Odds and Ends

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. Watsuki owns the RK characters but the OCs, ideas, plot and words are *mine*.

Odds and Ends

Chapter 3: At odds

Saitoh opened his eyes, and his first thought was that at last, he was over his stupid physical breakdown. He glanced at the fire, the main log was barely consummated, she must have had changed it a little while ago. Fortunately, the storm was raging again, meaning that any exterior attack was unlikely. Yes, fortunately: he had never slept so deeply that he wouldn’t notice his bed companion moving away. That would have been a lethal mistake.

Talking about the devil…He looked down, and his eyes confirmed what he had felt since he had regained consciousness. They had moved during the night, and he was on his back, she holding him tight, the blanket having slid down to her shoulders baring his. The ensuing stinging from his wound combined to the cold had taken him out of his slumber. He observed her face resting on his chest, not the least trying to ignore the feeling of her body pressed to his. After all, as soon as this storm would be over, he would have any right to enjoy her…he would even have the right to enjoy her now; the contract was iron-clad. He let his mind wandering into that pleasant direction. He was stuck there and couldn’t ask her more about Mitani now; therefore he could allow himself that little distraction. That would keep him warm, for sure, he grinned inwardly. She looked innocent and younger, a small smile curving her hips, far from the pampering, distant impression that she had given two days ago. He knew that she *was* innocent, of course Matsudaira had mentioned it.

Carefully, so as to not wake her up, he extended his hand and grabbed his smoking devices. She was inexperienced, and he would be in charge. He would make her demure attitude crumble again, not with exasperation this time but with need, she would be undone and plead with him to…He frowned as curiously blurred, yet extremely realistic images flashed into his mind. They were more real than any of the fantasies that he had ever had. He could see her tempting mouth and even imagine vividly the taste of her lips. He felt his own mouth quirking again; for sure she had quite of an effect on him. He had to see the good sides of the situation, she was more than he could have expected of a haphazardly chosen wife. Way more, he thought, as she snuggled closer to him, her thighs cradling his hardening member now, a sigh escaping from her smiling lips.

Her breathing went irregular, she was awakening. He granted himself a few more seconds of excitation, time for a last drag on his cigarette, before he extracted himself from her hold. It wasn’t easy: she protested and tried to keep him close. He winced, damn wound. Finally, all he managed was to roll on his side.

***

Tokio felt that he was awake already before she even opened her eyes. She didn’t need more than a few seconds to realize the situation.

So much for her previous nervousness at the idea to sleep next to him. She remembered her uneasiness after the short and silent dinner, the night before, so blatant that he had noticed it, lifting a brow as she had braced herself when had come the “bedtime”. Each time she had awoken to place a new log into the fire, she had found herself snuggled close to him, each time sliding under the blanket with the firm determination not to repeat the appalling behavior, each time failing. She wondered how long she had needed to pass her arms around his waist. Not much, obviously, it shouldn’t have been more than an hour or so since she had put the last log.

He was currently trying to get away from her, and it wasn’t surprising that he was annoyed at her… indecency. Her attitude was not only inappropriate because they were complete strangers, but also because he was married. It had been a natural move; she had tried only to get some more human heat in the cold room, but that didn’t prevent her from being utterly embarrassed.

She was still trying to figure out a way to extricate herself from the situation without too much damage, when his voice made her bolt.

“Since you’re awake, would you stop squeezing my side like this?”

His wound. She hurt him, on top of it. She contained a reaction of panicked confusion and the need to apologize profusely. His voice had been utterly ironical, helping her to get a grip.

“I’m sorry,” she said calmly, letting go of him. She bit her lip not to enlighten him on his own unconscious behavior. She had this one over him, though he couldn’t know.

She stood up, not looking at him, and went to check on the clothes, her mood clearing as her white yukata was dry at last, as well as the first layer of his haori. The other garments were advanced in the process: only the bottom was still drenched.

“Good morning, by the way,” she greeted once she was covered, handing him the piece of fabric.

“Very good, thank you,” he answered in a smirk, turning finally towards her, his eyes having retrieved the piercing light that she had seen before he got feverish.

