A/N: Since I haven't gotten very far into the anime and thus am not sure how closely it follows the manga, I'm mostly depending on the manga for people's backgrounds (like nobody hadn't figured that out already…). Check out maigo-chan's most excellent online RuroKen translation for details if you need to. And even if you don't. : ).
Disclaimer: Like I really need to be reminded of that lamentable fact….
Words To Watch Out For:
Nada. Again. I'm gettin' good at this….
More Of A Note Than Anything:
Saitou's family: I'm using his parents and siblings' historical names, only I'm not leaving the family name "Yamaguchi," because then I'd have to explain why his last name was different from his family's, and this story is already going to be long enough without adding new complications. Good deal?
Ginza: "the Times Square of Tokyo," as one website I visited described it, and looking at pictures of the place, you'd be hard pressed to disagree. This is the place to go for serious shopping. It's also home to the best galleries and museums in Japan. Have a browse at this website if you're curious: www(dot)galenfrysinger(dot)com(backslash)ginza(underscore)tokyo(underscore)japan(dot)htm
Captain Miserable Finds the Greener Grass
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Chapter Ten: Dinner and A Movie
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Okay. So this hadn't been quite what she'd been expecting.
But she'd cut out her tongue before she complained—after all, she was in his apartment.
Tokio was perched on the counter in Saitou's kitchen, watching him make dinner—soba, as promised. She'd always wondered just how domestic he actually was, because as far as she knew (not that she'd ever gotten up the guts to ask, of course) he'd always lived alone. And judging from the condition of his apartment, he was just domestic enough.
His apartment was Spartan; there was very little in the way of furniture aside from what was strictly necessary, and there wasn't anything hanging on the walls. She was curious about his bedroom, but she didn't have the nerve to poke around, so she contented herself with what she could see: the kitchen/dining area, and the living room; the door to his bedroom was shut.
It was a clean and neat place, as far as she could tell, but she'd expected nothing less from a man who never presented himself with a hair out of place.
"Have you been living here long?" she asked, absently tapping the counter edge she was holding onto.
"Six years," he answered, and Tokio's eyebrows rose in surprise, fingers pausing.
"Six years?" she asked, not quite able to believe she'd heard correctly.
"Uh-huh."
"But…well…is most of your stuff in storage?" she asked.
"No."
Tokio stared at him, incredulous.
"This is it?" she demanded after a moment. "But what about stuff for the walls?"
He shrugged. "Don't have any."
"Well, but, what about pictures!" she protested.
"Of what?"
"Of wha—your family!" she sputtered. "Your parents! Siblings, if you have any! Friends!"
"Why do I need pictures of them?" he asked. "I know what they look like."
Tokio rolled her eyes.
"That's not the point," she said with a sigh. "It makes the place homey."
He shrugged again. "I just sleep and change here," he said.
Tokio sighed and shook her head.
He'd come by the museum for her at eight, as he'd said he would, and just as she'd predicted, she'd been running late, this time dealing with Enishi and Kamatari.
Tokio hadn't gotten the particulars, but she gathered that the argument between the two had started when Kamatari had said something to Enishi that the latter hadn't particularly taken to—and knowing Kamatari, pretty much anything he'd said to Enishi would have sparked an argument.
When Saitou had ambled into her office without knocking, she was sitting behind her desk, rubbing her forehead, eyes closed and frowning, and Enishi and Kamatari were in the middle of a yelling match that had nothing to do with what had originally sparked the argument.
She thought, anyway.
Abruptly, Tokio opened her eyes, grabbed the first object she saw—which happened to be a gold Buddha paperweight Anji had given her a while back—and chucked it at the two men, who immediately scrambled out of the way; they weren't as intent on arguing as they'd seemed, it appeared.
"Now that I have your attention," she said agreeably.
"You almost hit me!" Kamatari said, frowning at her.
"That's what I wanted to do, almost hit you," Tokio replied. "Hitting you and knocking you out wouldn't have resolved the argument, as much as it would have made me feel better."
"You should learn how to duck," Enishi said smugly, and Kamatari glared at him.
"I wouldn't be so full of myself, Enishi—you only just learned how to yourself," Tokio dryly returned, and it was Kamatari's turn to look smug.
"Now then children, returning to the issue under discussion," Tokio said, sitting back in her chair.
"'Discussion'," Enishi repeated with a snort.
"I'm feeling generous," Tokio replied. "Anyway, I know you two have your little issues with each other, and I understand that. But in return, I ask that you two understand that I have certain issues of my own. And what might these issues be, you ask? Well, chief among them is that I would like to get the exhibit up before the end of the year, which is two months away and fast approaching. To do this, I need display cases, and this is where you two come in.
"Now. The only way I'm going to get my display cases, is if you two put aside your petty differences and work together. And if you should find this difficult, then I will be forced to kill both of you in a very gruesome and unpleasant manner. Have I made myself clear?"
"Uh…sure," Kamatari said.
"Right, yeah," Enishi said at the same time.
Tokio beamed at them.
