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

I also don't own Adrenaline Drive, but if anyone has Netflix, you should check it out. It's pretty funny.

The Arrangement - 09

Okita turned the key in the lock on Shousha's apartment door. It swung open with ease and he stepped into the darkness, carefully nudging his black dress shoes from his feet. It was an odd feeling, coming in here with her ex-boyfriend's key. She didn't like him, she certainly was not going to be pleased to see him, yet he had let himself right in.

He could hear her muffled sobs coming from somewhere deeper into the apartment and placed the flowers down gently on the kitchen counter. Flowers could wait. He'd have to dodge her attacks before he could begin presenting her with any sort of gift.

Wandering down the hall, he found the dwelling to be shaped like an 'I'. A large kitchen and dining room greeted him at the entrance, then immediately to the left was a hall with three doors, bedrooms and bathrooms, he assumed, before opening up into a living room that ran the entire length of space.

He stepped cautiously into the well lived in space, glad that the back of the couch faced him. Something seemed awkward about the thought of her watching him enter her home.

And there she was, face shoved into a blanket, crying her eyes out. Mixed in with her sobs was the hitched panting that she had displayed at her parents' house and Okita's hand closed around the bottle of pills Katsura had given him.

"Shousha?"

She looked up at him and her eyes went wide, With slow steps, he came around the sofa, hands up and no expression on his face. He wasn't going to risk her reading him the wrong way.

"W-wh-what are you d-d-doing here?" she asked, scooting back along the distressed leather,

"It's alright," he said calmly. "I have your medicine." He handed the bottle over to her, but as he entered what she had deemed her personal space, she inhaled sharply, smacking the pills out of his hand.

"Get away!"

Okita's eyes darted around the room as he backed away from her. He wasn't sure how to deal with a situation such as this. His life had been spent training himself to not feel fear; he had no experience with soothing it.

"I won't let you take me again!" She cried, pulling the blanket up to her face again.

He stepped forward, halting when her eyes sent sparks of panic. He was about three feet away from her, but it would do. He crouched low, slowly, and rested his hand on the coffee table beside him.

"I'm not here to take you anywhere, Shousha," he told her, watching as she stared him down with puffy eyes.

"What do you want?" she whispered, taking extra caution and tucking her toes under her bottom.

"I just wanted to see you," he replied truthfully. She didn't make a move to respond, so he continued. "I'm not here as your fiancee," he told her, shifting his weight slightly, "I am here to be your friend."

Shousha licked her lips, not tearing her eyes away from the boyish man on her floor. He was so determined to spend time with her. Why was that?

When he stood and backed into the armchair just to his left, she lowered the blanket ever so slightly. He was looking at her so calmly, she couldn't help but relax, if only slightly. The calm on his face wasn't the calm of Katsura's. He wasn't a waiting for the storm to pass, he was holding an umbrella over his head and marveling at the lightning.

"Is that okay?" he asked, giving her a light smile of encouragement as her breathing began to steady. "Can I stay for a little bit?"

"O. . .okay," she agreed. She needed someone to talk to and seeing as how none of her few friends had approved of her relationship with such an older man, she certainly couldn't go crying to them.

Okita let a full smile break out onto his face and he stood. She tensed, but he made a calming gesture with his hands and headed into the kitchen. When he returned several minutes later, he was carrying two bowls, one much smaller than the other, but both containing an ice cream sundae.

Shousha was crying again, but not panicking.

"Here," he said with a soft smile, handing her the tiny bowl. "My dad used to make one for me whenever I was upset."

Shousha accepted it and though she didn't say anything, eyed the treat. She wasn't hungry and it seemed he knew this as she watched him dig into his cereal bowl sized portion. Despite knowing she probably wouldn't have an appetite, he had made her one anyway.

"I hope you don't mind I helped myself," he laughed reclining into the chair and pointing his spoon at her playfully, "I'll pay you back."

She sniffed back some tears and rested her head on the arm of the couch. "Kogoro never made me ice cream."

