A/N: FINAL CHAPTER! Oh god, I can't believe I started and finished a story in such a short amount of time! You're the greatest audience, thank you, you truly kept me going. Thank you for all of your support - faves alerts and reviews - it means a lot.

All historical facts mentioned are true and mostly correct; excuse the date spam but I'm a sucker for that while the passage of time is actually crucial in the mechanics of this chapter.

Huge chapter is huge!

I don't own RuroKen.

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Saito was faced with many dangers while he was away: still in Fushimi during the outbreak of the Boshin war, his presence and the presence of many others like him – Shinsegumi – there, was what instigated the opening skirmishes.

The battle of Toba-Fushimi took place in January, leading to the decisive defeat of the shogunal forces. The death toll was high on both sides and many were injured but the ones more hurt by this battle were definitely shogun's men and the Shinsegumi itself. Their leader, Kondo Isami, was injured, Saito was injured, even Okita; they were driven back from Kyoto to Osaka where another fierce battle took place. They tried to defend the castle but it eventually fell…still injured and their strength cut in half, they were happy to escape with their lives.

The war might have changed fronts, but Kyoto was no peaceful haven: people fought on the streets any time of day, assassinations were carried out in the open even more frequently than before and everyone was constantly on their guard. The relative calm they enjoyed was no more than a memory. And the injured men from the battles kept rushing in the capital like flooding water, making up more than five percent of the populace by now.

The Takagi ryokan had slowly transformed into a hospital: it started out with Arita-sensei requesting a room or two for his patients. He was a good doctor and an even better surgeon with his firm, steady hand and unprecedented un-queasiness to blood; while his no-bullshit attitude towards the patients made him famous among the men. By the time they reached January 17 there was a small handicapped army at his practise. The difficulty lay in keeping both patriots and shogunal forces civil enough not to kill each other but the silver lining was they were all injured thus less likely to get up. Those who started fights or even attempted bloodbaths were immediately ushered elsewhere.

The overflowing of patients led him to seek help from Tokio, who wasn't at all inconvenienced. She had taken to sheltering people who came from the war and needed a place to lay low for some hours, or even a day. She even had enemies stay in the same section without ever encountering one another. The doctor saw her usefulness but acted only when he needed.

She relinquished most of her inn – all but half the rooms of the staff, her own and the one she'd reserved for Saito – to the services of the wounded. She'd laid all the beds she had at her disposal and then some, while she and her staff constantly cooked and provided orderly services. The inn had no guests anymore; those who remained only did so to help. The income came either from whatever payment the injured ones could provide or the charity of the richer people. Her own stash of money was touched but not spent entirely.

"Take these men to the left room; this is the shogunate's wing, don't let them mingle."

She'd learnt to tell the difference as the days went by just by looking at them; if she relied on their answers, she'd have been fooled many times. But their clothes and accents set them apart. As she pressed down on a man's open chest wound to stop the blood from spurting out in a fountain, she had her sleeves pulled up. The plain red kimono she had on was preferable because that way the stains from the blood wouldn't be as obvious.

She had become quite good at this, treating people and making quick decisions. She always prioritised well but under these extreme circumstances, her mental reflexes were honed. Also, with her training at Aizu, she had taken extremely well to the duties of a nurse; the doctor even let her perform stitches when necessary after he personally showed her how to do it.

She regretted not following this line of work from the start.

"Tokio-sama," Satomi, one of the three ladies of the kitchen, appeared at the door "it's been a while since you last had a break; in fact, it's been more than half a day. Why don't you come eat?"

It was too big an oddity for Satomi to come in a room with patients; she was squeamish about blood and other things exposed. Tokio had missed meals before, too, but not once did she personally come to remind her…there was something going on that she should know about! She could see it in Satomi's worry—it wasn't the usual motherly vibe, but something urgent. Nodding she understood, she hastily said "I'll be there as soon as I'm done."

It wasn't for another five minutes that she could leave – with her conscious clear – but as soon as she did she headed to the kitchen immediately. She barely had time to wash herself though so she wiped it all on the kimono and then on a damp towel. She came to love her plain red kimono.

She made it to the kitchen after ten minutes in total; the towel was still in her hands. "Satomi-san, what is it that you...need me…?"

A man at tall as her came out of the shadows. His hair was caught in a band high on the back of his head while the familiar cerulean-white combination of his hitatare shone in the candlelight. He was clutching at his stomach and red ran through his fingers. But the face, now twisted from the pain was just as familiar. She left her bloody towel on the counter, barely managing to hold it.

"Okita-san!"

She rushed to him. But just then, another person came out of the shadows, much taller and way, way more familiar. Her eyes grew even bigger. "Saito!"

She kept looking between the two of them lost yet concerned; Okita was wounded seriously but Saito seemed in a better condition, though not all that great. "How can you be here? You were in Osaka; the castle fell two days ago!"

"We haven't stopped running since," Okita explained with a very tranquil, disconcerting smile.

She mentally scolded herself. "Satomi, get Keiko and go close every single door facing the eastern hallways; I'll get these men in Saito's room but it's important those doors stay closed so no one sees them."

She nodded and flew immediately! "We'll wait for a minute and then follow; if anyone sees you there'll be a new battle breaking out in here. It's obvious why the patriots shouldn't see you but if men on your side do, their morale will pick up and someone will eventually put two and two together…but you're hurt and in no condition to fight anyone—especially you, Okita-san. Just what happened in that castle siege?"

Her question would remain unanswered, as she motioned for them to follow her; Okita was in such a bad shape, he had to be supported. "I'll do it; you look better but you shouldn't aggravate your body."

They limped all the way to the room; it wasn't in the pristine condition it had been the previous time, but considering everything it was great. The moment they walked in she put Okita on the bed and rushed to get another one out. "You lie on this one" she ordered Saito "I'll go bring Arita-sansei."