She extended her hand to check on his forehead, but stopped herself at the last moment. His expression was different, rather disturbing. He was more companionable when he was sick, she sighed inwardly.

“You feel better, good,” she let out, before she went to get the rice in the storage box.

***

It was only after they had eaten breakfast, or rather their morning ration of plain rice, that Saitoh noticed the change in their environment. He cursed inwardly. Perhaps because of the isolation from the rest of the world, the fever, and the odd feeling of routine that had marked the rhythm of the last two days, he had indulged into a distraught state of mind. He hadn’t been that careless for years. He still wanted to question her about Mitani, and he should have taken advantage of the breakfast to do so. Well, they still had five hours to Aizu, that left him time enough.

He stood up. “Get dressed. The storm is over.”

She didn’t move, she had finished washing the devices and was teasing the fire with the long pick. “No, it isn’t.”

“You said two days.”

“I said that we would be lucky if it ended within two days. Four of five days of blizzard aren’t a rarity in winter, around here. The snow has stopped temporarily, but it will be falling again in one hour maximum.”

“And are you an oracle, to know that?”

“I told you that there were signs.”

“As in? No wind and no snow?” He gestured towards the shoji. “Seems enough of a sign to me.”

“No howling,” she said, and then she finally deigned to give him an explanation. “Animals know when it’s safe to go out. These mountains are crowded with wolves, and when you can’t hear them, it means that it isn’t over. It means that no animal is out, and the wolves don’t go and hunt for food then.”

Saitoh pondered on it. Indeed, he had seen a pack of wolves of two during his progression in the mountains. He had thought ironically that they knew their kin, for they didn’t attack him. In Edo, people relied on animals’ reaction to predict an earthquake within minutes, which could be enough to save a life. It made sense. He decided to give her some credit…but if in one hour, she turned out to be wrong, he would drag her if he had to. He could afford the delay, since she had just given him the perfect angle for starting an interrogation without sounding suspect. He sat back and took another cigarette. That would be the last until tonight, he had to spare them. Five days? Damn it, damn it, damn it.

“This is why you knew that you could escape, the other day. It would have been foolish otherwise, with the wolves around.”

She nodded and he noticed her hand closing on her chest, and then her furtive glance towards a part of her obi, not suspended like the other garments, but in a pile on the floor. So that was where she had hidden her dagger.

“You wouldn’t even take a cub with a tanto,” he let out, grinning.

Her widening eyes showed her bewilderment. It was a good move on his part; he reminded her that he was no enemy, winning more trust…if her behavior of the night hadn’t been indication enough that she didn’t see him as a menace.

“Fortunately for our trip back, you have a sword, and you can use it,” she dodged, yet she blatantly didn’t get over her dismay since she added: “That makes up for your lack of familiarity with this area and the weather. Not that it is surprising, it was summer when the Shinsengumi station…”

She cut off, her hand going to cover her mouth as she realized her tongue slip. His expression was matching hers. So she had guessed that?

“How?” he asked, after a long mutual observation.

She answered reluctantly. “Your reference to Aku-Soku-Zan; Meiji has forgotten about it. Of course, that could only show that you were a samurai, since nowadays it’s hard to tell otherwise,” she mused bitterly.

The government had also abolished the strict clothing and hairstyle code of Edo, which allowed knowing immediately to which cast people belonged to.

“And?”

“Your name, or rather the name that you gave me. Everybody here knows that Yamaguchi Jiro was Saitoh Hajime. People in Aizu don’t forget those who fought for them.”

“You guessed only on this?”

“The sign on your sword. I se…have seen it a lot, during the war.”

She had seen it recently. Did Mitani use an old Shinsengumi sign of recognition? Did he have the gall to employ the mark of Hijikata? He asked her dryly:

“And on your kidnappers’ swords?”

Her face closed furthermore. “I saw no such thing.”

She hesitated a second, furtively glancing at him.

“So, were you? Not the Commander, of course,” she added, slightly contemptuous.

