Gamble.
Chapter Three.
Sano blew into his clenched fist, called out his favourite goddess' name and tossed the dice, throwing back his head in triumph as they tumbled and came to rest with twin dragons showing.
"Great throw!" Someone yelled, slapping him on the back.
"Look out, look out," Sano crowed. "The great Sagaro Sanosuke is back!"
Money changed hands around the floor, some shuffled away and others took their place. Sano gathered up his dice and cast an unobtrusive glance to the corner. Scarred Kojiro was sitting on a bench, legs splayed and a sake dish cradled in his hands. So far no one had stopped to chat with him for more than a moment, probably because the man's pale face was twisted into a particularly uninviting scowl.
"Bet you can't do that again!" Someone in the crowd yelled and Sano grinned.
"Oy oy, that sounds like a challenge." He flipped a coin down in front of him. "Put your money where your mouth is and step back. There's a master at work here."
Crows and catcalls followed this boast, but money was flung down and Sano squared his shoulders, again blowing on his dice. Instead of a goddess' image a lean taciturn face drifted into his mind, and, ever the gambler, Sano wished on it, throwing the dice with a flick of the wrist.
"Heaven's throw!" Someone exclaimed. "Heaven's throw beats all!"
Grin wide Sano gathered up his winnings. It figured he'd be winning now, when his purse was still comfortingly full. Old Unsho would say it only rains when your feet are already wet.
From the corner of his eye he saw a heavy set man take a seat next to Scarred Kojiro. Regretfully he pocketed his dice and his winnings.
"You can't walk away now!" The crowd roared, but Sano shrugged. "Always go out a winner, boys," he counseled condescendingly. Then he patted his pocket and winked. "Besides, now I've got a few coins to waste I can think of better company to spend it in than yours."
"Oh ho," his neighbour whistled, grinning and showing a prominent gap where his front teeth used to be. "Lucky man!"
Sano flipped him a two finger salute and clambered to his feet, eyes casually flicking around the crowded little shack. Excitement coiled in his belly. This was definitely it, the heavy-set man and Scarred Kojiro were deep in conversation, heads close together and sake forgotten. Making quick note of the man's features and dress, Sano pulled on his coat and slunk out into the night.
It was another cold one, the night sky chill and clear, a wicked wind blowing down the empty streets. Glad of his new coat Sano propped himself against a wall in the alley next to the Lantern and studied the street. Was Saitou here?
Long minutes passed while patrons filed into the Lantern and other reeled out. Sano quickly recognised the winners, arms usually flung around a friends shoulders, singing loudly to the uncaring night. The losers were just as easy to spot, shoulders hunched against the cold they hurried down the street to where ever they were going. Perhaps another den where their luck might change, if they had any sense home to bed.
Nowhere in the shadows did Sanosuke see Saitou. Remembering how easily the other man snuck up on him Sano kept flicking glances over his shoulder. No one appeared.
Finally, after long cold minutes the Fat Man emerged from the shack. He looked neither left nor right but set out briskly down the street.
Sano was torn. How the hell could he signal Saitou if the man didn't even bother to show up? Probably still tucked up in his 'friend's' house, Sano thought bitterly, watching the Fat Man get further and further away. Never mind that I broke my years best winning streak to stand out here in the cold and do his bloody work for him...
With a stifled curse Sano began to follow.
Fat man trotted briskly down the windy streets and Sanosuke followed him surreptitiously, sticking to corners and alleys where ever he could. He needn't have bothered, the man didn't so much as glance over his shoulder as he hurried on. The streets grew barer until they crossed the bridge and left the city behind.
Keeping further back and sticking to the dark edges of the path now Sano faithfully followed, remembering the last man he'd dogged down darkened streets and cursing the memory.
What the hell had he been thinking, following that skinny killer? It's not like he owed the man anything after all. On the contrary he still had the bloody scar from that damned pig sticker, and didn't his shoulder let him know in weather like this that it had been skewered so brutally.
Absently Sano rubbed at his shoulder, fingers sliding over the wool of his new black coat. A warm coat and a few meals shouldn't buy a man's loyalty, Sano thought miserably, skirting the moonlight path and nipping to another tree. Fat man shuffled along ahead of him, still intent on his journey.
