to enforce it. But when he left and went back to his apartment, for some reason it was all she could think about! What were the implications now? What did that mean for her? Should she tell him—no, that's stupid. Should she tell someone else? Should she ask for advice? Yes! that's what she should do. She picked up the phone immediately and dialled a most familiar number.

.

"Hajime, it's your first day off; what are you doing with that thing on your shoulder?"

She was almost indignant to see him with that huge bag as he was standing at his doorstep, thick strap on his shoulder. He was in a black tracksuit and sneakers so it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was going to do, but the ridiculousness was the same.

"I'm hitting the gym; haven't been in one for over a month, need the work out. I've been doing it from home mostly."

"I've been in a gym once…" she mused aloud, making him flick her forehead.

"Where are you going is the real question?"

"Mum and dad's; haven't seen them in a week." He seemed surprised; she was not amused. "Contrary to your belief, I do go out; you just never see me come and go because you're always at work."

"Is that so?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, will you be back by dinner time?"

She considered. "Most possibly, if not certainly. I don't like to stay more than four consecutive hours," she had to explain to his obvious question. "Why d'you ask? Need anything?"

"I was thinking about treating you to dinner." Alarm bells went off in her head immediately. "Wouldn't have these two days off if it weren't for you, let's not be ungrateful."

That relaxed her a bit, but still, her heart beat a little fast there. "O, oh! That sounds great. How about that ramen stand we went when I came back?"

He had something fancier in mind but "sure, sounds about right."

"Alright! See you at six?"

It was twelve now. "Yes," six hours were enough to put his business in order "whoever's ready first knocks on the other's door."

She gave him a thumbs-up. "Sounds like a date."

He nodded; "want me to drop you off anywhere? I'm heading…Tokio are you alright?"

No, she was imploding. Why did she have to phrase it like that!? it was a good thing he didn't read more into it… "I'm fine." A deep breath. "And sure, if you can get me to the station, I need to take the train."

"Where do your parents live? Maybe I could drive you."

She laughed. "That would take you way" she drawled for a long time "out of your destination."

He was doubtful. "Where do your parents live?"

"Suburbs, it's the famous" she air-quoted "Takagi mansion."

That was exactly when he too experienced an epiphany, looking at her like she was a different person. "The famous…you're from that Takagi family?" She nodded, as if it was self-evident. "Really?"

"Yeah," she assured chuckling "didn't I tell you I was rich long before I wrote the books?"

"I never thought that meant the tenth richest family in Japan."

"Tough," she teased.

He shook his head. "Such a typical spoiled rich girl: no car because she wants people driving her around, even if she can afford it. Brat."

Damn; just as she was about to consider him one of those people who were easily impressed by money and was about to think less of him, he says that. "Always, such an asshole…let's just go…"

Her estimation that trying to avoid him before the days off were over was nigh impossible was a good one; but she never thought they'd spend that much time together these two days.

After their dinner, he dropped her off home and he went out for a drink with Okita; next morning he overslept again and she had to go there to rouse him. (Although her mum had clearly told her what she needed to do – either tell him and hope for the best, or don't concern yourself with him until the fancy has passed – she did neither.) They had lunch together that day and a little later he went to the gym again. Then he came home and went by her place to watch a movie – relatively early; he did work the next day – and have some snacks.

Okay, damn; he needed to start working again.

But when he did, it felt like he was the one avoiding her. Felt, but was not so in fact; still, it felt like it. He was rarely sighted once the two days were up – not as rare as before that she'd go a day without catching a glimpse – but it was due to his workload. Those two days off hurt him in another way, as it was to be expected according to Saitou, so he barely had any time to do anything. Work, food, sleep—his schedule the entire week. She'd started feeling a little depressed and the outside-of-home research for her new book wasn't due to start in another, so she couldn't do much other than wallow in self-pity and go visit friends and family.

She had even proposed they shared a cup of coffee for some catching up, but he declined, because of a difficult case.

And then, something even stranger happened.

"Hey there neighbour." She was leaving for a night out with the girls, he was just coming back from work. "Looking a bit tired…maybe you should go straight to bed."

"That's not what's bothering me right now;" his tone was clipped "in fact, I'm not tired at all."

"Then just sour?"

"Exactly."

"Okay, bad mood I see. Is it work-related?" He nodded, annoyed; she tried not to stare. "I see; won't pry then."

"Smart choice."

Oh wow, double the sass with half the tolerance, what was up? She gave him a look that he clearly noticed but pointedly ignored. She was concerned. She knew it wasn't her fault, but she felt like it was and felt guilty for something she shouldn't; knowing that, only ended up angering her.

"I'll leave you to it, then; have a nice night," I guess…

He snorted. "I'm the one who should be saying that; aren't you going out? Have fun."

Alright, hold the fuck up. How can one person say something so innocuous and ordinary with so much contention in his voice? "I'll try," she replied dryly "you try some rest."

They exchanged looks; he was visibly upset with something, not her, but it seeped out in his attitude and their exchange. She was a little miffed but could generally live with it. He nodded curtly at her and so did she, slowly, in response. They parted ways with the atmosphere turning a little chilly, but she shook her head.

Well, it'd get better tomorrow…

Only it didn't.

He stared at her as she opened the elevator door; he was leaving for work. "Are you just coming in?"

"…yes."

She might have had a drink or two more than she had intended and was forced to spend the night at Kou-chan's. She never said that though because she didn't like his tone, not to mention his attitude: his eyebrows shot very high and his expression turned critical. "Where've you been?"

She really didn't like the attitude. "Is this an interrogation?"

"No," he shrugged, supposedly uncaring "this just savours a little too much of a walk of shame."

"I dislike that term," she bit back "it implies something shameful happened. But that's usually not the case; neither it is now." She shrugged. "It was just a girls' night out anyway."

"Uh huh." His eyes scanned her from top to bottom, not buying it. "Have a nice sleep, Tokio."

