Rurouni Kenshin Fan-Fic - GOJOU

BY : Kikue_Mugen
Category: Rurouni Kenshin > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 9610
Disclaimer: I am NOT the owner of Rurouni Kenshin or its characters, nor do I receive monetary PROFIT from the humble fan-fiction, "Gojou".


[About the 100 Chapter "Gojou" Fan Fiction, Kikue Mugen writes: In the Japanese language the word Gojou refers to the five passions: Anger, Joy, Hatred, Desire, Grief These five passions are all found in all of my fictions. I assure you that each tale is knitted together with the sixth passion, MY LOVE. I do have to mention that I am eternally grateful to Watsuki Nobuhiro, the creator of Rurouni Kenshin. If it weren't for him, this "Gojou" fan fiction would not exist today. Mind you, I've only borrowed the fellow's characters and combined my own fictitious members to take you away to another time, another place, where heartache and triumph are only part of this epic adventure. Please Note: The story is presently being added here (daily as time allows) and will eventually reach its full length of one hundred chapters. Also, this humble fan-fiction had not been through the hands and eyes of beta readers, so I appreciate your kindness of cutting it some grammar/typo slack. (Yes, I have no shame.) Thank you! Now go on ... enjoy the reading adventure.]



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[Somewhere just outside of Kyoto]



It’s had been several months before the “Wolf of Mibu” made his decision to return to Tokyo. He believed that he gave enough time to laying low, and was certain that he allowed the “Shishio” incident to blow over. Besides, the wolf was anxious to get back to where the action was—whatever that would entail.



After the confrontation with Shishio and the Juppongatana, Saitou was given orders to investigate another band of unlawful men working out of Kyoto. As far as the wolf was concerned, what goes on in Kyoto should very well stay in Kyoto. That is to say, if there was no real threat and concern for the Tokyo Police Department. Saitou could think of a dozen things he would rather do than fight with the top brass over jurisdiction issues. However, if the drug syndicate decided to drift up the coast, it would surely force Saitou to take action. Saitou hadn't found any clue of that happening; at least nothing yet during this investigation. Upon finding most everything calm in Kyoto, Saitou set his sights homeward.



Saitou would be the last to admit that he enjoyed the fact that he purposely had people think he was killed on the last mission. He was aware that there were a few who probably celebrated his death. Then again, there could possibly be one, or perhaps two that missed his stern and emotionless mannerisms around the Tokyo Police Station. The thought made him chuckle. After all… He, Saitou Hajime, was the former Captain of the third Shinsengumi troop. It would not surprise him if many had taken pleasure upon hearing about his death.



Nicked named, “The Wolves of Mibu,” the Shinsengumi were a group of men dedicated to the Shogunate (Bakufu). The Daimyo of Aizu appointed them as a special police force during a time when there was civil unrest. Samurai Clans found reasons to fight amongst themselves as well. Saitou fought on the Bakufu’s side, and protected the Aizu domain as one of the brave, fierce swordsmen that made the powerful Shinsengumi what it was back then—a razor-sharp fighting machine that was known to kill at the slightest provocation.



After the revolution, Saitou chose to work out of the police department in Tokyo during the Meiji as an undercover agent for the government. He no longer went by the name of Hajime Saitou, but rather by the name of, Fujita Goro. The name change made it easier for him to weave in and out of Tokyo without being recognized so easily.



Saitou particularly enjoyed his position, mainly due to the fact that he was able to continue to uphold the ideals of the Shinsengumi—“Slay evil immediately”. He hadn’t won any popularity points for those ideals back then. However, the people who knew of his past, and believed in the same ideals, also knew that Saitou was a man worthy of respect, and the honor of a full class samurai warrior.



A voice across the room interrupted Saitou’s self-consumed daydream. It was Cho Sawagejo who called out to the Mibu wolf.



"Hey! There you are," said Cho who had been looking for the wolf for the better part of the hour.



Cho stood tall, but not quite as tall as Saitou’s five feet, eleven inches in height. Cho was also known as “Sword Hunter,” due to the fact that he was a lover of swords, and collected many different types of them. Before Saitou's intervention into Cho's rather questionable past, Cho used his swordsmanship, and all his weapons, to kill people as a hired hand of destruction.



“Have you given any thought as to when you will be making your grand-entrance back at headquarters?” Cho asked, hoping for an answer that he desired hearing.