Bloody Saitou bloody secret bloody police, Sano sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve and pausing as he detected lights ahead of him. Sure enough he could see the heavy set man entering a torch lit yard, scattered with crates and men muffled against the cold. A horse nickered and pawed the ground impatiently, and Sano's eyes adjusted to the light, allowing him to make out a wagon and horse next to a rough shack.
What's this lot doing out here? Sano thought to himself, tensing to nip to the next tree for a closer look. At that moment a hollow cough sounded out a few feet away from him. Sano froze and to his shock realised a man was standing in the moon shadows on the other side of the very tree he was peering past.
The man huffed another little cough and hunched down further in his coat.
Sano allowed himself to breathe again and took a cautious step backwards. Careful to avoid troublesome sticks the young gambler made his way to another tree, checking first to make sure no one was standing guard beneath it. With a quiet grunt he heaved himself up into the branches and settled into a watching mode.
He didn't feel nearly so cold now, in fact his blood was pumping in his veins. Down in the clearing the crates were lifted six men at a time into the back of the wagon. The men groaned and the wooden buck board creaked as the cases were manhandled into place. Finally a rough cover was thrown over the top and tied into place.
"Last one should be here soon," someone called from the doorway of the shack and Sano jumped, only just realising how quiet it had been while the men worked.
Men melted into the shack and Sano watched curiously as one broke away from the group and trotted towards the trees.
"About time," the man under the tree grumbled. "I'm freezing my balls off out here."
"Go get a drink," the other man said gruffly, cuffing his friend's shoulder.
With a narrowed glance Sano looked from the now deserted warehouse front to the two men beneath the tree and back to the last half a dozen crates. With sudden decision he swung out of the tree and landed lightly in front of the two startled men.
"Cold night," he said agreeably. Then he swung his fists.
A moment later the two men lay moaning in a crumpled heap and Sano was shaking his fist. "Bloody cold," he cursed. Then he sprinted for the light, peering at the wooden cases stamped boldly in black ink.
The closest crate was nailed down and Sano gritted his teeth and slipped his fingers into the crack between boards, heaving with all his strength. The board squeaked and shifted, making an obscenely loud noise. Sano paused but there was no break in the chatter from the nearby shed. With fingers trembling just as much from adrenalin and exhaustion as the cold, Sano shifted the board to one side and thrust his hand into the gap.
Waxy cloth beneath his fingers, smooth long lines beneath that. Pulling one up Sano stripped away the cloth, whistling under his breath as a blue black barrel emerged.
"Guns," he whispered in disgust.
"Oy!" a voice behind him yelled.
And then the fun started.
Sanosuke staggered into the shadow of the doorway, wiping absently at the blood running down into his eye.
"Glad I bought a black coat," he muttered to himself through swollen lips, hoping the blood stains wouldn't show too much. His head was whirling and he gave into the urge to lean back against the sturdy wooden gate.
First instinct told him to head home, but those persistent bastards had been on his trail for the last ten minutes and he didn't want to lead them back to his place. That ruled out the dojo as well.
Sano grinned wickedly and then cursed under his breath as his split lip protested. Surely Saitou's 'friend' wouldn't mind if he dropped in? It was the least that skinny drip owed him for standing him up tonight.
Tilting his head to listen for sounds of pursuit, Sano stepped cautiously out of the shadows, trying to ignore his spinning head and shaking legs. It had been one hell of a fight.
Actually more flight than fight, Sano admitted to himself ruefully. He could take on twelve against one on his worst day, but when the bastards showed up with guns he knew when to cut his losses and make like the wind.
With a shiver of memory Sano recalled for the thousandth time that night, that bitter night when the Sekihou tai had been broken, once and for all. Bullets fired into young men's bodies made a sound you never forgot, especially when those men were friends and loved ones. There was no honour in fighting with a gun, Sano reflected.
'Course, there wasn't much honour in fighting with your fists when you ended up such a wreck either, he admitted, trying to keep to the shadows and still move quickly. His legs were decidedly weak now and his vision was going in and out.
"You've had worse," he muttered to himself, breath forming ghostly patterns on the air in front of him. "Just a little way longer and you can see Saitou and tell him about the creeps with the guns. Then you kick him fair in the balls."
Sano huffed a laugh. "Then faint in his arms."