Implying she hadn't slept till now; she really wanted to slap that implication off his face. "Have a nice day at work, Hajime," she decided to say instead, as civilly as she could, biting her tongue.

In a worse mood than before, he descended the stairs; in a worse mood than yesterday night, she went inside.

.

.

There was a knock on her door late that day. Surprised – and a little hopeful – she went to answer it. Just as expected, it was Hajime. But he was in no better mood than this morning. If anything, he was even worse. He was almost glaring daggers at her, hands crossed across his chest. She could feel her hopes of making up evaporating.

"Hajime," she said evenly instead.

"Tokio." He handed her a folder. "I found this in my mail box. I think it belongs to you." She took it and studied it at the same time; when her eyes fell on its contents, they grew a margin, but he could tell she was waiting for this and he became even more suspicious. "Why would anyone mail you addresses and brands of private eyes?"

"For research," she replied distractedly, her concentration suddenly on the papers "I pulled some strings and my guy told me he could set me up, with as many as he'd list here." She flipped through the files quickly. She smiled. "Nice, more than ten different people; that's way more than I'd hoped. Not to mention he did this practically overnight!" She smirked. "The man has reaches, I have to thank him again."

"He sounds devoted; did you bribe him, too? Was it last night?"

"I didn't have to, silly; my name-…"

Only then did she realise this was a jab about last night and she stopped talking altogether, colour changing at an alarming rate.

Her conversational mood turned frigid in an instant. And that's when he knew he was in deep shit. She shut down completely, kept staring at the papers, in a valiant effort to control her temper and he started inwardly cursing himself for letting that goddamn, stupid line slip in his bitterness.

"Thank you for bringing these to me, Hajime." He has heard swear with less antipathy in her voice. "I appreciate the effort."

Then she took a deep bow and his blood froze. Whenever a person like her was being too formal, you went and done something wrong, son, as his father always says. He opened his mouth to say something then, try and salvage it as best as he could, but the moment he sucked in the breath, her eyes became dangerous. Try me, they said, obviously thinking he was going to be an asshole about things again and somehow it became impossible to form words, even proper sounds, in front of her.

He tried to speak a second time, but the air left his lungs unused again, for her glare was too threatening. I thought so, it communicated when he swallowed and after a moment, the door shut to his face.

Crap.

This is not how he wanted this particular encounter to go!

He was supposed to try and not-really-but-sort-of apologise to her about yesterday night and this morning. Instead, he really fucked it up. He had no idea why that slipped nor why he was so bitter but he sure as hell was. It was her business whatever she did in her spare time; even if she always had time to spare and, in all truth, he was supposed to be the way she spent the most of her free time. Oh, there it was, entitlement; why did he have to think like that? No wonder she got so upset, he'd be, too. And now he had to apologise for more things damn it.

He almost banged his head on the door out of sheer frustration but realised it would only cause "the glare" to be back and he couldn't deal with that right now, his work problems were more than enough. Instead he rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes shutting. He did recognise he would have to deal with her though; preferably fast. He dreaded to think what her opinion of him must be now…

But when he exhaled, he heard something he never had before; not from her anyhow and surely not because of him: sniffling. There was sniffling and a sudden draw of breath and he could hear her cry behind the door. Duck was meowing non-stop and yet, the crying only got louder. He could picture her even. Folded up on her couch, hugging her feet, her eyes dripping hurt and shame.

All because of him.

Alright, don't panic; you just have to fix this. And it'll be fine…that one badgering thought that kept crossing his mind, what if you can't fix it now, he decided to ignore. But what to do? He had to think this through—all other things he didn't, they didn't end up too well for him. Or her. Okay, whatever he came up with, standing in front of her door wouldn't help; he needed to go back to his apartment first and then he'd deal with it.

Despite his innards already tied into tight a knot by the time he got to open his door.

.

The doorbell rang. She jolted; her watch read ten. She considered. The only one it could be at this hour was Hajime, no doubt about it. Yet she didn't know if she wanted to answer this once. Although the tears had stopped an hour ago, the sting hadn't. She was still very much upset with and because of him. At the same time, for some incomprehensible reason, she didn't want to make things even worse, so she refrained from going because who knew what would come out of her mouth at this point.

On the other hand, if she didn't go that alone could make things worse.

She sighed. Fine, she'd go. She wasn't heartless. But he'd better be there to apologise or else. Visibly upset, she opened her door…to find an equally upset Hajime. He though, wasn't angry. No, he was looking like a doused cat, averting her eyes respectfully.

Huh. A good start.

"Hajime."

"Tokio."

"What can I do for you?"

He brought a bottle of sake at the forefront – that she realised he was holding all along but she never noticed because she was too busy staring at his face – and extended it towards her. "Wanna get drunk?"

He sounded cautious yet vulnerable; he shrugged as she kept studying him, face severe. And then, "sure," she said, shrugging herself, and grabbed the bottle out of his hands.

Then shut the door to his face.

Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself, trying not to smirk. In another second, she opened the door again and stood to the side. "I guess you can come in, too."

Crestfallen at first, his expression transitioned to defeated resignation as he walked in. "I deserved that."

"Damn right you did." A breath she did not know was trapped in her chest was released. "Want any snacks?"

"Don't even ask, I'm starving."

Alright, this could work; he came over, he brought booze, he was remorseful. Steps in the right direction. "See that glass case? Bring out two sake cups from the set on the third shelf."

"These look expensive," the lacquer was flawless, the white pure; the small designs looked hand-painted "are you sure?"

She snorted. "I had them for over four years and this is the first time they are going to be used; I think it's fine."

"Suit yourself."

They sat down after ten minutes; she had prepared quite an untraditional tray of goodies, with whatever she found in her fridge. The important part was it looked delicious, so he didn't really care, nor did he dare to make his usual smartass comments, in fear he'd wear the platter as a hat.

She went the extra mile though and served the sake for both. The first two cups were consumed in absolute silence, and a little faster than custom, but the third loosened their tongues.