Okita paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. "Do you like ice cream?"

She nodded, lip trembling.

"Well I'll make you lots of ice cream," he said, tucking that nugget of information away. It was easily because of his father, but sundaes were, hands down, his favourite snack. He would be more than happy to share them with her.

They sat in silence for a bit while he devoured his ice cream and she stared at hers. A couple times she had raised the spoon to her mouth, but every time, seemed to think better of it. She was still sniffling, and he could see her shaking. A question pulled at the front of his mind and though he knew it might not go over well, he had to ask.

"Do you love him?"

For a second, anger and insult flashed across her face. He braced himself, ready to either defend himself or put a swift end to her rage. The offense disappeared from her expression and she started to swirl the now melted dairy around and around.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I never thought about it. He was always just. . .with me."

Okita found comfort in this. He wasn't sure if his intentions to create a happy life with her could remain pure if she was in love with another man. It just wasn't right. It was especially relieving to know that she wasn't in love with Katsura. He had been her companion and possibly her rock, but she would be able to move on.

Shousha looked up at him. "Have you ever been in love?"

Her question surprised him. "No, I haven't."

"Oh."

He stood, giving her a wink and taking her bowl from her. "There's a first time for everything though."

Shousha heard him washing the dishes and pondered the situation she found herself in. She couldn't feel much, numbed by Katsura's sudden abandonment, but what she did feel hurt less and less as the minutes with Okita ticked by.

It was easy to like him. She had known that the first day she had met him, during their conversation about Ta-chan. At the thought of her beloved pet, a new wave of emotion crushed her and she started all over again.

In the kitchen, Okita placed the clean dishes on a towel on the counter to dry and leaned up against the stove, staring ahead at the flowers he had brought her. Katsura had scoffed at them, but Okita was no fool. A silly romantic maybe, but no fool. Roses weren't the only gift he brought.

He did pride himself in the idea of these flowers, as he had picked out each color after researching their meanings (though much to his dismay, each color had several meanings depending on the intent of the giver) and fully intended to explain each one to her. Maybe he could finally break down the wall that she had put up between them. At the very least, maybe she would remove a layer or two of stones so he could at least see her face when he stared through it.

Taking advantage of her distraction, he rummaged through the cabinets, then, finding a suitable vase, filled it with water and placed the flowers into it.

When he returned to her, she looked at the flowers with curiosity laced with something that made Okita's heart sink.

Hope.

"Are those from. . ."

Sighing inwardly, he placed them on the table before her and gave her a boyish grin. "They just arrived," he lied, "I think he feels pretty bad, don't you?"

Shousha leaned forward, examining the arrangement. "He never gave me flowers before." She then sat back dejected. "I always wished he would."

Okita smiled, pulling his chair closer to her. When she didn't seem bothered by this, he touched her hand.

"Maybe he sent them now so you'd never forget them." he said. He would sacrifice this gesture. A new plan had popped into his head. "Do you know the meanings of the colors?"

Shousha shook her head. "I never learned about flowers. Kogoro said they were a waste."

A small smile tugged at Okita's lips. Of course he said they were a waste. A critical error for a man in the business of art. How could he not appreciate fleeting beauty? It was elementary.

"Would you like to know?"

She nodded and he began. "This one. Dark red. It symbolizes unconscious beauty." He looked to her with a smile. "I think that one is obvious."

Initially, he had had almost left that color out. It didn't have much of a place in his feelings, but it fit her all too well. She was so shrouded in her own arrogant insecurities she didn't see the simple beauty of her own face.

"Pink," Gentleness "-Appreciation." You'll never have to fear me.

"Orange," Desire "-enthusiasm. I have no doubt that you're very enthusiastic in all you do. Your artwork alone has shown me that."

Shousha blushed slightly at the compliment, but remained silent, focusing on her companion's dissection of the arrangement before them.

"White," Youthfulness "Purity-"

"Why would he send me that?"