A shadow melted from a wall ahead and Sano stopped abruptly, setting his feet firmly on the road. One more fight before he made it to safety then.
A lean face wavered before his eyes, amber orbs burning like fire between dark lashes. Next thing Sanosuke knew the world was spinning and he was encircled in arms like bands of steel, hot hard chest beneath his cheek.
"Oy oy oy," he protested thickly. "I didn't get to kick you in the balls yet."
Muffled laugh. "You can do it later," Saitou whispered.
Sano swam back to consciousness when someone dabbed at his lip with something that stung like hell.
"Hey, Fox lady, stop it!" he mumbled, attempting to push the offending dabber away.
"Please hold still," a polite voice said and Sano's eyes flew open. A grizzled old man was leaning over him, cloth in his hand.
"Who are you?" Sano said, trying to sit up but abruptly deciding against it when his head protested.
"Let Hiro clean you up," a familiar voice ordered and Sano relaxed back, squinting over the man's shoulder. Saitou leaned against the door jamb, still impeccably attired in his police uniform. "Then you can tell me what happened."
"I'll tell you now," Sano said irritably, pushing the old man's hand away again. "Leave me alone," he growled into surprised eyes. "I've had worse than this shaving."
Sano signaled the old man, who huffed disapprovingly and heaved himself to his feet.
"Where the hell were you?" Sano accused, picking up the man's discarded cloth and dabbing at his lip gingerly.
"I was unavoidably delayed," Saitou dismissed.
"That's it?" Sano asked incredulously. "I get the shit kicked out of me and you were unavoidably delayed?" He forced himself into a sitting position, not liking the helpless feeling of being on his back while he argued with the sharp eyed cop.
"You should have gone home," Saitou returned. "I didn't tell you to follow the man."
"You didn't tell me not to either," Sano pointed out. "And if I hadn't followed him I wouldn't have found the guns, would I?"
Saitou's attention sharpened and Sano smiled in satisfaction. His wounds were forgotten as he basked in the unaccustomed pleasure of being the focus of Saitou's interest.
"Guns?"
Sano nodded complacently and described the night down to the last detail. By the time he was done Saitou had pushed away from the doorway and was standing before him, body tense.
"You're sure it said Ichiguro on the crates?" he probed.
Sano nodded. "It was pretty dark but I could make it out clearly enough. Aren't they the firm that supply the government with machine parts to set up that mill here?"
Saitou smiled grimly. "They were," he said in satisfied tones. He turned on his heel and strode for the door. "Don't leave the house until I get back," he ordered over his shoulder. He flicked another glance back. "Take a bath."
Sano watched with his mouth open as the ungrateful bastard disappeared.
"That's it?"
"Please allow me to tend your wounds," the old man said, appearing in the doorway again.
Abruptly feeling every aching muscle, Sano sulkily agreed.
Sano slept the rest of the night away, and most of the next morning too. When he awoke quiet footed Hiro had a meal waiting for him, as well as his laundered clothes folded neatly by the bed.
"Your coat will take a little longer to dry," the old man apologised, lifting the lid on warm steaming rice and a plate of delicious looking pickles.
"Did you get the blood stains out?" Sano said through his first mouthful, wincing as his sore lip protested.
"Of course," Hiro said modestly.
"Hn," Sano swallowed, pushing more rice into his waiting mouth. "I bet you've had plenty of practice shifting those sorts of stains, huh?"
Modestly lowering his eyes to his lap the old man heaved himself to his feet. "Please enjoy your meal," he advised. "And when you pass water please do so in this jar." He indicated a lidded ceramic pot by the door while Sano choked on his pickled fish. "I need to check for blood."
"Oy," Sano protested when he'd stopped sputtering, but the cheeky old man was gone. "Don't think I'm staying long enough to pee in your pot," Sano muttered, finishing his meal hastily. "Eat and run, that's my motto."
"Fujito san requests you stay here until he return," a voice floated through the paper screen door.
Sano raised a brow and lazily licked the bottom of the dish. "You think you can keep me here, Hiro san?" he called back.
"I think Fujito san's request will be enough," Hiro returned complacently.
"Huh," Sano disagreed. He tossed his plate aside and climbed to his feet, swaying alarmingly. His head hurt. Every muscle in his body hurt. He looked down at the colourful array of bruises covering his body. "Shit," he swore softly.