"Excellent!" she chirped brightly. Her happy expression turned into a dark, withering glare. "Now get the hell out."
The two beat a hasty retreat, murmuring a rushed greeting to Saitou, who'd ensconced himself on her couch. He bobbed his head in acknowledgment of their greetings, then turned his attention to Tokio.
"I'm impressed," he remarked.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?" Her tone of voice implied she was pretty sure he was going to say something obnoxious. And how right she was:
"You didn't yell at all."
"You're annoying," she muttered, and he smirked and rose and ambled over to her desk.
"You like it," he taunted. "Little masochist."
She sent him a flat look, and he chuckled and stopped in front of her desk, hands in his pockets.
"You ready?" he asked.
"Just a few more things to take care of, and then we'll go," she said. "So get comfortable on the couch."
"How long?"
"Less than an hour, assuming the fates are feeling kind or merciful."
"Ah—so we're not getting out of here tonight, are we?"
She let out a sigh of exasperation.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're depressing?"
"Okita-kun makes a habit of informing me, yes."
She rolled her eyes and pointed to the couch.
"Sit," she ordered. "You're distracting."
He smirked.
"Really," he drawled.
"Saitou-san," she said tightly. "I will throw my stapler at your head."
"Ah—but will you hit me?" he replied.
"Would you care to find out?" she asked, hand already on her projectile of choice.
"Not particularly," he said, but made no move to leave his spot.
"Well?" she snapped.
"You didn't say please, Chiisai," he said with a devious twinkle in his eye. "If I have to be polite, you do too."
She sighed impatiently.
"Fine fine," she said irritably. "Saitou-san, will you please sit down and wait for me to finish?"
"Much better," he said, tilting his head ever so slightly. "And since you asked so nicely, I'd be happy to."
And so saying, he turned and walked back to the couch and once more ensconced himself on it.
"How charitable of you," Tokio said dryly.
Saitou didn't get the chance to reply; Sae stuck her head in:
"Tokio-san? Yukyuzan-san is waiting to see you."
Tokio blinked.
"Who?" she asked, obviously perplexed.
"Yukyuzan-san," Sae returned.
"Who is Yukyu—OH!" Tokio abruptly stood. "Anji-san! Send him in!"
Sae nodded and disappeared, and then Anji appeared in the doorway, smiling faintly. Tokio sent him a deeply apologetic look.
"Anji-san, I'm so sorry," she said, but he only waved a hand.
"Don't worry about it Tokio-san," he said, his smile widening. "It's all right. You never call me by my family name—I'd hardly expect you to remember it."
"Still," Tokio began, but Anji only waved it off again.
"Really, it's fine," he said. "You said you wanted to know when we could start repainting the exhibit."
Tokio nodded, and gestured for him to enter the room and take a seat in front of her desk, which he did, after closing the door and saying hello to Saitou, who noticed the man was holding a large paper bag and idly wondered what was in it.
"Once all the new light fixtures have been installed, and the cameras have been replaced," Anji began, "I'm going to have to take my workers through and patch up a few walls."
"WHAT?" Tokio sent him a horrified look. "There are HOLES in the walls?"
"Yes ma'am."
"How? When? I never saw a damn hole in the entire exhibit!"
"Oh they came after the break-in," Anji assured her. "During the clean-up process—not the preliminary one you spearheaded, the one after it."
"I hate my assistants," Tokio muttered after a long pause.
"Let me know when you want that taken care of," Saitou reminded her lazily.
Tokio sighed and decided not answering him was better than giving in and possibly sanctioning a mass homicide.
"Are they big holes?" she asked Anji, half-cringing.
"No ma'am," Anji said quickly. "They aren't very big at all, I promise. There's just a lot of them, but it's nothing a little spackle can't cure."
Tokio's shoulders slumped and she sent the mess of papers on her desk a despondent look.
"Okay," she said with a sigh. She looked up at him. "Let me know what you need, and I'll get it for you."
"Oh that won't be necessary," he said immediately.
"Of course it will," Tokio snapped irritably. "You mentioned you were low on supplies a week back."
Anji sighed softly.
"Yes ma'am," he said quietly.
"Be more assertive, Anji-san," Tokio said, voice kinder now. "Kamatari-chan's always in here bitching and moaning that we don't let him spend enough money, but I never hear a peep out of you. You've just as much right to ask for what you need as Her Highness."
Anji smiled faintly at her.
"Tsubaki says the same thing," he admitted.
"Well then I'd say we have a point, Tsubaki-san and I," Tokio replied, smiling in return. "Now get me a list of what you need as soon as you can, and I'll make sure you get everything on it. Deal?"
"Yes ma'am," he said.
"Anything else to tell me?" she asked.
"No ma'am, that's all."
"Okay then. Go home Anji-san, and enjoy the reprieve—in a very short while, you'll be too tired to enjoy Tsubaki-san's company."
"Yes ma'am," he said with a nod, rising. He stepped forward and set the bag on her desk. "This is for you," he added. "From all of us."
Tokio stared at the bag, then looked up at Anji and slowly smiled.
"Is it…?"