Okita looked startled for a minute, but recovered his smile with grace. "It can also mean secrecy or silence. Surely you have secrets between the two of you."

She nodded. "They're not big secrets or anything."

"Red," Love "-courage and respect. You're a brave woman, Shousha. He knows that and he has faith in you." I will love you.

"And yellow." He decided to pull his originally intended meaning forth for this one. "New beginning."

She was silent as she stared at the yellow flowers and Okita reached up to lift her chin. She didn't make any movement of protest, and he gave her a gentle smile.

"He didn't want to let you go, but this is the way life has taken you. Katsura. . .san would like you to be happy, so please don't cry anymore."

Truth be told, Katsura hadn't seemed bothered by leaving her in the slightest, but that was the way he was. No one ever knew his true feelings and that was quite possibly the most frustrating of his attributes. The man was impossible to read.

"But what about Ta-chan?" Shousha whispered, pulling out of his loose grip and wrapping her arms around her knees. "he's still in New York."

"Don't worry about Ta-chan," Okita replied gently, "I'll send someone to collect and care for him until we get back."

"We?"

Okita held his breath. He had gotten too comfortable with her. He hadn't gone over his next move overmuch; she was too unpredictable for any sort of plan. He would have to proceed with caution.

Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he closed his hands around a small object, making a mental note of the pill bottle on the floor to his left. He slid off the chair slowly and on one knee, stared up at her.

"Yes," he said quietly, pulling the object, a small box, from his pocket, "we."

He flicked open the lid of the box and though he heard her gasp, steeled himself as he plowed ahead with his proposal.

"Marry me, Shousha."

Her eyes were wide as she stared at the solitary diamond glittering in the dim light of her apartment. He was serious.

"You're crazy," she said, stunned, "you're insane. You don't even know me!"

"I know," he replied, "but I don't care."

He hadn't made any mention of the fact that she had no say in the matter, and he was hoping that it would help persuade her to comply with her future. He realized that he did look ridiculous, proposing to a woman he had seen a grand total of four times, a woman who made a point of detesting his presence, but like he had said, he didn't care.

This proposal wasn't a trick or a ploy to win her over. While he hadn't chosen her, he liked her well enough and his intentions to make her happy were true. He didn't present her with an engagement ring to appease the saying 'diamonds are a girl's best friend' because he knew she wasn't such a woman. Her paint stained clothes and mismatched furniture told him that she didn't give a damn about the finer things in life. Either that or she took them for granted. Perhaps it was more the latter.

He was before her now on one knee because he wanted the rest of the world to know that she was his. It wasn't that he was so arrogant, but that he wanted her to know that whenever anyone caught a glimpse of her left hand, they would say, how lucky she is that someone cares for her that much!

Was it selfish? Yes. A bit. But she deserved it. Everybody deserved to be shown kindness, genuine kindness. He knew it was no coincidence that he had come across Tokio nine years ago, and he was also convinced that he had been meant to be with this woman too. Both girls had lived lives of nothing but hatred and lies. Maybe he wouldn't be able to be completely honest with her, but he would show her a better life than the one she knew.

"Please," he said softly, holding the box out to her. "Marry me."

But Shousha only stared at him. He would have to try harder.

"Help me save my family," he begged quietly, "and I will help you destroy yours."

That was all she needed. Her eyes came back to focus and she sucked in her breath. How could she say no to that? Being close friends with a vice president of a largely successful bank, he had access to a society she couldn't even dream of. He was also still a respected member of society here in Japan. He was a powerful man, despite his appearance and attitude. He could easily wipe Yamata Corp. off the map for good.

But there was something else, Shousha found, as she searched his face. He had agreed to this incredibly ridiculous match because his family was in need. Why then did he seem so genuine with his interest in her?

She let out a small breath that must have been 'yes' because a wide grin spread across his face and he set the box down on the table excitedly. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She had just agreed to marry a complete stranger. She was giving in to her parents wishes. She was backtracking.

