Chapter 3: Confrontations
"Vacation" was definitely a way of living that Tokio liked. The only better situation was "vacation with pay," which she was enjoying now. Since the Shishio incident the government had been taking excellent care of their top agent, including a pay raise that his wife greatly appreciated. And why shouldn't they? Top agent or not, Saitou had been paired with his most ancient enemy to journey over half the country to fight an army of national terrorists. Some compensation was long overdue. To Saitou that might mean a day spent slowly diminishing his supply of cigarettes, but to Tokio it meant something entirely different; it meant relaxation, indulgence, and spending every available bit of her husband's money.
Marriage was sweet.
It had been a long time since Tokio had been to this city. She liked the crowd, because it proved just how alive Tokyo was. The bustle and the noise didn't bother her. She thrived on the activity and the energy of the people, not to mention the gossip. Living with Saitou had taught her the importance of exaggeration, which she used amply in her story-telling. Her attractiveness and charm were also instrumental in starting conversations with anyone she wanted. It made for an interesting day, if anything else.
Tokio was just about to return home to begin preparing the evening meal when her sharp cat's eyes spotted a short figure across the street. She didn't have to look twice to realize who the man was. The long red hair and the sword at his hip were more than enough. It was Himura Kenshin—or, as her husband would say, "the Battousai." Presently he appeared to be merely purchasing some groceries, as any normal husband might have done for their wife. As he turned from the vender she could clearly see the crossed scar on his left cheek, the mark of his fame. This was the first time she'd seen him. Her mind had been filled over the years with stories and descriptions, but now they seemed grossly inaccurate applied to the short, soft-featured and gentle-eyed swordsman. She was surprised; however, she knew it was him. Her senses were no match for those of a samurai, but there were still times that her instincts held true.
Himura Battousai…It's strange, watching him. After hearing everything… Tokio shook her head, and realized that her hands were trembling a bit. She gripped her parcels tightly. But there was no denying the fear that rested in her gut. Despite all the enemies her husband had faced, this was the only one that frightened her. In the Bakumatsu, ever since he'd first told her of their encounter, she could feel there was something beyond her comprehension. The way he spoke of their battles, the condition of his body when he returned…they were different—clues she couldn't always make out. Their history was more than a simple dual; it was an obsession. Saitou had always been a killer, this she knew, but even the mere possibility of a meeting with Battousai rose in him a fierce spirit greater than that any other enemy caused. And though she fancied herself as being able to read and comprehend even the slightest of her husband's behaviors, in truth the answers often eluded her.
Kenshin must have felt her lingering gaze, for at that moment he turned curiously. Their eyes met, and Tokio froze. He started coming toward her. Did he know who she was, or was he simply drawn by the stare she couldn't lower even now? She was still struggling with her internal battles as he reached her and smiled. "Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon," Tokio stammered back, a bit surprised by how soft his voice was. "Do you need something?"
His smile was genuine, without the malice or scorn she could imagine. "You are the one staring at me."
"I wasn't staring," she protested.
"Of course. But now that we have met, I might as well introduce myself properly." He bowed, and then scrambled to keep his packages from falling. The clumsiness annoyed her—it was an act, and a fairly obvious one at that. She would know. "My name is Himura Kenshin."
"Fujita Tokio," she replied in a clipped matter, then realized that her name would be enough to give her identity away. As she expected, his face blanked and his things tumbled to the ground. She snorted. Why do I ALWAYS get that reaction? "Something wrong?"
"No…of course not." Kenshin recovered himself quickly, retrieving the packages he'd dropped. "Forgive me. Just…"
She rolled her eyes. "It's all right. I get that a lot."
"Being…"
"Yes. Married to him." Tokio was quite sure he knew what she meant.
He did. "And you know me as well."
"Of course."
Kenshin sighed, clearly attempting to approach this conversation from the right angle. "Well, it certainly is a surprise to meet you like this," he started hesitantly. "When I heard that he was married, I—"
"Was mortified," Tokio filled in with a smirk. "Yes, I know. I'm used to it. Don't be shy about your remarks; I've heard them all before."
"Oh, no—I mean, that was not my intention." He scratched his head, increasingly embarrassed. "It is a pleasure to meet you. In truth…I was curious." Finally he settled on escape. "If you will excuse me…"
"Just a moment, Himura-san," Tokio called him back before realizing what she was saying. "Could we…talk a bit?"
He appeared just as surprised by this as she felt. "Alright, Fujita-dono," he said. "Is there something you had in mind?"
She fell into step beside him, and they began to walk as she started. "Actually…I'm a bit curious myself. Meeting you…it's a bit strange."
