Saitoh stared warily into the murky pool before him. So far so good, nothing dangerous had grown legs and walked out of it ... yet, but that didn't mean there weren't mutant creatures lurking just beneath the surface awaiting unsuspecting victims. He grimaced and cautiously poked his chopsticks into the soup bowl sitting on the table before him. No udon had ever seemed so dangerous before.
"Aren't you going to eat that?" The maid asked.
'No way in hell!' was the conclusion any logical man would have drawn. He was hungry, not suicidal. With the foul aftertaste of the mochi still burning a hole through his tongue, he had to have a death wish to try more of Tokio's cooking. He should go back to the Shinsengumi headquarters and be thankful of the mess they served in mess hall.
But life was not that simple.
Life had stopped being simple the moment he met Tokio.
He stared warily back at the noodle soup before him, and commanded his stomach to stop its somersaults. There was no time to get more food between now and the start of his patrol; plus, he hadn't really eaten the whole day, so he badly needed nourishment to keep up his strength.
He had a duty to keep himself in fighting condition before oncoming battles, and if he had to destroy all his taste buds to protect the good of Japan, so be it.
Saitoh held his breath, grabbed a chopstick full of noodles, and shoved it in his mouth.
The seasoning overwhelmed his tongue with such a jolt he forgot to chew before he swallowed.
The food was ... was ... decent ... some might even consider it ... good. To make sure that it wasn't hallucination caused by prolonged starvation, he immediately tried another mouthful of the noodles. Then another, and another.
Before he realized it, the bowl sat empty before him.
No, he didn't like the food. He couldn't possibly have liked Tokio's cooking. Intense hunger must have been the only reason he considered the udon edible.
"Wow, I had never seen anyone eat so fast before, Saitoh-sama." The headless chicken marveled with her chopsticks stuck halfway inside her open mouth.
He dismissed her. If those words had come from any half intelligent person he would have considered it an insult, but he no longer regarded the headless chicken as a thinking human being.
Nonetheless, Tokio had enough wits to recognize her maid's lapse in manners, and she immediately scrambled for a recovery. "Would you like some tea? It's freshly brewed." She inquired solicitously while pouring him a cup of the steaming liquid.
Like a good and obedient little kitten.
Saitoh gloated. Tokio had finally learned her place. This was how things should be: with him as the victor, and with her serving dinner and tea every night, and seeing to all his comforts.
All his needs.
What a beautiful picture - Tokio openly submissive to him.
He smiled gleefully and contemplated all the things he could have her do. Perhaps he should order her to prepare a bath for him, and ...
Thump!
The racket of something, or someone, smashing headlong into the dirt, disrupted Saitoh's reverie. He glanced towards the corner of the garden where the noise originated. Much to his annoyance, not only could he see an obvious dust cloud where the "landing" had occurred, the commotion got worse as he watched. All the bushes in the vicinity were brutally bashed aside by a half hidden hand, and the path of destruction clearly indicated someone heading their way. And the prowler, not satisfied with merely annihilating vegetation in his wake, had also frightened all the animals in the garden into immediate flight. The idiot couldn't have heralded his "sneak" arrival any louder by using trumpets.
Saitoh didn't even need to guess to know who it was.
Takeda!
The most incompetent moron in Kyoto. Even the dead couldn't have failed to notice the idiot's entrance.
Saitoh suppressed the urge to immediately drag the moron, by the hair, back to the Shinsengumi headquarters for basic training. How did that imbecile ever make the rank of captain? And now that piece of trash was creeping around a woman's house in middle of the night like a dirt-sucking rat. If the idiot was going to be so incompetent as to get caught anyways, at least walk through the front door like a human being!
Saitoh almost drew his sword so he could go and dismember the scumbag before anyone found out about this disgrace. For a second, he couldn't even tell which angered him more: the idiot's total lack of aptitude or honor.
To think that a small part of him had hoped that Tokio was like most women, prone to exaggeration, and that a fellow Shinsegumi captain would at least have enough intelligence to pretend to possess a shred of decency somewhere!
It was the last time he made THAT mistake.
Saitoh's hand itched to draw his short sword and use it like a throwing knife to "accidentally" spear the rat. Too bad Hijikata wouldn't buy such a ridiculous story no matter how much he dressed it up, and he did not relish the idea of committing seppuku over Takeda.