Her heart was about to beat out of her chest while her brain worked overtime. She was so relieved to see him alive, she couldn't put it in words…even if she wanted to. Time was of the essence. She found Arita-sensei bent over a man whose leg was in a bad condition ever since he'd arrived; he was checking for any signs of improvement. That was fortunate! It meant no one was immediately dying and she could steal him away. She hunched and tapped him on the shoulder.

Oh no, other people were listening. She had to be convincing and inconspicuous for this to work. What to say…? Ah of course! "Arita-sensei, can you please come with me?"

He turned to look at her. "Is it something serious?" She looked down at her scar, nodding with her head. She pretended it to grip it with pain. "Your injury is acting up!" she hushed him, supposedly ashamed. "I'm, I'm coming right now; give me ten seconds."

She bowed and discreetly moved away; the pros were the man Arita-sensei was treating believed her. The cons were Arita-sensei believed it, too. "Follow me."

"You shouldn't be walking so fast, Tokio!" he didn't shout but anyone could see the reproach in his body language. "I know you're shy but you've seen many people undressed by now; it's no big deal if they see some of your skin, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Please just follow; please. I'm very tired."

The guilt trip worked; hopefully he wouldn't pay her back after all this was over.

"Tokio-chan," he began pacifyingly "I know you're worried about Saito; but why are we in front of his room? Yours wou-…"

She rolled her eyes again as the door opened and pushed him inside; the moment he laid eyes on the two occupants, he stopped talking. He straightened his back and began individual assessment. "I'll go get fresh towels, clean water and my tools; you prep the one worse off."

Tokio sat next to Okita; her eyes ran all over him. Other than the very obvious, very painful wound on his stomach there didn't seem to be anything else important; good, there would be only one point of concern.

"He is the one worse off, right? You aren't hiding some sort of gaping wound under all that fabric?"

"He's a priority," Saito agreed.

The first thing to do was to remove all of the clothing from his upper body, or at least that which was covering his injury. She untied his hitatare till only skin remained. With a start, she saw the wound was already dressed; she took out a dagger – she learnt to carry them everywhere for her own safety – and ripped the bandages.

Okita coughed and she saw blood. "You're…very good with that…Tokio-san."

She tried to remove it as pain-free as she could. "Don't speak Okita-san, or else I'm doing this for nothing." His smile was his reply; good, he heard her. "You think I'll convince you to sleep, too?"

"You're pushing your luck," Saito commented in his stead; she chuckled.

"At least you have good friends, Okita-san. See? Saito is still not lying down in his bed as I told him; instead he clutches his sword, sitting in the most comfortable position to launch a surprise attack from."

"Oh, I've been found."

"Like it was hard…!"

She kept looking at him; she knew she had to be concentrated solely on Okita but she couldn't help but glance his way. He carried his comrade, he wasn't limping, and he was sitting up; he didn't appear to be in too much pain. He could still tease and smirk so he must have been in a good condition overall. But she couldn't help it; she had to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The more time passed, the less she trusted them and the more she glanced at him.

"Ah!" she closed her eyes upon seeing Okita's injury fully; it was very deep and very bad. She'd seen worse, like missing limbs, but this wasn't too far off on the horrible scale. If they had delayed it a little more, he'd have turned septic. Arita-sensei chose the perfect moment to walk back in.

"To work," he told himself, more than anyone, and left his tools next to him. Satomi and Reika came in after him with hot and cold water and a lot of fresh towels. "Leave them next to me. You can go; thanks." They bowed once – Reika gave Saito a meaningful stare – and left. "Tokio-chan, clean this for me please."

As her hands worked on getting rid of the blood covering Okita's wound, Arita examined it thoroughly. "Thank you; I'll take it from here, you go take care of Saito."

She didn't even pretend to feel ashamed that Arita-sensei noticed her concern; she dropped whatever she was doing and went to his side. She took the hot water and a towel with her.

"Can you take off your clothes?"

"…I think."

As she inspected him more closely, she could spot the little things, those minute movements she couldn't from so far away: he was sitting up but he was stiff like a statue; his fingers looked to be a part of the sword than of his body. His wit was quick but his reflexes were slowed. Even his eyes were bloodshot; with his sharp features, the black circles seemed even more pronounced. The edge of his lip, his sleeves and small parts of his clothes were spotted with blood.

"I'll help you anyway," she decided to say, not to hurt his pride; he had enough things to be hurt about.

Trying to be as gentle as possible, she first took the katana away and put it right next to him. Always at arm's reach, accessible so he could feel more relaxed. Slowly, she untied his hitatare; she moved behind him and carefully took the shoulders off. His back was still unharmed. She felt relieved, as if the rest of him wasn't shredded. Unfortunately, she couldn't get the garment past his shoulders because the way it stopped for a moment showed her blood had dried there while he was still wearing it making the fabric stick.

She moved at the front again where she could see the spots; as softly as she could she removed the fabric from the wounds one by one. She would proceed only when she was certain the pain from the previous one had ebbed away or the small bleeding had stopped. She was extra careful not to touch any exposed injuries but that wasn't easy—they were so many of them!

She didn't dare look him in the eye during the whole process; she was far too focused and emotional. But she caught the miniscule twitches of his mouth or the swallowed cries of pain or how he wouldn't stop staring at her no matter what. Her hands trembled more than once. There was that inexplicable feeling of closeness again, of veiled eroticism masquerading as seduction...but she was only trying to be helpful! There was something wrong with this man in particular, because she certainly didn't notice anything of the sort with all the rest she had to undress!

"Tokio, I need your help," the doctor snapped her out of it "we need to make him sleep."

"On it," was her rapid response. Just what she needed to shake this off!

When she put Okita's head in her lap and started massaging his temples he realised what she was doing and why but…he felt an overwhelming pang of jealousy; it was small, but somehow overwhelming. She looked so focused and attentive but it wasn't about him anymore. He felt like a worse person for being jealous of Okita, but he couldn't fight it. Thankfully, she came back before he had to think about what this meant or else he would have to ask how she knew his name, too. After all, Okita was the first one who appeared but she recognised him just fine.

He tried really hard to stop thinking like that and savour her attentions.