Anji nodded, and Tokio squealed and opened the bag and looked into it.
"Oh wow! You guys got me butterscotch!"
Anji laughed. "You mentioned that you really liked it at the last office party, and Tsubaki said you deserved it after all the awful stuff that's happened this week."
Tokio beamed up at the big man.
"You guys're the best," she murmured, sincere. "I'm gonna give those kids of yours so many goodies next time the orphanage comes for a field trip! And Tsubaki-san is getting perfume, and you're getting a vacation so you can go on one of your Zen retreats, I promise—"
Anji laughed again, though he was blushing now.
"Tokio-san," he said, abashed.
"I insist—" Tokio gasped, looking into the bag. "These are from that candy store in Ginza that I like! That's it, I'm buying you guys a new place!"
At this point, Saitou had gotten up and walked over to investigate, curious and also a little suspicious, wondering just what Anji was doing buying her candy. Yeah, the guy'd said it was a gift, but Saitou didn't buy that crap for a second.
Tokio reached into the bag and produced a heaping handful of candy, which she held out to Anji.
"Here," she said, standing and taking hold of one of the larger man's hand and shoving the candy into it. "Give some to the kids. Make sure you save some for you and Tsubaki-san, okay?"
Anji smiled and bobbed his head.
"Yes ma'am. Thank you Tokio-san."
"No, thank you and your wonderful wonderful girlfriend and all those wonderful wonderful kids!" Tokio returned, beaming.
Anji chuckled and bowed.
"You're welcome."
"Now go home and tell them I love them all!"
"Yes ma'am."
Anji said good-bye and good-night to Saitou, who grunted and suspiciously eyed the bag Tokio was holding.
She happily plucked a piece of candy from the bag and began unwrapping it.
"Stop," Saitou ordered, grabbing her wrist. "Don't tell me you're going to eat that."
"Uh, duh," Tokio replied, dropping the candy into her other hand and deftly getting it out of the wrapper.
"Tokio," Saitou growled, his other hand shooting out to grab her free wrist.
She managed to evade his hand and shoved the candy into his mouth.
"You know, you could have just asked if you wanted a piece," she said conversationally. "I'm willing to share."
He glared at her.
"This could have the gods know what in it!" he said.
"Anji-san is the sweetest man on the planet and how dare you say and think such awful things about him!" Tokio said, offended. "He always gives me some kind of candy for New Year's and my birthday!"
"Why?" Saitou asked sourly.
"Because he's thoughtful and sweet," Tokio replied, grabbing another piece and unwrapping it and stuffing it in her mouth before he could try to keep her from eating it. "And he likes me too much to try to poison me." She sighed and sat back in her chair. "This is the best candy in the world."
"If you say so," Saitou said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You should talk to Okita. He has something of a candy fetish."
"Really?" Tokio looked thoughtful. "I should save him some of these, then."
"Are you done?" he asked with a sigh.
"In a minute, in a minute," she assured. "I just have to sign some things that Sae has to make sure get out first thing tomorrow morning, and then we can go. Okay?"
"Feh."
"I'll take that as a yes. Now sit down on the couch like a good little Wolf and wait patiently."
"Wolves are not particularly well-behaved animals," Saitou said with a raised eyebrow.
"Well the one standing before me had better behave, or he's going to have problems," Tokio shot back, and he got the hint and retreated back to the couch, still sucking on the candy.
True to her word, she signed several papers, then called Sae in and relinquished them to her, with the order that they were to be sealed and delivered into the hands of the messenger tomorrow morning, or it would be Tokio's sad duty to toss Sae out on her ear. Sae only smiled and assured her boss there would be no tossing of anyone out on their ears tomorrow, and Tokio smiled and gave her a few pieces of butterscotch and told her to go home.
"You're cracked," Saitou announced when Sae had left, unwrapping one of the candies and humming to herself.
"No comments from the peanut gallery," Tokio replied, shutting down her computer. "So where's dinner tonight? Another soba stand?"
"Something like that," Saitou returned, rising. He ambled over to her desk, reached into the bag and took a piece of candy. Tokio sent him a smug look.
"I'm hungry wench," he growled. "Now hurry the hell up."
"And cranky too," she observed, taking the bag and setting aside a handful in her desk drawer. "For Okita-san, tomorrow," she explained, when he raised an eyebrow.
"Uh-huh," was the dry, skeptical reply.
"Why would I put them in my desk drawer if I have a candy jar on my desk?" she asked, exasperated.
"You're not as generous as you say you are."
"You seriously need to stop with the paranoia," Tokio commented, taking her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk and shutting it with her foot, then rising.
"My paranoia is the reason I'm still alive," Saitou replied.
"Well that has to be it, because it certainly isn't your winning personality."
"Oh nice, take a cheap shot at the guy who's—very generously, I might add—feeding you tonight."
Tokio paused and cocked her head, expression thoughtful.
"You're right—save the potshots for after dinner."
"Atta girl," Saitou dryly remarked, expression amused.