Still, that rat needed a lesson.
Saitoh's eyes roamed over his surrounding, and quickly settled on the pot of steaming tea sitting in middle of the table.
Perfect.
He grabbed the teapot and waited patiently while Takeda demolished half of the garden in an attempt to creep towards them. And as soon as Takeda's head popped into range, Saitoh casually emptied the entire teapot's steaming content straight over Takeda's scalp. The resulting scream could be heard for miles.
"You little bitch! By the time I am done with you, I'll make you wish you are dead." Takeda erupted from the bushes like a half cooked lobster jumping out of a boiling pot. Only to freeze completely as the idiot seemed to suddenly realize who his true opponent was.
Saitoh sneered and noted with satisfaction the blisters that were forming on the Takeda's forehead.
"You sure talk big for someone who screams like a girl." Saitoh drawled.
But Takeda's brain seemed too slow to keep up with the conversation; it had yet to recover from the surprise. "What ... what are you doing here?"
"That's MY question, ahou"
"Ahh ..." Takeda screeched in a voice a few octaves too high and nervously looked towards Tokio.
Silently pleading for her to come to his rescue.
Saitoh snorted in disdain. He couldn't understand how the moron managed to survive for so long. Tokio was clearly not the type to collaborate with an enemy in hopes of appeasement. Any "help" Tokio offered to Takeda would only get the moron killed that much faster.
And true to Saitoh's expectations, Tokio immediately offered her "assistance" in a honeyed voice, "We found some marbles in the garden, Takeda-sama, perhaps you lost them?"
"Yes. That's it! I lost my marbles, and I come looking for them." Takeda agreed eagerly.
Totally oblivious to Tokio's insult.
Which, Saitoh noted, annoyed Tokio to no end, and he could already see her brain working feverishly coming up with her next taunt. Saitoh had no doubt that Tokio could think of enough insults to last the night. Not that it would do her any good. Takeda was too stupid to recognize an insult - the idiot would probably describe their dialogue as him charming her with excellent conversation. Saitoh idly wondered if he allowed this little diversion to go on, who would ultimately "win".
Too bad it was not in his best interest to conduct such an experiment. Given enough time, Tokio would undoubtedly escalate the confrontation until it spun out of control.
The kitten was too spirited for her own good.
And too clever.
Who knew what kind of scheme she would dream up? He definitely didn't want to end up helping Tokio hide Takeda's corpse.
Or help Takeda bury hers.
Better to separate the two before the situation deteriorated irreversibly. "Let's go and find your marbles elsewhere." He gestured Takeda towards the door.
But Takeda didn't seem to get the hint. The moron just stood there and gaped at Tokio longingly. However, a not so subtle thumbing of the katana out of his scabbard got the idiot's attention, and Takeda followed him out of the Takagi household without further incident.
The two of them walked rest of the way to the Shinsengumi headquarters in heavy silence. He could feel the moron fuming the entire way, but he doubted that Takeda would cause him overt trouble - that coward only picked on the weak and the helpless.
But Saitoh was neither weak nor helpless. Nor was Hijikata.
Hence there was no way that Takeda would risk his neck, or Hijikata's wrath, by starting a duel he couldn't possibly win. And to seal the coward's defeat, both Takeda and Saitoh knew that there was not way for Takeda to get to Tokio until the next afternoon at the earliest.
After all, it might greatly shorten Takeda's life if the idiot chose to either break curfew by sneaking back to the Takagi estate, or by skipping his morning patrol.
Saitoh took out a cigarette and lit it, to celebrate the moron's deafeat. Any day that he could watch Takeda suffer was a good day.
And he had a feeling that it was going to be a great upcoming week.
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The warmth of the day gave away to the chill of the night as the sun set beyond the dark horizon. But Saitoh didn't mind it. He required none of the outdoor warmth. There was enough heat in the bedroom.
For both of them.
He settled back into his futon and watched as Tokio swayed towards him, wearing a white yakuta so sheer, it revealed more than it hid.
And what a view it revealed.
He smiled appreciatively as his eyes explored every curve of her figure, every motion of her body. She had the supple physique of a consummated dancer, and the flawless skin that would have put all the geishas in Kyoto to shame.
And she was all his.