He had wondered whether telling her the truth, yet her tone made him change his mind. She needed a little lesson about making assumptions. More than the use of his ex-title, sounding odd to his ears after so many years, he was intrigued by the way she had pronounced it. There had been a respectful intonation, almost awe stressing the word, contrasting with the scorn of her composure.

“How do you know I’m not?” he uttered, deadpan.

“Everybody knows that Saitoh Hajime died during the last battle. Otherwise, he would be here, fighting with us; he wouldn’t let us ploy under the oppression of Meiji.”

Saitoh took a drag on his cigarette to hide his reaction. Matsudaira had never mentioned that Takagi Tokio had an interest in politics. And what of an interest: he had recognized, in the words, in the weird light in her eyes, the very clear signs of political fanaticism. If Mitani had had any allegiance beyond his devotion to the dirty god of money, he would have revised his deduction that she had nothing to do with him. What he knew for sure was that she hadn’t been kidnapped only for a ransom. A hunch, some would say, yet a hunch was nothing but a logical deduction based on what the mind registered unconsciously.

“Unlike Mitani, who helped it,” he said, noncommittal.

Her swift expression of haughty disgust achieved to show him a new face of her. He understood that she was all but the demure woman that she had pretended to be the previous days. Very wise: she was aiming at being underestimated. Political fanatics were nothing but morons to him, and the bad impression that he had just had was erased. She succeeded, and indeed, she looked nothing like harmless otherwise. He wouldn’t have let her keep her dagger if he had had a glimpse at her true nature earlier. Coming to think of it…

“By the way, I’m now curious. What did he really want?”

She looked sideways at him, affecting a puzzled expression.

“I told you that he wanted a ransom from my father.”

“Mitani having been greedy, I can’t but believe you. Nevertheless, being familiar with other sides of his charming personality, I can’t help to wonder why he kept you alive…and untouched,” he stressed, deliberately, reminding her of her vulnerability, since he had seen no mark on her body indicating an abuse. “You stayed one night in his clutches, so you must have had something that he wanted more than the…pleasure of your company.”

“I have no idea of what you mean, but obviously you have all the reasons to know him better than I did, *Yamaguchi*-san,” she retorted almost bemusedly. “Maybe you could enlighten me?”

He contained a chuckle. The contrast between her uneasiness when confronted to his physical presence and her assurance when it came to pure mind games was remarkable. He heard the wind hurling high on the mountains, the storm awakening, as she had foreseen.

“I only know old tales,” he pointed.

She gestured towards the fire, utterly ironical, as if to signify him that it was the perfect time for storytelling.

“Mitani was a peasant from Aizu who entered the Shinsengumi when it stationed here. Nevertheless, word is that either he betrayed, giving away the battle plan, or that he exchanged his position against his help into capturing some survivors. His entry in the local police forces immediately after the fall raised suspicions, Meiji not being magnanimous with their enemies.”

He had stayed vague on purpose, to provoke some interrogations. Fanatics needed to talk, to convert, and were prone to when they were in confidence with an audience sympathetic to their opinions.

“This is why you were after him? For revenge?”

“No.”

He stiffened. His answer had been automatic, dry and peremptory. No personal duel, no personal revenge. He had breathed with the rules for years, and they were still leading his life. Obviously, she knew them. She nodded knowingly, offering him an apologetic and sincere smile. She looked different when she smiled, he realized, there was something innocent and wholesome about her, then. She was quite fascinating, he had to admit.

“I didn’t mean personal revenge, of course, I’m sorry. More of Justice…of punishing his betrayal. Have you been after him because of it?”

“Yes and no,” he answered, choosing carefully his words so as not to utter a single lie. “I have been called to Aizu, maybe also because he had reappeared, yet I didn’t expect the least to stumble upon him so fast. It was a pure coincidence.”

Her eyes had lit at his words. How interesting. He shut up, ending his cigarette with an imperceptible sigh of regret, knowing that she would be revealing more now. She wanted to know his connection to Mitani…and obviously to others, all that was getting extremely interesting.

