A/N: Update! Thank you again all of you who reviewed; your opinons are always taken under consideration and help me improve! You're a wonderful audience. Also, thak you for your kind words. Like promised, shit hits the fan.

Seeing I just came back from holidays not two days ago, next update will probably take a little less than this one, but not earlier.

Despite being summer here in Greece and a big part of the world, we're in late October early November of 1867 in the story and then goes on from there. I know for a fact I fabricated this whole thing with the inn but I'l mingle it with some historical facts. Of course some things will be inserted by me again but you get the gist of it: I want this to be fiction based on fact.

And here is fun fact: the real Saito met his wife long after the Boshin War. xD I didn't keep it that way because this suits me better.

This is my disclaimer about RuroKen, etc etc.

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The designated day came; the morning was slow but the afternoon was worse.

By the time the sun had set it was a whole different reality: every single member of the staff was already gone; she had pretty much ordered them to clear away, in fear they may get hurt. Takeru was sent to the family doctor; supposedly because she was worried he caught a cold she evaded everyone's suspicions. The guests were all gone because she made sure of that also, by giving them all two days free of charge, if only they'd leave just for this night.

The ishin had thought it an excellent idea; of course they also thought they owned the ryokan now. And since none of these people had any intention of joining their war, they had to go. That's what she convinced them of anyway…a fact for which Saito was very impressed.

Also, he was feeling a lot better; if she could pull this off, then he wouldn't have to worry! Besides, the first time he ever met her, she was brandishing a knife. A woman like that was difficult to harm exactly because no one expects a woman to fight back. But he'd seen the daggers in her room and how her form was that of a warrior when she gave orders to people. He felt at ease.

He must have been the only one at ease in the whole establishment though: Yato kept looking at the sky; Nagato was biting his lip; the rest were so grim they wouldn't even argue. And of course, the one who fashioned himself their leader would sit down in a corner like an infant. Then there was Tokio. She'd glare or snap at everyone under the slightest of nuisances. There were not scarce, the times when people would look at Saito wondered, as if asking "what the hell attracted you to her?"

But he was unaffected, smiling or shrugging relaxed, almost tranquil. That should have been their first indication. The time of arrival was midnight but the more it approached, the more everyone got to think something was wrong. All but him. Of course, Saito had the foresight to remove Tokio from their company, before they felt too desperate.

"Whatever you see, act like you're on their side," was his parting advice with her "and don't forget to call me Fujita."

And now the clock read half past twelve.

"Where are they? They should have been here by now," the boss only in title inquired for the umpteenth time. Like saying it over and over again would help any.

Nagato, ever the optimist, replied: "we haven't received word from them in a long time but last time we did, six hours ago, they said all was well. They had made port safely and assembled all sixty of them, ready to march to Kyoto. The trip is long, after all."

"The trip is long, certainly, but that is why we had them land when they did," Yato spoke finally. "Do not forget, their message was written after whatever it recites. They should have been here by now."

"Then why aren't they?"

Takatsuki sounded truly desperate; everyone looked at each other the same way. Saito simply looked outside the window: running towards the inn, already in the garden, there was the first patriot sighting. Saito cocked his head to show them. Everyone followed his gesture, excited to see their brothers in arms arriving…but what they got to see instead was the opposite of what they were expecting: a broken man, bleeding from a large wound somewhere on his body they couldn't see, scurrying around, looking for the entrance. He was beaten up, too and he looked everything but battle-ready, his sword nowhere in sight.

Saito smirked and reached for his sword.

"They were held up."

Everything happened in fast-forward! The sword unsheathed; Saito bent his legs while his good hand, the left one, drew the sword backwards, left foot following; his right hand opened in front of it, to aim. Yato caught the motion and knew there was only one option left: RUN!

Keito and Takatsuki were both a second too late; they turned and saw Fujita Goro spring forward. They blinked. Fujita Goro killed them both.

"AAAH! What the hell?" Nagato was running away, he following after Yato who seemed to understand the situation much better. "Why is he doing this? What the fuck is going on? Where are our me-?"

A head flew; blood spattered on the walls while a body hit the ground. Yato had jumped away a moment too soon again and now kept running away. Damn it; he was his original target, but the bastard had seen through him at the last second. And now Yato was trying to get away! But he wouldn't let him.

He took the same left his prey did.

"Yato-san, why are you run-?"

He heard Tokio's voice before seeing her. She was looking at Yato perplexed, who grabbed her by the forearm and dragged her with him!

"No time to talk; just know I'm doing you a favour." The corridor was long and straight…Saito had his chance; he rushed forward! Yato saw through that, too and crushed into a paper wall. Avoiding him, he fell into an entertainment room, bare of all furnishings.

Saito followed them inside. Why the hell was she out of the room he left her in? "Doing her a favour? By dragging her into a swordfight unarmed?" He snorted. "Think again."

