MERRY HAPPY NEW YEAR!
So at least this time I'm closer to the actual post day. Makes me happy to be starting the new year off on sort of the right foot. Just a little housekeeping before we start:
I'm starting to catch up with people's reviews (I'm hoping to be done and caught up by Wednesday—knock on wood), but since the alert system is down (again) I have no idea when I will be getting PMs. So if you haven't heard from me, it's either because I never got your PM, or I haven't gotten to your review yet, not because I'm ignoring you or anything.
Also, I completely forgot to post the answer to the little quiz I gave you all for Chapter 23 (? I'm feeling too lazy to look it up…plus it's New Year's; that's not a totally legitimate excuse but whatever, let's pretend, 'kay?). The answer was Sabrina, for those interested, and several of you guessed right, which made me happy, because at least I'm not alone in my appreciation for Old Hollywood (which in my opinion is so much better than the current one, but that's another argument for another day).
Lastly, last week's post was the last multi-chapter post for Captain Mis. Sorry—I know lots of you were enjoying not feeling the pain of tearing out your hair and going "But what happens next damn it!?!" at the end of the post, but they take a lot out of me. Plus, at the rate I was going, I'd have ended up getting off my schedule (can you say "Uber-dork"?) worse than I was already, and bad things would have happened. To my sanity. So yeah, no more multi-chapter posts. : (.
Anyway, that's all, I think. So Happy New Year, and I wish all of you all things good in the coming year. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Like I really need to be reminded of that lamentable fact….
Words To Watch Out For:
oji: uncle. Usually attached to one of the honorifics, i.e., "-san".
More Of A Note Than Anything:
Nada (that I saw, anyway).
Captain Miserable Finds the Greener Grass
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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Auld Lang Syne
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"Oh holy shit."
At Okita's horrified statement, Saitou looked up and found his subordinates staring at him in amazement, and in Okita's specific case, dismay.
"What?" Saitou asked, a little defensively.
"I knew you were going to trigger the Apocalypse," Okita said, and Saitou sent him a flat look that told everyone that he thought his oldest friend was a complete moron.
"What are you babbling about, nitwit?" he growled, exasperated.
"You lit your cigarette," Aoshi said in something like wonderment.
Saitou raised an eyebrow.
"I had no idea that act could trigger the Apocalypse," he said dryly.
"You didn't use a match," Okita said. "You always use a match. Always. Since you started smoking."
"Ah—so that's going to trigger the Apocalypse."
"When did you buy a lighter?" Okita demanded, stunned.
"I didn't," Saitou replied, and went back to his paperwork.
There was an expectant pause, and then Okita snapped,
"Well?"
Saitou glanced up and found his subordinates still watching him.
"You have work to do, you know," he reminded them, looking back down at his papers.
"Hajime!"
"Don't whine Okita-kun, it's undignified."
"Bastard."
"Work."
Okita knew better than to push the issue (at least for the moment), and went back to his paperwork mumbling uncharitably about Saitou under his breath, though he was never loud enough that Saitou heard all of it, so it was acceptable for Saitou to pretend he hadn't noticed. Kenshin and Aoshi eyed each other, then Saitou, then reluctantly went back to their own work, though they surreptitiously glanced at the lighter sitting innocently on Saitou's desk, next to the ash tray which was no longer overflowing quite so much as it had been in recent weeks.
It was quiet in the office for a long time, and then Okita threw down his pen and shouted,
"Where'd the damn lighter come from!?"
Saitou, in reply, threw a paperweight at Okita's head without so much as glancing up from what he was reading, and Okita ducked and barely missed what had promised to be a very impressive concussion.
"You were very close that time, sir," Aoshi noted mildly.
"Hm," Saitou grunted. "Aimed too high. I'll get him next time, though."
"Come on you bastard, where'd you get it?" Okita whined.
"Souji, do your paperwork," Saitou ordered with a touch of weariness in his voice.
"Tell me!"
"You either do what needs to be done or I hurl your ass out the window like you were a Frisbee," Saitou snapped in annoyance. "Which are you in the mood for?"
Okita ignored the threat and rubbed his chin, one eye closed, the other trained on Saitou thoughtfully. He eyed his friend in silence, then snapped his fingers.
"Ah-ha—your mom."
"Okita, I will stab you with your pen."
"Oh not in here," Kenshin muttered, "you'll get it all over the papers again."
"Blood-spattered documents do look rather unprofessional," Aoshi agreed.
"Yeah, well, it suits the Wolf," Okita said absently. "Naw, it couldn't a been your mom—she's been tryin' a get ya to stop since you started. Your old man?" he tried.
"I have a letter opener shaped like a katana, Okita," Saitou reminded him.
"Take the letter opener from him," Kenshin muttered to Aoshi.
"I like my hands where they are," Aoshi murmured back. "And how they are," he added after a second. "No extra holes or missing fingers."
Kenshin rolled his eyes.
"No," Okita decided, shaking his head, "the lighter's too classy-looking. Your old man woulda gotten you somethin'…well, not as classy-lookin'. Your grandpa, right?"
"Did you know the Gatotsu works just as well with a letter opener as it does with a katana?" Saitou asked in a mild voice that didn't make any of the other three think for a minute he was just sharing some random fact.
Before Saitou was able to show Okita just how surprisingly well the Gatotsu worked with a letter opener, there came a knock on the door jamb of their shared office, and the four men looked to the doorway to find a young man with a box under one arm, watching them a little warily.
"Pardon me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm looking for Assistant Inspector Saitou Hajime?" he asked.
"For?" Saitou asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I've been assigned to work under him."