The feel of his hand on hers brought her out of her inner thoughts and when she looked down at him, her heart sped up. He slid the ring onto her slender finger and if she hadn't been so determined to hate him, she would have fallen in love with him on the spot.

Okita handled her with a soft familiarity, not at all the careful dominance that Katsura had displayed. He wasn't afraid of her, not at all worried that she might suddenly lash out. Even though it was just her hand, she felt as if he were touching her everywhere. She felt warm, but not overly so.

More than anything, his smile, ever present, made her knees weak. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes said I mean it, caused her to doubt her anger. He was so honest, genuine, gentle, and-

And taking complete advantage of her instability.

"I won't make a good wife," she said as he pulled away, admiring the glimmer of the stone when she moved.

"Why do you say that?"

Furrowing her brow, she examined the rock on her finger. It wasn't very big and she was glad for that. She hated gaudy jewelry.

"I have a very unpredictable temper."

With a little laugh, Okita crossed his arms on the cushion of the couch and leaned forward to rest his chin on them. He grinned as she flinched at his careless display of casual closeness.

"And I am an absolute demon in the mornings."

"I'm serious," she said, scooting away from him, resisting the urge to nudge his face off the sofa with her foot.

"As am I," he responded laughing, "No person should ever have to be in my presence before eleven a.m. unless I am adequately caffeinated."

"I don't like you."

"Yet."

Shousha looked at him with surprise at his sudden confidence with her. "Excuse me?"

He grinned and sat back, resting against the chair he had been sitting in just minutes before. "You don't like me yet."

"No," she said forcefully, "I don't like you at all."

"Why not? Am I ugly?"

A small blush crept up on her features, betraying her attitude. He most certainly was not ugly. He may not have been the most masculine man, but his soft features were so- so- so precious. Yes, if she considered him to be nothing more than a cute little boy, she wouldn't remember how strong his hands had felt against hers or the way his jacket folded around his arms that didn't look the least bit scrawny, as she had previously described him.

He laughed at her and motioned towards the television. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

A change of subject was probably best at this point. He had nudged a few bricks out of place, but she was still disoriented. There was a very good chance that when her head cleared, she'd be right back there with her mortar, replacing the fallen stones.

Closing her eyes, she raised her hands to her forehead. What time was it anyway? Eight? Nine? Ten? A movie might not be such a bad idea. She knew that once Okita left, she'd be alone with her thoughts and that would rob her of her night's sleep. Watching a movie in the state she was in would knock her right out.

"We can watch a movie, yeah."

Glad that she had included him in this, he padded over to the rack of mismatched, half stacked DVDs, enjoying how disorganized she was. It was like she lived her whole life in a whirlwind.

"Hmmm. . ." he pondered as he scanned the titles as best he could, "Scary?"

"No." Shousha sought comfort in the arms of a man when scary movies were around. Tonight, horror was out of the cinematical question.

"How about something funny?" he suggested, pulling one out and holding it up. He doubted she could read it; the city lights coming in from the windows didn't reach this far. "Adrenaline Drive?"

"Yeah," she said, stretching out her legs and snatching a pillow from the floor, "I haven't watched that in a while."

"I used to watch it all the time with my sister Kin," he told her as he began to set up the system for their viewing pleasure, "we always wondered what we would do if we ever had a run in with the Yakuza."

"What would you do?" Shousha asked, more out of reflex than anything.

Okita kept his back to her as he scooted away from the screen slightly, pointing the remote at it. "Eh, I dunno, probably just give them a lot of money. Or tell them jokes. Everyone likes jokes."

Despite her mood, a snort of laughter escaped Shousha's nose. He was incredibly chipper, even in the hypothetical face of the Yakuza.

"What about your sister?"

He turned to her then, giving her a pointed look. "Honestly? I'm surprised Kin isn't in the Yakuza."

When she gave a small smile, he stood, and took his place back in the chair. The movie went on and it wasn't long before Shousha had drifted off to sleep. He brought his feet up to rest on the table and leaned back. This visit had been considerably more successful than he had imagined.