"What is going on; why are comrades fighting?"

Tokio hated how she had to act, yet she'd made a promise; when she looked at Saito's blade she saw it had a lot of blood on it. She swallowed.

"We're not comrades, Tokio; he betrayed us. He's with the Shinsegumi."

She gave Yato the perfect look of disbelief and shock while the man tried to shield her from the traitor; she allowed him to drag her behind him as she turned to Saito. "Is that true? You're one of them?"

"Yes."

She covered her mouth; he could laugh with how convincing an actress she was. "So…you're the reason why no one is here yet. You tipped your people off."

"Very astute of you, Tokio, as usual; I am Shinsegumi and I advised them on how to best handle this. Sixty men, all headed in this very inn from Osaka, they better take them out in waves. The best way to handle all the stragglers, too."

"You bastard," she exclaimed! "How could you?"

"My plan was to gather a large force of people and launch a surprise attack that will leave the enemy defenceless. I beg your pardon for the simplicity but, after all, I copied it from you."

Yato had already taken a defensive stance; his form was good, but the Gatotsu was better. He let him take whatever stance he wanted, let him bide his time—it wouldn't save him anyway. "Me? Oh, you think I formed the plan?"

"Didn't you? I wouldn't have come after you if you didn't."

"Yato-san is the leader?" Tokio was looking from one to the other, pretending to be at a complete shock. "And Fujita-san is a Shinsegumi? Wh…?"

"Get the girl out of the way" Saito commanded, taking his own stance "and come at me or I'm coming at you."

Yato took three steps behind, Tokio moving with him; she wanted to go, but she knew Yato wouldn't let her—something about him felt underhanded. "You know my real name; shouldn't I know yours?"

He didn't want to stall anymore; he felt something was going to happen. He had to kill him swiftly—but Tokio was right behind him and he couldn't attack without hurting her. So he answered: "Saito Hajime."

Yato's eyes grew a margin. "The third squad captain; what an honour for us Tokio," he spared her a glance "we have been betrayed by an infamous warrior."

"Oh yeah, I feel very honoured; he'll be at the top of the list now."

Yato laughed. "I can see why you like her," he snapped to the captain. "Is that why you won't kill her or is it because she's a woman?"

"Her agreeing to your ridiculous request helped us kill you all; that is why I won't kill her."

"Yes, after spending night after night with me that's your reason; great honour for me indeed." Again with her emotionless tone she made both men smirk.

"Don't worry Tokio; I'll avenge your honour. I'll kill him for the both of us."

"Your form is considerably better than a mere swordsman's but it's full of holes for my gatotsu to find and I doubt you can beat me in offense. The one who'll be doing the killing is me."

"As you are now, I can't possibly beat you…I agree. But you see my strength lies in reading my opponents intentions and their weak spots; currently you have none. I've heard how your technique uses a thrust with very few openings. I saw it; it was too much for me. You fight calm and collected, analysing your opponent's abilities. But my specialty is throwing my opponent in disarray so even the most accomplished swordsmen can't fight back. So if I do this—"

The sense of danger increased by a tenfold. Tokio felt her hair stand straight and the instinct of survival kicked in—she turned to the side and moved a step backward but he grabbed her hand just as she moved away; he put her in front of him, her hand bent on her back, sword threatening.

Saito almost launched forward! But he stopped himself; he had lost his window. If he attacked now he would hit Tokio, he'd be wide open to a counterattack and the only one to benefit would be Yato. The bastard thought this through. He wasn't lying when he said he could read intentions.

"You'll be helpless. But if I do this—"

Three things happened at the same time. Tokio reached for her dagger; Yato's sword moved; and Saito was struck by that same image he had pictured on that day, unable to see anything else: Tokio on the floor, eyes wide open, with her throat slit. The smell of blood was real though and hit him so hard he came back to his senses. What he saw was just as bad.

Tokio was pierced from behind and the tip of his sword glistened red as it peeked out her front, at the right side of her body. His heart stopped for just a second. But her hand clutched at the dagger and it wouldn't let go, just like Yato who was holding her firmly in place.

"I know that no matter what you say, you like her; she wasn't a part of the plan—not your plan, anyway. Still, you engaged her, got close to her, long before you knew we needed her. You simply liked her, even if she was on the side of us useless patriots. See?" Holding her still, he pulled his sword out. "You feel rage. I told you I was an expert at throwing my opponent in confusion. Let's see how—AH!"

All Saito saw and heard was red—her red; his rage waged inside him and he wanted to tear him from limb to limb…! But then he noticed how she struggled, he saw her dagger protruding from Yato's thigh. What a smart, good girl; she gave him his window back.

"HAAAH!"

He rushed forward and she, facing his way, ducked immediately!

