A/N: I really am on a roll with this story. It just wouldn't get out of my head till I wrote it. UGH.

Thank you those who reviewed/followed. It means a lot.

And I realised that I haven't given properly the dates. EDIT:This is 1867 and Saito is 23; I'd made a mistake trusting the wrong source that said he was 36 in the manga. But I have kept the real fact that his wife Tokio was two years younger than him. So that would make her 21, sorry again~

And like always, I do not own RuroKen or its characters. I just admire the man who does.

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"Fujita-san."

"Spinster-girl."

They bowed at the same time. Good thing he was so tall and no head-clashing occurred because they were that close. They happened to run into each other in the hall but she didn't see him till she almost bumped into him.

Holding trays in her hands, she headed towards the kitchen to leave the crockery to be washed; he was emerging from one of the rooms that existed solely for the entertainment of the guests and he was holding his sword in his hand. He'd seen her immediately but purposefully waited to see when she'd catch wind of it. They even had similar run-ins previously—the sole reason she hadn't chewed him out for his name-calling. What is there to tell that she hasn't already?

"Need any help with those?"

"Empty trays with bowls and chopsticks; my, oh my, how am I ever going to do it without your help? How did I ever do it before?"

A smirk came to his lips but didn't speak until she was already attempting to leave. "Let me rephrase that; want some help with those?"

"No thank you, Fujita-san; you just go back to doing…whatever you do while you're here."

She might have refused his help but he was no idiot; he could see her struggle with the weight of the many trays. He could even detect her really hard to mask imbalance at her every step, try as she might. It was decided by now: whenever she saw him, no matter what she was doing, she'd puff up her chest or make her face seem less caring and even go as far as inflict some form of pain on herself in order not to look in need of his assistance. Why? She didn't really like him.

And that conclusion was drawn from the observation of a mere five days he's been there.

That was too bad; he actually liked her. In fact, he thought she was priceless with her airs and her upturned nose whenever any person who claimed she didn't do her job well was involved; male or female—"Fujita" or not. He'd been in the presence of such a person once: he was teasing her, per usual, when a woman came in and harassed her about how her husband had put up here to meet his lover and how she was doing a terrible job at keeping this place pure "just like her father always did". Oh ho ho, was she pissed! She was wound up from him just a moment ago, when that poor woman made her allegation, she tore her apart!

Despite her best wishes to be left alone, though, this current moment Saito was in a desperate need of a distraction and she was the best one this place had to offer. He was prisoner of that room for hours and the loyalists did nothing but talk smack about the Shinsegumi, revere in their leaders' smarts and predict that they will be told to do great things in the future.

As unbelievable as it was, it all started grating on his nerves, even for a man so driven like himself.

"I'd like to help you anyway. I can even pretend it was you who made me do it and complain to the girls when we get to the kitchen."

A chuckle she couldn't reign in was released! His comment was too sudden and too true. After all, one could call her many things, but humourless or unable to laugh at her own flaws she wasn't. But she hated when lines like these were uttered from the likes of him! He definitely saw this as a personal victory: he made her laugh, so all of his insulting today was forgiven…but it wasn't! Yet her amused snort just made him think so. And now she had to give in because she acknowledged his intentions.

"Very well; you can take half of them."

He grabbed the four out of seven and even the very top one with all the stacked crockery. He was being a gentleman was he; the proper man, the samurai, like he and his friends make themselves out to be…

But she knew better. She didn't like their sort, but she had told herself she wouldn't deny entrance to any person so long they needed a place of refuge. Till now, these men were persecuted for their beliefs; they also pay well. No matter who, though, or how much money they give, if they start hurting other people, they are out of there. Immediately.

So what was a man like Fujita Goro doing with them? He was smart, he'd already proven that. He was also skilled; he may have thought she didn't notice but there was no shortage of times she saw him reach for his sword when someone – like her – entered the room first and then announced their arrival. Also, he helped with the capture of a rapist and murderer; he was a man of action.

That is of course, till he came here. None of it made sense; it was all so contradictory to her assessment of the people he joined. Were his ideals really the same and were they enough to make him spend time with such laid-back, different people?

"Again you grow quite, Tokio. How come that happens only when you are in my presence?"

"You mistake me for someone who's loose-tongued maybe, so your observation alerts you. Or maybe you mistake me with another Tokio, since you address me so casually."

"You really think badly of me, don't you?"

His frankness stopped her in her tracks, just as she was about to slide open the door which led to the kitchen; she finally looked at him when he wouldn't let this question go – kept staring holes at the back of her skull, the rude git – straight in the eyes. She was searching for something, a hint of deceit or humour in his voice, that would justify a less thoughtful answer from her, but she found none. He was unguarded and…demanding. He wanted to know the truth.