They left her office and Tokio said good-night to a few employees still there, and also told them to go the hell home already, the museum was closed, which made all of them smile—in amusement, but also in palpable relief that she was in such a much better mood.
They walked a few blocks, until they got to the residential district, both of them eating the candy.
"Saitou-san?" Tokio asked after they had entered the residential district. "There aren't any restaurants or stands here. The closest thing is a grocery."
"I know," he said.
"So we're going to the grocery," she said when he didn't continue.
"No."
"Then...?"
"We're going to that apartment complex over there," he said, lazily gesturing up ahead.
"What's over there?"
"Dinner."
That was about the point it dawned on her that he was taking her to his dwelling, and that was also about the time she shut up and became very interested in the dwindling contents of her bag.
Oh yeah, and the mantra "Don't freak out" began running frantic circles in her head right about then too.
Turned out there wasn't much to freak out about once they reached his apartment on the eighth floor.
"You really have the oddest preferences," Saitou said, and Tokio looked over at him.
"Huh?" was her intelligent sounding reply.
"Desks, tables, counters—you'll sit on any flat surface you find, won't you?"
"Do I bother you here?" she asked sweetly.
"I'm making an observation," Saitou replied. "It's what I do. I inspect and make observations."
Tokio smiled faintly.
"Yeah? Maybe you should quit inspecting my legs and concentrate on dinner."
"Only a complete and total idiot can ruin soba, and it seems like a terrible shame to ignore your legs when they're so close by."
"Pervert," she said in a sing-song voice.
"I will purposely screw up dinner if you keep making insinuations, Tokio."
Tokio gasped in mock horror.
"Mean!" she said.
He smiled ever so slightly.
"Gods, I knew letting you eat half a bag of candy was a bad idea," he murmured.
"You helped," she pointed out, and he snorted.
"Hardly."
He was still in his policeman's uniform, though he'd discarded his coat, hat and tie, rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and also removed his badge, gloves and wallet, all of which he'd placed in the entry on the little shelf above the key rack—the one thing he had hanging on the walls.
It was strange to see him like that; she'd often teased him about how he always made sure nothing was out of place on his uniform. She understood it, though—her father and brother were policemen, and they had the same obsession with making sure their uniforms were always clean, crisp and presentable. It was cute, how much pride they took in their uniforms, in their jobs, and Saitou was no different.
Well, he probably wouldn't have smiled if she'd told him it was cute; it was much more likely he'd snap at her that he was no such vile thing.
Cute and Saitou didn't even belong in the same zip code, let alone the same sentence.
He surprised her by kissing her, and though she was a little startled, she wasn't at all adverse to the attention.
"Off the counter," he murmured, and it took her a moment to figure out what he'd said.
When she did, she sent him a disgruntled look, and he let out a snort of amusement.
"Off, little girl," he said again, giving the side of her thigh a firm pat before he moved away, and she stuck her tongue out at him and slid off.
"Don't stick your tongue out at me unless you intend to use it, Chiisai," he said dryly.
"And then he wonders why I call him a pervert," she muttered while she set the table.
Dinner was again a comfortable affair, and Tokio was secretly surprised that Saitou had figured out, with relatively little prompting, that the idea of being on a formal date with him scared her witless. She also wondered if he felt at all insulted by that, though judging from his general demeanor, she didn't think so.
"So," she said, setting her flatware aside and cocking her head. "If last night was a date, what's this?"
He pursed his lips and considered her.
"Oh, I suppose we could stretch it and call this another date," he returned wryly, "even though I didn't technically take you anywhere."
"You took me to your apartment," she pointed out. "That's somewhere."
"Indeed," he said, once more employing the "pervert voice," and Tokio cleared her throat.
"I really hate it when you do that," she said.
"I know," he said, still using the "pervert voice."
"I'll leave," she threatened, and he sent her a smirk.
"Really?" he drawled, and there was something about his tone of voice that had her watching him suspiciously.
"I won't hesitate to hurt you if you try something funny," she warned him, and Saitou chuckled.
"You have some very violent tendencies, Chiisai."
She shot him a disgruntled look but decided not to comment on the nickname this time.
"I do not have violent tendencies," she replied stiffly. "I'm just not afraid of protecting myself when I feel like I'm in danger."
"Well you've nothing to fear from me."
By some miracle of the gods, Tokio was able to keep from laughing in disbelief; she was about as safe with him as a chicken coop full of hens was safe with a fox.
…And there was something disturbingly appropriate about that simile that she didn't care to explore.
"So why'd your father put you in martial arts?" he asked, sitting back in his seat.
"Because up until my brother was born, I was his surrogate son," she replied, and Saitou paused, looking faintly surprised.
"Brother?" he echoed.
"Uh-huh." She brightened. "Oh, do you know him? He's a policeman too. But not in Bunkyo—he's in Nerima Ward, like my father."
Tokio had never seen Saitou flabbergasted. She decided it was an interesting look for him:
"Your father is Takagi Kojuro of Nerima Ward?" he asked incredulously.
"Yup," Tokio replied, smiling faintly.