Finally Yato was open. The force of the hit was so strong the sword penetrated his shoulder, broke the wall behind him! But he had managed to move away, just in time and Saito missed his heart. He didn't give up though; hatefully, with all his might, he took the sword out grating on the wound! Yato raised his sword and Saito moved to parry but it was a sly blow, redirected straight at his side. He slashed him…! Saito didn't care; he clasped the man's hand that was holding the sword and kept him immobile. He tried to fight, but Saito simply pushed the dagger further in with his leg.

The pain seized Yato; he started falling to his knees, unable to wriggle free no matter how much he tried! He kicked once more, this time on the chin, sending his head flying backwards; he squeezed his hand so much that he heard fingers break! Finally letting go of his hand, the sword fell with him. He fell on his back, crying in pain, trying to get away. He stepped on his chest, stopping his meaningless effort to flee.

With extra pleasure, he impaled him, right through the thoracic cage! The cracking of the bones felt so satisfying to hear no matter his own large gush…forgetting about him in a matter of seconds, he was by Tokio's side.

She had sensed it; in that split moment, she had sensed his hostility and knew he was going to attack her. She purposefully angled herself higher, standing on her toes and falling back, to avoid the killing blow. She misjudged his intentions though and he didn't go for her throat; she might have made it worse.

She tasted blood mixed with her spit and she wanted to gag; but she couldn't scream—she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He then pulled his sword out and oh god did it hurt! She almost fell forward, but he didn't let her: he kept her there by her hand that he kept twisting, making her look at Saito on purpose. But she couldn't; and no matter how much he twisted her hand, she was still holding on to her dagger! She thrust it deep into his flesh with all of her remaining power!

She heard his cry of pain and knew she hit home! Just then, Saito spurred into action and the movement caught her eye; she should duck.

More like giving up on standing instead of actually making an effort, she fell to her knees; Saito passed right next to her and stabbed the man. Blood rained down upon her. All she could see was her mother, the first time she ever coughed blood and it sprayed all over Tokio's face. She shuddered and she shook. Her breath caught; she wanted to go, she had to! She didn't want to be here…but her legs wouldn't carry her away. They felt too heavy to move. The more she panicked the more her breathing worsened.

He saw her sitting on the floor favouring her right side while clutching her wound, trying to stop the bleeding somehow; the other hand's elbow tried to support her weight and not collapse on the floor! She breathed heavily and her eyes were half-closed. After his sword was once more at his side, he crouched down next to her. "Tokio, can you speak?"

His voice drove her back to reality and her ugly situation. "…it hurts…though…"

She's lost a lot of blood and I think he broke her arm, too, he observed, as the one on the floor seemed like to be somehow out of place. He put his arm around her, allowing her to lean on him, to relieve the excess strain. "Where's that family doctor you keep talking about?"

She gestured with her hand to leave this room but for some reason it hurt; he picked her up immediately. "In your room?" She nodded; the more the gestures the more she felt her consciousness slipping; he noticed so he made hurry. "In a drawer?" She nodded affirmatively again. "Does it have an address?"

She could barely make out his words, just barely.

She gave another positive nod and fell completely on his chest. Oh, his was completely uninjured; that was good. But so much blood, why? Oh, it was hers; that was strange. She could hear his heartbeat like this, too; it was elevated. Hers was slowing down though. But it was such a calming thing to hear, she didn't want to leave. He smelt of blood and metal though; she hated that smell. Wait…it wasn't his—it was coming from her! That was unprecedented.

She kept clutching at her side though and all she felt was something wet at her fingers; maybe she shouldn't be so surprised. She hadn't dared look but she was sure it was blood. Why was she bleeding again? Oh yes, she had cut her finger when chopping radishes; and then he came around and took care of it. Of course, he was taking care of her.

Saito-san was a capable man. She could sleep in peace now.

He felt her head on his chest. "Tokio?" she didn't respond to his urgency. "Tokio," his voice was more commanding than before, but still no response. He checked her pulse; faint, but there.

Let's keep it that way.

He found the piece of paper with the doctor's name and address; luckily, he knew where his practise was located. It wasn't too close, but he could make it. With her in his arms, he sprinted—but stopped a little too suddenly when that man he saw from outside the window with the "leader" of the shishi tried to gang up on him. Well, he'd kill them anyway, but now he knew they had to die: they saw him trying to help her, while she was supposed to be on their side.

He put her down carefully; he took out his sword. The moment he took his stance, they attacked! With a swift, deep slice both men fell to the floor, their bellies open and gushing red. He made sure they were dead; he picked her up again and ran.

Just as he was about to walk out, none other than his friend and Shinsegumi first squad leader, Okita, appeared with some of his men. No better timing. He blurted out requests and reports the moment he came close: "You take care of things here for me, please; I have successfully intercepted all five men residing in the inn and one that came from outside. Anyone else I don't know about. I'm taking this woman to the doctor but I'll be back the soonest possible."