Saitou leaned back in his seat and observed the boy top to bottom with a critical eye.
"From where?" he asked finally.
"Within criminal, sir," the young man replied, having obviously realized who he was speaking to.
"Twenty, right?" Okita asked suddenly, and the young man paused.
"I'm sorry?" he asked finally.
"You're twenty, right?"
"Twenty-one," the young man corrected, looking surprised.
Okita grinned widely.
"Aw, he's just a baby," he said cheerfully. "We've never had a baby before."
Aoshi raised an eyebrow and sent Okita a questioning look; he distinctly remembered being called "The Infant" when he'd first come to work with the other three men, and Okita still called him that on occasion, just to be obnoxious.
"You were way older than him when we got you Shinomori," Okita said, understanding the look.
"By a year," Aoshi replied, slightly incredulous.
"Ah, but the difference between ages is wide and profound, Grasshopper."
"It's a year."
Saitou rolled his eyes and Kenshin sighed and rubbed his temple.
"Name," Saitou snapped at the young man in the doorway, who immediately stood at attention.
"Nice reflexes," Aoshi commented.
"Nerves," Okita corrected. "He's got nice, agitated nerves."
"Mishima Eiichirou, sir." the young man said, bowing low.
"Fine, grab the empty desk," Saitou said. "Split the paperwork five ways," he ordered the others at large, already going through the stack on his desk to weed out the ones he really didn't need to be doing.
Within several minutes, Eiichirou was seated at the fifth desk in the office that usually served as the catch-all for everyone's papers and crap, using a pen borrowed from Kenshin to go through the forms the other men had (very quickly) shoved into his hands. Saitou had also immediately assigned Kenshin the task of helping Eiichirou acclimate to his new work environment, and that would take place later, once the paperwork was out of the way. Eiichirou's box sat on the floor by his new desk (which was still partially covered with crap) forgotten for now, and for a time the five men went about their business in silence.
Then:
"So where'd you get the lighter from?"
"Oh that's it," Saitou snapped, grabbing his letter opener.
Eiichirou watched in disbelief as his new boss whipped said letter opener through the air like a throwing knife, sending it spinning straight at Okita, who yelped and leapt out of the way.
"Missed by three inches," Aoshi informed Saitou.
Kenshin sighed and rubbed his temple a little more insistently, then remembered there was someone in the room who no doubt thought they'd all lost their minds. He looked over at Eiichirou to find the stunned young man watching Saitou incredulously—the Wolf was now looking for a new projectile and threatening to use Okita's skull as his new saké glass. He looked over at the redhead with the long-suffering expression.
"Sir…?" Eiichirou asked, eyes wide.
Kenshin sent him a pitying look:
"Welcome to the rest of your life, Eiichirou-kun."
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Saturday found Saitou visiting his parents and grandfather at his brother's.
His parents had been staying with his brother's family in their apartment for the last few months while their home had been undergoing a little renovation, and since Masu's father, Ichinohe Denpachi, lived with them, he'd come along as well. Saitou felt for his grandfather—Denpachi had lived his entire life in the country, but a severe case of arthritis had necessitated that he come to live with his only child, since he couldn't move around as well anymore. The old man hated Tokyo, and about the only thing that brought him any measure of happiness was his daughter's backyard. He took meticulous care of the backyard, and spent most of his time out there. He'd been building a bird feeder and bird bath until the renovation had started, and now that he was in a cramped apartment with his family, he'd been depressed and spent a lot of time in the park, feeding the birds in flagrant violation of the signs posted. He'd escaped being fined because Saitou had paid a visit to the ward precinct and mentioned that his grandfather was not to be screwed with, and he was to be allowed to feed as many freaking birds as he wanted, or they'd be dealing with Saitou Hajime beating the crap out of each and every one of them.
So after visiting with his parents and getting into the traditional wrestling match with his brother that he just barely won, and getting the traditional sparring with his psycho father out of the way, he went out in search of his grandfather, and found the old man sitting on a bench, leaning heavily against his cane and watching the birds. The birds scattered at Saitou's approach, and Denpachi looked annoyed until he saw who his visitor was.
"Hajime," he said, grinning in real delight.
"Grandpa," Saitou said, bobbing his head.
His grandfather patted the bench next to him, and Saitou sat.
"Wondering when you'd show up," Denpachi said, reaching into the bag beside him and tossing a handful of seeds onto the ground to coax the birds into coming back, which it did. "I suppose you saw your mother?"
"And the old man," Saitou said, nodding. "How you allowed Mom to marry him remains a complete and utter mystery to me, Grandpa—Dad's completely out of his mind."
His grandfather chuckled and leaned his chin on the hands stacked on top of his cane's handle.
"I liked your father when I first met him. He has a sense of humor. And I knew he'd take good care of your mother."
"You know he was a nut job too?" Saitou asked dryly, and his grandfather laughed.
"You're a lot like he was when I first met him."
Saitou shuddered.
"Oh please don't say that," he begged, horrified by the thought, and Denpachi laughed again.
"So I suppose we won't be seeing you on New Year's again?" Denpachi asked with a sigh, once he'd stopped laughing.
"We're always short men," Saitou said, which wasn't actually an answer, but sort of was.
Denpachi sighed.
"Too bad—once your father gets drunk I have no one to talk to," he said wistfully. "Your mother has to take care of him."
"Well," Saitou said, feeling like a bastard all of a sudden, "you guys'll still be staying with Hiroaki and his wife."
Denpachi snorted.
"I love my grandchildren, Hajime, but your brother lacks your charm. And I've never yet been able to have a conversation with his wife that lasted longer than ten minutes, not counting the frequent awkward pauses."