"The Takagi Kojuro who tackled a would-be assassin to the ground six years ago in the middle of the park after chasing him on foot for three blocks? The Takagi Kojuro who regularly takes down purse-snatchers and convenience store robbers like he's the Bionic Man even though he's almost ready for retirement? Takagi Kojuro, the Demon of Nerima Ward? That Takagi Kojuro?"
"That's my papa," Tokio said fondly.
Saitou stared at her, then abruptly rose and walked into the kitchen.
"What?" she asked, surprised by the reaction.
"I need a drink," he muttered.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, confused.
"Are you serious? Your father's the most decorated man in any precinct in Tokyo! Shit, he took a bullet for Kondou!"
"Papa said that was divine intervention," she said authoritatively. "Right place at the right time."
Saitou didn't reply; he'd grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it and was currently drinking it down like water.
Tokio watched him and tried to hide her disappointment; she loved her father and was very proud of him and the reputation he'd earned, but the reaction was always the same when men found out. It was a large part of the reason she was still single—or as Kamatari liked to put it, "desperately and hopelessly alone." He was highly respected within his own ward and in others, and he had friends everywhere…and the merest mention of any familial connection to Kojuro usually spelled doom for Tokio's love life, because most men didn't want to come within ten feet of her after learning that her father was the Demon of Nerima Ward. Even when she'd been in high school, getting a date had been nearly impossible; Akira or Kamatari had been her "dates."
Her father's reputation had ensured that she not have sex until she was twenty-five, and even then, she'd had to lie by omission, until the guy had found out and run away screaming—literally.
She'd hoped it wouldn't faze Saitou. He'd seemed relatively hard to rattle, and he didn't come across as the type to be easily discouraged.
Well, so much for that.
She fiddled absently with her flatware, staring down at the table top, waiting for the inevitable "It's-not-you-it's-me (and-my-goal-to-live-to-a-ripe-old-age)" line before being unceremoniously shown the door.
"That explains a lot," Saitou said finally.
Tokio rose and turned to him and smiled politely and bowed.
"Thank you for dinner," she said respectfully, suddenly too humiliated by the idea of his kicking her out to wait for him to do it. "I can see myself out."
Then she padded over to the entry and picked up her purse.
"OI!" he bellowed suddenly, making her jump three feet into the air and look over her shoulder to find him towering over her and looking distinctly pissed. "And just where in the seven hells do you think you're going?"
"Well…home," Tokio said, as if that should have been obvious.
"Why?"
She blinked.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Why?" he repeated.
"Well…I…don't you want me to?"
"Of course not you twit! What the hell made you think that?"
She blinked again.
"But…wh…I…because," she finally decided on.
"Because what?" he demanded.
"My father's Takagi Kojuro."
"Mine's Saitou Yuusuke. So what?"
She blinked yet again.
"Would you quit that damn it?" he snapped, and she flinched. "It's distracting."
"Sorry," she replied.
"Are you insinuating that I'm supposed to be afraid of your old man?"
"Well…most men are."
He stared at her, then sighed, and looked at the roof.
"Gods deliver me," he muttered. Then he reached out and grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back into the dining area.
"I'm a little too old to be intimidated by a woman's father," he said dryly. "That might have worked when I was sixteen, but I'm thirty now—give me some credit, huh?"
"You didn't seem very happy, though," she protested.
"Well of course not woman, the man's even less sociable than I am."
"At least you're aware of your own deficiencies," she murmured, and he shot her a withering look.
"Ha. Ha. Ha."
"Well I just assumed, since you turned kinda green when you heard who my father was—"
"I did not turn green," Saitou snapped.
Tokio sent him a reproachful look.
"You did too," she said.
"I did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did n—this is ridiculous!" he shouted, throwing his hands up into the air. "What are we, six?"
"You did too," she muttered, then smiled winningly when he glared at her.
"I was just…surprised," he said with measured calm.
"You needed a drink," she said dryly. "I think you were a little more than surprised."
"I said I was surprised, damn it!" he snapped. His face twisted into a snarl and then he turned and went back to the fridge. "I need another fucking drink," he muttered.
"Look, don't worry about it," she assured, affecting an understanding tone. "You wouldn't be the first guy. I'm used to it."
"I am not scared of your father!"
"Yes, well, you've never met him."
"STOP TALKING!" he bellowed, and Tokio stared at him in surprise.
"Sit!" he barked, and she immediately did as he ordered, staring at him with wide eyes.
"Since you won't listen when I'm talking to you, I'll talk at you," he said tightly, glaring at her. "And if that doesn't work either, we're going to have serious problems. Understood?"
She nodded slowly.
"I," he said, pointing to himself, "am the Wolf of Bunkyo Ward. I give men nightmares. I make them shit themselves in terror—and that's just the men I work with. I've already told you it takes a lot to terrify me. One cranky old man with a bad attitude—"
"Don't talk about my papa like that!" she interrupted furiously.
"I said stop talking!" he bellowed.
Tokio promptly threw her purse at his head; he ducked and it sailed harmlessly over him to slap the cabinets before plopping to the floor and vomiting its contents all over the tiles.
