Author's Notes: Thanks again for reviews! It's encouraging, and all that. To answer tri's question, yes, Yahiko will come back later. I have... plans for him. (evil grin) That won't be for another couple of chapters, though.

Let's see... I guess there's a Warning for a little shounen-ai this chapter. SxS! SxS! This deals with Saitou learning about Sano's past... so I guess there are Spoiler warnings too! It may be an AU, but Sano's past hasn't changed, poor guy. (hugs Sagara-taichou plushie)

Disclaimer: The characters actually belong to N. Watsuki/Shueisha, etc. I am just borrowing them to amuse myself.

Italics indicate thoughts or emphasized words.

Alternate Tale of the Meiji Era, Chapter 4

by Fujimiya Maru

Luckily for Saitou, the doctor that usually attended to both wounded officers and criminals being held in the jail didn't mind making house calls. It was also nice that the old man didn't ask any questions. The bruises, broken bones, and sword wound he had delivered to Zanza weren't life threatening, but according to the doctor the young man should be confined to bed for a few weeks, at least. Saitou initially thought it was the head injury that did the boy in, and was worried that he might slip into a coma and never wake up again. The doctor assured him that it didn't look like the patient had much of a concussion, and that the worst he had suffered was the blood loss.

He saw the doctor off shortly before dawn. Saitou then returned to his bedroom, where he had the fighter-for-hire bandaged up and sleeping soundly on his futon.

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd gone to such great lengths - the boy was physically strong, and interesting in an annoying sort of way - but why did Saitou bring him into his home without a second thought? He technically should have brought the young man to jail; he was certainly the cause of many fights around town. Looking back on it, he had already read a number of reports of assault by a punk named Zanza...

Saitou was snapped out of his musings by the boy mumbling something in his sleep. He leaned closer to try to hear.

"Sagara-taichou..." It came out no more than a muffled whisper, but it sparked an insatiable curiosity in Saitou.

Deciding that since the brunette would most likely sleep all day and would be fine in the care of his housekeeper, the policeman headed off to the station. He had research to do.

*************

Sano hated to sleep. Sleep meant dreams, and reliving things he'd rather not think about. The sound of guns popping filled his ears. The smell of the torches and blood made him gag. Sounds and smells weren't the worst of it...

Not again...

Men in red bandanas and dark uniforms pushed him back, out of the way. One by one, they fell under the onslaught.

Taichou...

Nine years old again, Sano found himself unable to do anything as his mentor is shot. They tried to retreat, but they couldn't move fast enough to get away.

Taichou!

He's helpless, as always, as his mentor throws him off the edge of the cliff to the water below. Halfway down, he sees his beloved Sagara Souzou fall to the gunfire, and then he's drowning. Icy cold water squeezes him like a vice. And he's all alone.

No!

*************

It wasn't difficult to dig up information on Zanza. There were plenty of reports, and as luck would have it, plenty of people in bars and gambling houses around town that either knew him or knew of him.

Saitou used his "pleasant" face when questioning these people. His appearance usually intimidated, but when he smiled and squinted his eyes into happy little arcs he seemed to be less imposing. Most of the losers he interrogated were drunk anyway, even though it was only midmorning.

Most seemed to only know what he himself already knew - the youth was Zanza, a fighter-for-hire. Kept mostly to himself, didn't have a job, occasionally took money in exchange for his brute strength. Saitou dug further after a nice, quiet lunch of soba and tea.

Sagara Sanosuke. That was the fighter's name. Sano to his friends. Sano was quite the gambler, apparently, although not a very good one.

Then came the shocker. Sekihoutai.

Sanosuke was a surviving member of the Sekihoutai, a fake government army back in the revolution. It was made up of merchants and farmers. They worked with the Imperialists, but when it was decided that a scapegoat was needed to hide the Imperialist financial problems, the Sekihoutai were ruthlessly cut away. Executed. That explains his bandana and to some extent, his anger... but why does he waste his time as a fighter-for-hire?

He also recalled that the leader of that group was named Sagara Souzou. That explained why Sanosuke called out for "Sagara-taichou" in his sleep. But who was Sagara Sanosuke in relation to the leader? His son, or his brother? No, the boy was most likely too old to have been Souzou's son by several years.