Saitou smirked wryly.
"So I'm charming, am I? I'll have to let Souji know that so he can stop talking crap."
Denpachi smiled faintly.
"Ah, Souji-kun—I miss that boy."
Saitou snorted.
"Yeah, 'cause you don't work with him."
Denpachi's smile widened.
"Don't talk garbage, boy, I know you like working with him."
"He's a pain in the ass."
"So are you—it's why you two get along so well."
"Gee, thanks Grandpa," Saitou said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, and Denpachi laughed.
"So does your girl know you aren't going to be out celebrating with her?" Denpachi asked, and Saitou started.
"What?" he asked, staring at his grandfather in surprise, and the old man grinned widely at him.
"Your mother tells me everything, boy," he said smugly. "So when do we get to meet her, since you won't be visiting us New Year's Day?"
"Not sure," Saitou said finally, still surprised—he hadn't quite expected his mother to tell his grandfather about Tokio, even though he really should have been expecting it.
After all, nothing was sacred in his family.
And least of all someone's private affairs.
"Oh?" Denpachi frowned in disapproval. "Why's that?"
"Well I'd rather she meet everyone in phases," Saitou said dryly. "I don't think she could take on Dad and Hiroaki all at once."
"You know that's never going to happen, don't you?" Denpachi replied, one eyebrow raised.
"Where there's a will there's a way," Saitou returned. "And if the way happens to involve a lot of pain for either or both of them, so much the better."
Denpachi chuckled and shook his head.
"One day you'll figure out there's no outsmarting them," he said. "And when you do, your life will be much easier."
Saitou snorted:
"Feh."
"So what's this young lady like, that she's caught my favorite grandson's eye?" Denpachi asked, eyes narrowed. "Not another Yaso, I should hope?"
Saitou sighed—geez, a guy makes one mistake….
"No, Tokio's more normal than Yaso was."
"So her name's Tokio?"
Saitou raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't know her name?"
"Masu didn't mention it to me. Good family?"
Saitou barely managed to keep from snorting and saying, "Depends on your definition of 'good', Grandpa." Instead, he said,
"Yeah. Her dad's an inspector over in Nerima Ward, and her brother's in the same precinct. Kid's in traffic, though—dad's in security. Her mother's a nice woman. And her sister's another psychopath, but she's harmless enough."
"So you've met them already?"
Saitou pursed his lips.
"Yeah," he said cautiously.
"How'd it go?"
"Okay," Saitou lied, relieved for all the practice lying that he'd gotten as a spy, because he managed to sound convincing enough that he was also inclined to believe it, despite knowing—firsthand—that the opposite was true.
The pleased look on Denpachi's face almost made him feel guilty, though.
"Good," the old man said with a nod of approval. "You realize one of these days your mother's going to have them over, don't you?"
"She'll wait until she's met Tokio," Saitou said, secure in the knowledge that while his father may have been a whack job, his mother's head was screwed on a little tighter.
Denpachi grunted in agreement.
"Best not keep her waiting, though—she's liable to invite the girl over herself if you drag your feet Hajime."
Saitou nodded—his mother might have been slightly less insane than his father, but she was much more impatient than her husband.
"You never answered my question, boy," Denpachi said mildly.
"What question?"
"What sort of girl is this Tokio?"
Saitou pursed his lips.
Despite the fact that his family knew who Tokio was, he'd never actually gotten around to telling them about her. This was mostly due to the fact that before he got to that point, he could count on either his father or his brother or sometimes both of them to interrupt, saying something along the lines of "Oh our little Hajime's all grown up!" which of course necessitated an immediate kick to the face of whoever had said it, and that usually started a family brawl, and by the time it was over no one could quite remember how it had started. Consequently, while the family knew who Tokio was, they didn't know who she was. So because he never got the opportunity to actually talk about her, he had no idea how to go about explaining her to his grandfather.
"Well…she's short," he said finally.
"Short?"
"Yeah—she barely reaches my shoulder when she's not in heels. And she's got these really big eyes too—she sorta reminds me of the anime characters." He decided not to mention his fascination with her legs or ass, since that was, you know, sort of private and not at all appropriate to share with his grandfather. "Got a temper too."
"Does she now?"
"Yeah. She's little but she's scrappy."
"What does she do for a living?"
"Right now, she's the acting director of the museum she works at, but usually she's Associate Director. Family business—her cousin's the guy owns the place. Kiyosato Akira."
Denpachi grunted; another pastime of his was reading the paper, so he knew pretty much everything that was going on anywhere and everywhere.
"What sort of superior is she?"
"Decent—her people like her a lot. Very loyal," he added, thinking of Enishi and Kamatari.
"Good," Denpachi said in approval. "You can tell a lot about a person by what his people think about him." Denpachi grinned. "Or her."
Saitou pulled out a cigarette and handed it to his grandfather, who accepted it with a nod, then pulled out one for himself. While his grandfather had never quite approved of his smoking habit, he was nevertheless happy to have someone to smoke with.
When he pulled out his lighter, Denpachi looked surprised.
"No more matches?" he asked.
"Nope—Tokio says I ought to join the rest of the world in the Modern Era," Saitou replied with a faint smirk.
Denpachi grinned.
"She get you that?"
"For Christmas," he affirmed, showing the front to his grandfather—the truth of the matter was that he was very proud of his lighter. Not only was it cool as hell, it was a lot more convenient than the matches he'd been using. Plus it drove Okita crazy since he couldn't figure out who'd given him the lighter, and Saitou refused to give his friend a hint.
And anything that drove Okita crazy was always a good thing.