"I'm sorry," he finally said "it's been two very shitty days at work. This new case is…I hate cases like these. Most do, but these, they affect me. Other cases don't. And I know it's not an excuse, I just want you to know why I acted like such an asshole. I don't care what time you come back from your night out, or at least I shouldn't. I mean, I'm a cop, I'm used to asking questions. And when people don't answer they usually have something to hide. You obviously don't but, it's a mindset."

Well shit, he was oversharing. He had to stop. Why couldn't he just stop? She must think him an idiot! "Bottom mind is, I try not to let the work shit affect my personal life, but cases like these just…they seep into everything, until they get solved. I'm very sorry. I don't think of you like that at all, I'm truly sorry."

"…thank you. I appreciate that." A pause for drinking. "What case are you working on?"

"You don't wanna know."

"But I just asked."

"But if I tell you, you'll regret asking. Besides, I never talk about cases with anyone. Only those who can help solve it."

He refilled his cup.

"…but if it affects you that much, maybe you should share it with someone. Feels like you won't tell anyone anyway."

She discreetly pushed the tray closer to him, to show him he needed to eat, too.

"There's no need to make your week shitty, too. I have accepted this to be my reality, you haven't." He downed the rest of his sake, popping a cracker with cheese in his mouth. "You're better off, trust me. I wouldn't even tell Yaso, but she understood. It was for the best."

"Not eve—Hajime that…that is a very lonely way to live."

"It's better."

"No, it isn't. Not for you anyhow, if they way you're drinking right now is any indication. Fifth cup already…"

"These cases are just…I don't usually drink; I smoke. I only drink when they come around."

"Fine, I won't pry, no matter how difficult you make it." She sighed. "Let's change the subject."

"Right; what's your new book gonna be about?"

Her eyes shone with delight while her chest expanded! That was how he knew that night was going to go well after all. Thankfully, she wasn't one to hold a grudge and hopefully, this meant things went back to normal. If one considers normal to get blindly drunk in their neighbour's home when they knew for a fact they had work to do the next day.

But that apparently did not deter him one bit, as he kept drinking cup after cup, chasing it away with a snack. She too would join him, but only consumed a third comperatively, so she was in a far better shape. Yet, it was after the bottle emptied they comprehended they might have overdone it a little.

"Alright, no more alcohol for you. Or me; we need to rest." She was slightly tipsy but she could walk all by herself. He, remained to be seen. "Let's get you to bed."

"I'll just…crush on the couch…"

"No, you need to sleep properly; and you also need a bucket. This carpet is brand new."

"I'm not the throw-up drunk, don't worry. And I'll be fine, I swear…just let me sleep…"

"No, come on; up you go."

After a lot of struggling, she managed to get him into bed, have him lie down. She untied his tie and unbuttoned the cuffs and collar of his shirt. "What time do you usually wake up?"

"Six…"

"I'll set your alarm for half past five; gives you a chance to hit snooze once" she made sure the snooze activated the alarm clock a quarter of an hour later "and another fifteen minutes to properly wake up. I'll bring a clean suit over, so you don't have to come and go. Just make your own coffee. Okay?"

"Okay…"

"Very well; now I'm going to—what is it?"

He had grabbed her hand, stopping her exit. His eyes could barely open, but he tried it anyway, just for her. "You're…too nice to people. After how I treated you…I'd be mad at me for weeks."

She chuckled. "Well, you are you; I'm me. And I'm not all that nice to people."

A snort escaped him. "Yes, you are. And they'll take advantage of you for it. People are shit; I see it every day. People are scum…killing even…when they are so pure…who beats children to death anyway?"

Her heart stopped at that revelation.

"People…are scum. Don't be too nice to people."

Ah shit; the case involved children, was that it? Beaten children, too, how awful. She looked at him in another light and, although she couldn't say it didn't hurt or he had any right to talk to her like that, she felt she understood him a little bit more. "Not that I'll remember any of this in the morning," he went on "but why are you being so nice to me? If I were you, I'd be…very paranoid. Especially since you're so rich."

"I'm not nice to people; I'm nice to my people and I consider you one of them."

"I'm an asshole; why am I considered your people?"

She took a deep breath, bracing herself. She didn't answer for a long moment. "Because I like you."

He put his hand on her head, as best as he could. "I like you, too; you're good…"

She chuckled. "No, silly, I mean…I like you. As in, romantically."

An eye popped open after a long time to look at her; she was unmistakably blushing but still looking at him. He tried to be as lucid as possible. "You're into me." She nodded. "And you tell me now that I can barely keep my eyes open because…?"

"You won't remember it in the morning, said so yourself." He was so delightfully offended, she wanted to take a picture. "If I didn't tell you, I'd explode; but if I told you and you didn't feel the same way, I'd positively die of shame. This is the best of both worlds."

"Tch, coward."

"Hey!"

"Even if I do remember…tomorrow…I won't tell. Suffer…in your cowardice."

"HEY!"

"Man up; or, woman up. Whatever. You're…too good to hide…behind pretences and half-assed confessions. You want something? Go get it. If I don't like you, then…you're too good for me. Don't let anyone, ever…get you down."

"Or you could just tell me now…! Just saying."

"No."

"Why not!?"

"Don't be a coward."

She was scolding him with just her eyes, but he didn't fold under pressure. "Don't…be a coward…and thanks…g'night…"

He fell asleep. Typical.

She shook her head disappointed. What a prick! She had just confessed to him and he still had the gall to call her a coward. Granted, he was drunk, would probably not remember anything in the morning and he was basically incapacitated but come on! They were neighbours. If he didn't feel the same, it'd be super awkward.

She sighed. Time to have a big cup of tea, lots of water and go bring his suit over. At least she learnt one thing tonight: he did respect her. apparently, he thought highly of her in general, if he thought she was "too good to be hiding behind excuses". A residual smile accompanied her to her chores for the rest of the night and even after she drifted off on her couch, with Duck curled up on her feet, who just this once, didn't go suck up at her favourite guest.