"I do…and I don't. It's not that simple," was all she said before sliding the door open and walking in, hopefully before he could reply. When she saw she was successful a small relief came over her.

The kitchen was the iconic ryokan kitchen, all pristine and neat, with rows and rows of crockery lining the shelves. The food was in containers or being cooked and noting was in surplus. There was a special place for the chadogu and other tea related activities. And of course, standing at different places, doing different things, were three middle-aged women.

"Tokio-sama," one of the threm scolded her "how many times have I told you not to carry these things on your own?"

"That's why she has me slaving after her," Saito joked and promptly followed her inside. "See? She even gave me all these bowls to juggle; I kept telling her I'm a swordsman, not a waiter. She won't listen."

The polite laughs filled the space, made it warmer than a second ago. Certainly, it became less awkward for them, too. With steady yet purposefully much more cautious steps, as if he couldn't navigate himself properly, he proceeded to dump the trays where he saw her do it.

"For a person who does this for the first time, you have quite a strong grip, Goro-kun," the second woman teased. "You best even our boss and she's a natural."

"I think you still consider me a child, worrying about what I carry and how I do it," Tokio finally spoke, feeling confident enough she will handle whatever Fujita throws her way "because you've seen me grow. Maybe you should see me as I am now and not ten years ago."

"Ha ha," the first let out a booming laugh "that was such a happy time! You should have seen our lady then, Fujita-kun, only a small girl; thinking our cherry tree was a yokai!"

A blush came to Tokio's cheeks under the sudden attention—and for such a story, too! Especially at the way the man's eyes lit up; she would never live it down.

"I thought it was a dragon," she corrected "and it made some sense at the time, seeing the shape it had; of course, I later realised there is no such thing as magic and dragons. But it was fun while it lasted. We shall leave you to your duties," her voice went from warm to professional in seconds; she gave a deep bow though, as if to compensate for the curtness and led Fujita outside, who of course didn't loiter around.

"Goodbye ladies."

"Goodbye Goro-kun/Fujita-kun."

The silence that ensued between the two was stifling.

The worst thing was that he didn't stop trailing after her. With his sharp eyes ever watchful of her every move, he took in her movements and gestures, even the slightest twitch of her shoulders. He was waiting to jab at her for the previous revelations…and he was a patient man. He loved seeing her get exceedingly nervous as she was always so proper and reserved, despite her speaking her mind always.

"A dragon, spinster-girl?"

"It was the shape of the cherry tree!" She was practised at giving the certain reply if her time of response was any indication "And I thought it was a sleeping dragon that transformed into it, that is all."

"But why a dragon in particular?"

"I was reading a book about them, so naturally I started seeing them everywhere. I always did that—still do that."

"And what are you reading now?"

"…nothing," she replied with an unprecedented melancholy; he thought it strange she was so honest in front of him "I don't have the time, the past few months."

"Is the ryokan taking too much of your time?"

"These last few months, yes; but it is only natural. Like any other business, we have our downs. But we've had our fair share of ups, too so I do not complain."

"You are very grateful," he observed, causing her to look back at him. All of her efforts to remain at least two steps ahead were foiled by her own curiosity so easily; she should practise some more self-resect. "You are also too honest to lie to me so please tell me why do you think badly of me, at whatever extent you do?"

Damn it, she had just had to be looking at him! And how smart of him to use this chance to address their problem, when she couldn't look away from his eyes no matter how much she wanted it. If she did, she'd admit she lost; she had to say something first. Why is his gaze so intense even when it's so casual, she complained inwardly? But she didn't allow the blush dusting her face to stop her from talking; she opened her mouth.

"You…are very quick to react to everything. That night" she didn't even have to specify which one, he knew exactly when she was talking about "you reached us too soon after the scream was heard.

And I can see how you unconsciously tense every time someone surprises you; always going for your sword, no matter if in the end you stop before you touch it. Still, it's always there, right where your good hand rests, never out of reach. You are a skilled swordsman, those honed reflexes don't lie."

"My, my; you must have spent quite a lot of time looking at me to notice all that." He could watch her disoriented speechlessness all day.

"N-no! Don't misunderstand," she managed to string together in the end! "I noticed it once when I walked in unannounced and ever since I've been doing it on purpose just so I can be sure it wasn't a one-time thing. And it isn't. I'm-I'm not for any sort of reason interested in you or, or something similar."

"Yes you are; you are specifically interested in whether I really was that good or not." She was really a sight for sore eyes with all her indignation and shame. "Why?"

And how could you pay attention to such a thing his mind supplemented, but never allowed his lips to say. The people he was spying on and were supposed to be skilled didn't notice that; he even thought he had it under control. Either the one he was truly supposed to keep an eye on was this person right here in front of him or she was just…observant. He really hoped it was the second; he'd hate to see she was on the side of the shishi. Then again, she was giving them shelter, why would she do that if not on their side? Um…that was a question for another time. Right now, he had to make sure no prying ears were listening in on their conversation.