"Maybe I will stay," he called nonchalantly, painfully making his way to the pot by the door. "But only as long as it suits me."
"As you wish, sir," Hiro said respectfully.
"Just until I rest up, eat some more of that skinny drip's food."
"Fine idea, sir."
Sano was sweating and shaking by the time he made it back to his bed roll. The door slid open soundlessly and he squinted through one throbbing eye ball as Hiro gathered up the pot with a sly smile.
"Shit, even his servants are sneaky bastards," Sano groaned, flinging one forearm over his eyes to block out the daylight. "I don't stand a chance."
By the next evening Sanosuke was bored and aching and just plain mad. "Oy, Hiro?" he called rudely, hobbling down the verandah. "Is that skinny bastard back yet?
"Not yet, Sanosuke san," Hiro said patiently, raking methodically over the swirls of white gravel on the path.
Sano grunted irritably and perched on the edge of the wooden deck. "Why do you spend so much time arranging something people are just gonna walk on?" he asked.
"It gives me pleasure, sir," Hiro answered politely.
Sano grunted again. "Don't call me sir," he ordered. "When's dinner?"
Hiro straightened, one hand on his back. "If you're hungry, sir, I'll get started right now."
"Don't hurry on my account," Sano shrugged. "But once I've eaten I'm outta here. I can't spend my life waiting here for that ignorant creep to show up."
"Who are you calling ignorant?" A voice drawled, and Sano turned his head so fast his head spun.
Saitou was leaning on the wall, cigarette smoke wreathing his head.
Hiro bowed to his master and padded quietly away.
"About time you got back," Sano retorted, blaming his tight chest on his injuries. "How long do you expect me to hang around here waiting for you?"
Saitou pushed away from the wall and sauntered over. "Did you think I was asking you to stay for the pleasure of your company?" he murmured.
"Of course not," Sano sputtered, trying to recapture his frustration of the day. The house that had seemed so empty around him all day now seemed full of life, as if its centre was restored.
Saitou settled down on the steps, taking a deep draw on his cigarette. "We caught the ring leaders but the foot soldiers are still out there. I didn't want you recognised by one of them and compromising my mission."
"And getting myself killed into the bargain," Sano prompted.
Saitou flicked him a slightly contemptuous glance. "You wouldn't be working for me if you couldn't take care of yourself." His eyes widened slightly for effect. "At least I thought you could take care of yourself."
"Oy, they had guns you know," Sano protested.
"They don't any more," Saitou informed him with a satisfied smirk. He leaned back against the step and finished his cigarette, stubbing it carelessly under one boot.
Sano studied the relaxed pose with growing astonishment. "You're in a good mood," he accused.
Lazy amber eyes half closed.
"Why shouldn't I be?" Saitou defended lazily. "I've been after those crooks for a long time."
"Another notch on your belt, huh?" Sano said bitterly. "Another gold star for Fujito Goro?"
"If you like." Shrugging carelessly Saitou unfolded his lean form and stretched into a yawn. "I'm going to take a bath." He walked catfooted down the wooden deck, pausing as he reached the wide open doors. "Join me," he ordered.
"No thanks," Sano called after him, heart pounding in his chest. Join him? In that steamy bathing room? Naked?
He might be an idiot, but he wasn't stupid.
Ten minutes later he was at the bathing room door, lurking like a schoolboy. Why should he let Saitou's challenge stop him from taking a bath? It was just what his poor aching muscles needed. And really, what was the big deal? Seeing that skinny cop naked?
With firm resolve Sano slid the door open and marched into the room.
Saitou was sitting on a bathing stool, eyes closed. He was covered only by a small cloth held over his groin.
Sano's first impression was of long pale limbs and ropy muscles. His second impression was that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.
"Join us," Saitou invited, eyes closed as Hiro scrubbed at his back.
Was there any way he could run and preserve his pride? Sano asked himself desperately. The answer was a resounding no, so he slowly made his way over to the wet area.
A man should look slightly absurd sitting there like that, shouldn't he? Sano asked himself in despair. Shoulders squared while a servant poured water on his back, long legs sprawled apart, cloth clutched to his groin. He should look vulnerable at the very least.