"Very nice," Denpachi said admiringly, looking at the lighter. He looked up at his grandson and grinned. "She spoilin' you already?"
Saitou smirked and produced his pocket watch, and the old man stared at it, obviously impressed and not shy about showing it.
"Well," he said finally. "If she got you that, she's a genius, boy."
Saitou laughed.
"I don't know about a genius, Grandpa, but Tokio's a damn smart girl."
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New Year's Eve found Saitou alone in his apartment, reading Shinpachi's newest book.
The day had been very quiet. He'd worked the day shift and been home by four forty-five, in time to talk to Tokio, who'd called him and asked how he was going to spend his New Year's. He'd raised an eyebrow and asked if she really wanted him to go see her while she was around her father, and she'd laughed nervously and assured him it was pure curiosity that made her ask.
He wouldn't have minded going by to see her, actually, but he preferred to avoid the forced politeness that had become the norm between Kojuro and himself. Kojuro still in no way approved of Saitou seeing Tokio, but he'd been grinning and bearing the situation because it made Tokio happy to see her father making the effort to get along with the man she was seeing. Saitou didn't have any illusions as to the nature of Kojuro's sudden civility—the old man had told him himself that he was only doing it because it made his daughter happy.
Saitou was pretty sure the old man was hoping that Tokio would one day see Saitou as the delinquent Kojuro saw him as and drop him.
Saitou was equally sure that it would be a cold day in hell before Tokio was willing to do that.
He couldn't say exactly why he was so sure about that, and part of him thought that he was probably projecting his own wants onto her, but another part of him ordered him to stop talking (er, thinking) so much psychological bullshit, the woman was in for the long haul. She'd taken his past in stride, after all, and she'd already defended him once against her father, however unintentional that had been—Saitou had not missed the shock on her face when she'd piped up to correct her father at the restaurant. It was enough to give a man hope, though—that, and the way she'd promised to see him regardless of what her father had to say on the subject.
After hanging up with Tokio—he'd embarrassed the hell out of her by making several very inappropriate remarks that had her shushing him rather adamantly, because he knew her father was around and he wanted to fluster her in front of the old man just to be obnoxious—he'd had a shower and eaten dinner (instant soba), then watched the evening news. Nothing of what had occurred surprised him, as he'd heard it all already from Okita, who liked to listen to the radio and dutifully report every single thing that had happened in Japan to Saitou and his coworkers as it was reported. He then suffered through a call from his brother, who had apparently been in the mood to be a jerk-off. The only reason he didn't hang up on him was because he knew Hiroaki would just keep calling back until Saitou picked up again. He talked to his father for all of one minute before he was then connected with his mother, who expressed her deep disappointment that he wouldn't be with them for New Year's…again.
He talked to his niece, Yukiko, who asked him to come visit again soon with candy, please, because Hajime-oji always gave her the best candy, and also wished him a happy birthday even though it wasn't his birthday until tomorrow, because her mother had told her to. Saitou couldn't find it in him to feel disappointed. Yukiko was only seven, after all, and seven-year-olds didn't have too much interest in the doings of adults unless it involved them in some way. But she was a sweet kid, and he always remembered to get her candy when he visited, partly because she deserved it for having the father that she did, and partly because watching Hiroaki deal with Yukiko when she was riding a sugar high was one of the true pleasures in Saitou's life.
He again spoke with his grandfather, who again congratulated him on his pocket watch. Denpachi had been kind enough to refrain from telling the rest of the family who the pocket watch was from, because Saitou knew that if they ever found out he'd never hear the end of it, but he'd told them about the lighter. Luckily, his father and brother had been too impressed by it to tease him about it. His mother had thought it was an odd gift to give a man with whom one was involved, until Saitou had explained the meaning of the wolf to her. Masu had pursed her lips, still not looking quite comfortable with it.
"I suppose this means she doesn't mind your smoking?" she'd asked, resigned—it was the one thing about her youngest son she'd been itching to change since he'd started in high school.
"Nope," Saitou replied.
"Lemme guess," Hiroaki asked, smirking, "she can't smell or taste anything, right?"
"Go to hell, Aki," Saitou calmly replied.
After hanging up with is family, he'd settled down on the couch to read the rest of Shinpachi's book, pretty sure that if he wasn't interrupted, he'd be able to finish it before he turned in for the night. Which was what he was doing when someone started banging on his door.
Frowning, he checked the time and saw it was two minutes to midnight, and raised his eyebrows—damn. He'd thought it was earlier than that.
He marked his place, set the book aside and walked to the door, unlocked it, opened it…and found the last person he'd been expecting to see tonight grinning up at him.
"Surprise!"
Saitou took in the sight of Tokio carrying a box nearly as tall as her and decided that as far as understatements went, "Surprise" took first place.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, incredulous. "I thought you were going to be with your parents tonight."
"I was," Tokio replied cheerfully.
"So what happened?" he asked.
She cocked her head and sent him a mischievous look, eyes twinkling.
"Well," she began, "thirty-one years ago tonight, a baby was born who brought the new year in with him…."
Saitou started laughing.
"You're insane," he said, tugging her forward.
"Happy Birthday Hajime," she said, leaning up to kiss him.
And so it happened that as the old year became the new, Saitou Hajime found himself, not reading as he'd been planning on, but making out on his doorstep with his Chiisai.
He decided it beat the hell out of reading.
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"You didn't let me give you your birthday present, you know," Tokio said a long while later, poking his stomach.
He grunted and opened one eye.
"Oh? You mean it wasn't you coming over here and us having sex? Because that's probably the best birthday present I've gotten ever, just so you know."
Tokio sighed and shook her head.
"Oink oink," she said dryly, and he closed his eye and grinned.