"As you wi-" the tall man was gone "…sh Saito-san. My, it must be very serious if Saito-san is so curt. I wonder who that person he was holding was; someone innocent certainly." He nodded to his men, always smiling. "Let's make him proud; keep your guard up and head inside the ryokan," he ordered, leading the infiltration team.

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It was bright; closed as they were she could still feel the sun rays probing at her eyes and heating up her skin. She couldn't decide if she liked it or not; on one hand it warmed her. On the other, it stirred her consciousness and the headache that came with it was unbearable. Also, she felt inhumanly tired and she really wanted to sleep a hell lot more. She should just lie perfectly still and pretend—

"I see you're finally awake, Tokio-chan."

She groaned.

Damn it! She must have moved and he noticed. Of course she knew whose company she was keeping; that older man's voice with the pitch that always betrayed happiness to see her awake, belonged to her doctor. He wasn't that old, nearing forty; he always had a dull look on his face, like nothing was ever interesting. But if he was there then that only meant two things: she was either in her room and he was visiting or she was at his place, being taken care of. She was too lazy to check which was true.

"Come now child, open your eyes. See the wonderful world around you."

"Ugh, those words coming from you sound very wrong," she snubbed her doctor; stubbornly she didn't open her eyes, though the sleepiness was almost gone. "Where am I?"

"Open your damn eyes and look around you, girl!"

"I've told you thousands of times not to call me girl, old man!" Ah, shit; she got upset and glared at him; he had it his way after all. Like a child, she pouted and looked away. But the sharp movement hurt her. "Ah," she breathed and her hand instinctively reached out!

The doctor swatted it away like a fly.

"Don't touch; it's still raw! I've bandaged it up but no contact is the best contact."

"Oh…" She looked down at herself and saw it—and felt it: bandages covered all of her middle and a little higher while there were red patches where the wound was…so the doctor didn't try to scare her. "I wasn't dreaming after all; humph, nightmaring more like it…wait—that's not even a real word."

His blue eyes grew solemn. "It isn't Tokio-chan. I think you lost more blood than we realised; I'll go g—!"

"Very funny doctor." She attempted to sit up – oh, she was at his place, after all – but once more, the doctor forced her to lie down. And his annoyingly long hair was getting in her nose! She wanted to pull them. "What the hell—just let me do what I want?"

She sneezed! Oh my god, the pain! And not just that, she felt blood spurting out…One of these days she'd chop all of it off! All of his black, too-taken-care-of locks he was so proud of. And then she'd frame them and give them to him to add insult to injury.

"See, you aggravated it!" He patted her head. "Also, though not broken, your right arm is sprained so don't force your weight on to it."

She hadn't had the chance to realise it for herself because he made her lay back down, but when she attempted to make a fist, her hand hurt. That was also when she noticed it was bandaged as well. "It's my good hand, too," she lamented, holding it out in front of her.

"Uuuuuh, Tokio-chan, if you don't mind my asking, what happened last night?"

He said last night; that meant she didn't sleep for more than some hours. She was no doctor but she's spent enough of her life next to one and knew it to be a good thing. She tried not to think about what he asked though; she averted her eyes, putting her hand down. "Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not? I treated you, young lady!"

"Well, know I do mind your asking then, and I have no intention of explaining myself!" She was so angry, not only did she shout she even raised herself up a little! Ugh, she was hurting again.

"I don't care if you mind my asking it's only an expression people use! Just tell me what happened."

She plopped down sighing, not really wanting to share any of these. In truth, it wasn't the sharing part she minded all that much; it was the all 'having to think about it again now that I'm lucid' part she dreaded. Still acting like a disgruntled child, she puffed up her cheeks not saying a word. "I may not be your father, but I practically raised you, too so spill. Are you involved in something dangerous? Do you need any help with the inn? Is it a money issue? Is it a man issue? Are all of them together?" he attempted the last line when he saw her completely unwilling to participate.

Her silence popped him a vein!

"Look here," he said so absolutely, she couldn't help but indulge him "a man I don't even know waltzed in here, carrying you, covered in your blood but very little of his own, asking me to help you. He then proceeded to tell me all of the expenses would be covered by the Shinsegumi with no explanation whatsoever and he'd had to leave but he'd be back to check on you.
True to his word, he returned some hours later and asked me how you were; and today, another man, wearing a Shinsegumi uniform came and left me an envelope with money in it and a note saying I shouldn't speak of this to people!"

She looked at him so surprised he started wondering if she actually knew how she got the wounds. "What happened to you Tokio?"

"Arita-sensei, don't fret so much; it'll give you bald spots. Hey, I see one already. It's right there, next to your temple. Oh wait; that's your ear."

"Tokio!"