So why did Saitou look so god damned sexy?
"Do you want Hiro to scrub your back?" Saitou offered, eyes still closed.
"No," Sano managed, deciding to get it over with. He stripped quickly, throwing his clothes behind him and quickly grabbing the cloth to preserve his modesty. With a bump he sat down on the bathing stool and cast another look at his adversary. To his shock those amber eyes were now open, staring at him with something like fire in his depths.
The moment seemed frozen in time. Was that...? Could that actually be desire in those eyes? Desire for him?
Saitou smiled lazily and climbed to his feet. "You should let Hiro help you," he murmured. Then he turned his back and stepped down into the bath.
When did this happen? Sano asked himself feverishly as Hiro poured a bucket of warm water over him and began to scrub his back. When the hell did this happen?
When did I stop wanting to be like him, and just start wanting him?
Sano settled in the bath as far as was humanly possible from Saitou. There was no doubt about it now, he had to get out of here, he had to get away. Fascination with a man he considered a near perfect warrior was one thing. Desire for that same ruthless killer was quite another.
After all this was no Kenshin. There was nothing to admire in this man beyond his fighting skills, nothing that redeemed him as a human being.
Except his fanatical devotion to duty, Sano allowed. Duty that didn't end just because the cause he'd dedicated his life to was dead and buried.
And his sense of justice too, Sano added fairly. The man hated corruption like poison.
And then there were those long lean legs and those muscled shoulders, Sano considered, feeling a little light headed in the steamy atmosphere. Fine fingers, sinewy arms, tight dimpled buttocks...
"It's a little warm in here!" Sanosuke blurted out.
Saitou opened one eye. "It's supposed to be."
"Right," Sano agreed, scratching his head. "Uh, you never told me about the Ichigura Corporation. What happened?"
That lazy eye closed. "There's no need for you to know," he dismissed.
Rising ire conquered desire and Sano embraced it. "Oy, I risked my life to bring you that information!"
"Yes, you did your part. And I did mine."
"Fine," Sano sulked. "Be like that."
"Now now," Saitou chuckled. "No need to sulk. You helped stop a lot of death and destruction. You should be proud."
"Maybe I'm just getting used to helping save Japan," Sano joked, warming to that chuckle despite himself. "Do you-" he hesitated, unsure whether it was safe to ask personal questions. "Do you ever..." He trailed away, deciding his first instinct had been right. "I don't think I like working for the Meiji Government," he said instead.
"You don't work for the Government," Saitou said coolly. "You work for me, and I work for Japan. That makes you a patriot, kid."
"I always was," Sanosuke shot back.
"Now I have a question for you," Saitou murmured.
Sanosuke felt himself flushing under the unaccustomed attention.
"Doesn't it strike you as odd? Once you were Sekhihou Tai, fighting to destroy the Shogun. And I was once Shinsen Gumi, fighting to preserve him. And now here we are, and I work for the Government and you hate them."
"Doesn't strike me as odd," Sano retorted. "Just a sign of the fucked up times we live in. Kenshin was Ishin Shishi, Yahiko's father died with the Shouga Tai, fighting for the Shogun." He shrugged. "But each knows the other fought for what he believed in at the time."
"Yes, the true tragedy of a civil war," Saitou said lightly. "Both sides consider themselves patriots, and both sides fight with all their strength for what they believe. Makes for a bloody war."
"You'd know," Sano shot back, without heat. His heart was pounding and his mind was racing. This was the first time Saitou had spared a moment to talk to him like a real person. Like an equal almost. Had he gained his respect with the information he'd found?
"You look like a twelve year old boy when you frown like that."
Warm smoky breath feathered against his face, and with a start Sano realised the older man had moved until he was mere inches away. And there was no mistaking that look in Saitou's eyes this time. Desire, burning amber flames of desire flaring at him from that lean face.
"A-and is that what you prefer?" Sano stuttered. "Twelve year olds?"
This unforgivable remark prompted only a low laugh, smoke scented breath warm against his skin. Long slim fingers reached up and grabbed his chin, tilting Sano's head back.
"Shut up," Saitou murmured. Then he lowered his lips and crushed Sano's beneath them.