She huffed.

"Why are you not lying down?" she lightly pushed him on his back, an example he followed on his own. "Better." She cracked her fingers and started counting open cuts. "You may look better than he is but I think you're much more hurt; some of these are healing already, but they are undoubtedly fresh." She looked at him appalled. "Your mother is lucky not to be around to see this; she'd be worried half to death!"

Five out of…too many to count wounds needed stitches.

"Lucky I'm an orphan then."

She slapped his forehead vertically, as lightly as she could but enough to feel it. "Don't sass me; I'm the one who has to sew you up. Ah yes," she turned to her right "Arita-sensei, I need needle and thread; you don't mind?"

"Take it."

Stretching her hand, she grabbed his "tool" box and slid it to her. "I can't believe you were hurt so much; were you on the very first line?" Meanwhile, she prepared her tools. "I mean, Okita is just stabbed and it's over—you have numerous cuts that almost turn into stabs; the sheer number is preposterous. You hack away at people but people hack away at you. I guess I should be thanking Buddha you are faster than your enemies."

She had started with the first deep cut; it was adjacent to an old one, forming a "T" shape. She frowned. "I was wrong; you need a hundred of those omamori things if they are to work! Or maybe when you defy them they stop working altogether? That would explain…you! Unless this is the result after their protection."

There was a pause; she huffed and puffed but didn't say anything else.

"Are you quite finished?"

"I still have four more to go."

She spoke so accusingly, so irritably, she even blew air out of her nostrils audibly. Somehow, he found that adorable. He had to tease her.

"I meant your complaining…"

"Oh I'm sorry," she started turning redder with each word "I didn't know my concern was so irrelevant! Fine, I won't say anything else; go kill yourself next time; I'll respectfully burry your body. Don't worry; I'll make it a point to be silent."

Though her movements didn't translate her turmoil, it was obvious in her scowl and the tightness of her mouth. She was almost pouting. But he didn't want to hurt her. "Don't be like that; I need something to pass the time."

She slapped his forehead again though more force was put into it.

"Tokio; stop hitting the patients," came the stern admonition from the doctor.

"But he deserves it." She looked at the subject of her anger. "You do," she assured him, in case he was wondering. "This is why people like you die young. You have NO sense of danger."

"I thought that was why you've been keeping me at arm's length; what are you getting so upset about?" He had seriously started getting twitchy. "You knew that from the start."

Her colour changed from purple of wrath to crimson of shame. "…so what? It's still not healthy! I'm just trying to offer a piece of useful advice so you get to live more than a quarter of your life! Is it wrong I'd prefer you stayed alive?"

"If you wanted me to take such things under consideration, you should have married me; but you said no to that, didn't you? Then why in earth are you lecturing me on how to live my life if it doesn't affect you in the slightest?"

"Oh, you only listen to people who are in some way attached to you? You have some sort of debt to Okita-san and you listen to him?"

"And they say I'm the one who always has to be right…or have the last word."

"Yes you are; you just said that so you can have the last word! I, ugh…I give up. You should really stop talking; it helps with the healing process, too."

"Yours or mine?"

She controlled herself and didn't slap him a third time. "You are so infuriating!"

"You're one to talk."

She let out a high pitched sound of frustration, stopping the stitching for a split second. "This is it, this is exactly it; I knew I was right."

"About what?"

"None of your business; it was directed at Arita-sensei."

"Don't drag me into this," he rejected participation immediately "or else I'll say things you don't want him to hear. Work this out on your own."

"Traitor."

"What things? And what were you right about?" If he hated something that was being kept in the dark. "Explain."

"No; live with it."

The offense…! "Fine."

"Fine," she repeated superior.

Silence prevailed; she kept working on him with the most emphatic scowl on her face while he just lay there boiling. After a while, she was finished; she didn't move away though, she started cleaning the rest of his cuts or the dried blood here and there. Arita-sensei had finished with Okita but she was still going; her motions were deliberately slow. And still none had spoken a word.

"Okita's treatment is over but he needs to rest…which is why I'd appreciate it if you attempted to solve this civilly or at least quietly." They both looked at him annoyed. "Or you can change rooms. Bye now."

The climate was very cold. It was unexpected because only a moment ago there was such tension and warmth he could swear they'd finally do something and be together. But it went south too fast; he walked away, not to make things worse.

"I'm finished, too," was the first thing she said to him after all that "I can leave if you don't want me here."

Tch, pushing the decision on him; why did he have to be the one to back down first? If she didn't want to leave she should simply ask him if he wanted her to stay. But no, her ego wouldn't allow that. What, he didn't have one just because she rejected him twice? He turned to her, cross. He stopped though. She was looking away from him, humble and sheepish, not at all how she sounded. Oh? Was that her reaching out?

"…don't leave."

"Alright. You..." She went to say something, but it died out. "I…" she stopped again.

You are right, was what she was going to say; I was wrong to lecture you I have no place to do that.

But they wouldn't come. Before, she was so overcome by her own anger, her own concern that even when she understood he was the one who was right, she still couldn't hold back her torrid remarks. After all, her own views felt so irrelevant, it pained her. But she knew it shouldn't have! Really, she was the one, who decided to stay out of his life, he was completely right.

But why did it hurt? "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said in the end.

"I'm sorry I sounded cold; I didn't want to be."

"Me neither." She tried to say something again, but failed for the umpteenth time!

"I understand why you vented though; my body looks as bad as it feels like."

"…I too understand why you were cold. It's not my place to have a say in how you choose to live your life; I should respect your choices."

"Tokio-san is so naive," a voice coming from their right interrupted their apologies "she still hasn't told Saito-san how she knows me…" Like fish hooked on bait, Saito looked at the supposed-to-be-sleeping Okita, trying to sit up as much as possible.

She was surprised to see him move like that. "I…ran into him in the market," she started explaining "and he said he knew who I was to you. He knew everything about Yato and those other guys so I figured he was your friend." She stopped for a second, to fight her developing blush. "He said I could come by the station if I was ever, um, curious about…" Ugh, she couldn't say it. She noticed him looking at her and felt even more uncomfortable; she turned away. "If I was ever curious about how you were doing or maybe tell me a thing or two about any assignments; only harmless information of course!"