"Look what you made me do!" she wailed.
"Well I didn't tell you to throw the damn thing at me!" he shot back.
"You ducked!"
"I'm not stupid!"
"You're supposed to let me hit you," she snapped, getting up and beginning to collect her things.
"I'm supposed to what?" he asked incredulously, watching her.
"You're supposed to let me hit you," she repeated, grabbing her checkbook. "Now, because you decided to duck, my crap is all over the floor of your kitchen!"
"Well if you'd zip the damn thing shut like I keep telling you to—ow!" he yelped, more surprised than hurt, when she threw her checkbook at his arm and it connected with a stinging slap. He frowned at her as he absently rubbed the spot and decided he needed to watch her a little more closely when she was upset and could get her hands on things to chuck at him—next time, it might be something more substantial than a checkbook, like a frying pan.
Wait a minute…she was in the kitchen…and he had a frying pan (somewhere…he thought)….
It occurred to him that his best bet was to get her away from his meager collection of potentially coma-inducing cookware before it occurred to her that she could throw it at him. Which meant gathering up her "crap," as she'd so eloquently put it. So he leaned down and picked up her checkbook, and whatever else of hers he saw.
"You really need to learn to let people finish talking before you fly off the handle," he said, knowing that this probably was not the smartest thing to do (which would have been to run), but unable to keep quiet any longer. "I wasn't insulting your father, I was trying to make a point."
"Papa is not cranky and he does not have a bad attitude," she frostily replied.
Saitou snorted.
"And I'm a sweetheart," he said sarcastically, and Tokio whirled around, arm ready to toss her (very) thick wallet at his face.
He immediately drew back his own arm and got ready to fire what he was holding.
"I swear to the gods above I'll throw your crap right back at you," he warned.
Tokio watched him, then burst out laughing. Saitou stared at her.
I knew it—she is screwy, he thought.
"What," he asked, pretty sure he didn't want to know, "is so funny?"
"Have you looked at what you're holding?" she asked when she was finally able to form a coherent sentence.
With more than a little misgiving, Saitou looked back at what he'd been ready to throw at her, and found himself holding her checkbook, pen, pocket calculator…and two slender objects in lavender wrappers.
He'd been about to throw tampons at her.
Saitou hung his head and let out a long-suffering sigh, and Tokio began laughing again.
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Eventually, Saitou was able to convince Tokio he really wasn't scared of her father, or intimidated (and he wasn't, though he was a smidge concerned, because he'd heard the old man was a hard sell, and Saitou didn't exactly have really great people skills to begin with).
"I'm impressed," he said, and she sent him a look like she was trying very hard not to laugh at him again. He glared at her in response. "I am, damn it! I'm impressed!"
"Okay," she soothed, "okay. You're impressed. I believe you."
"Don't patronize me."
"I wouldn't dream of it," she said dramatically, even going so far as to put a hand against her chest.
"And don't make fun of me either."
She smiled at him, then leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"Of course not," she said, and he sniffed.
"Fine. I suppose I forgive you then."
She laughed in response, and he smiled faintly, glad she wasn't throwing things at him anymore.
They ended up in the living room; he sat on the fold-out couch he'd had to buy when his older brother had gotten tossed out of his house (they'd roomed together for a very long year while he worked things out with his wife), and watched in amusement as she played with the DVD player his older brother had given him to make up for being such a pain in the ass for a year.
"You ever use this?" she asked, pressing a button and then letting out a small noise of surprised delight when the disk tray slid open. "Oh yay! It did what I wanted!"
He let out a snort of laughter.
"Not really," he said, leaning back and resting his arm along the back of the couch. "I'm usually working."
"Boring," she teased, sending him a smile over her shoulder.
"Well that's obviously not a problem for you, Chiisai," he lazily replied.
She sighed, shaking her head, then turned her attention to his rather sad DVD collection.
"Watcha got?" she asked, more to herself than to him. He raised a suspicious eyebrow when she started snickering.
"What?" he asked warily.
She turned, with a smile of what was best described as exasperated amusement on her face, holding the case of a period film.
"All you have are Kurosawa Akira's movies, Saitou-san," she said.
"I happen to like Kurosawa's movies," he said, offended.
Her smile got bigger.
"Okay, okay, don't get all upset," she said, opening the case and lifting the DVD out. "I like his movies too. I was practically raised on them—Papa's big on the samurai movies."
So that was one point of common interest.
Was it possible to stretch a discussion of Kurosawa Akira's movies into a whole evening's worth of conversation…?
Tokio's plopping down onto the couch next to him brought him out of his musings. She poked his stomach and he flinched in reflex.
"Still not that squishy, huh?" she observed. She shrugged. "Oh well."
She snuggled down against him until her head was pillowed on his stomach; he watched the top of her head in amusement.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked wryly.
"I guess," she replied. "I'd be more comfortable if you were squishier."
"So I've heard," he returned. "I'll see what I can do about that. I haven't had much practice being someone's pillow."
"Hm."
They watched the movie in silence. Or rather, he did; when the end credits rolled and he looked down, he saw Tokio conked out and rolled his eyes.