When she woke up next morning, he was long gone. The clock read half past ten, made sense. She looked at her phone and saw there were three messages and two missed calls she slept through: one call and message from her mother; one call and message from Aoi-chan; and one text from Hajime. Purposefully, she read them in that order.

Mommy said: Hun, don't forget to get your kimono refitted, don't think I didn't notice you gained a few. And why don't you ever answer your phone?

Ugh thanks mom.

Aoi-chan said: What happened with the neighbour after all?

Oh right; she had called to complain about him. huh, she'd respond later.

Toll neighbour said: I left my clothes at your place, just drop them by whenever you wake up. Breakfast was good; cook something with pork for dinner.

Somehow, her heartbeat quickened. She loved this effortlessness between them…but at the same time, she hated it. How was she supposed to forget about her feelings? He was right damn it, confessing to a drunk man, half-drunk herself did nothing to help the situation, maybe the opposite. Because now that was all she could think about. He did say he wouldn't tell her even if he remembered after all, but would he be so heartless to ask her to cook for him if he did? And if not, what was up with their relationship? Why was it considered normal to ask her to cook things? It was her fault, yes, but she couldn't pin point when her casual behaviour became too caring towards him and that drove her nuts. Because now she would really have only two options: start ignoring him or confess when he wasn't drunk. And both choices hurt her soul.

She sighed, as she stood to go about her day. Why did she have to fall for the man across the hall? That was too cruel, even for her; just after she had made all those grand declarations of being better off alone, too. How ironic.

She decided to tweet a post about epic hangovers, hashtag neveragain, hashtag I'mgettingolderhelp and then instagrammed a picture of her, looking like a hot mess. The response was, per usual, huge but this once she noticed a new trend: people kept asking her about who she got drunk with or, more accurately, did you get drunk with the neighbour? For the first time, she really wanted to scream mind your own goddamn business.

.

"Tokio, did you use butter in this?"

She gave him a look with the edge of her eyes. She was right to assume he wouldn't be back before six and that's when she had started everything; given she wanted to make this a little gourmet and fancy, she decided she wanted butter. And champagne. And, naturally, it had to be finished the moment he came back, not to grow cold. Then maybe, she could loosen his tongue a bit, find out if he really did not remember anything.

So, when he decided to say that, first thing after they sat down to eat, she was a little taken aback. "That's literally the last thing I expected to hear; how can you tell?"

"It's very creamy," he complimented.

She snorted with laughter. "Wow, you can differentiate."

He shrugged. "I have a discerning pallet."

She snorted again. "Look at you, using all those refined words…do you now? Then you'll be blown away at my book party…!"

He looked at her curious. "Your what?"

"My book party, Hajime, don't be ridi-…" She stopped mid-sentence; she froze. Expressionless, trying to internalise all the panic that started to take over her, she looked straight at him. "Did, did I not tell you about my book party?" He shook his head. "The event my parents always organise for me one day before my new book comes out?"

A little more aware of the situation, mighty amused, he shook his head no once more. "Bu, but, that's why I wanted the kimono, that's why I was climbing up there, I never told you?"

"Nope."

"Shit; shit! Hajime, oh my god; please, don't tell me I never even asked you to come to the thing my parents would be taking care of…?"

"I'm afraid not."

He was legitimately smiling by now, taking bites between her freak outs. And whence he delivered the finishing blow, she actually stood from her chair…! And then sat back down when he gently tugged her downwards. "Relax, take it from the beginning…your parents, per usual from what I gathered, throw you a book party every time you release a new one, one day prior to the event."

She nodded furiously, relieved he was easy to catch on. "And you wear a kimono for some reason."

"It's a family tradition; the guests don't need to do the same, even if they usually do."

"And you intended to invite me to attend."

"Yes, thank you!"

"Alright," he really had to fight with himself not to laugh at her panic that only now seemed to dim down. "When is it?"

"Next Sunday, nine pm. But you and I will be going around eight; it's my book, I have to prepare a few things…"

He considered. "I can most possibly make it."

"That's not good enough, Hajime; you have to be sure! You're my plus one."

He blinked. "I'm what?"

She froze again, colour becoming bolder and bolder by the second. "My plus one; didn't I just tell you about it?" He shook his head no again, more amused than ever. "Shit, I'm so sorry; and I wanted to tell you ever since the attic incident coz I know how busy you are. I am so sorry…" She took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry Hajime, really." A pleading look. "I know it feels like I sprang this on you, but can you please come?" She fluttered her eyes, all cute. "Please?"

His sigh signalled defeat. "Wouldn't leave you unescorted, would I?"

She beamed! She physically jumped out of her seat and wrapped her hands around him, tightly, still sitting down. "Thank you, Hajime! It means the world to me." She faintly realised she was blushing and oh my god, I'm actually hugging him, but she hadn't cared. She hated having to edit herself, after her new-found feelings. She simply looked up at him. "Can the others come?"

"Others?"

"Um, I figured you would want a familiar face in the crowd and decided to invite Souji-kun and Ria-chan, the Nagakuras and the Haradas; Hijikata-san and his plus one, too naturally—I want to meet that man."

"Considering this is the first I heard of it, it's safe to say they have no idea."

"…but I sent out invitations to them; and they are no longer in the drawer I kept them in. Are you sure, they hinted at nothing?"

He raked his brains for a long time, trying to remember any odd instances between them. "No, nothing of the sort." She blanched; he laughed. "It's a week and a half from now, relax; they still have time to decide, if you give them to me now."

Once more, she beamed at him. only this once, it was accompanied by a squeeze of her hands, wrapped around his neck and a soft nuzzle. "I'll go look right now!"

When she let go, he felt like something was missing; but when she was holding on to him, he felt electrified. He remained staring at his right shoulder as if it held the answers to his involuntary reaction, but he kept drawing blanks. He was all out of sorts. He…had enjoyed her forwardness; he hadn't minded the contact, only the lack of it afterwards. It was lucky he was holding on to his chopsticks, to be honest, because his fingers twitched, longing to touch her. For a brief moment, it made sense; the two of them, eating like this, hugging and sharing their day. And then reality came back and it was deemed too…familiar. All he heard was Okita's voice in his head, over and over again: are you two dating? No, they weren't. But…that line seemed more blurred by the second. Alright, they weren't a couple. What where they?