She had agreed to go through with the arrangement peacefully, even if she might change her mind about six times in the next two days, and she had even accepted his company for such a long time.

As he looked over at her he contemplated spending the night. His mother had big plans for her tomorrow and it would be much easier to get her to go to Okita house if he were there to take her. At the same time, he didn't want to run the risk of overstaying his welcome. She had been fine with him tonight, but she was in a broken hearted fog. Tomorrow would bring a new wave of emotions, most likely anger and resentment, and Okita wasn't sure he wanted to be on the receiving end of that any more than he already had been.

Then there was the matter of his pistols. His girls. He carried them on his person most everywhere; he had learned firsthand that being away from battle didn't make one safe. It might be easy to remove them and hide them somewhere in the house now, but how would he explain retrieving them? Or worse, what if she found them on her own?

He would just have to come back in the morning.

When the film ended, he carefully turned off the television and set the remote on the top of the DVD player. Shousha sighed in her sleep and he bit his bottom lip. Should he leave her like that? No. He didn't want to just up and leave; it wasn't in him.

Holding his breath, he slipped his arms under her body and slowly lifted her from the sofa, marveling at how much she didn't weigh. Did she even eat?

He wasn't sure how deep a sleeper she was so his journey to the hall of doors was slow and terrifying. He took the time to enjoy how it felt to be holding a girl. It had been quite a few years since he'd had a girlfriend and he had never really allowed himself to get too close to them. The small handful of girls he had spent a night or two with hadn't allowed themselves to get too close to him and he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had just held any of them.

Shifting her weight in his arms, he opened the first door he came across. Bathroom. Definitely not the place to leave her. The second door revealed her studio and he peered around for a minute, taking in the personality of her home. It was just as complex as her own.

Finally, the last door opened to her bedroom and he was shocked to find it incredibly free of clutter. Using one arm to keep her from falling, he pulled back the sheets of her bed. She protested slightly when he put her down and he froze as she gripped his jacket. He hoped she couldn't feel the racing of his heartbeat, or feel the flush that had come over his body.

Nervous as he was, he couldn't hide the grin cracking through his lips. Maybe she didn't know who she was clutching, but she didn't want to be alone and he was the only person there. He won by default.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," he whispered into her hair, easing her into the bed, "just go to sleep now."

Her grip on him loosened and he covered her with her blankets, giving her head a soft pat before stepping away.

A small darkness activated night light lit the room and while he found it endearing, he also used it to his advantage, sweeping his gaze around the room for some more information about her. There wasn't much. Jewelry stands and boxes covered her dresser, a pile of stuffed animals sat in a corner and on her desk, a few pictures in frames decorated the area that wasn't covered by what he assumed to be sketchbooks. Bending slightly, he picked one of the frames up and was surprised at what he saw.

It was a photo of Shousha and Katsura, that much he had expected, but their expressions threw him for a loop. They were standing in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa- no, standing wasn't the word for it. They were, well, they were. . .goofing around. With his arms securely around her middle, they were both hunched over in what looked like a fit of laughter, the looming tower threatening the illusion of death by smothering.

"Well shoot," Okita said to no one in particular. It was strange to see his father's murderer in such a state of pure unadulterated happiness. This was a side of him that only Shousha knew. The side he knew was the one she didn't. Even together they wouldn't be able to know him completely.

Not that Okita particularly wanted to.

What Okita did want was the blissful smile of the girl in the photo. He had seen her slightly at ease when he had first met her, but those small grins paled in comparison to the expression she had displayed in this moment. If nothing else was accomplished in their marriage, he would make her smile like that again.

As he set the picture back into place, he gave Shousha one last look before stepping out of the room. He scrawled a short note, leaving it on the counter by her purse and with her key securely in his pocket, slipped from the apartment.

xxxx

Author's Note: actually I have nothing to say. I just like the look of having a note at the bottom.