Just like that, all of his vexations disappeared. He just stared at her and his expression was so raw that made her stop and stare, too. He…was no longer upset with her. He hadn't realised that that little pang of jealousy had caused all this; how near-sighted of him. Was he so jealous they knew each other that he let it bother him to this extent? Why didn't he notice? That's right; he was never jealous before. Well, he hoped next time he could keep it in check—it was corrosive.

"I see," was all he said.

"Who would have thought Saito-san was so possessive though? I was only trying to be a good friend to him, like he is to me by keeping Tokio-san in the loop…"

Ah, damn him; not only had he found the root of the problem but pointed out for her to see! And her searching for confirmation prove she caught on. "Well, Tokio-san is very secretive, too; I thought she had told Saito-san how she got the information last time they met, like I advised her to." Saito remembered exactly how she claimed she received her information; his crooked smile could kill. "Ah, I'm tired; I should stop talking in my sleep now."

He tried, but failed, to turn on his other side. Nonetheless, he pretended he was sleeping again; Okita was a very good friend.

Now, Saito knew Tokio liked him so he harboured a hope she might grow to be fond of him enough to wish to be with him; he knew he'd never settle for any other woman, so he was willing to wait as long as she needed. But when her concern about him seemed to be the same as her concern about anyone else, he was discouraged. Or maybe he knew he was somewhat special to her and the thought Okita had the same treatment made him angry. And when she disapproved his way of life so wholly, it pained him. It was a big part of who he was! And if it all stemmed from a lukewarm feeling of like, it hurt even more.

But this showed him she was already fond of him; she worried enough to ask people how he was doing and she was sensible enough not to tell him, because - like he so eloquently reminded - she knew she'd be acting out of turn. But this right here proved he had a legitimate chance with her.

"Will you marry me Tokio?"

She still had a small window; she could walk away from this emotionally undamaged. She started caring for him and now even she couldn't deny it. But not all was lost! There was still a little time left before she fell for him. She cared, yes, but it was normal wasn't it? To care for a man you like, a person you consider close to you? It still didn't mean she was prepared to go through this for the rest of her life!

"…no," she refused with less conviction than ever yet still smiling "better luck next time."

Every time she heard about a death she wished it wasn't him; every time she learnt the shogunal forces were brutally stopped she hoped he was in one piece. And every time she took in people, she prayed to see him between the wounded, just so she'd know where he was. She was even listening in to the wouded people's talks when she was taking care of them for the chance that someone would mention him—and they did! Some patriots were saying how difficult he was to kill, like a goddamn cockroach; some of the shogun's men would wish to be in his company because, just like their leader, they too seemed to survive against many odds. Yet apparently everyone targeted him. It was a coveted title, to be the killer of the third squad captain – one more reason she decided to keep him hidden –.

And all of that was, frankly, exhausting. She would never willingly feel this way about anyone…this would be the final time and from now on, she'd be nothing but a stop for him; he'd be nothing but another weary traveller that she got to know, once upon a time. This she promised herself.

"Do you mind keeping Okita and I in separate rooms?"

"No, but why?"

"He needs to rest, you heard the doctor. I should move out."

"Ah, of course." But one was supposed to know these people were here. Where would she put him? Oh no; she blushed at the thought that just crossed her mind. "Are you feeling well enough to walk?"

"Yes," he lied "take me wherever you think best." Ten minutes later, they were standing in front of a very familiar door. "You know, when I said best, I didn't mean the best room of the inn."

"Oh shush! This is the only viable option. Get in."

The smell that hit his nostrils was so pleasant; it brought back only good memories. "Since none other than Arita-sensei, the three kitchen ladies, Reika-chan and Takeru know about you two being here, you can't stay with the staff. The rest of the rooms are free for anyone to access so this is the only one left, seeing I sleep here alone. No one dares to come close—they tried once but it wasn't pretty. Takeru comes but he's allowed to."

She gestured to him to lie down; he did.

"Oh…does that mean we're gonna sleep together again?"

"Don't sound so misleading; we won't be in the same bed now. We'll just sleep in the same room…"

"Too bad; I really liked that arrangement."

"Saito-san!"

"I'm just being honest…"

"Hmm," she crossed her arms amused "anyway; you want anything to drink or eat?"

"Just plain soba."

"Plain soba, huh?"

"Didn't I tell you already? They are my favourite."

"I didn't believe you then, I don't believe you now. Be as it may, I will get you the soba. We don't have much else anyway," she added as a sad afterthought "and I should get some food to Okita-san, too or Arita-sensei will starve him to death."

She was back an hour later with his bowl; she informed him Okita was fed, too. Then she went on to tell him that she'd have to be going for a while, take care of the people but he was free to sleep whenever he liked. When she returned two hours later, she found Takeru in the room, playing with Saito's hair while recounting stories from the past month. Saito was already sleeping.

...that was so cute!

"Takeru, Saito fell asleep; why don't you go to sleep, too?"

"But who will mess his hair now? What if he wakes up?"

"He won't wake up because of that. Come on, go to sleep; it's late." She tried to make him stand, but he wouldn't! "Takeru…"

"But he was very tired! He needs the sleep; he couldn't get any though because he was very nervous. So I did what you do for me and started playing with his hair and he finally slept…I don't want him to wake up."

She smiled warmly; he was so considerate. "I see; I'll do it in your stead, how about that? You be a good boy and go to sleep after you take his bowl to the kitchen for mama, ne?"

Both Takeru and Tokio stared at each other for a second, equally off guard. "Alright," the boy mumbled happy and shy and immediately left as soon as she replaced him. This was the first time she ever referred to herself as his mother…and he took it better than she thought. It wasn't even what she had planned to say, it just flew out of her mouth. But he accepted her; she was so happy!

"Are you crying, Tokio?"