Of course he didn't miss the colour changes she went through, too: from pink to red to scarlet to purple! This, this right there was his reason of not wanting her to be involved with the loyalist faction.

"I, I am not particularly…! I mean, you came to help us that night, so your heart is in the right place; you knew if I killed him it would create problems so you stopped me and spared me the trouble. You're a good person. But then there's the problem of your personality – though I admit, coming from me it sounds hypocritical – so I never really thanked you."

They'd recommenced walking by now, and he was carefully leading her away from rooms and doors and took an exit for the open part of the garden. "I was…um looking for an opportune moment but then I noticed you did that with your sword and I just pursued my latest fancy and I…I kept thinking of reasons to postpone thanking you I suppose—but what I found out was true, you really are too good with that sword. It's odd that you'd hang around these people."

"These people?"

"You know, the samurai; they are a lazy lot, bragging about things others did and basking in their victories, considering them their own because of some ridiculous concept of…camaraderie. They've been in here for some time now, nearing three months, and I don't think they've ever gone outside for anything else other than personal entertainment.

But you're different; you were chasing after a criminal for no other reason that you felt you had a moral obligation to and later stayed my hand for the same reason. And then there's the whole issue with not reporting me to the police!"

He couldn't help but look around the moment those words escaped her lips, after the burning sensation to silence her was supressed. She was trudging dangerous waters with those statements. They wouldn't be otherwise suspicious had he told the shishi about it from the get-go, but he kept putting it off, simply mentioning the Shinsegumi as useless. In the end he never really said it. Ever. Just like her and her thanks to him.

So if they heard he had any sort of involvement with the police especially by accident, it would be a big problem for him. He could actually hear his heartbeat quicken at the thought. After all, he was supposed to penetrate their team, not their bellies.

"Fujita-san…" He finally looked at her again; noticing his uneasiness, she decided to suggest "would you like to continue at a more suitable place? You seem to worry."

"I do," he admitted surprised; "I do prefer we talked about this somewhere more privately, if you also don't mind."

"Of course, please follow me."

She wanted to stop this talk from happening not two minutes ago, but it appeared as though he was willing to have a real talk with her and maybe answer some of her more pressing questions—her inherent curiosity was piqued yet again! She shouldn't waste this opportunity: she back-tracked, entering the building and led him through the hall.

He didn't know if she was doing it on purpose or not, but he was almost – almost mind you – lost, by the winding path she chose to tread. She went left then left then left again and then took two rights; she continued taking the right once more before she took two lefts and then went straight for almost forty seconds. She finally stopped in front of a door, too small to be used by a guest, and slid it open.

"Here," she whispered and burrowed inside like a mouse.

He couldn't remember any instance when she was being so secretive before; a thrilling sensation ran down his spine and without even knowing, there was a smile on his lips again. He followed inside the dark room, closing the door behind him…immersing it in absolute darkness. Wow, he didn't expect that there'd be no source of artificial or natural light – moonlight at this time –; somehow everything felt all the more secret.

Also, he could feel fabric on his right and as he extended his left arm there were wooden slim beams…brooms maybe? He dared not reach in front of him, certain some part of the girl would be a there to greet him because it was that small a space. He could feel it because his own breath warmed him; the stacked things surrounded him; and her shuffling was less than three feet away.

No reasonable space to speak of, towels probably on his right, brooms on his left, lack of light—they were in a closet. As his eyes adjusted he could see the outline of her silhouette, fidgeting or looking for something. His hesitant smile broke into a full blown smirk now. How…exciting. He hadn't done anything similar since he was too young to remember now.

"This is the supply room," she explained casually, as if she weren't in there, stuffed with him "my maids use it to conduct their love affairs from time to time; it's remote and has only one access point, the one we used to enter, which is easy to monitor. And it's not known to the guests—all but you. It's ideal; so let's talk."

"…you brought me to the cabin where your maids conduct their affairs. Interesting…" She harrumphed, but he could practically feel the warmth of her blush radiating off from her; he chuckled. "You were saying."

"Why didn't you report that I tried to kill him? And how come you've been removed from every single mention of the incident I've heard since, even from the ones coming from the Shinsegumi? And how come they trust you so much to take your word for the incident thus not wishing to question me? And if all those do apply then why in earth would you come here to these-…?"

She stopped so suddenly, she gave him whiplash; then, an unwarranted silence prevailed between them, tense but somehow comfortable. "Oh," was the next thing that came out of her mouth, a short, lame sound; he became suspicious. "Oooh," she drawled comprehensively and now he was more that anxious to what would follow. "Alright. I understand." How could she not? In fact, how come she didn't see it till now?