She giggled. "Okay, okay; I'll talk." She took a deep breath; ah, even that hurt. How was she supposed to be from this day forward? "The man who rushed me here was Shinsegumi, too; he stayed at the inn. He was spying on the patriots' plans. Apparently he was successful and all hell broke loose. I got wrapped up in a fight despite my best wishes and ended up here."

"You mean to tell me you were somehow related to that big slaughter yesterday night? Wait—the shishi were those people I treated at the inn?" He started getting angrier now. "Hadn't I told you to get rid of them the moment they got better? They looked like trouble from the start; and now look at this! Who was it that stabbed you?"

"…the one with the serious face."

"Stupid girl," he hissed and hit her upside the head. "They could have killed you."

"Humph, they certainly tried."

She shouldn't have said that. She should not have said that. He looked like he was about to get up and strangle her himself. "I'll—!"

"Arita-sensei, where is Takeru?" she just realised he was supposed to be here.

"Don't you change the subject…! But he's fine; the man that brought you here had brought Reika-chan with him and she took him to the ryokan. Oh where is he now? I should buy him a drink—you should definitely buy him a drink next time you see him."

Her cheeks became so red she didn't even know she had the ability to produce that shade. "Yeah, I'll keep it in mind. Meanwhile, you should consider come living at the inn for a while; you can take care of me there and change my bandages whenever."

She didn't blame Saito for anything. He had warned her to stay away yesterday, told her it was dangerous. He'd even asked her to leave the inn for the night—but she refused to do so because they might have suspected something. Also, it was her own damn ryokan; no one would drive her away from her home no matter the reason. She wasn't supposed to leave that room he put her in, also but that damn shishi running inside scared her! She ran out to meet him, but Yato ran into her first.

Yato.

He was dead. She remembered very vividly how…Saito had dispatched him. It was gruesome; it was violent; it was also very quick. Aku soku zan, indeed. But there was so much blood…she could also understand the rumours. The third squad captain wasn't forgiving, that's for sure.

But what infuriated her—truly infuriated her was the whole thing with Yato attacking her. He had believed her. He had honestly actually believed her. He didn't attack her because of her betrayal or whatever, but simply because he thought it could anger his enemy! Just because he thought Saito was attracted to her, bam, kill her.

Ugh, at least Takeru was safe and so was Reika-chan and everyone else at the inn. She truly needed to thank Saito. He was a good man. Ironically, she remembered the exact moment she thought about that before and her stomach did a flip. She was passing out but she had felt extremely safe, like she knew she'd be alright, just because he was there. He was reliable, she knew, but this was a little too much trust from her part and she didn't even know why. All blood that wasn't spilled, rushed to her cheeks!

"What are you thinking about?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are you thinking about? You asked me to come over and then suddenly zoned out and started blushing."

"I didn't zone out…! I'm just thinking about the man that stabbed me."

"Where is he?"

"Six feet under." Silence. "That's a good thing."

"I didn't say it wasn't. Anyway, the man that brought you here," he continued supposedly indifferent "who is he? What's his name? What's your relationship with him? Why did he help you? How long have you known him? Why do you think he paid for you?"

She stared. "Anything else you might want to ask? If he has a dog or his birthday?"

"Just answer my questions."

"I love how you tried to be all nonchalant about it, too," she continued, like she hadn't heard him.

He rolled his eyes. "Answer me, Tokio."

"His name is Hajime Saito." The recognition of the name was immediate; ah good, she wouldn't have to explain too much. "I helped him catch the patriots…in a manner. I've known him nearly a month, as long as he stayed at the ryokan. And he paid just to upset me! I mean, I can take care of a bill. But, that's just his character, you know. Well, you don't; I do. Take my word for it. We're-"

She stopped. What are they? Acquaintances; partners in crime…? Friends? The first one seemed lacking. If she spent a whole night sleeping next to him she was far more than that! Yet…they weren't friends, not really. They were friendly with each other but there was so much weird stuff going on between them she didn't know what to call him; she definitely respected him...maybe she should just call him a friendly face; yes, that seemed accurate. After all, she helped him through something but it was all under a lot of stress and pressure.

She bet she wasn't the first person to help him like this anyway—he must have had impromptu partners before. Maybe not to this extent but…she just had this feeling she wouldn't be seeing him again. And that made her sad.

"Tokio? You just spaced out again. You're what?"

"We're friendly acquaintances."

"Aha. So when did you turn him down; and why? He seems not only capable to take care of you but also of good character."

She looked at him lost; he completely misinterpreted her! "What are you talking about, Arita-sensei?"

He looked at her just as lost; yes, there was an error in communication. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what makes you think he…? I wouldn't…he didn't…" she wasn't making any sense. She shook her head and looked at him. "You seem to think he was interested in me. Romantically."

"Isn't he?"

"No," she chuckled out at the absurdity of it all "what makes you think that?"