"I can image." Kenshin smiled. "Not to be rude, but is there some problem with your husband you wish to discuss?"
She noticed immediately that he'd said "husband" and not "Saitou". Probably hasn't accepted it yet. "No, nothing like that. I just thought that, having heard so much about you, I should at least meet you face to face."
"I see. I suppose I must owe you that much."
"Yes." Tokio frowned. Now that she had her chance, she didn't know what to do. The questions boiling in her mind were those not well expressed through words. How could she expect him to understand?
But then, simply by looking at him, she knew that he could. Her instincts were keen on this one. She knew better than to be fooled by his youthful appearance and childish voice, just as simply as she dismissed her husband's Fujita Gorou façade. He was a man who'd suffered through the war just as she had, and knew well the spectrum of life. They were the survivors from the center of the storm. She felt already as if he could read her mind.
"There's something I want to tell you, Himura-san," Tokio began deliberately. "I probably shouldn't but I'm going to, because otherwise you'll never hear it."
"Does this have to do with Saitou?" he asked innocently.
"As a matter-of-fact, yes; it does." She took a deep breath. "He very much respects you, Himura-san, though he's too proud and stubborn to admit it. Your ongoing dual is quite a large deal in my house, to say the least. You'll never understand the way that man thinks."
Kenshin chuckled good-naturedly. She could tell in that sound that he understood at least part of what she was saying, and perhaps more. "That is true. I hope my name has not made your home unpleasant."
"No. But I wonder…being the last of your kind…both of you…" There was a bond there, a tie that kept the two of them together. Saitou didn't have to speak of it for her to know of its existence; she could tell. She saw it in his eyes whenever he spoke of Battousai, as if they were a pair of identical, inseparable friends. And strange friends at that.
She broke off, and as she'd hoped, he swiftly caught on. "I think I understand," he said in that quiet voice. "Thank you, Fujita-dono, for trusting me. I know that this is not an easy matter for you."
"When he used to come back from battles, bleeding, it made me afraid. I thought for sure you would take him. But…I do not hold grudges, and speaking of the past is not something I like to do often."
A tone of regret tainted his words. "Yes, I know that feeling."
Tokio nodded. "I thought you might. That's why I wanted to talk."
Kenshin was surprised by these gestures of good will she was making, and suppressed a grin when the image of the Buddha he and Misao had pictured came into his thoughts. This woman may not be god-like, but he was beginning to see why Saitou married her. "Well," he said brightly, "now is our chance to do just that. I hear you have a son."
"That's right. Tsuyoshi's his name."
"Parenthood must be quite a responsibility," Kenshin chuckled. "Heaven only knows the tortures I put my caretaker through."
"The same for me," she admitted with a smile. "It does take a lot of work, but I don't mind that at all." She was beginning to feel like herself again, and with a smirk she added, "I'm surprised you don't have any children of your own, considering the time you've spent as a wanderer."
Kenshin blushed furiously. "Fujita-dono, that is…"
"Personal? Yes, I know. But you're living with a woman now, aren't you? At a dojo?"
"Yes, but…" He shook his head. "I enjoy children, but…"
"You've never considered it?"
"Well…"
Tokio smiled at his embarrassment, but when she looked to see his face her careful sight was able to detect a faint trace of pain held there. It vanished in an instant. Her mind was sent in a whirl. In the past twelve years she'd done an excellent job of pricking her husband's emotions and expressions apart, but this new man was a challenge. She'd found the crack in his mask; quickly she wracked her brain for all the information she had on him. When that turned up nothing she returned to trusting her instincts. "You have."
Kenshin's silly wanderer visage faltered, and something miraculous happened: he told her the truth. It may have been because this woman was his own age, or maybe only in the way she inquired, for had it been any other situation he would have declined. "Only once," he said in a voice that was significantly more subdued. "A long time ago."
"During the war," she prompted.
"My dream was one I never voiced. I should have known that it would elude me." He tried to smile, ruefully so. "It…has been a long time since I thought about it."
She was beginning to understand; her woman's intuition was never wrong. Everything was beginning to fit into place like the content of some drama: the girl at the dojo; the silly wanderer mask that laughed and blushed, hiding his true skin beneath; and the expressed wish she herself had once known. The signs were very obvious to her, and she was about to speak when she saw the form of a young woman ahead of them.
"Kenshin!" Kaoru smiled brightly and ran up to him. "I only told you to get a few things, so what—" She stopped upon seeing Tokio. "Kenshin," she said darkly, "have you been gambling again?"
Kenshin sputtered on a response. "Kaoru-dono, this is Fujita Tokio," he introduced hastily. "Saitou's wife."