He remained troubled even after she triumphantly exclaimed a "yes!" from the other room and came bounding into her kitchen. She had found the invitations and was waving them like a flag. He forced his face into a neutral expression. "I had changed drawers and completely forgot about it, so I had thought they were sent. I am such an airhead sometimes…"

"Some, she says."

She punched his arm. "Please distribute them properly."

"I will."

Then she did something quite unexpected: she put the invitations in his shirt pocket, bulky as it became, and fixed his tie. "Do impress on Hijikata the importance of his presence; I really want him there." She put her hand on the side of her mouth and leaned deeply as if sharing a big secret. "You can lure him out by implying I may have his special copy with me, which I shall give to him personally."

"Heh," he was amused "that'll probably convince him."

"Perfect! And now," she surveyed the table; her plate was almost finished and she didn't feel like eating anything else; his was empty, too "want desert or will you be going back home?"

"Did you bake it?" She shook her head no. "Then I won't feel guilty turning it down; wanna relax some and look at some details for the case."

"Hope you catch whoever did it; child killers make me sick."

There was a long pregnant pause after that statement. He was ready to snub "me, too" back, but then he realised…she knew his case? The way he looked at her was serious. She frowned. "Oh, right." She easily sensed his misgivings. "You let it slip, yesterday night; something about child beaten and since you're in homicide, I figured it out."

Some of his colour was gone. "Did I say anything else?"

"No—"

Thank Buddha

"—only advised me to beware of people."

"That does sound like me." He tried to shake this off. "Need to go look at some files now; hopefully catch whoever did this before the week is out."

He slapped her thigh twice; she immediately interpreted it correctly as "get off" and stood from his lap; then both distantly realised she was sitting in his lap for the entire second segment of their conversation without either of them catching on. She didn't seem to mind, too and he felt all the more conflicted about it.

But he chose to voice none of those thoughts. "Can you make me some tea?" he asked instead.

"Tea?" A suspicious eyebrow was raised. "You don't like tea…"

"Which is why I drink it when I study cases like these."

She shrugged. "You do you," she simply said and patted him on the back clearing the table. "As soon I'm finished clearing the table, I'll make some for the both of us."

"Thanks."

He put on his shoes, took his keys and left for his apartment, knowing she would follow in five minutes; for some inexplicable reason, it made him smile…and that was the very reason it made him worry, too. What was wrong with him?

.

.

"You do remember me saying you didn't have to wear traditional clothing, too, yes?"

"But I like it and never had a chance to wear it before."

Her disbelieving chuckle was all it took for them to leave; he locked his door, handed the keys to Tokio, who put them in her little bag, and they moved for the elevator. No stairs for today; her feet, trapped in that tight kimono, couldn't possibly make the distance. She didn't have to tell him, of course, he was no simpleton, but the truth of the matter was his mind did seem to go a little slower than it used to, ever since he looked at her.

Maybe it was the impressive colours, or the flattering cut; it could have been the make-up, emphasising her already expressive eyes; whatever it was, he could feel it drag his mind down, process everything just a smidge slower. He never complimented her on how amazing that shade of indigo stitched together with that lavender made her look; nor how her hair pin, reminiscent of the old days, matched her perfectly. He couldn't even articulate how regal she looked in general, clad in all that fabric.

But she did; and he hoped she realised by his stunned look, even for just a second.

At least she would have, if she hadn't been so busy staring herself; it was almost unfair how well this type of dress suited him! He was always tall and imposing but with this outfit, it was unreal. Blue hues both for the haori and hakamashita, with grey hakama and belt. It was…exquisite. It really suited him, too. And that shade of blur brought out the unusual amber of his eyes…he was to die for.

Ah damn, I hope I'm not showing too much.

She wasn't thankfully; they got to the car, drove all the way to her parents' mansion and then arrived at the doorstep, without him ever noticing once. It all consisted of small talk, teases and comfortable lulls of silence. And then the door opened to reveal her parents and their exuberance.

"The guest of honour has finally arrived," her father said kindly as he enveloped his daughter into a hug.

"How is my cutie doing?" her mother followed suit. "And you sir, welcome to our home."

The father let go of his daughter and both parents gave a bow to the newcomer; Saitou was taken aback by the sudden formality – despite being dressed more traditionally than actual samurais and samurais' wives of the 1700s, their display with their offspring had been too casual – and bowed, too.

"What is your name young man?" Her father inquired as he let him into his home.

"Saitou Hajime, sir."

"I am Takagi Kojuuro, my wife Tooka; we are pleased to meet you."

"You must be our Tokio's neighbour then!" her mother connected the dots immediately. "She's told us so much about you, I feel like I know you already." A giggle then. "Please, do forgive her for her behaviour at times; she's been spoiled I'm afraid."

Tokio's glare went unaddressed.

"We would like to extend our thanks to you, too, for keeping a good eye on her and keeping her out of trouble," her father continued and Tokio actually smacked Kojuuro on the arm.

"He is a police officer after all, darling," her mother pointed out "he knows how to handle difficult people."

"The only difficult thing about me is I don't do as you like," she half-joked, half-accused as she grabbed Hajime. "Now me and my ward shall go make sure things are proceeding as planned, then go find Tora and Tsuki. You go tend to the catering and the guest list, please."

She strong-armed him out of her parents interfering ways and all the way into the main hall, where all the ceremonies would be held. It was a huge open space, clearly a room to hold such events in. It was glamorous and expensive room, all hardwood floors polished to perfection. They had dressed it up, trying to make it look like a room out of Kyoushirou's palace, just like in her book.

Why choose the villain's place of dwelling he did not know.