"Oh, just the fact he sounded very worried about you and he even kept his word to come back to check even if he is the third squad captain and probably had a million more things to do last night. Also, the relief on his face when I told him you'd recover well and how he'd thought about Takeru though he had no reason to."

"Arita-sensei, that's called being a proper person; I wouldn't have liked him and by extension helped him if he weren't." She shook her head like she'd just heard the most unbelievable thing. "I think you misjudged his intentions. Besides, he won't be coming back after he made sure I was alright."

At the doctor's questioning look she just shrugged. "His job is done, what would bring him back? If you're right even a little bit, maybe he returns but he won't exactly because he was just being friendly." That hurt a little to say out loud though she couldn't really understand why. A part ofher realised she wanted him to be back. She decided not to think anymore. "So, will you come at the inn to take care of me?" He gave her that look that said 'do you even have to ask'. "Great; now are you going to tell me what is up with me or do I have to drag it out of you?"

"Thankfully it turned out to be a case of 'looks worse than it is'. No vital organs were damaged internally, but that through-and-through will take a while to heal."

"Huh…? So I'll have a scar now, too." She remembered how she had told Saito not to be too reckless and now this happens. She chuckled. "This is what I get, I suppose. Come, let's go."

"Oh, you won't be leaving this bed for the rest of the day; lie back down. I'll tell you when it's allowed."

The truth was that she was perfectly capable of getting out of bed by sundown, but Saito had asked the doctor to keep her there, discreetly; he wanted to get all the people who worked at the ryokan back, clean up the mess and patch up anything destroyed. He'd even sent men over, not Shinsegumi of course, to help with whatever was needed. The dead bodies were long gone, naturally.

He wanted to do this for her…as a parting gift.

He wasn't a simpleton. He knew the only reason she was injured, was due to her connection with him. If he hadn't relied on her for help, if he hadn't shown his interest, this would never have happened. And his strategy for her to remain unharmed was completely ineffective. Yato was convinced she was on their side but for that one possibility for him to leave alive, he was more than willing to sacrifice a comrade. But he couldn't lay the blame on Yato and be over with it, or else this would happen again; it was his fault. He should have never shown one of his weaknesses; he enjoyed the game with her too much and put her in danger.

And this was the perfect chance to walk away and keep her safe from him and his interest. If word got out the third squad captain was sweet one some woman, that woman would never see the light of day again. But all the men who knew that are now dead, he made sure. And if Yato ever communicated with anyone Saito didn't know about and were at some level aware of Tokio, he knew she wouldn't hesitate to contact him.

It was an emotionally difficult decision, but logically easy. He would leave her alone.

The first week wasn't difficult. He had all these matters and paperwork to take care of, he barely had time to look up. What with all the extra nightshifts – on the lookout for any surprise attacks by the many shishi that escaped them, especially Battousai – and the long mornings of filing incident reports for Hijikata and reading some of his own, there was no time to think.

The more into routine he fell, the worse it became though. He realised with a start, his routine had changed for that short while, it had become ordinary but somehow special, and it was too boring now without her. He missed watching the way her nose did that thing when something bothered her or how she'd first pout then start yelling when people presumed to tell her what to do.

Though, he noted with an odd pride, he got her to listen to him.

The third week was the worst. He was always keeping tabs on her, concerned for her health as he was, but as the reports of her status kept coming more and more each day, his desire to see her for himself grew instead of diminishing. Reports said she was healing just fine; the doctor now left her residence; customers have finally stopped asking if something is wrong with her because she was walking properly again. Takeru was now working in the kitchen and she was happy. The staff ceased to tip-toe around her, afraid she was going to break. Her hand was completely free of any bandages.

He wanted to see that for himself. He was tired of people telling him what she looked or felt like. He knew he shouldn't go talk to her or he shouldn't even make it obvious he is searching for her in a crowd; no matter how much it pained him to stay away, he wouldn't do those things, he'd promised. He only wanted to lay eyes on her. His last image of her was Tokio bleeding on the floor, looking terrified. And then she just fainted in his hands. He had never felt such utter helplessness and desperation before, it ate, tore at him.

He just needed this reassurance and he'd never do this again.

.

.

.

Tokio was sitting alone at a local restaurant; she was tired of cooking for other people, even for herself. She wanted to be served instead of doing the serving. She chose to visit this quaint establishment because Arita-sensei had assured her they made the best chicken dishes in the whole city! Chicken was her favourite; he knew how to lure her. She also knew that one of his latest flirts worked here, as a server—his real reason for referring her. He was always looking for the one though he changed his mind about what sort of person that was every two months.

No wonder he is still unmarried…

Oh dear; she sounded like Saito in her head…the same one who never visited. She knew he wouldn't be back; his job was finished and so was whatever they had with it. She vaguely asked herself if she could be labelled as a "flirt" of Saito's. Just like sensei's flirts, she also heard no word from him after everything was said and done. She didn't even get to thank him for Takeru…not that she sought him out. Her pride was too much and so was her shame for getting in his way.