"Oh—oh my god, I'm sorry…" Kaoru bowed deeply, if only to hide the exasperated expression on her face. "Please, excuse me. I didn't mean to—"
"It's all right, Kamiya-san. No harm done."
"Well, we were just about to prepare for dinner," Kaoru offered, hoping to make up for any rudeness she may have committed. She was also hoping to gain some praise from Yahiko in allowing him to meet the woman they'd been speculating about all day. "You're welcomed to join us."
She thanked her but declined. "I promised my husband a proper meal tonight, and if I don't return soon I won't have time. Perhaps some other day."
"Of course. You're welcomed anytime." Kaoru smiled, a bit dazed but cheerful. "Come on, Kenshin—you'll help, right?"
"Yes." He nodded politely to Tokio and began to follow Kaoru. "Good evening."
Tokio considered a moment, then reached into her bag. "Just a moment, Himura-san."
Kenshin turned back. "Oro?"
"Here. I think this will mean more to you than me." She retrieved one of the paintings she'd purchased and handed it to him. The picture was that of a handsome samurai man seated beneath a cherry tree in full bloom, and beside him a beautiful woman in fanciful dress. The artwork was stunning.
"Fujita-dono," Kenshin said, inspecting it for the "meaning" she had spoken of, "I do not understand."
"Just think of it as a reminder," Tokio advised. She inclined her head in a way that indicated Kaoru, who was waiting patiently for her friend by the dojo gate. "It's not a sin to love twice."
Kenshin blinked, caught off guard by the openness in her words. That she was able to understand him in so short a time was startling. "Fujita-dono…" That was all he could manage.
"Think about it. And call me 'Tokio-dono' if you must. Fujita isn't a real name—not mine, anyway." She winked and turned to go. "Good evening, Himura-san."
"G-Good evening," he called after her. Then, with a sigh and a shake of his head he joined Kaoru and entered the dojo.
Tokio smiled to herself all the way home, proud of herself and having forgotten all her old worries. She was in much finer spirits than when she first spotted the red-head, and even more so than when she was spending money that morning. It was a great feeling playing match-maker for the couple—judging from what she'd heard Kenshin could use a woman in his life, as it hadn't taken much effort on her part to get him to open up a bit. Having a wife could only do him good.
When she reached the inn, she saw Tsuyoshi and Eiji sitting outside, talking. "Hello, boys," she greeted. "Would either of you fine young men care to help me with supper?"
"Mother," Tsuyoshi complained, "we're at an inn. They make diner for us. That's what they mean by 'government courtesy'."
"Is that so? Well, then I'll simply put in a request to the cook." She started to enter.
"Kawaji-san showed up today," he added. "He's been talking with Father for a while."
Tokio stopped, placing her hands on her hips in instant irritation. "He'd better not expect to cut short my vacation!" she declared.
The boys snickered. "It's supposed to be your husband's vacation, Tokio-san," Eiji reminded.
"We'll see about that." She marched into the inn with their laughter fading behind, making her way swiftly—and loudly—to their room. "I'm coming in," she announced rudely before opening the panel.
Saitou was kneeling in the center of the room, smoking as usual. Kawaji Toshiyoshi was seated facing him and he stopped speaking as she entered. "Good evening, Tokio-san," he said in a strictly polite tone.
"Good evening," she replied in kind. "Is there some business you have, Kawaji-san?"
"Nothing to concern you, Ma'am. Merely some work for your husband."
"He's on vacation."
"Tokio." Saitou's voice fit his expression perfectly: he wasn't pleased. "Please, leave us a while."
Tokio set her things down inside the room. "Just a minute," she said hotly. "We've still got five days—"
"Tokio."
She snorted indignantly, but knew there would be no arguing—at east not until Kawaji left. Then she would speak her mind. With a curt nod she exited the room and closed the panel harshly behind her.
Kawaji didn't leave until nearly half an hour later, and once he'd gone Tokio hurried inside. "Amuse yourself," she told the boys. "Be helpful or something."
"Good luck, Mother!" Tsuyoshi called after.
Tokio found her husband pacing the room, a fresh cigarette in his mouth, clearly in ill temperament. She closed the panel behind her. "Hajime."
"The government is planning a raid three days from tonight," he answered her unasked question. "They want me to lead it."
She crossed her arms, muttering several curses she'd learned from him. "Those Meiji bastards. Don't they know we're on vacation?"
Usually her temper was enough to provoke a humorous response from him, but now he wasn't in the mood. "It's the Night Wolves again."