Still, some arrangements indeed needed to be made, and he watched as she suggested this be moved there and that here; she changed the flowers in some pots; she swapped furniture; she added pieces that the crew had on stand by in other rooms. Despite his clothes, a gift from his father upon his wedding announcement, he still helped carry things around.

But it was all worth it; when she was done with the preparations, he felt like he was about to receive an audience with Kyoushirou himself. After all, it was the author who applied the finishing touches, and no doubt the author who had commissioned this on the first place.

"And now we wait for the guests to arrive…!" she exclaimed as she surveyed the space satisfied.

He gave a small smirk. "Yes, Hina-sama."

She burst out laughing. "I am not Hina-sama; mother is! In this analogy, it's my father that's Kyoushirou."

"Oh, so you're their daughter, Toshihime."

"Mmmm, maybe…although she's still a baby when the book ends."

"She's still born though."

"Exactly."

"My dear lord," her brother's voice was heard from behind them "so it is true; not only does she torture you every day, she brought you here dressed in that garb, and made you lift things all evening."

"Tora," Tokio scolded affectionately as Saitou bowed to the newcomers "is that any way to talk about your favourite sister and client?"

"Favourite sister maybe; favourite client, not by a longshot." They all shared a polite laugh. "Hajime-san, long time no see. Allow me to introduce you to my lovely wife, Noriko."

"Pleased to meet you," the lean, beautiful woman on his arm said as elegantly as she gave a nod with her head, one that he returned.

"Our son could not attend," Tora informed Tokio who was looking all over for something "bed time is ten o clock and we are very strict about it."

"Poor kid," Tokio lamented.

"Your niece won't be here, too don't be like that," Noriko lost the elegance as she elbowed Tokio mischievously "you know we adults have to be adults from time to time, else we go mad."

"Tsuki did tell me she'll put Hana down and then come; Kaiji must be furious. He hates being apart from his little angel."

"He'll have to deal," Tora said humorously "because this isn't a child's play."

"Right, this is Tokio's play, apparently." Her father butted in into their conversation without remorse and Tokio puffed up her cheeks.

"She even ordered this most eccentric decoration, too," Tora played along.

"She wanted to match it with our outdated outfits, don't blame her," Noriko chimed in.

"I appreciate how you all gang up to bully her," Saitou commented offhandedly "I thought I was the only one who liked doing that."

The onslaught of random smacks that came everyone's way was to be expected. What it wasn't was that they also accompanied the first guests of the night. Hajime looked at his watch. "It's nine o clock sharp;" a smirk "that must be Hijikata."

"Really?"

"He's never late. And all of our watches are synched."

She seemed impressed. She was even more so though, when the staff led in a man she had never seen before, taller than Tora but shorter than Hajime, with a beautiful woman on his arm. He himself was quite handsome, too: long hair up in a ponytail, samurai-like, wearing the traditional hakama of any self-respecting Bakumatsu warrior, with chiselled features. His eyes were piercing.

She remained staring for a long time. "He's…just like I imagined Rintarou to look like," she whispered to her date breathless "as if someone took out my thoughts and manifested them right in front of my eyes, it's uncanny."

"Please, don't tell him that. I'll never hear the end of it," he whispered back as they approached.

When they finally met, both Saitou and Chizuru, Hijikata's fiancé, wished they hadn't. Albeit reserved and serious, Hijikata was, by all means and purposes, fanboying! What's more, he did it to the actual author of his favourite books, giving her ample chance to feed off of it, bounce on her two feet and seem like she was bursting at the seams from the excitement. When he gave him the book with the special inscription on it, he could die of joy. And their conversation was going on and on, seemingly forever; when more guests arrived, she would dutifully salute them, accept their compliments and then promptly turn back to Hijikata, who of course silently waited until they were gone.

That lasted for too long, if anyone asked their two dates, until some very familiar faces popped up: Okita and Ria-chan appeared, in the company of the Haradas.

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

And just like that, the conversation was taken over by the exuberant shorter man. The Nagakuras came at a later time; some journalists came, too. But the one presence that shocked Saitou most was that of their newbie.

Saitou looked at Okita; Okita nudged Harada; Harada motioned to Nagakura and Nagakura signalled to Hijikata; before long all four of them had circled Shinomori Aoshi and his younger date, a slip of a girl of nearly ten years of age.

"Misao-chan, Aoshi-san!" But it was Tokio's familiarity with him that stroke all as incomprehensible. "I'm so glad you could make it," she hugged the younger girl tight and bowed at the tall man, who returned it with respect. "I haven't seen you since you were this tall," she continued, pointing at Misao's shoulder "look how much you've grown."

The girl names Misao giggled. "It's only been a month, Tokio-san."

"Yes, but, look at you! they are taking good care of you."

Misao gave a modest look to the man on her side. "They do."

"Aoshi-san, I am happy to see you were able to bring her; I know Neji-san is getting older and doesn't have the strength to accompany as he once did, but I also know you too work hard."

He gave a short bow again. "It was an honour to be invited, Tokio-san."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait; how in earth do you two know each other!?"

It was Okita, bless his soul, that finally addressed the elephant in the room and the casual wave of her hand drove every single person positively mad. "Misao-chan is the daughter of the late Makimachi couple, good friends of my parents; she had a mind set on the arts and I tutor her whenever I am able. Aoshi-san is, let's say, her adoptive brother. Neji-san, her paternal grandfather, took him in when he was younger than Misao-chan."

Sanosuke Harada was in shock. "…why didn't you tell us you knew her?"

He shrugged. "I did not deem it necessary."

Nagakura had another question. "Why didn't you say you were connected with the Makimachis?"

"That usually brings bad or unwanted results. Nevertheless, I was aware at least one of you knew Tokio-san; I saw her handwriting on a note in the precinct's breakroom, so I apologise if you thought there was some deception in my actions."

Said woman patted him on the back. "Never mind, Aoshi-san; I too knew you entered the force yet said nothing about it. I mean, I wasn't completely sure, but I did hear what I thought was your last name…so, let's all wish you to do well and wrap this up."

"I shall try my best."