"Yeah," he agreed, and she laughed.
He heard sheets rustling and felt the bed moving and opened one eye again, in time to see her reach over and grab his shirt and pull it on.
"Oi," he grunted. "Where're you goin'?"
"To get you your birthday present," Tokio replied, flipping her hair out from under the collar and standing. "Wait a minute, I'll be back soon."
He declined to make comment, instead watching her pad out of the room, then yawned and closed his eye and got comfortable, deciding he might as well, because a minute was never just "a minute" with Tokio.
He heard her moving around in the kitchen and sort of idly wondered what in the hell she was doing, because he didn't remember exactly where they'd set aside the box she'd been carrying (which he assumed was his present), but he knew for damn sure it hadn't been in the kitchen, because that would have taken way too long, and they'd been in a hurry when they'd finally gotten into the apartment.
"What're you doing?" he called, only a little curious because he was getting his second wind and he aimed to take full advantage of her impromptu visit.
Saitou Hajime had been accused of being many things, but being stupid was not among them.
"Just getting something to drink," Tokio called back, just as he heard his microwave start to beep.
He frowned and opened both eyes now and turned his head to look out the doorway and into the apartment. He saw a corner of the box Tokio had arrived with sitting by the door—what the hell…?
"Then what the hell are you doing with the microwave?" he asked, sitting up and leaning his forearms against his knees.
"Getting something to drink," Tokio repeated, sounding amused.
"With the microwave?" he asked, incredulous.
"Yeah," she replied, and the microwave beeped again, telling him that whatever she'd stuck in there was done now.
A few moments later she breezed in with two glasses and a small ceramic pitcher, and something clicked in his head.
"That's the saké you brought over the other day," he said, and she grinned and leaned over the mattress to hand him a glass.
"Yup," she replied cheerfully. "Thank you for not opening it, by the way."
"Yeah, well, you said I'd have a lot more to worry about than you throwing shit at me, so I decided not to risk it," he replied as she poured the saké into his glass. It was warm, and he realized suddenly what she'd been doing. "You stuck it in the microwave," he said with a grin.
"A cold night like this one means warm saké," she returned, still smiling. "Set this over on the bedside table please," she added, giving both the ceramic pitcher and her glass a little shake each, and he obliged her.
"Now what?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
"Now you open your present," Tokio informed him, eyes twinkling again, and she flounced out of the room before he could drag her back into bed with him, because she was so fucking cute with her "I-just-got-nailed" hair and wearing his shirt and grinning at him like that.
She returned with the box, which she handed to him after he'd set his saké aside, then settled herself down on the bed next to him, sitting back on her heels and watching him like she was very pleased with herself about something.
The box was wrapped in very sedate paper, he was happy to see (she occasionally like to make him suffer by wearing something loud that made him wince until she took pity on him and changed), and there was a huge bow sitting on top of it.
"You do all this yourself?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," she said, nodding.
He was impressed—the bow looked professional.
"I had no idea you were so creative Chiisai," he remarked, taking the bow off carefully, because he was going to inspect it later.
She didn't reply, but her smile got just the tiniest bit smug.
He set the bow aside on his bedside table, next to his cell phone and pocket watch and pack of cigarettes and lighter, then ripped the paper off, to reveal a brown cardboard box. He saw the thick packing tape holding it shut and frowned.
"I got it," Tokio said, leaning forward and using her thumb nail to slice through the tape.
"Huh," Saitou said, watching her. "I guess it's a good thing the skin on my back's a lot thicker than tape."
"Oh be quiet," Tokio ordered, blushing. "Open your present you pervert, before I change my mind and decide to take it back."
"Indian giver," he taunted.
"Ahou," she taunted back, and he snorted in amusement, then flipped the box open, lifted back the paper and saw…a wooden box.
"Jesus, woman, you really wanted me to work for this didn't you?" he asked.
"Stop complaining," she replied, laughing a little. "Just open it."
"I'm trying to," he shot back, amused. "But every time I think I'm done I find another little obstacle."
"Jerk," she muttered, nudging his leg with her knee. "Open it."
He obliged her, sliding the top of the box off, and found a sheathed katana lying in the velvet lining inside the case.
His heart stopped.
Saitou didn't say anything for a very long time. He just stared down at the katana, unable to quite believe what he was seeing, and completely unable to think at all. Well, aside from the mantra "Holy fucking hells!" currently bouncing around the inside of his head.
Once his mind could work again, two thoughts occurred to him:
One—this was the most expensive gift he'd ever gotten, ever, from anyone, his parents included.
Two—when he was done with her, she'd be walking bowlegged for the rest of the week—possibly for the rest of her life.
"Wow," he croaked finally, and Tokio clasped her hands under her chin.
"You like it?" she asked excitedly.
"I…wow," he said finally, and she laughed and hugged him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, only half serious.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe more saké would help."
She kissed his cheek, then went to reach over for his glass. He gently grabbed hold of her arm, and she met his gaze, eyes questioning.
"Tokio, where'd you get this?" he asked.
She immediately smiled deviously.
"Oh, I have my ways," she assured him. Then her smile became a little shyer. "I had a lot of help though—Okita-san helped me pick one out for you."
"Souji knows about this?" Saitou asked, surprised—no wonder the bastard had been sending him those smug, "I-know-something-you-don't-know!" looks all week!
"Uh-huh," she said, nodding. "And Hijikata-san helped me get a permit for you—it's in the box."
"The box?" he asked, shocked to hear his boss had been in on this too.
"Yeah. When I got it, I opened it to make sure it was okay, and before I taped it shut again, I slipped the permit in."