"Of course," he muttered. He gently shook her hip, where he'd moved his hand to from the back of the couch midway through the movie. "Chiisai. Oi. Wake up. Come on."
"I saw the end," she murmured.
"You did not, you liar," he shot back.
"Well it doesn't matter, 'cause I've seen this one before."
"Wake up."
"Mean," she muttered, sleepily rubbing her eyes. She yawned and turned over, head now pillowed by his lap and his hand now resting on her stomach. "What time is it?"
He shrugged.
"Hell if I know."
"Don't you have a watch?"
"No."
"Do too," she accused, grabbing his left hand and pointing to the watch on his wrist.
"Well whaddaya know, I do," he dryly replied. "And look at that, you've got one too." he added, taking hold of her right wrist and tapping the watch around it with his index finger.
"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Whoops."
He raised an eyebrow; she sent him a small smile.
"Can I have my arm back?" she asked.
"Hm…I'll think about it," he replied, and she rolled her eyes, then reached up and grabbed his left wrist again and turned it so she could see the face of his watch. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"I have to go home," she said, letting go of him and sitting up.
"Or I could offer you my hospitality for the night," Saitou said with a faint, wolfish grin, and she cleared her throat, cheeks pink.
"Yes well," she said primly, standing and smoothing down her skirt. "I wouldn't want to put you out."
"Oh you wouldn't," he drawled.
Tokio recalled his threat at the train station last night:
"Go on, before they leave your ass behind. Because if they do, you'll be going home with me tonight, and neither one of us is sleeping on the couch."
"I bet," she muttered. "That's very generous of you, Saitou-san, but I really ought to get ho—oh!"
Tokio blinked, finding herself sitting on Saitou's lap.
"That's the fourth time tonight you've called me that. Don't you think we're rather past 'Saitou-san', Chiisai?" he lazily inquired, one eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer.
"Uhm…yes?" she replied, watching him with wide eyes.
He looked faintly amused.
"Good answer," he said, mouth curving up into a half-smirk. "Now, do you remember my first name?"
"Yes," she said. "Look, Sai—Hajime," she corrected with a sigh when he raised his eyebrow higher. "Uhm…could I maybe stand up? Or sit on the couch?"
"Not comfortable?" he asked innocently, and proceeded to bounce one of his legs. Tokio immediately grabbed hold of his shoulder and the knee of the leg that was moving.
"Not particularly," she replied, and he chuckled lowly.
"Gonna remember my first name, Chiisai?"
"Yes."
He inclined his head and leaned forward and kissed her, then let her scramble out of his lap, and then he lazily rose and rotated his shoulders.
"All right, get your things together and I'll walk you to the train station," he offered, and she bobbed her head and padded out of the room.
He ambled over to the TV and turned it and the DVD player off, then turned off the lights and strolled out of the living room, hands in his pockets.
She'd already shrugged into her jacket and was in the process of stepping into her heels, purse and bag of candy in hand.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, looking up at him and smiling.
He gave a short nod, then ambled over to the entry, got into his shoes, then grabbed his keys and wallet from the key rack, and they left his apartment.
"So are you still taking karate?" he asked conversationally.
"I quit a year ago," she said, shaking her head. "Not enough time."
"The exhibit again?"
"Uh-huh."
"You ever think maybe it's cursed?"
"Bite your tongue!"
He chuckled.
"All right, all right," he soothed. "Just wondering out loud. Seems like it's been more of a trial than anything."
Tokio sighed gloomily.
"No kidding," she muttered, and he slid one of his hands out of his pockets and draped his arm over her shoulders, bringing her closer.
"By the way," he said, "we want to do a walk-through tomorrow."
"A walk-through?" she asked, looking up at him, and he nodded.
"We were looking over the photos today, and there's something weird about the whole set-up."
"Like what?"
"Like maybe they didn't start at the beginning."
She frowned thoughtfully, then looked back up at him, surprised.
"You mean they didn't start destroying stuff with the first room?"
"Very good Chiisai," he said, amused. She grumbled something he didn't catch and elbowed him in the ribs, and he smirked. "The damage was haphazard and sloppy. Except for one room."
"Which one?"
"The weapons room."
"So you guys are thinking they started there, and then when they didn't find whatever it was they were looking for, they vandalized the other rooms?"
"Bingo."
"Why?"
"Most likely to throw us off. I thought it was bizarre that nothing was taken, especially after you gave us the inventory with the estimated worth of each object on display. It wasn't until we started looking at the photos we took that we started thinking something about this really didn't look right."
Tokio snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, 'cause it made so much sense before," she muttered. She sighed and leaned her head against him. "Okay, you guys can do the walk-through. Do you want the head curator to be there?"
Saitou shrugged.
"I guess. Why?"
"Just wondering."
"One more thing."
"Hm?"
"I had a long conversation with my chief, Hijikata, this morning, and he and I agreed that you need extra security at the museum."
Tokio lifted her head and glared up at him.
"Look here you—" she began hotly, but he held up a hand.