All he found out after that is that Sanosuke had spent the past ten years fighting, drinking, and gambling. That bothered Saitou.

He's obviously strong, but he uses it without direction. Did that Taichou of his teach him nothing? Why do I care, anyway?

The tall cop berated himself for acting strangely, but headed back to his house. He had swiped a couple of piles of reports from his office. He intended to go over them while waiting for his interesting burden to wake up. That's better than being stuck in the station, anyway.

At least I'm not completely bored anymore...

*************

Sanosuke awoke with a start, only to find himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. He tried to desperately will away the fog that dreams always left on his mind; the last dream was always the worst -- of him at age nine, looking at Sagara-taichou's severed head on display like a common criminal. Strange, Sano thought, the look on his face was so serene then, despite how he died...

He shook his head a bit, figuring he'd be in a lot of trouble for fighting that cop. That bastard sure didn't fight like just any other cop. I wonder where he learned swordsmanship like that...

Sano moved to sit up, but sharp pain in his shoulder kept him at bay. The room was fairly dark, so it was either still the night he fought, or late in the next day. The ceiling looked way too nice to be a jail cell, which is where he assumed he'd end up. Glancing slowly to his left, he saw the last thing he expected to see.

Officer Fujita Goro, sitting at a western-style desk, smoking a cigarette and reading something.

"Finally awake, are you?" said the policeman without looking up.

"Wha- you?? Where the hell am I?" Sanosuke growled, suddenly aware of his situation. He was stuck in bed with a major injury, and alone with the guy who had caused it.

"This is my house." Saitou tried not to break out in a grin at the boy's sudden anxiety.

"...Why? I thought I'd wake up to a nice, smelly jail cell..." Sanosuke eyed the man warily, subconsciously noting that the officer was wearing a black t-shirt rather than his uniform jacket and gloves. Much to his chagrin, he got no answer. The older man just kept sitting, smoking, reading.

"Well, asshole? Why the hell am I in your house instead of jail?"

"Hn. I didn't feel like arresting you."

"Didn't feel like -??"

"Would you like some tea, or miso soup? You should be hungry by now," he asked casually, snubbing out his smoke. He stood and approached Sanosuke's futon.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm hungry, but... Why are you being so nice to me, Fujita-san? I tried to kick your ass last night." Sano suddenly felt sudden very small as the other man came closer, towering over him.

Kneeling down, Saitou looked the boy in the eyes. "Very few people in this peaceful Meiji Era would dare to even think about kicking my ass." He tapped Sano's bandaged shoulder, making him wince slightly. "Think of this as my thanks for an interesting evening."

"Do you always thank people by sticking your damn sword through them?"

"I meant the medical treatment, ahou, not the wound." he chuckled, helping the injured fighter into a sitting position.

Ignoring the feel of the other man's warm, calloused hands on his back, Sano fought with the confusion that swam heavily in his chest. What's up with this guy?

"So... Now what? Are you planning on arresting me later?"

"Not really."

"So... Once I can move on my own, I'm free to go?" Sano inquired, his voice hopeful.

Golden eyes regarded him, then he reached out and held Sano lightly by the chin. "No, you're not free to go," he smirked.

Dumbstruck by both the gesture and the answer, all Sanosuke could squeak out was a flustered "Huh?"

Saitou quickly pulled back and put on his "pleasant" face, avoiding the fighter's bewildered brown eyes. "How about some rice and miso soup?"

"Huh? Hey, don't change the subject, temee!" Sano blushed to nearly the color of his bandana.

Saitou stood up and turned to go to the kitchen. Looking over his shoulder, he let his face fall back into its normal, intimidating lines.

"Your wounds may not kill you, but I would suggest not trying to leave. Besides, if you did get away, I would have to arrest you... for indecent exposure."

Trying not to gape at the policeman's back as he exited the room, Sanosuke then realized that under the blanket he was only wearing bandages. Shit! I'm stuck here with a psychotic pervert! Where the hell are my clothes???

Next chapter: More Saitou and Sano, as well as Megumi and the Oniwabanshuu!