"Where'd you get it from?" he asked.
"Hiko-san," she replied with a grin. "He didn't want to sell it to me until I told him it was for you. Then he said it was okay, but only because you were the kind of swordsman who took care of his katana."
"How the hell would he know?" Saitou demanded, baffled; he hadn't even talked about katana with the older man in the whole hour and a half he'd been in Hiko's company, and while he'd taken off his gloves to eat lunch, Hiko would have had to have been watching him intently to see the calluses on Saitou's hands from his years practicing kenjutsu.
Tokio shrugged.
"Hiko-san's weird like that," she replied. "He knows all sorts of stuff that he shouldn't know. It's really creepy."
Good gods she's been conspiring, he thought.
"Good gods you've been conspiring," he said aloud, and she laughed again and hugged him. He smiled faintly, still a lot surprised, and put a hand against her back.
"Lucky for you, it was good conspiring," she said, kissing the side of his neck, and the impressive hickey he wouldn't notice until much later, when he was shaving.
"Scary thought, but true," he remarked, and she laughed again.
"Do you really like it?" she asked.
"Like it?" he repeated. "Hells woman, I love it. You're the first person to ever give me a katana as a gift."
"I thought you'd like it," she said, nuzzling his shoulder. "Okita-san said you'd flip out, and I figured he'd tell me if I got you something you wouldn't like."
He rubbed a hand up and down her back and kissed her "I-just-got-nailed" hair.
"I was more worried about the pocket watch," she admitted. "I found it sort of last minute, so I didn't have enough time to ask Okita-san if you'd like it."
"Are you kidding me? I about had a heart attack when I saw it," he said, reaching down to pat her fanny. "Always wanted one, but I just never got around to getting one." He paused as a thought occurred. "Oi, you haven't been talking to my mother, have you Chiisai? 'Cause that's two presents in a row that you've nailed perfect, and I'm startin' to wonder."
Tokio smiled.
"I don't even know your parents' phone number," she said, poking his stomach.
"So you're saying that if you did you'd have called her?" Saitou asked, suddenly very glad she didn't know his parents' phone number; he shuddered at the thought of her meeting his family before he'd adequately prepared her for them.
"Maybe," she replied, tone mischievous. She kissed his neck again. "Happy Birthday."
"Woman, you're spoiling me," he informed her with a grin. "At this rate, you won't have a chance in hell of getting rid of me if you ever get tired of me."
"I doubt I'll ever get tired of you," Tokio informed him, and his grin turned smug.
"Well why do you think I said 'if'?" he replied, and she groaned.
"There won't be any living with you now, will there?" she asked with a sigh, and he kissed her hard.
"Nope," he assured her and she rolled her eyes. "It's your own fault," he added mildly. "You aren't supposed to feed wild animals or they'll get used to it, or didn't you know that?"
"And you're a wild animal?" she dryly replied, one eyebrow raised.
"Wolf, babe," he said with an appropriately wolfish grin. "And I make the Big Bad Wolf look like a pussy."
"And you make Narcissus look humble," she added.
"Feh—he was another pussy," Saitou said with a sneer, and Tokio laughed. "Now," he began, sliding the box shut, "while the Wolf is very happy with his gift, Chiisai, he's in the mood for a different kind of gift from you."
"Again?" she asked, vaguely incredulous.
"It's my birthday," he said, sounding so much like a little kid that she laughed.
"What about the saké?"
"Hm. Well, I didn't know you could use saké like that, but whatever, I'm up for it," he replied, eyes glinting deviously, and she rolled her eyes.
"No you gigantic pervert—it'll get cold."
"Tokio, as far as I'm concerned, saké is saké. I'll drink it cold or warm or whatever. Right now, I'm a lot more interested in getting my shirt off of you."
He carefully set the box down on the floor next to the bed, then sat up and sent her an expectant look.
She sighed.
"All right—on two conditions," she added quickly when he reached over to "help" her out of his shirt.
"Which are?" he asked warily, not sure if he was going to like this.
"My turn on top," she said, blushing a little, and he laughed because as many times as they'd slept together already, you'd have thought she'd have gotten over her shyness with it.
"Okay, I can do that," he said, still grinning. "What's the other one?"
"I want to get up to see the sun rise," she said, and he cocked his head, frowning in faint puzzlement.
"The sun rise?" he asked, and she nodded.
"We never miss one," she said, obviously referring to the New Year's she'd spent with her family.
He shrugged.
"Don't worry about it," he said, reaching over and setting the alarm for a little before sun rise, then turned back to Tokio.
"See? I'm flexible," he said, and she smiled faintly.
"Uh-huh—when there's something in it for you," she agreed.
"Oh, low blow," he said with a mock wince. "However, I'd be more than willing to forgive you if you'd lose the shirt..."
And so saying he "helped" her do just that.
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As it turned out, Tokio just about killed him.
Then again, despite the fact that his obituary would have horrified his mother, he thought it would have been a pretty damn good way to go out.
Oh who was he kidding—it was a great fuckin' way to go out.
He had instituted a new rule that stated that when she was here with him and was going to be around for more than a few hours, she was only allowed to wear one of two things—the babydoll or him. She had accused him of being depraved, and he'd shrugged and said it was either the babydoll or him and she ought to get used to it. To his delight, she usually ended up wearing him (wearing the babydoll seemed to embarrass the hell out of her for some reason he couldn't understand, because gods she looked hot in it).
Currently, she was wearing the sheet, but that was an acceptable substitute for him, since he was out of commission right now, and they were drinking the now ice cold saké. He was sated and content and feeling warm and sleepy, and he thought he could probably have one more glass before he knocked out, when he remembered that he had something to give Tokio.