Also, she couldn't say she liked how easily he had killed all those people, but at least she wasn't scared, only a little skittish about it.

Sighing, she mentally scolded herself for thinking these things. She only wanted to eat the food she ordered…which would be easy actually, if not for the unbelievable fact that Saito had just walked in; he was right there, he sat opposite her!

He had his back turned, sitting next to the window. He didn't even come sit with her…oh wait; she was partially covered by this paper half-wall thingy in front of her. But he was supposed to be the vigilant third squad captain, he didn't notice her? Well, she was looking away herself when he came in, she only saw him when he went to his seat.

He looked extremely nice in that shinsegumi uniform, too...

Suddenly, she had a thought; she stopped one of the servers that passed her. "Excuse me," she drew attention "can I ask for something?"

"Certainly."

"You know the man that's sitting right over there?" she showed with her eyes.

"Saito Hajime-san? Yes; he's a regular here."

He was a, what here? "Right." If the motive behind her sensei suggesting her to this place was this after all, she wouldn't be surprised. "Can you get him a bowl of soba?"

The girl looked at her wondered. "A bowl of soba; a plain bowl of soba?"

"Yes."

"As you wish," she agreed, confused on why one would choose to treat someone to something but choose the cheapest item of the menu.

"After you do, could you please get my plates there as well?"

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am; we aren't allowed to do that without his consent."

Stupid; of course he'd be careful. "Tell him it was me that bought him the soba and ask him if he'd want me to join him. If he says yes, get my plates there."

"Alright," she said in the end and left.

She couldn't watch; she felt her pulse quicken and her stomach hurt and it wasn't because she was hungry. Her palms started feeling sweaty; she was distinctively looking everywhere but him…till five minutes later when:

"I see you're dinning out alone," he drawled. She looked up startled to see him sit opposite her with his ever-lasting smirk. He was carrying the bowl of soba she'd ordered for him. "True to your name, ever the spinster."

"Saito-san!" She exclaimed his name in a very scolding manner; her cheeks became so red she couldn't feel anything but heat. But she found her composure. "You haven't seen me in weeks and that's the first thing you say to me? I'm wounded."

"Not anymore."

The atmosphere turned serious abruptly. She tried to make it lighter. "It doesn't hurt anymore; it's developing into a scar now…you won't be the only one with those anymore."

He tried to smile but didn't really succeed. "It isn't something I am proud of."

"Are you kidding? You love your scars."

"I wasn't referring to mine."

She turned away in 0.2 seconds; what was with him? Why didn't he act like he usually did? If he didn't want to be in her company he only had to decline her offer—but he actually came to her! So why was he so…solemn? It was out of place and it made her upset. The waiter came then, bringing her orders, getting her out of the difficult spot. She busied herself with finding her chopsticks and looking at her dish. She noticed with the edge of her eyes, he was waiting for her to start eating.

They broke their chopsticks at the same time. "Let's eat," they said respectfully and started their meal. They ate in silence for some time, but it wasn't a dead silence: full of furtive glances and covert stares from both parties, it said more than if they had held an actual conversation. He was much more skilled of course, so she didn't catch him doing it.

After a while, she put her chopsticks down, though she was far from finished; he followed her example. She had to say this, no matter what. She was even more nervous than before, but she couldn't stop now. Pulling as much air as she could in her lungs, she tried to calm a little to say:

"Are you angry at me Saito-san for not listening to you? I know I, um, rushed out of that room when you told me to stay hidden, but I saw a shishi come dangerously close and I thought he'd see me! So I ran. I sort of panicked, but just a little. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble for you."

He looked at her, his eyes small and his brows creased. "Is that why you think I haven't come by?"

She swallowed, looking at the side. "Yes."

He snorted; slowly, it turned into a chuckle. In the end he was laughing, as politely as he could, turning not just her eyes but some of the costumers as well. When his mirth subsided, he looked at her again but now she could see it, that usual cunning twinkle in his eye.

"I am not angry at you, Tokio, not at all."

At those words, the oddest feeling of relief washed over her, lightening a load off her shoulders.

"Is that why you bought me the soba," he teased "to get back to my good graces?" He took her silence as a yes. "But…just soba?"

"The treat is a thank you for getting me to the doctor," she said emphatically "but it downgraded to plain soba because you didn't come around to see me at all. I was the one who was hurt, so you should be making the visit."

"Sadly for you, plain soba is my favourite dish," he lied a little too well, never mentioning the fact he always knew what her condition was, even from afar "so I don't really understand your punishment."

"There's no way plain soba is your favourite; it's no one's favourite."

"Well, it's mine."

She stared as if trying to catch him on a lie but he didn't let her see through it; he simply went back to his eating; she grimaced superiorly at him and did the same.