Quick fleeting impressions raced across Sano's mind. Thin hard lips, hot pointed tongue, callused fingers cupping his face, just the merest hint of flavour, something exotic and unbearably wild. And just when he was beginning to know that flavour, desire it, crave it, the lips pulled back and it was gone, all but lingering traces.
Sanosuke licked his lips, eyes focused intently on Saitou's lips, fuller now, and flushed. His heart was pumping in his ears, his skin was burning, and his mind focused on just one thing. He must taste that flavour again, one more time.
Saitou's narrowed eyes were studying him, slipping from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes, fires still flaring. He opened his mouth but before a sound could emerge Sano was wrapping his own strong young hands around Saitou's neck and dragging his face back down.
"If you stop now I'll give you that kick in the balls I owe you," Sanosuke growled, crushing his lips against the laughing curve. Then he pressed forward aggressively, lips probing, tongue broaching, hands gripping.
Saitou pulled back, strong fingers pressing Sano's arms, turning the skin white beneath them. Panting for breath Sano drew back and opened dazed eyes, uncaring that his abused lip had once again split, spilling crimson blood down in droplets into the steaming water.
"What is wrong with you?" Sano demanded, heart pounding in his ears. "You started this, let's get it on!"
"Try this," Saitou murmured, seizing Sano's thighs with strong fingers and lifting him in the hot water. Gripping the older man's shoulders Sano allowed himself to be shifted onto the older man's lap, gasping out his pleasure as their hot cocks crossed like swords between them.
"Good?" Saitou whispered against Sano's throat, and the younger man could only nod.
"Now, less like an attack this time, eh?"
Any other time Sano would have bristled under the implied put down, but this time he was too eager to taste those lips once more. Eyes intent he nodded once and leaned forward again, conscious only of the sensations shivering over his skin at every point they touched.
Their lips met.
And Saitou followed his every move as if they were dancing, twisting his head as Sano opened his mouth, meeting the younger man's tongue with his own as Sano eagerly explored and tasted, desperately trying to fill this craving.
Sano's fingers ran from Saitou's shoulder down to his chest, glorying in the feel of that hot silky skin. The older man's lips were exploring his neck and Sano tilted his head back, eyes closed as he tried to cope with the rush of sensation over taking him.
Long fingers stroked down his back, talented lips and tongue painted intriguing patterns on his throat, and between them, the most intimate touch of all.
Unable to resist Sano opened his eyes and peered down into the water, wanting to see them joined so intimately. Saitou followed his glance and one hand swept lazily around and captured Sano's own hand, guiding it slowly through the water. Then, cupping the younger man's hand Saitou wrapped them around both their cocks, holding them together.
Sano bucked like a horse, convulsively tightening his grip, feeling Saitou begin the stroking motion he hadn't even known he was craving. Warm flesh and warm water, firm strokes and that talented mouth was back again, tasting him, sucking his skin, branding him. Sano realised he didn't know where he began and Saitou ended, they were one nerve, one feeling, one pulsing beating heart heading towards a destination he couldn't begin to imagine.
And then they were there.
Sano buried his head in the hollow between Saitou's shoulder and his neck, smoothing his chin over sweat prickled skin. Absently he flicked out his tongue and collected a salty droplet. The older man shivered beneath him.
"What are you trying to do?" Saitou whispered in his ear, his own tongue tip lazily tracing the lobe.
Sano could only grunt, unable to string two words together. His brain was melted, his body felt lighter than air. Was it only an hour ago he'd been hobbling around this house like an old man? Now he felt as if he could leap right over it.
Saitou gripped his waist and tugged him back, separating their bodies, allowing the water to swirl between them. Sano opened one eye and regretfully watched the proof of their union swirl away in the water around them.
"Oy," he protested sleepily.
With a rush of water Saitou stood and offered one hand. Sano opened his other eye and surveyed it suspiciously.
It looked like an invitation, but an invitation to what? Another quick tumble in the tub? Maybe a slightly drier tumble between some sheets?
Or was there deeper meaning in that proffered member, did Sano's very future lie in the palm of that hand that hand wielded death for so long, meted out justice and revenge alike?
A sudden yawn split Sano's face and he gave into it, eyes crinkling and jaw cracking. With a nod he decided he was just too tired to care.
He held out his own hand and accepted it.
End of Part Three