"Damn I forgot," he muttered, setting his glass on the bedside table and throwing the sheets off.
"Forgot what?" Tokio asked, then blushed dark red. "Hajime! Would you put on some pants for crying out loud!?"
"Like you aren't enjoying it," he taunted, and she grabbed his pillow and threw it at him.
He soon returned to the bed, pillow in tow, and told her to hold out her hand, palm up. Curious, she did as he ordered.
"So," he began, looking anywhere but at her, which she found decidedly odd, if he was reading her expression correctly from out of the corner of his eye. "I got to thinking, after Christmas, that it'd be…nice, if you were around a little more."
Tokio raised an eyebrow.
"I'm here almost all the time now," she said.
"Shut up I'm talking," he ordered with a glare, and she rolled her eyes and sighed, but waited expectantly for him to continue. He cleared his throat, looking ill at ease with all of her attention on him. "So…I…decided to…uh…oh fuck, just here."
And then he dropped a key into the palm of her hand.
She blinked and stared down at it, then looked up at him.
"You bought me a key?" she asked puzzled, and he sighed wearily.
"Tokio, I'm trying to be really deep and profound here," he said, exasperated.
"You are?" she asked, sounding dubious. "How is saying 'Oh fuck, just here' deep and profound?"
"You were staring at me!" he snapped.
"You're supposed to look at people when they talk to you," she returned, and he glared at her, so she changed the subject:
"What's the key for?"
"My apartment," he muttered, and she flinched, obviously startled.
"It is?" she asked after a moment.
"Why would I say it was if it wasn't?" he shot back, and she poked him hard in the stomach.
"Watch it pal," she warned, then went back to contemplating the key. She looked back up at him. "You made a copy for me?"
"It's my spare," he told her, both uncomfortable and vaguely pained—she really poked the crap out of him sometimes, and those nails didn't help.
Especially if she did it in the same place, as she usually did.
"I don't really need it, since I always have my keys on me when I leave. And I thought, you know, you could use it, if you ever wanted to crash here and I wasn't home yet. That way, you know, you wouldn't have to wait."
"You know?" she finished teasingly, and he sent her a dark look.
"Don't mock me woman," he warned.
She grinned, leaned over and kissed him soundly.
"You're so cute when you get all embarrassed and flustered," she said, rubbing her nose against his.
He immediately bristled:
"The hell I am!" he snapped, and she laughed and kissed him again.
"Thank you Hajime," she murmured against his mouth.
"You're welcome," he murmured back.
"Now it's time to go to sleep," she said, turning and setting the key down next to her jewelry.
"Yeah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Hajime, you cannot want to go again!" she said incredulously, turning back to look at him.
"Maybe," he said in a voice that told her the actual answer was yes.
"I know it's a mistake to tell you this, but I can't believe you."
He grinned roguishly.
"What can I say Chiisai—I just love a woman can make me yell."
She blushed, and shoved his head down onto his pillow.
"Pervert," she muttered. "Go to sleep."
He grabbed her and hauled her down next to him, then kissed her temple.
"Tomorrow morning then," he said, and she groaned.
"Oh gods," she said.
"No, 'Oh Hajime'," he corrected. "And that's not until tomorrow."
She couldn't help but laugh.
"You're such an ass," she said, still laughing.
"You love me like this," he said smugly, taking care to cover her with the sheets so she wouldn't catch a draft.
"Good-night Hajime," she said, half amused and half exasperated.
"'Night," he replied, kissing her temple again, and she reached up and grabbed hold of the arm across her chest and squeezed.
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He killed the alarm clock a few hours later with more vehemence than usual, because he had kind of a small headache behind his right eye and the obnoxious beeping was making it get worse.
So he waited a few minutes for it to go back to a dull throb that was easier to ignore, then got up and went looking for his jeans. He was only partially awake, but he was thinking okay, even if his body was about five steps behind his brain. So he found his jeans more or less quickly, yanked them on, then went back to the bed and shook Tokio awake. She nearly punched him in the nose trying to rub her eyes—he had gotten used to almost getting his lights knocked out by now so that he moved out of the way out of reflex—and after a little more coaxing, got her out of the nice warm bed and lent her one of his shirts, since they were thicker than any of hers, and plus, it was closer at hand. Then he grabbed his cigarettes and lighter and her hand and tugged her out onto the balcony to wait for sunrise.
She waited nearby for him to sit down, eyes half closed and yawning into her fist and shivering a little, and then he tugged her down into his lap and made her comfortable before he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
"It's cold," she murmured, snuggling against him.
"Sun's not out yet," he replied, absently rubbing her leg. "It'll get a little warmer once it does."
"Mm."
He glanced down.
"Oi, I thought you wanted to see the sun rise."
She bit the side of his neck lightly.
"Be nice," she muttered.
"Same goes for you," he said, giving her bottom a light, warning tap.
He nudged her awake when the sun began to chase the gloom of the false gray dawn away, and they watched the sky lighten, until everything was bathed in pale lemons and pinks. Then Tokio kissed the side of his neck.
"Happy New Year Hajime."
He kissed her forehead.
"Happy New Year Tokio." He crushed his cigarette out in the ash tray, grabbed the pack and lighter, then adjusted his hold on her and rose. "Back to bed, okay?"
"You're gonna come back too, right?" she asked, snuggling against him.
"Yeah," he said, fumbling the sliding door open and walking into the bedroom.
He set her down in the now cold sheets, went back to the sliding glass door and shut it, then returned to the bed, where she made room for him and then held out her arms. He obligingly allowed her to hug and snuggle him to her heart's content, and waited for her to fall asleep again before getting out of bed without waking her, to start getting ready for work.