Suddenly, as if sensing his intense interest, she paused in her steps diffidently and lowered her gaze. She batted her eyelashes in uncertainty, almost as if begging for his permission to approach. It drove him wild. Her combination of innocence and sensuality made him crave her with mind numbing passion. Every swing of her hip, every rise and fall of her chest, kept him hungering for more.
He beckoned her to him, and after a touch of demure hesitancy, she flowed into his arms.
"Saitoh-sama," she pressed her soft curves against him and whispered sensuously into his ear, "do you want me as much as I want you?"
"Oh yes," he groaned.
Oh yes.
Her cloth fell away.
She ...
"Captain Saitoh," a sharp knock on his shoji door startled Saitoh and flung him abruptly back into the waking world. His eyes snapped open, his body jolted into the sitting position, and his hand reflexively gripped the handle of the katana lying next to his futon.
"This is your wake up call." A disinterested voice from the other side of the wooden panel intoned before moving off.
Leaving every nerve in Saitoh's body ready for combat, but with no enemy to destroy.
Saitoh gritted his teeth, took several deep breaths, and forced his heart rate back to normal. Ordinarily, all the adrenalin rushing through his system would have dispelled any lingering dream from his mind, but not this time. His dream world wrapped around him like a web, beaconing him back to its seductive depth.
But he quickly forced the lingering fog of desire out of his mind.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and released his sword.
He stood up.
Every single muscle in his body protested at the exertion. He had never remembered hating mornings quite this much before. Waking up after one of these dreams was worse than waking up with a hangover. He felt more exhausted now than when he had gone to bed two hours ago - it felt almost as if he had stayed up all night, performing hard labor.
Well, he supposed he did.
Although no man would complain against such pleasurable work, he still wanted Tokio out of his dreams. He had more important things to do: a populace to rescue, the Ishin shishi to squash, and a country to save. He didn't have time for the silly kitten.
Besides, he had no idea why his mind conjured her in the first place. Even if he were to dream about women, Tokio should be the last person on anyone's list. She was disrespectful, disobedient, devious, imprudent, and unreasonable.
Everything that a sane man would avoid.
She would not make a good wife.
She would not even make a good mistress.
His sanity must have decided to taken a vacation because of prolonged exposure to her insufferable presence. But it was time to regain his control. He force her firmly out of his mind and purged her from his dreams.
Saitoh left his room and headed to bathhouse for a quick rinse down, before reporting to Kondo for his morning shift. On his way towards the stairs, he happened upon the page going from room to room with the morning wakeup calls. He was usually already out of his quarters before the boy even started the rounds - he had not slept in this late for a long time.
Saitoh sighed wearily and decided to use the coldest water he could find for his morning bath. The onslaught of liquid ice against his skin revived him.
He got dressed, skipped breakfast, and headed for Kondo's office.
But to his surprise, he found Okita waiting for him in the hallway outside of the office.
"Good morning, Saitoh-san." Okita greeted with the usual air of simulated happiness. "How was your night patrol?"
"Uneventful." Saitoh replied guardedly. "Aren't you supposed to be on your morning patrol right now?"
"Yes, but Kondo-sama had requested that I accompany him to his daily meetings this week. He had wanted to give you some rest." Okita gave another huge smile.
A smile that seemed so innocent but it hid a world of secrets. Was Okita a circumspect way for Kondo to countermand Hijikata and get a new aide, or was this Kondo and Hijikata's way of lightening Okita's workload?
Saitoh studied Okita out of the corner of his eye. Okita looked no worse than usual, but that said little. Okita had always been very adept at hiding his illness; however, the fact that Hijikata had moved Okita from night patrol to morning patrol, and now to the role of a mere honor guard, said volumes. If they continue to reduce Okita's duties, sooner or later, everyone would figure out Okita's secret.
But none of that was any of his business. For now, Hijikata's clique could play their little games all they wanted. So long as they didn't endanger the welfare of Japan or the Shinsengumi, he saw no reason to interfere. Besides, he welcomed a break from having to deal with idiotic politicians.
He needed no encouragement to leave Okita to suffer alone.
He shrugged and went back to his room. To his bed.
To finally getting some rest.
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Chapter 11: Poetry
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Special thanks to Kamorgana and Firuze for beta-reading.