Cho had been more than ready to give Tokyo a try. He’d been living too long as a sword collector and was barely able to keep out of trouble. Every since Saitou offered him a job in Tokyo, Cho promised himself, and Saitou, that he would give up his life of crime, go to Tokyo, and lead an upright, honest life. No more being the bad guy. He was ready to turn over a new life. Yes. Cho was excited to live by the law, and join Saitou, making Japan a much better and safer place to live.



Saitou took a long drag from his cigarette and let the rest fall from his fingers onto the ground, landing a few inches from the tip of his polished boot. He looked up at Cho.



“Tomorrow is just as good a day as any to travel,” Saitou said expecting some form of excitement to pour forth from the tall, thin man that never seemed to sit still long enough to get anything constructive done.



Cho had been asking Saitou about going to Tokyo everyday, ever since Saitou promised to take Cho back with him after he completed the assignment in Kyoto. Saitou ground the cigarette with his boot into the, already grungy floor, not offering much more to discuss.



Yes, Saitou granted Cho a position with the Tokyo Police after Cho filled him in on Shishio’s plan to take over Japan by raising an army consisting of evil, power-crazed individuals. They called themselves the Juppongatana. Cho abandoned his position as one of Shishio’s henchmen, and disclosed to Saitou, all knowledge he had about the Juppongatana’s strengths, as well as their weaknesses, leaving out nothing in-between.



Cho’s help gave Saitou the upper hand at getting past Shishio’s Shrine of the Six Arches and bring Shishio down with the combined efforts of Kenshin Himura, Sanosuke Sagara and Aoshi Shinomori. Cho hadn’t officially started on the police payroll yet, but the idea of having a steady source of income was the reason behind Cho’s eagerness to get back to the land of the living.



“See you at the train station bright and early, “Cho shouted out from across the room.



“Hmn,” Saitou nodded and reached into his pocket to withdraw another smoke from the folded pouch he’d been carrying with him for most of the day. He watched Cho’s lean figure walk off leaving him alone once again in his dimly lighted room at the inn.



A smile appeared at the corners of Saitou’s mouth as he brought the burning herb close to his face. He gently placed his tongue on the edge of the smoke's butt, and gave it a taste before he let his lips secure a hold on the slim tobacco roll.



“Indeed, it as been too long,” he muttered to himself since he was alone in his room and there was no one around to hear him anyway. He slowly let the spent tobacco smoke escape his lungs and noticed how hot his own breath felt as the smoke seeped past his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment as he was confronted by the same image that had been lurking on the boarder of his mind ever since the Shishio incident.



Into his mind’s view drifted the image of Sanosuke Sagara. Sano was desperately calling out to him on the day that Saitou appeared to have fallen to his death. Saitou tried shaking the images from his head. Why did that Ahou call out to me then?



Saitou brought the smoldering tobacco roll to his mouth again and let the butt rest against his lips without pulling smoke from it. Why am I hearing his voice repeatedly in my mind? Could this be guilt that I am feeling, knowing that I let Sanosuke believe that I was dead, and that I neglected to get word to anyone to let them know otherwise?



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~



[Tokyo]



“Sano, you have to pull out of this mood that you are in. I’m really beginning to worry about you. It has been too long for you to be so lifeless,” Katsuhiro said, breaking the silence that had been going on for a good part of an hour. “We’ve been through a lot together during the Seikihou Tai, and I’ve never seen you quite like the way you are now.”



Katsu, short for Katsuhiro Tsukioa, was a former Sekiho Army cadet who befriended Sano when they were yet boys during the revolution. He was older by a month, shorter in height, and smaller in built than Sano. They had been separated for several years after the revolution, but Sano found his old buddy by a fluke. As an artist, Katsu taught art courses, as well as published a newspaper.



“Katsu, I could always count on you to kick my ass in gear when I let things get to me. It’s just that this time… “Sano’s words stalled, followed by a heavy sigh. “Well, this time, things are different. Why does everyone I care for end up leaving me?” Sano looked over to his loyal, pleasant looking and easygoing, life long friend.



“Everyone?” Katsu tried to make sense of what his best friend’s present mood. “Sano, I never left you.” He shrugged his shoulder and added, “Yes, after Captain Sagara was killed, you and I were separated for a season, but look at us now… Here we sit together today drinking sake. I don’t think either of us will be leaving any time soon.” Katsu sensed the turmoil going on within Sano, but nothing Katsu said seemed to help.



Sano sat with his legs folded in front of him and held his empty sake vessel in his right hand that rested on his lap. He ran his fingers through his spiked, unruly hair, and then down the back of his neck in his attempt to relieve the tension that was building all day. He raised his eyes from his lap, looked at Katsu, and nodded.