She gave a little jump. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I pretended to for his sake…are you crying?"

"No," she denied and literally willed the tears that pooled in her eyes away "I'm just happy."

"He practically called you mom so I guess you should be. See? I told you, you already are a mother." There was a small pause for appreciation. "Well, play with my hair mom; I want to sleep."

"I'll do something better, as a thanks." For what, she didn't specify. She just put his head on her lap and started massaging his temples. "Better?"

"Mmhmm."

Oh yeah, great promise you made to yourself Tokio, she snubbed mentally, and what a way to keep it. Though in a way she was keeping it; she did for him whatever she'd do for anyone else with the same problem, even if a little more personally invested. Well, that couldn't be measured so…pff, right; she was in such a bad place. She should just do this for him now and from tomorrow on she'd act completely indifferent; no teasing, no meaningful glances, no nothing. Just as soon she was finished with this…

.

Next morning came too soon. Saito was half-aware, looking at Tokio: she had fallen asleep after him, but she hadn't really moved—she just fell on her right. She was sprawled from one side to the other, hands on his right, feet on his left, yet somehow his head remained in her lap…though it was practically one hip and half a thigh, still covered by her kimono. He had somehow turned on his side during the night too; all he could originally see was more of her legs and a sandal that had slipped off her foot.

He liked the view but after ten minutes, it became uninteresting; but he didn't want to move in fear he'd wake her…he was in a dilemma. He decided to do something completely different: under the guise he was still moving in his sleep, he brought her closer, a hand resting on her thigh. She didn't move her foot away. Good, he could actually change side now.

Just as he was about to, he heard something outside the door; he tensed. Was he found? The footsteps were barely perceptible when whoever was out there was directly behind the door—if they were being silent on purpose then something very bad was about to happen. His left hand immediately reached for the sword and his right for the scabbard; the door opened; the sword was drawn.

"I come in peace," came the doctor's silent but intense remark "lower the weapon."

"I thought you might be someone else…" He put the sword back in and lowered his body again into her "lap". "I'd like to sleep a little more."

Meh, he still didn't get to change sides.

"What do you think you're touching? Stop groping her!"

"I'm not…!" Technically, he was. He gave in. "Here;" he made a show out of removing his hand and putting it in front of him "what did you want?"

"It's about Okita…"

At the same time, Tokio started stirring. This conversation was going to be serious; they might as well wake her, too. He sat up - thankfully his wounds didn't give him much trouble - and he shook her lightly. It took no more than three nudges this once and she was rising. "Mm, I'm up, I'm up; what is it?"

"The doctor would like to talk to us about Okita."

Her eyes snapped open. "Speak Arita-sensei."

"Alright…his wound is healing well, but it would be even better if it weren't for his tuberculosis." Tokio seemed profoundly upset and surprised when she saw Saito was perfectly aware of this condition. "He can't join another fight; it's too much for him."

The Shinsegumi sighed. "…so it's finally come to this. I see. Thank you doctor; I'll take care of the rest."

"As far as you're concerned, from what Tokio has told me, you'll be able to hold up a sword in a week. You're a resilient man, Saito. That's impressive."

"I try." None said anything. It started becoming awkward. "If that's all doctor…"

"Oh right; um, yeah, have a good day. And," he said from the door "Tokio I need you downstairs in half an hour tops."

"I'll be there." They nodded at each other and he left. "Oh dear, I am a mess," she exclaimed when she finally took a look at herself! She tried her best to fix her clothes and harnessing her wild hair.

"You're fine; stop for a moment and listen to me." His assertive tone worked. "You heard about Okita's condition. He's been like this for a while…there's nothing we can do, which is why I want him to live out the last of his days comfortably. Take him somewhere safe and keep him there. Then send me word where that will be."

"Send word…?" Her suspicions rose when she saw him tie his sword. "Wait, what are you doing? Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

"Already!? Didn't you hear what Arita-sensei said—a week, meaning at least five days? Not today! You can't just go off…to nowhere! Think about you health."

"I'm going to the Osaka castle and then wherever they wish to send me. I'll probably end up in Aizu if I know my commanders well but that remains to be seen. No matter though, send all of your letters to a Yamaguchi Jirou. It's my alias; one of them anyway."

"One of them…" Just what kind of man was he? "Alright; I'll send everything to Edo and I guess they'll forward them if you aren't there. But till this place holds, I won't be leaving. Okita will be safe here for as long as we stay. But don't go. It's risky."

"I can handle the risk; do you know what they call me?"

"Yes and I also know every living patriot wants to be the one to take your head; making a name as "immortal" in a war is very foolish. Don't leave."

He chuckled. She wanted him to stay! But he couldn't. "That title is a gift for you, you know...but I probably won't see you for a long time…"

"That's the least of-!"

"It isn't, not to me."

He liked how thrown she was by such an implied compliment; maybe he should pay her a real one. "You are very beautiful today Tokio."

He longed to take that strand of hair and put it behind her ear...and then it hit him. He was about to go behind enemy lines and then flee to Edo; this shouldn't be such a big deal. He reached for her face; her eyes followed his hand. She didn't – seem to – panic so he thought that was a good thing. He then took that unruly flock between his fingers! He wanted time to stop. He took the tuff and put it behind her ear yet his fingertips brushed her face; it was too soft on his calloused hand, but what a welcome change of texture!

He was so close, closer than ever. And when he looked at her properly he saw nothing but acceptance in her inquisitive stare.

He didn't want to stay another second! If he did, even one more, he'd be very tempted to remain here until that week was over and even then he didn't know if he'd make it. He turned away, side-stepped her as if she was nothing but a piece of furniture and left.

A moment after he was gone, she released a deep breath; she panted. Her heart beat so fast, it would leave her chest! From tomorrow, she'd said, she'd stop caring. Well, tomorrow came and for all it was worth she didn't. Unless she was talking about her breathing...she put a hand on her heart. From this day forward, she vowed not to think of him again.