"No kid, try something less; you'll never leave the precinct at this point," his mentor said tiredly as he shook his head. Harada had the pleasure of watching him leave at the wee hours of the morning almost daily. And he wanted to go home, too but if the newbie didn't leave…how could he?

"Alright, that's enough; let's all go have something to drink! We have excellent sake and bourbon which I highly recommend…and the tastiest apple juice for our youngest cutie!"

The beginning of his undoing had come to pass; the first call was made.

.

"Hajime, don't eat it like that," she scolded him and actually smacked his hand to make his chopsticks let it go "you have to use your hands. That's the proper way."

"Since when?"

"Since the old days; we just grew too touchy feely as a culture and forgot some of our biggest pleasures. Now do it right! I didn't spend all those hours on research for you to shrug me off."

"Has anyone ever told you you're too fussy?"

"Certainly not; you are the very first human being to ever notice. How refreshing."

He caught the obi of her impressive kimono as she was trying to make her exit; she had to stop if she didn't want to embarrass herself. "Let go."

"Be polite about it."

"…please let go."

He saw teeth, it meant she was about to pounce; satisfied by her ire, he did as she asked.

.

"You know, it's been two hours, four drinks and a dozen of snacks, yet you still haven't asked me to dance."

"I wasn't aware there was a time limit." She gave him a look. "I was not aware you wished to partake in that sort of activity, too." The smack followed. "I mean, I don't. I hate dancing."

"Look, you can either dance with me or you can hear me complain all night long about how you never danced with me; your choice."

"Oh? No threats to dance with another man if I don't?"

Her distaste was evident. "I'm not in the habit of making stupid decisions; now take my hand or suffer the consequences."

A smirk he wasn't able to resist appeared on his face. "As the lady wishes."

.

It was around half past twelve that Harada Sanosuke snuck to his side; Saitou had just had the last dance with his date, who went for a drink of water and a drink of whatever else she would decide on the spot. Harada tried to appear casual but he kept glancing over his shoulder to his wife and friends. The taller man resisted the urge to shake his head.

"So, Saitou…I couldn't help but notice you two. Are you two…dating perhaps?"

"And I haven't told you?"

"But you seem very close."

"So we do."

"What gives?"

"I don't know."

"That's not very satisfying."

Welcome to my world, he almost snapped but he decided against it. "I do know that."

"Come on, Saitou, throw us a bone here."

"Oh, you mean, Okita, who asked me the same thing ten minutes after he arrived? Or Hijikata? Or maybe Nagakura's wife who accosted me after one particularly nasty combination of shots?"

"…we are not very subtle, are we?"

There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, other than annoyance. "No, you aren't."

Harada walked away with nothing to show for his efforts. At least not immediately; it was barely ten minutes later, when Tokio was socialising with some of her high school friends – not out of desire – that her father approached him, as he stood at the side and watched his date's obligatory laughs and kindness.

"She's quite unique, my Tokio. She's always been so."

A little suspicious of the sudden interest in him, but willing not to show it, Saitou nodded. "She's also been impetuous and stubborn, too, even as a child; whatever she wanted, she took for herself."

"She does have that independent streak in her."

"Ah," her father exhaled "you wouldn't believe. We send her off to America to study Business and she came back a writer; we threatened not to fund her fancies if she did not start to show interest in our family business, she goes ahead and writes a best seller."

Saitou had no idea; he was visibly impressed with her. "She always had a mind of her own, this child; never listens to her parents. Never listens to anyone, actually…"

Saitou had to contribute. "That I noticed, too."

"Right?" Her father chuckled. "Did you know? We hate her being such a successful writer because now we are certain her wits and talents will never be used for what we need it; but we are very happy for her for she too is happy. Her work fulfils her, fills her with joy. And after almost seven years, we have come to terms with that…which is why we also long to see her be happy in more ways than one."

A long-suffering sigh escaped the man. "You see, our daughter is lucky in every aspect of her life except the romantic one; she has had a lot of ups and downs and she always ends up sad and alone. But as her parents, we want her to be fulfilled in that department, too—both her brother and her sister are already married after all…"

Saitou could see where this was going. "I mean, personally, I have given up hope she'll ever find anyone I consider worthy; I have to introduced her at least six men who would be ecstatic to have her hand but she keeps refusing them."

Geez, he could see why she didn't want to spend more than four consecutive hours at her family estate. "Her own choices aren't that better, too—those men never stick around. Not that I like them, so I can't complain. But then there's you."

Kojuuro looked at him solemn, all the gravity of a father making inquiries after his daughter hitting him at once. "You appear to have your life together; and from what I've heard, you make her laugh. I see your friends are all well-adjusted, married or engaged, too and one's friends say a lot about one's character. I have been informed you used to be married as well but are now divorced."

A thousand thoughts were going through his head rapidly, trying to make sense of this conversation. "Indeed."

"You are a detective; that's a reputable occupation, despite the difficult schedule. And you put up with her antics and bear her moods well. You carry yourself with dignity and have proven to be reliable. Now, I don't know what the relationship between you two is, she doesn't talk to me much about these things, but I do know she has a soft spot for you. So, Saitou-san, as a father and a scholar of this peculiar creature that is my daughter, I ask you: what are your intentions for my Tokio?"

Saitou remained immobile, staring at the man in front of him. What were his intentions? What did that mean? And why did it ring so…poignant, as if it resonated with some concealed part of him.

"Take some time to think about it; come back only when you have an honest answer. Until then, don't do anything I wouldn't approve of."

Then the man was gone behind the throngs of people who still loitered around. Saitou started sweating. "Here," he called out at the waiter that went about with fresh drinks; he grabbed two and drunk the first in one gulp. "Wait," he instructed him and after consuming most of the second, he put the two empty ones on his tray and took two more. "For the lady," he said defensively, when the waiter gave him a critical look.