“You’re right Katsu, you were always there for me. You were there for me when Captain Sagara was killed, and you are here with me when, “Sano’s voice trailed off.



“When? When—what? ...Sano?” Katsu really started to feel Sano’s spirit grow even heavier. And then…



“DAMN IT!!!” Sano cried out in anger and pain. “Why the fuck did Saitou die? Why did he walk away from me? That bastard left me just when I needed… Just when I was going to tell him…”



Katsu wanted to reach out to Sano and make it all stop. He wanted to free Sano from whatever it was that was causing him so much agony.



“Sano…” Katsu whispered.



Silence fell between the two men once again.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~



[Back in Kyoto]



Saitou finally settled down on the futon in the corner of his room and absorbed the stillness around him. He took in a deep breath, and then he let it out slowly, feeling it skim across his bare chest. He watched the shadows dance around on the walls as the moon peeked through the wind blown leaves of a tall bamboo trees outside. The shadows slowly took on the shapes of his past comrades who fought along side of him during the days of the revolution. His dreams had started again recently, which reminded him of the emptiness that was all too familiar—memories of how everyone he cared for in the past, ended up dying.



“Damn it,” Saitou said out loud in disgust. I want to get some rest! I do NOT need these haunting dreams to keep me from getting some sleep tonight.



He took in a deeper breath, but this time he held it for a length of time, thinking that it might help force some of the war images he kept on seeing in his mind. He exhaled, “Damn if that helped…”



Frustrated, Saitou laid on his side and closed his eyes, hoping that the images would flee, and leave him with some peace. There wasn't any sake to help ease the haunting thoughts, and it was too late to go out for a drink. The tired wolf had already resigned himself to just lay there no matter how long it would take for him to find the tranquility that promised to bring rest to his tired body.



He closed his narrow eyes and consciously relaxed each part of his body, beginning at his neck. With each breath, Saitou relaxed another muscle, then another, all the while, taking deep cleansing breaths to replace the spent air. He listened to his own breathing and in the quietness of his surrounding, his breath quickened, as well as his heart. He shut his eyelids down tighter; aware that his haunting thoughts were going to run him in the direction he hated the most.



The image of Sano appeared above all else in Saitou’s mind, reaching out to him, calling out his name, pleading. The look in the young man’s eyes, the pain—It was all too clear. Saitou tried to justify his decision for deceiving Sano about his mock death. At the time, Saitou couldn’t tell Sano about his orders to stay in Kyoto, and to reestablish himself as a new character in order to investigate another case.



Saitou softly whispered Sano’s name, and rolled over to the other side of his futon in attempts to escape from the visions. This time he was met with a new image. His thoughts took him back to Tokyo when he and Sano first met. It was a confrontation that almost cost Sano his life when the young man dared to stand up to the Wolf of Mibu. When it was all over, Sano laid there, in a pool of blood. Saitou struck out at Sano with his police issued saber and half the blade broke off and embedded itself into Sano’s right shoulder.



That particular day, Saitou had it on his agenda to draw Kenshin Himura out and test the man's abilities to see whether Kenshin still had it in himself to assist the government with its plan to take down Shishio. It was rumored, at the time, that Kenshin gave up his sword for a reverse blade and left his life of an assassin behind him.



Saitou recalled the sight of Sano lying in that pool of blood. As much as Saitou didn’t want to admit it, he did steal a few extra minutes to gaze upon the fallen young man. Saitou feasted his eyes on the unconscious, handsome body that was sprawled out on the ground, oozing crimson liquid from the gash Saitou tore into him.



Yes, the wolf was attracted to Sano’s shapely, broad chest, and he remembered how much he visually delighted looking at the curvature of Sano’s neck. It caused Saitou’s body to physically respond and stir from the sight sprawled out before him. Saitou was perplexed over the fact that the young man captivated his attention in that way, and he tried to keep from dwelling on it when the images came to his memory.



Although Saitou tried many times to deny having had that reaction to Sano, this time, Saitou felt himself weakening, giving into the images that were unfolding in his mind. He felt the familiar stirring inside of him that seemed to crawl from his senses onto his most personal part of his body. Saitou craved stimulation, and so far, had been able to resist— Until then.



Unsuccessful in fighting off the temptation, Saitou allowed his hand to drift across his firm abdomen and find its way between his legs. His resistance weary, he gave himself up to the visions he had been fighting off for so long. There, in his mind’s eye, stood Sano offering the wolf freedom from the nightmares and shadows that haunted him in the night.




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