=:=:=:=:=

It was the fourth of April that she sent Takeru to Edo before her. Arita-sensei decided to go to Aizu where he was from. She followed Takeru on the tenth of April after she made sure all of her staff was safe. Reika-chan and of course Okita went with her to Edo.

News of Kondo Isami's death reached them a day after it happened. It wasn't too long after that Okita gave into his illness-two months later, on July the 19th. Takeru, Reika and Tokio all decided it was time to leave Edo for a more modern and surprisingly peaceful city, Yokohama. Despite the warring factions, as a city that first welcomed the foreigners, it had a relative tranquillity. It had even prospered! So, while the battle of Aizu raged, they settled in their new abode.

She was quick to make something of herself with her skills; she'd found a job at a local restaurant very easily, rising up to the ranks almost immediately. Of course, she helped women and the elderly with her unique skills, too. She refused to accept men younger than sixty though as she didn't want people to talk. At the same time, Takeru announced he wanted to be a doctor. Arita-sensei was happy to trade Aizu for a paradise such as Yokohama. He introduced himself as her father, again because she wished people to stay out of her business.

Around October of 1868 the fall of the Tokugawa was a fact; the Meiji restoration was established. Though there were still people fighting in the shogun's name – such as the republic of Ezo – they eventually fell. The death of Hijikata Toshijou became a well-known fact after the 21st of June, 1869.

Of course, before that, after the end of the Aizu battle, the forces there were captured. That included Saito, she knew it did! He himself had shown a very absolute judgement that he'd be sent there and the final battle is fought in Aizu? He had to be there…right? Arita-sensei was a doctor who saw many injured, but he hadn't seen Saito at all. So between August 1868 and September 1869, she had no idea what had happened to him.

Where was Saito? Was he with the others in Aizu? Or did he flee for the Ezo republic along with Hijikata that she knew he admired? Was he in a shallow grave somewhere, rotting in the ground…? Or was he still alive?

These were all questions she needed answers to!

She had promised herself, she wouldn't care though; his well-being didn't matter to her. That was what she kept saying to everyone, even Takeru, even herself, every single time they asked her about him. "I'm only writing letters to him to let him know what's become of his friend," she would repeat over and over, until it sounded convincing enough. Besides, she wrote a letter every two weeks, she got it out of her system, and then she stopped thinking about him in general till the time for another briefing arose.

After Okita died she wrote to Saito the news: where he was buried, how happy he looked to be able to relieve every one of the burden of caring for him – the idiot – and how he died with a smile on his face. In his final moments, he had found peace.

How are you I wonder? You never reply so I don know if you even see these but I have this idea you do read my letters; I hope they keep you good company. I hope nothing too exciting is happening. I hope I get to see you soon enough to tell me your opinion in person.

That last sentence, she always wrote it, no matter what. At first she'd tell herself she put it there only to motivate him; even if she didn't really mean it, her repeating it in each and every letter might keep him alive. The more she wrote it though, the more she started believing it. Did she want to see him again, even after she promised?

What cemented it for her was the fact she kept writing to him even after Okita's death; it was the force of habit, she would justify it, it became a weekly ritual. But how odd that from once every two or three weeks she ended up writing every five says. And even that, she ignored it. What she couldn't ignore though was that one thing she started doing after January 1869 that Arita-sensei one day pointed out offhandedly. "Will you stop looking out of the window like that? People think you have a dead husband so much you sigh…!"

She was just waiting for someone to deliver a letter to her! If only one letter came her way, she would know he was alive and as well as one could be after that much fighting. She just…wanted to know he was safe.

And that was when it became clear. That bastard had wormed her way into her heart! For three months now, all she thought about was him! It was ridiculous; that one thing she didn't want to happen, care about him, did! He managed to sneakily crawl—no; it was the exact opposite! He literally paved his way to her heart with the corpses of those who hurt her and his own blood. She was mortified! When did it start?

She couldn't tell. For all she knew, she might have been in denial since the moment he asked her hand in marriage. But no, she was certain her feelings weren't that deep back then…maybe it was the distance; they say it makes the heart grow fonder. Or maybe it was the fact he was in constant peril and she could do nothing but pray for his safe return.

Whatever it was, she cursed it daily.

.

.

It was September 1869 when everyone irrevocably had accepted the Meiji rule and she realised she hadn't seen Saito for over a year and a half. In fact, it was twenty months as off today; he had visited her on the fourth of February 1868 and now it was the fourth of September 1869. Good god! It's been so long…and all this time, not even a letter, not a single line.

She wanted to believe he was alive but twenty months was a very long time. If he were, wouldn't he have come back? She knew for a fact he received all of her letters, certainly the ones she sent till August 1868; if he was alive, he would have dropped by. Certainly he would have taken the time to write a letter…

No, she should be positive. He was alive.

But if he was then he had no reason not to visit or write to her. Unless…unless he didn't care anymore. Maybe the distance worked backwards in his case; maybe he just forgot about her completely! What if, while he was dying in a ditch, some attractive young lady found and took care of him? What if he decided to stay with her, after the war ended, a nice beautiful girl from Aizu? She heard – from Arita-sensei – they had true beauties down there, with silky black hair, flowing like the wind. Their hands were delicate; they even made the dirtiest clothes look beautiful. And all of that, with no make-up or effort…

She wanted to slap each and every woman she met that said she was from Aizu ever since she first thought of it! And it had been a solid two months. Certainly she never slapped anyone but she couldn't help it but feel side-lined. In her mind there were only two options: he was dead; he was never coming back because of some Aizu beauty. But, despite all of her pride, she hoped he was happily living his life with another woman rather than the alternative. After all, if he felt he had no more future with her, it was all her fault. He asked her hand in marriage not one, not two, but three times and he was rejected. What else could he do?

.

On the twelfth of September it was still warm; she was even wearing a yukata. Takeru was over at a friend's while Arita-sensei had finally found a woman worthy of him and was spending his time with her. They had left her alone. She felt left alone anyhow.