Tokio straightened, finally understanding her husband's dilemma. She approached slowly, calling up past memories on that group title. "Hajime…"
"They located a small building at the east end of the city," he explained, continuing to pace. "They've gotten tired of the presence of traitors and they want to eliminate the Night Wolves silently."
"And they want you to—"
"Yes, yes." Saitou exhaled heavily, increasing the haze of smoke in the room. "The description sounds remarkably like the design of the Shinsengumi station in Mibu, but smaller. It's a hut for selling medicines—they use the same disguises and symbols we always used. It absolutely reeks of Miburo, but the officers now are too thick to see that." Another ring of smoke. "There're bound to be traps; I'm the only one who could be able to anticipate their actions."
"Will you stop pacing a moment?" Tokio snatched his arm, pulling him to a halt. "Please, just look at me." She placed her hands on his face, and smiled as he relaxed somewhat. "That's better. Now calm down and let's discuss this like rational adults."
Saitou eased her hands down. "There isn't anything to discuss," he replied stiffly.
"What? Then…"
"I'll do it." He turned away from her, perhaps seeking only to avert his gaze. "They're feeding off the government—they'll have to be destroyed."
Tokio started to speak, exasperated by his response, but then stopped herself. "Is that all?" she asked after a moment of decision-making. "Just blind obedience?"
He stopped walking. "What?" Slowly, he turned back to face her with a bit of confusion. "What are you—"
"Are you going to deny it forever?" she demanded. She didn't understand how, but speaking with Kenshin—the Battousai—had increased her courage. She could see the strain painted clearly on her husband's face, and was tired of his pathetic attempts to hide the fact that he was greatly disturbed. After all, had he not switched sides all those years ago, fate would have placed him on the same side as the Night Wolves. "You're just going to slaughter your own comrades and then finish your vacation with a cigarette and some plain soba? Is that your great Miburo honor?"
Saitou was shocked by his wife's outburst, but already the words had shaken him. "What are you talking about?" he asked in a low voice, his yellow eyes gleaming.
"Why can't you just admit that it bothers you?" she persisted. "You're betraying your own kind—again. Don't you dare say that you don't mind, because I can see it perfectly. It's all over you."
Saitou only stared. He was accustomed to Tokio arguing with him, but her serious now was not a normality. When he spoke again, the words were almost a growl. "Are you accusing me of being a coward?"
Tokio cringed—she was hitting too deep. She hadn't meant to be so aggressive in her concerns, and she might have gone too far already. Soon his stubbornness would kick in and the matter would be over. "Hajime, I didn't say that," she attempted in a gentler tone. "I just want you to understand your own feelings. I've known this for years—I know you. Denying your feelings only works for a while and then it gets worse."
"I'm not denying anything."
"Then what was that just now?" she shot back, temper flaring. "You hide your shame with your own false justice. But it doesn't work that way."
By now Saitou's expression had darkened, filled with such cold anger that any lesser woman would have shrunk back in terror. But Tokio kept her will firm. His fists were tight and his eyes blazing, but she wouldn't back down. "What the hell are you talking about?" he snarled.
"I am talking about my husband," she replied strongly. "You, Hajime, and that damn crap you call samurai honor." The moment she said the words she knew she shouldn't have—it was too much, too insulting. Any second he would—
It was too late. The walls came up, flawlessly in place, as he turned his back to her. "I'm not going to listen to this nonsense anymore," he muttered, blowing smoke. "I've had enough. You don't understand in the least."
"I grew up in a samurai household!" Tokio couldn't restrain herself now. "I lived through the Bakumatsu, the Boshin, the Seinan, just as you did! When you surrendered your honor you stole mine too! Now I'm married to a false name and a husband who's too stubborn to admit when he's scared shitless."
"Hmph."
"You're not even listening to me anymore. Don't you understand? I'm telling you this for your own good." She started forward. "Since you left the Shinsengumi—"
"The Shinsengumi are extinct as far as I'm concerned," he grumbled. "The only thing that matters is my own justice: Aku Soku Zan."
"That's all you believe in because that's all you have!" Tokio exclaimed. "You betrayed everything else!"
Saitou whirled on her so swiftly that even she nearly shrieked in surprise. He didn't touch her, but she knew than any other would be sprawled and bleeding had they been in the same position. The anger in his deep eyes was greater than ever she remembered. For an eternity they stood that way, him shaking in rage and her firm in her convictions, too stubborn to relent. Internally Tokio cried and cursed at having spoken so harshly against him, but the shell in which she found her strength was too thick to allow apology. She waited.