"What is it…you understand?" She couldn't possibly mean what he feared she meant, right? He was just paranoid, right?

"I…"

She hesitated; there was no one listening at the door, right? "I think…" what if she was wrong? She was confident he wouldn't do anything as ridiculous as try and kill her, even if he did have his sword with him, but she'd have said something idiotic and he'd know. No, no; what is she thinking? She was certainly right.

She swallowed once and leaned forward; he mimicked her. She tensed. She looked at the door one final time before whispered into his ear:"you are a spy, aren't you? A spy for the Shinsegumi."

The moment passed. Suddenly she started wondering if that was really his ear. The lack of light wasn't helping. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't have bent so forward just to tell him this big secret because she was almost touching him! Her heart was beating faster but she couldn't tell if it was the inappropriate proximity or the secrecy. Even without seeing him, which enraged her even more, looking at him made her flutter—what was up with this man? She officially concluded she hated him.

"Don't say such ridiculous things," he said and sounded completely unaffected. "Are you sure you aren't just reading up on the Shinsegumi and now see them everywhere?"

Goddamn it! Her plan had backfired: she wanted the darkness to be a shield for her but now she couldn't see his expression at all. "Don't try and blame this on me with something you found out not ten minutes ago! And if not that, then what is your justification, Fujita-san? Huh! If that is your real name."

"Of course it is, are you an idiot? And it's not my fault I'm trustworthy and they just believed me."

"Oh yeah sure; a complete stranger out of nowhere came in and told them all about a rapist and they just took his word? The Shinsegumi—that Shinsegumi? I don't think so. But even if they were so gullible, which they aren't, then tell me again the reason they won't mention you in the incident? They won't be losing face—they lost all they could when they admitted two untrained women did their job for them. If anything, it'd better their image to have said a very skilful swordsman apprehended him and brought him while the assailant attacked a couple of women." She paused to give him time to talk. When he didn't, she pressed. "Well?"

"Don't overthink things," he spewed another one-liner and turned to the door; she realised when light peeked in from the hall—she immediately slapped his hand down.

She did what?

"Answer me."

He still couldn't wrap his head around it. It was very funny though; he tried his best to hide his good mood. "No."

He wasn't testy in his answer, but she took no chances to try and physically stop him again. "Why," she merely asked, demanding a response.

He only shrugged. "Because."

It was more annoying he wouldn't get riled up than shouting! At her wit's end when he opened the door even more, she huffed audibly and crossed her arms. "It's not like I'll go announcing it to people; and I don't like the shishi in my ryokan as well," she complained like a wrongfully chastised child.

To that he stopped. Finally she could see some emotion on his face, other than amusement on her expense or apathy: curiosity. "Then why are you offering shelter to them?"

"They came bleeding at my door; I couldn't turn them away. I called the family doctor and he said they'd make it…if they rested. I didn't want to be responsible for the death of random strangers so I allowed them to rest here."

That made sense and it was in accordance with her character, he considered.

"But the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months before I even realised; and now they are fine and they even invited friends over but they won't leave and I can't throw them out. I have no real reason to, other than I don't like them, since they pay well. And I don't feel comfortable evicting them for that."

She stopped for a long moment, confused. "Wait; why am I justifying myself to you?"

Oops she noticed.

Like she just had an epiphany though, she said: "I know why! It's because you're a cop."

She mouthed the last word and looked at him victorious. In return, he tried not to smile at her exorbitantly accomplished look. "Now if you'll excuse me, Fujita-san, I have many things to do and I'd hate it if anyone misunderstood us being in here."

Preening like a peacock, she strutted out of the room before he did, even pushing him to the side to do so. She flipped her tied in a loose ponytail hair and only after her bangs settled into place did she continue moving. She gave him a last meaningful look over her shoulder and walked away with the grace of ten geishas.

He just stood there, looking at her; his expression read amused, but he was stricken. How? How could she see all of these so easily? He crossed his hands. How could she stand there and unravel him? It was…it was rare. And it was interesting. He frowned. She was an intelligent woman; no wonder she was still unmarried. Maybe he should stop teasing her about that. Meh, maybe not; it was way too entertaining to see her scrunched up face when he called her spinster.

He just stood there, looking at nothing. She was gone now and nothing but her discreet perfume remained in the hall to remind him she'd been there; enough to track her down if he wanted to, it was too indicative. But he didn't. She won that round. She figured him out alarmingly well and he didn't want to think of anything else other than her intellect and sweet conquering smile. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He really, really liked her. Too bad she wasn't feeling the same.

A/N: Hoped you liked it; if you did but thought something was wrong please tell me; if you didn't like it at all frop by to tell me your objections. Sooo I guess I'm saying leave a review as you go~!