It was when he was clipping his pocket watch to his belt that she opened sleepy eyes, saw him and how he was dressed, and then frowned.
"You have to work?" she asked, voice rusty, but he still heard her disappointment.
"Yeah—New Year's one of the days we're short people." he said.
"But I wanted to be with you today," she said.
Wow. She was really good at making that heartburn-that-wasn't-really-heartburn-but-that-he-pretended-was start up.
"Well, you got me Christmas Day," he said mildly.
"But today's your birthday," she said crankily, and he smiled.
"Don't be greedy Chiisai," he chided. "Besides, you didn't tell me you were going to be coming over."
"It was supposed to be a surprise," she muttered, arms crossed over her chest.
His smile widened and he sat down and ruffled her hair.
"And it was," he assured her. "But I can't take days off unless you warn me in advance, Tokio. And Hijikata let me get away with Christmas Day because it's not too hard to find guys to fill in, but New Year's is a different story. And you're a fox and all, babe, but that just ain't enough compensation for getting my ass flayed."
She sent him a resentful look, then sighed and held out her arms. He smiled faintly, but leaned over and allowed her to hug him.
"What time are you getting out today?" she asked.
"I'll be out by four thirty," he said, "same as yesterday."
"I'll make you dinner then," she said.
"Yeah?" he asked with a grin.
"Yeah—I wanna try out my brand-new key."
He kissed her temple, grinning widely.
"Wha'cha gonna make me?"
"I suppose you'll find that out when you get here later, won't you?" she replied, and he snorted.
"Spoilsport," he muttered, and felt her grinning against his neck.
He let her be a few minutes more, because it made her happy and he enjoyed the attention, then said,
"Okay Chiisai, I need to get going."
"Five more minutes," she asked, and he was so glad he couldn't see her face because he knew that if he could, she'd be using the kicked-puppy look on him—the soft little "You're-hurting-my-feelings (and-don't-you-feel-like-a-colossal-ass-for-doing-it)" voice was bad enough.
"I have to leave now or I'll be late," he said, patting her arm. "Come on."
Her hold tightened slightly.
"Please?" she wheedled.
"Tokio…." he said, putting just enough menace in his voice to let her know he wasn't in the mood for her to pull one of her more childish stunts.
"Please?"
"All right, I warned you," he said, and latched onto the side of her neck.
"Hajime!" she shrieked, squirming. "Ow! Let go!"
Saitou didn't let up until he was sure he'd left behind a huge hickey that no amount of makeup would be able to hide, and when he let go of her he was quick to duck and dodge her fists.
"That hurt!" she shouted, throwing her pillow at him, and he sidestepped it.
"Consider it payback for the 'gift' you left on the side of my neck," he replied, one eyebrow raised.
She sent him a dark look, rubbing the hickey.
"It still hurt," she muttered.
"Well I am sorry about that," he said sincerely. "Now be a good girl and say good-bye to Daddy."
"You're not my daddy," she muttered.
He sent her a smug look:
"That right? Sure wasn't what you were saying last night."
She colored.
"Jerk," she mumbled, but leaned forward and kissed him good-bye…and then bit the hickey she'd given him last night.
"Fuck!" he bellowed.
"I believe this round goes to me," she said, one eyebrow raised.
"You think so?" he asked with a glint in his eyes that told her she was in trouble.
"You'll be late," she smugly reminded him, and that made him pause, and she watched him while he seriously considered going in late (or maybe not going in at all) so as to properly deal with the challenge she'd issued. In the end, though, he just wasn't willing to piss Hijikata off like that, so he only glowered at her and said,
"We'll finish this later."
She only smiled at him in something like satisfaction, and Saitou left her in his bed three minutes later, after grabbing his cigarettes and lighter and hat and coat, wallet and keys and getting into his shoes.
He was really looking forward to getting off work tonight.
His phone went off as he was leaving his building, and he answered it, still shrugging into his coat:
"What?"
"Whoa, you sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Hiroaki said, amused. "Down Wolf."
"Aki, what do you want?" Saitou asked wearily.
"Just to wish my favorite little brother a happy birthday," Hiroaki said mildly, and Saitou rolled his eyes.
"I'm your only little brother, ahou."
"That's why you're my favorite," Hiroaki cheerfully replied, and Saitou sighed, wondering why he did this every year, encouraged this man who should never be encouraged.
"Ya workin' today Haji?"
"Yeah," Saitou returned, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he buttoned up his black policeman's coat. "'S why I didn't go over last night. Well, that and, you know, you're all fucking lunatics. Mom and Grandpa're the only sort of normal ones in the bunch."
"My precious baby girl's not insane," Hiroaki said, offended on his daughter's behalf.
"She's a carrier," Saitou replied.
"Dickhead," Hiroaki muttered. "So," he said a moment later, having recovered from his snit, "how's thirty-one been so far?"
Saitou thought of the little woman he'd left behind in his apartment and grinned.
"A shitload better than thirty," he said.
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Previews of Chapter 30: A Different Kind of Normalcy:
"You're the best," Tokio said, beaming.
Hiko sniffed.
"And don't ever forget it Tokioko," he said, and smirked when she twitched and muttered "You colossal jerk" under her breath.
---
"You're an odd child."
There was a long pause. Then:
"Uhm…thanks?"
---
"Where'd you get the lighter?"
"Would you forget about the damn lighter already goddamn it!?!"
---
"But smashed bread isn't pretty," she replied.
"I'm not gonna take a picture of the damn thing, I'm gonna eat it. The hell do I care if it's smashed?"