She was also feeling unsettled. Something was going to happen today and it would probably be big. Maybe the foreigners would launch an attack on Yokohama—with her luck, she even expected an earthquake. She kept sighing and looking out of her window. She had a garden, like she had at her inn, too; it was green with some sakura trees planted here and there and even little ponds. Her house was big, and so was her garden, but she, the doctor and Reika-chan had worked hard for that. Reika-chan was going to be married soon though, so she would be leaving—case in point she was currently meeting the in laws.

Maybe that was it; she had this feeling because something would happen with the in-laws. What if they found out she was a former prostitute and tried to prevent the marriage? The groom knew, but she was sure the parents wouldn't take it as well.

"Ah, look at me, being silly; it's already one hour past midnight. She's been away since noon. If that was it, she'd have been back by now…ah I'm 23 years old, sitting all alone and talking to myself in front of a window. I'm turning into a spinster. It's not like I get no attention, but all the guys I meet are just…not good enough. Or maybe my standards are too high.

Damn Saito, it's his fault. When a person like that shows interest in you how can you accept anyone else? These people barely felt the war yet he was out there fighting for their sake in every battle; winner or loser, he still shaped this world. And he was always brave; and he is the smartest man I know. How can I accept a simple worker who isn't him?"

She stopped talking. She didn't want to say that out loud. By now, even Arita-sensei the most ardent advocate of Saito was urging her to move on. It had been nearly two years, he would say; she had to move on. It's too long. If he hadn't come back till July, he never would. So why doesn't she accept one of the three men that asked her?

She would say so many things as a defence but the one thing that was the truth, she never said it: they weren't him. How could she say yes to anyone other than him? He deserved it the most…she felt so much regret it suffocated her. If only she'd said that goddamn word when she needed to! Maybe he would have stayed with Okita and her. Or at least he'd reply. Unless he was dead, which was what everyone believed by now.

She wanted to see him; she just wanted to lay eyes on him one more time. Married with another woman or not, in one piece or not, if only she could see him in a big crowd of people and know he was alive she would never wish for anything else.

A silhouette appeared at the far end of her fence; it was a tall figure. As tall as Saito, she added bitterly in the end. The unidentified person was wearing an oyoroi hitatare in dark colours. He always favoured the dark ones, too. But, the hair on this man was cut short; he was thin, and he appeared to have some trouble walking.

And then he opened the door of her fence.

He did what? She grabbed a lantern and lit it. She always had daggers on her person, ever since she'd turned her inn into a hospital, so she had something to protect herself with. The man was seemingly unarmed so she should have the advantage of range if anything went wrong. She rushed out at the veranda! With her lantern to shed some light on the occasion she shouted "hey you," while lifting it away from her face to-

She froze. Every single part of her body was paralysed. Even her heart joined the strike and for a moment time seemed to stop. The sketchy stranger had lifted his head to look at her and it was none other than Saito.

Her Saito.

The same Saito Hajime whom she was just thinking about, whom she's always thinking about. It couldn't be, could it? The closer he came, the more she was affirmed…or she was delusional and this wasn't even happening. She couldn't stop staring or start breathing. When he came close enough to touch, she saw him: he had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were even more sunken, making his features ever sharper as he smirked. The problem in his walking was another wound on his chest that had left a small impression on his clothes. And his hair was so short…!

He had changed so much, but somehow he was the same.

The moment he saw her worry, he grew serious. "Good evening Tokio" he said and she couldn't believe she heard his voice again "I'm home."

Those dreaded tears pooled in her eyes and all the wind got knocked into her a little too fast; the breaths she'd lost were making her heart work overtime! She bowed very deeply, loose hair hiding her eyes.

"Welcome home," she whispered, voice trembling.

She remained like that for a long time; it could have been minutes. But she didn't feel the passage of time, only her own crazy heartbeat that wouldn't calm down whatever she might have tried. There were the tears, too, that came in streams. Only when those stopped, did she stand, turning around immediately. "Please come inside."

Much smaller than her previous establishment, she accompanied him to a sitting room. She looked at him for a good minute. "Food, drink or sleep?"

"Drink; the best sake you can find…"

She returned five minutes later with a bottle and two sake saucers. She put them down as gracefully as she could and after seating formally next to him, she started pouring for the both of them. Her hands were shaking though; she must have spilled twice as much as she put inside. All she could think of was how this was not real—she was daydreaming. Or she fell asleep looking out of that stupid window and she was just dreaming. Because he couldn't be real, no way. After all this time...

He pretended he didn't see her inner struggle and let her finish with her saucer, too; they drank together. She hadn't stopped looking at him for a long time, even as she was pouring the sake, one more reason she spilled so much. Even as they drank her eyes were trained on him, watery, disbelieving. He only stole glances amused.

"This is fine sake," he praised the drink. "Was it Arita-…?"

She lunged at him! Both her hands wrapped around his body and wherever she could reach was fine as long as she touched him and she felt himl! Her head was against his chest as if to make sure he had a heartbeat. It was constant and strong, just as it should be. After a short but filled with emotion silence she finally sobbed.

"Y-you're here-! I can't-"

More sobbing stopped her from saying anything else; all of her anguish was released in the form of new waterfalls. She wasn't hugging him as much as she was holding on to him, as if he was her sanity. Crying for what felt like hours, though it was only moments, her hands kept changing places or force, always tighter and tighter. Her nails were digging into the fabric so much it started leaving markings. Suddenly, she let go and turned her back on him, even if only 30 centimetres away. She was covering her face with her hands, shielding herself from seeing his reaction to her unacceptable display. But even, she couldn't move too away from him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry; I'm acting so shamefully! But I can't stop these tears; they have a will of their own and keep coming. I'm so, so sorry I don't know…don't know how to stop them."

She proceeded to shake her head or wipe at her eyes violently while still hiding her face from time to time; she couldn't look at him ever again. She was being so clingy and she was actually crying in front of him. How could she allow that? This was all so overwhelming she forgot how to breathe properly.

"Idiot," he said abruptly "why are you crying like that if you aren't even family?"