"The decision is out of your hands, Chiisai, so get used to it."
She glared up at him, fuming, then turned her attention ahead.
"Well if I don't have a choice then," she snapped bitterly.
"Oh don't have a fit," he said, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe you're offended, especially after that bomb threat this morning."
"My security staff is adequate," she said.
"Adequate don't mean shit," he snapped sharply, starting to get irritated. "You're lucky we didn't find an actual bomb on the premises! I was surprised it wasn't there, frankly, considering the top-notch team you've got working for you."
"Stop talking about my staff!" she shouted, trying to throw his arm off of her shoulders.
He stopped walking and pressed her more tightly into his side.
"That's enough," he growled. "Now behave."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll spank you right here," he threatened, and she stopped struggling and stared up at him, horrified and incredulous.
"What?"
"You heard me," he snapped, glaring down at her. "Are you going to behave?"
She didn't reply, but she did sniff and turn away, and he took that as a yes and eased up on his grip a little.
"You won't even notice they're there," he said, voice normal now, as he tugged her along when he began walking again. "I'm calling in Shinomori's old comrades from the security department. They all trained together, and I'm putting him in charge of overseeing the security of the museum."
"Does that mean he's going to be in charge of my staff as well?" she asked stiffly.
"Yes." She stiffened under his arm. "Would you rather I deal with them?" he demanded testily.
"No," she admitted.
"Then be happy I was considerate enough to give Shinomori the job and not do it myself."
Actually, it had been Hijikata who'd made that call; Saitou had wanted to take charge of the security team, but once his superior officer had realized that Saitou had a hostile attitude (to understate in the extreme) towards the museum security staff, Hijikata had decided it was best if Saitou stayed as far away from them as was humanly possible.
It had taken a direct order with a dire warning attached to get Saitou to agree.
"Fine," she said moodily.
He held his peace and didn't tell her her acquiescence wasn't necessary; two fights was more than enough for one night.
They walked in silence until they got to the train station.
"You've got fifteen minutes before the next train comes through," he observed, looking at his watch.
"Uh-huh," she replied, still stiff and frosty, and he rolled his eyes; aw hell, now how was he supposed to fix this?
"The security is temporary, Tokio," he said with patience he didn't actually possess. "Once we've got Wu in custody, the team moves out and your staff will once more have full reign."
"You didn't ask me," she snapped. "I would have agreed if you'd asked."
Ah. So she resented his high-handedness.
"All right," he said wearily. "All right. I apologize for not asking you, and in the future, promise to ask you next time I decide to make any new change. Acceptable?"
"'Any new change'?" she repeated, one eyebrow raised.
"Any new change."
She watched him, then lifted her chin and sniffed.
"Fine," she said. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied. "Anything else I've done that's got your panties in a knot?"
Her lips twitched.
"You are such a pervert, Hajime."
"It's an expression," he protested. "However, if in your particular case, it's actually true, I'd be more than happy to help you remedy it."
"Pervert," she insisted, poking him in the chest.
He grabbed her finger.
"That's not nice," he said mildly, and she smiled and leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him.
"Better?" she asked sweetly.
"Hm—it's a nice start, but you didn't kiss the spot you abused, Tokio," he returned, and she shook her head and kissed him again.
"Too bad," she returned. "Now I have to go get my ticket or I'll miss my train."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," he said.
"With you offering to check my underwear for knots?"
"I'm less interested in the underwear than in what's under it," he replied, and she whacked him.
"You say things like that to mortify me, don't you!" she accused.
He shrugged.
"I need a hobby, right?" he returned.
She laughed, shaking her head.
"You're not well," she said as he dragged her close.
"Nope," he agreed. "I think you're gonna miss your ride," he added before he leaned down and kissed her.
Actually, she didn't; she managed to convince him to let her get her ticket before the train came by mentioning—off-handedly, of course—that her father was expecting her home, and he would probably not be very happy to learn exactly why she hadn't made it.
"You're devious," he accused, glaring at her.
She grinned cheekily and winked at him.
"See you tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder as she scrambled off to get her ticket with less than five minutes before the train was supposed to show up.
He waited until the train was gone to walk back to his apartment, on the off chance that she'd missed it after all.
It hadn't been the best night he'd ever had with a woman, and most men would have deemed it a mild disaster, since they'd had two separate fights in one evening. Then again, Saitou wasn't most men.
Which was probably a good thing, since Tokio herself was anything but normal.
"Takagi's fucking daughter," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "This should be interesting."
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Preview of Chapter 11: Secrets and Security:
"You sent poor Himura to get her instead of going yourself."
"I knew she wouldn't try to kick Himura's head off."
There was a pause.
"Okay fine. But you're still a creep."
---
"If you don't get over here now you'll be unemployed is what you'll be! Move your ass!"
"Now she's the dragon lady," Saitou said, arms crossed over his chest.
---
"Captain Miserable," she said dryly, gesturing to the curator, "allow me to introduce you to Captain Obvious."
---
"Am I in hell?" she asked.
"Naw," he replied. "Just feels that way."