The more he thought about it, the less, or actually more, sense it made. They were going in and out of each other's homes; they had respective keys to their respective apartments; she cooked for him and he took her out to dinner. They watched movies and talked about their day; she kept his favourite snacks in her cupboards and he made time to talk to her if he didn't see her throughout the workday. She sent him meals which he ate with eagerness; she would sit in his lap and neither would bat an eye because it felt normal.

Saitou experienced an uncommon feeling: having his eyes opened to something. That something being, Tokio and he were already in a relationship; they just hadn't realised it yet. As she came back from her exhausting talks with old classmates, she literally hanged herself on his arm and started complaining endlessly about stupid formalities and old grudges. He stood there, listening to her. But not really; his mind was far off, going over all the possibilities. This was something…he didn't mind. He enjoyed having her talk his ear off. She was entertaining. She was endearing. He loved having her around. He turned to look at her and there was something warm in his eyes.

He was sure it wasn't the alcohol; just her.

.

.

The next day, he woke up with a groan and a headache.

He was hangover again. If it weren't for that pleasant smell wafting around his room, that soft sensation in his arms, he would have been too annoyed by it. But he hadn't cared because his head found the perfect prop to settle and rest his neck on. His hands tightened around it and brought it close. It was heaven…until it moved.

"Um…Hajime?"

He went perfectly still. Slowly the dread, memories, guilt and shame came over him, flooding his previously charged senses. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw what he feared: he was lying in his bed undressed with his hands wrapped around a very much equally naked Tokio.

She chuckled as she turned around. "Hajime, Hajime, don't freak out, please. Stay calm."

"I'm not freaking out."

A smile. "You look like you want to."

Alright, that was funny, he gave in. Then, he cleared his throat and went serious. "I…don't usually do this." Her "I know, you said so last night" went ignored. "I never had, actually and I have been drunk some times since I got divorced. What happened?" She gave him a challenging look. "I mean, how did it come to this? I only remember bits and pieces and it's only the important parts."

She supported herself on her elbows while the – naked – half of her was now pressed directly against him. "You were the one who made the first move but, um, I might have goaded you into it."

"But, I don't do this; and I definitely don't get goaded into stuff like this. Why would you want to goad me into it anyway?"

Did he mention she was naked?

"Then maybe you didn't do anything you wouldn't do while sober, ever thought of that?"

"Pretty cheeky, aren't you?" She stuck her tongue out at him. "And you haven't answered my question."

Her blush was glorious; he watched as the colour on her cheeks changed but felt her temperature rise and that did something very weird to him. "Don't take this the wrong way but…I wanted to." An eyebrow was lifted in his signature way. "I wanted to see how you'd respond to me because I…" she looked away, a little awkward. "I like you; I mean, I'm really attracted to you. I think you're brilliant." She bit her lip. "And I didn't know how to tell you. We…are neighbours. If I said anything and you didn't, you know, I'd, you know and so I waited."

"Until I was drunk?"

"Yes; twice." His eyes became too wide; she had to laugh. "That night you came to me to apologise, I told you; you don't remember though."

"No," he admitted lamely.

If only he had.

"I know; you called me a coward though," she pouted "said I should woman up and tell you when sober."

Alright, yeah, he'd definitely say that; he enjoyed the small slap on the chest he got for smiling about it.

"But I couldn't; and then last night happened and you were pretty forward yourself so," she shrugged "I told you again. In a way. And now we're here."

Honestly, he understood perfectly but the fact she was naked and on top of him, at least half of her, was very distracting. Welcome, but distracting. Considering he had only faint memories from last night, too, this felt like the first time he ever saw her like this. He ran his hand up and down her side, feeling her soft skin. A stray tuff of hair fell in front of her face and he knew he just had to put it away.

When he did, she smiled; she was calm and confident as his fingertips lingered on her face. "Hajime, do you regret this?"

By her tone alone, it was obvious she knew the answer, but he decided to give it anyway. "No."0

"Do you feel tricked?"

"No."

"Then it doesn't matter how it happened; only that it did. And," she unpropped her elbows to lie properly next and on top of him "how it could happen again so you can actually remember this once."

He felt her leg intertwine with his, her body slithering around him. Instinctively, his hand brought her even closer, roaming around her curves and her rises. That pleasant stir in his gut meant he liked it, maybe more than he expected.

"I didn't imply you weren't memorable."

She kissed him while still talking; she kissed him after he stopped. He wasn't used to her taking charge, but at the same time he was; he let her literally climb on top of him, hands pinching his sides vengefully.

"It sounded like it."

A smirk. "By all means, no."

She swept down and claimed his lips; she was ferocious and passionate and had something to prove. But he wouldn't be defeated, so he grabbed her and with an impressive move, found himself on top. She squealed with delight and wrapped herself around him, allowing him to kiss her neck and fondle her thighs as his kisses became slower but longer. She kicked out when he found a tender spot; he bit her in return.

With no idea how they transitioned from innocuous flirting to wrestling underneath his sheets, he wasn't going to complain or stop now; after all, it felt good. And it felt natural.

.

.

One year later, the headlines of every self-respecting tabloid would write the very same, in big bold letters:

The famous writer Akai, well known for the Romantic Samurai and Private Eyes series of books, will be getting married to the the mysterious neighbour, who still won't show his face. Rumours say the wedding will be held in a secret location, to protect the groom's anonymity.

or a variation of those things. Yet all they had to do to learn his name was look at the wedding announcements at the very back of an unknown paper:

Saitou Hajime and Takagi Tokio will be getting married on the eleventh of November, at the Kitano Tenmangu temple. There to bless the union will be the head priest as well as the Takagi family's personal friend, the mayor of Kyoto.

---

A/N: This ending took three different turns, but I finally decided on this one. Also, given they were neighbours and spent all that time together from the get-go, I think a year is more than enough for traditional Hajime to ask fleeting Tokio's hand, dunno if you agree. I hope you enjoyed my ravings as much as I did you beautiful, sweet people and I hope I see you on the next crazy adventure I cook up. One hint has already been given for the type of AU the next one will be, but have a second: keen swords and crafted armour comes into play.

Love you all,
kisses, FAI.