She turned to look at him, but all she saw was his hand cupping her cheek; he wiped at her tears as gently as he could – it was a little painful, but she didn't even notice – and kept doing it for a long time.

"I know," she said through more civilised, controlled tears and sobs "we aren't family, not really. But I still ended up worrying about you. I'm sorry I shouldn't have I…I didn't want to but it happened anyway." She let a snort of laughter, resigned to self-pity. Her tears stopped. "I'm a worrier that's how I am; how could I ever be your wife? I'd be dead before you...! But I end up like this anyway I really am an idiot; I can't keep a simple promise to myself."

She put her own hand on top of his and just held it, leaning into it for support. "If I…or you...uh, if I ask you to ask me again, will you do it?"

She expected mockery, or at least a rebuke. She feared he might even tell her he came only to let her go...but then she saw him looking at her so lovingly it broke her heart. He smiled, sincerely, kindly. She saw him form the words.

"Will you be my wife, Tokio?"

She took in a deep breath, full of threatening tears "Yes." They spilled just as she closed her eyes at her answer. "I would love to be your wife."

He smirked. "Why?"

He was torturing her? She deserved it. "Because I love you."

"Hmm, I thought you might." She tried to glare but it came out more like a cutesy stare; he chuckled. "How lucky; I love you, too."

It was warm outside, but she felt another wave of heat taking over her. Her shaking ceased; she was just looking at him hypnotised. And then he did something very bold, much like his character: he came closer and closer, pulling her towards him at the same time; when he was just a breath away she closed her eyes.

His lips touched hers for a second. Then they were gone. But then they came back again and again; the higher the count, the longer the kisses. He was tentative at first but he grew increasingly daring. When she started responding to him, he finally took her face with both his hands, and brought her close. She hugged his neck, kissing back, still incredulous if this was fact or just a figment of her imagination. Didn't matter; she'd keep kissing him till she woke up or he grew tired.

Oh ho, she was certainly dreaming; when that kiss turned steamy, she was definitely not doing that, not her, nuh uh. She was far too prudent. She must have been imagining the whole thing: tongues roaming, hands grabbing, she was not doing it or allowed it to be done to her. A long time later – she didn't care when – she was lying in his arms, ready to sleep. She felt protected and she smiled again after a very long time; real or not, there was no doubt about one thing: she was definitely happy. She laid her head on his chest and let the sweet sense of elation lull her.

Next morning she woke up feeling refreshed! Oh, that was a wonderful dream…but sadly just a dream. When she opened her eyes she saw none other but herself covered with a blanket and Arita-sensei's box of medicine three metres away. There was a sweet sadness in that moment.

"Good morning," she heard Saito's voice on her right "you do oversleep! Anyway, Arita-sensei dropped by to leave his box and said he wouldn't be coming back today; you should have seen his face when I opened the door…" there was a pause. "He looked a lot like you do now. Are you okay?"

"…yes!" she rubbed her eyes. "I just…I thought I was dreaming yesterday! Thank god it's true."

"Mm, I had no idea you missed me so much; had I known, I would have listed you as my wife when they asked for next of kin."

"Speaking of which…where were you? Did you get all of my letters?"

"Yes; they kept me going." She smiled. "We were all in a temple as penitence for our crimes ever since we lost the battle of Aizu; we were pardoned only recently, which is why I took so long. We weren't guests to come and go as we pleased and since I couldn't list you as family, no one could tell you were I was. But as soon as we were allowed to leave, I paid my respects to Okita's grave and then came here."

"I see…you are here again." She kept saying it like it was too good to be true. "Takeru will be ecstatic!"

"I don't know how happy he'll be to call me father though."

"Don't jest. That kid idolises you. Even Arita-sensei thought I should move on and marry someone else but Takeru threatened me not to!" she laughed. "He is very fond of you."

"Wait, marry? You were made offers…?" There was his jealousy again, bubbling beneath the surface; she didn't notice, not right away so she made it worse by choosing to wave away like it was no big deal. "Tokio?"

"I work at a local restaurant; very big, very prosperous. I meet new people every day, it's only natural two or three will take a liking…" that was when she noticed, at how his eyes became small even if nothing else about him changed; she swore she could see him take mental notes. "But they were all travellers, passing through," she lied less than convincingly. "They are all gone by now…to somewhere I don't know."

"Yes, every traveller who asks a person to marry them, never mentions a destination." Oops. "Not to mention he just asks a random stranger they've only seen once or twice. That gives rise to the question of how flashy one was to attract such attention-!"

"Okay I lied they are residents here, alright? Just don't ask me their names."

He stared for a long time. "A restaurant you say? Why don't we go there and eat something?"

They headed for the exit, arms linked. They weren't married already, so it was inappropriate but honestly who knew besides them? No one. And she liked acting like they were married. "Like plain soba?"

"Oh yes, my favourite!" She was willing to believe him; she actually thought he started believing his own lie. "Also, you'll be leaving this place after we get married, so we can move in together. Is this house bought?"

"Yes but many are eager for me to sell."

"You don't seem upset I'm uprooting you."

"I lived in Kyoto, the heart of the country and the war. This town seems too quaint to me, I can't wait to leave."

"Oh? Where to?"

"I don't know, Tokyo maybe? At the outskirts...but somewhere close here because both Reika-chan is getting married and I know she'll be staying here for good."

"Mm, we'll see then."

A pair of young children, maybe thirteen, had stopped right in front of the house, watching the couple go. The one boy turned to the other, who was grinning like an idiot, and asked curious: "who's that scary guy with your ma'?"

"You have to ask? It's my dad, of course! He finally came back…"

A/N: And scene!

Woooow I finished it. If you were expecting a wedding, sorry. But oh dear lord, it's completed and I'm so happy. Please let me know what you thought about it, in total; all of your comments, critics etc are welcome. Btw, this may be listed as completed, but expect an extra chapter sometime, I'll be going through with the fluff. I feel like I just have to write it. Anyway, thanks for sticking around and I hope you had a fun and great ride like I did. Kisses~!