"So are you going to tell me why you didn't drop by?"

"We're eating now. Be quiet."

"I'm not being chatty; it's one question…"

"I don't like talking when eating."

"You're talking now."

Smiling, he decided to remain silent for the rest of the meal, digging into his food; she tightened her jaw, but respected his wishes. Then, as if to make a point, she took a bite with her chopsticks, way too slowly and brought it to her mouth in the same fashion. She chomped. She chewed almost emphatically. Then she did it again; and again; and again, until she was actually eating.

While he was eating his soba, he put it down for a moment. As she reached for something other than her chicken, he stole a mouthful of it, right out of her plate! She saw; her eyebrow raised but in the end said nothing. The second time he did it, she pretended she didn't see altogether even if both knew she had. When even the third time she acted like nothing happened, he gave himself new permission to do as he liked with all her plates.

After both meals were over, they respectfully chanted "thanks for the meal" and put their chopsticks down.

"Did you like the chicken?"

"It may not be my favourite soba, but it was very tasty."

They both smiled at an unspoken joke. "I'm asking because I was told this place had the best chicken in town. Do you agree?"

"Yes, do you?"

"I haven't had better, at least not from someone else other than myself."

He was pleasantly surprised at that. "You can cook better than that, spinster girl?"

"Yes, but only for people who don't call me that."

He almost chuckled; he deserved that. "Fair enough," he admitted and wiped at his mouth. "Excuse me, I have to be going. Thank you for the treat."

Widening her eyes, she tried to either complain or stand up with him, but his raised hand stopped her; she sat back down.

"But you haven't—!"

"Goodbye Tokio," he interrupted "it was nice seeing you."

He walked away, leaving her behind, stricken; he really wanted a future with this woman, but at the same time he just couldn't put her in harm's way because of his feelings…she obviously cared for him at some degree or else she wouldn't be annoyed at him not being there. It made him happy to see that but all the more difficult. He even tried to lie, but the words wouldn't come, they persisted at the back of his throat. Why couldn't he lie to her? He'd promised himself, he'd made up his mind. This had never happened to him before—was she really so important to him?

Yes, she was.

=:=:=:=

.

=:=:=:=

"Saito-san, who is Takagi Tokio?"

He turned to Okita a little more than surprised, almost panicked at the question. He wouldn't look like it to anyone else but him, who has spent the most time with him and was aware of the slightest of movement, no matter how small. For instance, he perceived the momentary raising of the eyebrows. He was caught off guard.

"Where did you hear that name?" who was the one who talked he should have asked; he only had his hand-picked men give him reports about her, he should find the one who spilled the beans.

"I asked a man at the market the other day; she was buying vegetables in the company of a young boy. But you already know that, don't you? After all, I wouldn't have been keen to know her name if you hadn't been so interested in her."

Saito remained silent; he would definitely give, whoever it was, a very creative punishment. Not anything too creative though—bureaucracy was far too brutal especially when coupled with another thing or two.

"Come now Saito-san, don't look so sorrowful; you think I wouldn't notice?" The mentioned man finally spared him a good look. "We've been going around in circles of her inn since we started patrolling together; I've seen many of your men come around this place at odd times; and this is the same place you lived with those patriots.

And let's not forget how you keep staring at her from a distance every time she shows up, even if you never really go to her. You just follow her with your eyes everywhere and I notice how your hand keeps twitching whenever she almost drops something or missteps."

Saito was internally panicking by now. He had no problem with Okita knowing in particular, but it was the fact he noticed that worried him; if he did, who else might have had? Also, he didn't even realise he was doing all those things! How could he do things he didn't understand he was doing them? Sweat beaded at his forehead.

"You really care for her; don't you Saito-san?"

He decided to state a vague fact; he swallowed saliva. "There's been an increased activity of patriots around the inn and she's the owner."

"There's been an increased activity of them everywhere, not just the inn but you chose to go there" he countered. But Saito looked at him reproachful. "Ooh, I see; Shinsegumi and what not," he immediately caught on to his problem. "But you know, Saito-san, I always thought that if there was one of us who could make it that would be you; you have an uncanny ability of persevering."

"What about the part where she gets hurt?"

Okita smiled. "I don't know. But I wish you could do it; for all of us."

There was a grim silence that ensued, it scared Saito; it foreboded something bad for him. "Don't talk like you're an old man, brat," he snapped; the first captain was amused.

"Then you shouldn't act like one either."

And with that, he left him to his thoughts, walking briskly away.

A/N: The "let's eat" and "thanks for the meal" are the "ittadakimasu" and "gochisou sama deshita" which I translated because I haven't used any phrases in Japanese in this story, so it would feel weird if I suddenly started using them...but I thought I should leave this here.

As always, thank you for reading! Please leave a review to tell me what you thought about it-all the good and the bad. Bye for now~!