Saitou's fury slowly melted into solid, cold stone. His eyes lost their shine and again he turned his back. Without a word in the tense silence he sat down and plucked out a fresh cigarette. The old one, not quite finished, he tossed carelessly aside. A moment later a thin line of smoke rose to the ceiling.
Tokio released her breath, having not realized that she was holding it. Her temper vanished, leaving only a sick pit in her stomach. She'd never seen that look on his face, so betrayed; she imagined it was a face he showed only his enemies. "Hajime…"
He held up his hand, said nothing, then returned to his cigarette. Their argument was over, this time with no victor. He would speak no more. And though she knew she should have given him time to think alone and consider her words, she didn't. She knelt down behind him. "Hajime," she started slowly, beginning to wrap her arms around his neck. "Please, don't—"
He refused her, pushing her arms off him. She tried again without success. Finally she slipped her arms under his and wrapped them about his waist. He exhaled heavily in disgust and didn't attempt to remove them.
"I'm sorry," Tokio said softly, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. "I hurt you. I wasn't thinking, and I was wrong." When he didn't respond she continued. "But I had to say it, Hajime. I've wanted to for so long, and I couldn't help myself. Please understand."
"I'm not trying to accuse you." She tightened her embrace about him, closing her eyes as she felt the movement of his chest as he breathed. The warmth of his strong body gave her confidence. "I'm trying to make you understand. I was born into a samurai family, and I married one the way I'd hoped to. I love you—you know that. And when you chose Meiji over your past I supported you. I gave up my name and my honor to be with you, here, in this new era. I would rather be Fujita Tokio than Saitou Tokio, the honored widow. That was my choice, and I don't regret it as long as you see my sacrifice."
He sighed deeply, allowing his body to sag against hers. His hands curled around her delicate fingers. "I see."
Tokio nodded barely. "All I'm asking is that you try to admit what you are, Hajime. You're alone and unsure because through it all you're the only one that protected the Miburo's ideals. You have always served the people; that was your purpose all along. As men and women live they change to survive, and that's the way it is. I would never blame your for that."
"So what are you saying?"
Finally, he's listening. Twelve years, and I can finally say this to him. "To me you are a brave and loyal man." Tokio explained sincerely. "But these men will see you as a traitor. If you are gong to face them you must first make amends with yourself: this isn't a samurai world anymore. They can't change, and they will perish as things do. It's all right to feel guilty—these are your peers, after all—but as long as you accept that you can handle it. You're the better man among them."
Saitou settled with a chuckle, signaling the end of his stubbornness. "I could never argue with a beautiful woman," he said, lifting her hand so that he could kiss it. He bit playfully at her fingertips, and she pulled her hand away.
"You big oaf," Tokio protested. "I'm being serious."
"I know." He eased out of her arms and turned to face her. His hand slid along her face. "You are impossible."
"I'm your wife." Her tone indicated that her answer was self-explanatory, and applied to any other questions that may have arose
He chuckled, but even then she knew he wasn't reassured so easily. Saitou Hajime had to be the most complicated, utterly confusing man she'd ever known, even after over a ten year marriage. He was stronger and smarter than most, but he also doubted himself in ways other men would never consider. But more than that he loved her, cared for her and their son with loyalty that she never ceased to appreciate. She would do anything for him.
"You're tired, aren't you?" Tokio said, though he had given no such indication. "And hungry, too. I asked the cook to prepare some plain soba—he looked at me strangely, but he did. Would you like some?"
"Of course."
"Then wait right here." She kissed him softly and then went to retrieve the meal. After assuring Tsuyoshi and Eiji that everything was all right, she returned and spoke to her husband as he ate. He outlined the plan that he intended to propose to Kawaji, and she even helped with her own suggestions. Afterwards she insisted that he rest, and helped him change into a proper sleeping kimono. Soon she had him tucked between the covers of his futon, much to his disconcertment; he was tired of being cared for in this way.
"Don't worry," Tokio assured. She sat beside him with her legs folded up, gently rubbing his stomach the way she knew he liked. In their younger days she'd often compared this ritual to "taming the savage wolf". "Just like a puppy" she would say, and he couldn't argue. After all, he did enjoy it.
"I'll have to talk to Kawaji tomorrow," Saitou said, staring up at his wife with silent gratitude. "I'm afraid our vacation will have to wait."
"It's all right. I already have an idea of how the boys and I can spend our day. Will you be back in the evening?"
"Without a doubt."
Tokio smiled and offered him another kiss. "Good. Rest well, and I'll keep those ruffians occupied. Till morning." After giving him a final scratch behind the ears—which produced an indignant grunt—she bid him goodnight and left the room quietly.