***

He had been called. The words came to Tokio, she wanted to ask him whether *they* had called him, an old companion, because they planned to finally execute the last part of their plan. Yet, she bit her tongue. She didn’t even know his real name and there was too much at stake. She decided to take an indirect way.

“You know more than old tales, it seems. You know that he was in the police after the fall. You’re not from around here, but you surely have contacts…we are rather cut from the rest of Japan. The dogs don’t want the other provinces to know what they’re doing to us here. Maybe nobody even knows that they burnt Tsuruga-Jo.”

She had wanted to be in control, but the vision of the castle where she had spent so much time in her youth, that her aunt and cousin had died defending, prey of the flames and reduced into ashes the previous month, overwhelmed her and her fists tightened.

“I know that they burnt the castle down, yes.”

He had been unemotional, yet she felt that he had been there, too, that something linked him to that place. She kept on fixing him. It was so rare that she could talk of what she thought of all this, that she could share her views and her bitterness. The battle had changed her life, it had revealed some feelings that the younger her, sheltered lady, had never experienced. Fighting for a cause, not because it was the way she had been taught but because she believed in it, absolutely. She kept on staring at him, the past present in his eyes and hers. She got a grasp on herself and arched an inquisitive brow. She wanted an answer to her questions, now.

“I also know that Mitani used his position to take advantage of and bully the population, and that after a year he mysteriously disappeared. He was expelled from the police a little later, because of his links with a drug trafficker and his activities as a pimp were exposed. A rumor says that a group of men had attacked his home, but nobody knew whether he was dead or alive…until a few months ago. Attacks on merchants were attributed to him. But this is a story that you are more familiar with, aren’t you, Takagi-san?”

He was sending back her previous insinuations. She hesitated. He might not know. Yet, he had killed Mitani, he was from the Shinsengumi, there was no danger. If she didn’t give names…he was a nothing, she could deny later, just in case. The rumor of the others’ activities had begun to spread in the last months, anyway…

“There are people around here…honorable people. They have a new life, but they don’t forget their convictions and they refuse the oppression. They do what they can, with their means, to lessen the burden that Meiji puts on our shoulders. Word is that they got Aizu rid of Mitani…yet, he escaped.”

“And he wanted revenge. You know how to get to them, and he kidnapped you. The ransom was just a plus.” It hadn’t been a question, but a statement. She didn’t say anything, not confirming nor denying, yet he glaringly didn’t expect her to. “That is what he wanted from you. He wanted you to lead him to those men, and you managed to use it at your advantage.”

She relived the scene. She had been truly scared, if she had to be honest. Mitani had killed to penetrate in their home, and it was only giving to the beast the impression to be harmless, cooperative and more terrorized than she actually was that she had managed to make it safe. He had made her write the message to Okada, and it had been her revealing, as if by inadvertence, that the man would observe her from afar to ensure that she was alone and not coerced, which had prevented Mitani from executing his program. He wanted to afterwards…she contained a retrospective dark joy. They had recognition signs, too, and she had been able to place one in a sentence, a mere mistake in writing the kanji that the corrupted, ignorant imbecile did not notice. There would be nobody at the appointment that she had made, hence her escape plan, facilitated by the storm.

“So, he would have found the police on his way,” he mused.

She lifted her face to him, incredulous, and she couldn’t help a joyless laugh. He had a very weird sense of humor, for a fugitive.

“The police? The valets of the oppressor, Mitani’s allies who helped him to get away with his exactions of the last months? The nest of corruption poisoning Aizu?”

***

His careless remark had infuriated her, her tone turning passionate again and pushing her to reveal way more than he had hoped to get. Nevertheless, he wasn’t happy at all with part of it. Not about the corruption: Matsudaira suspected it and that would be easy to take care of…especially as he knew that her brother, Morinosuke, was working for the Justice department.

“Moron,” he let out. “You should have told the police.”

She choked with indignation.

“When they aren’t corrupted, they’re incompetent,” she snapped.

“Incompetent?” He gave her a lazy smirk, with a thought for some of his tedious, incapable colleagues. “I can’t deny that many of them are.”

That seemed to calm her down.

“And some of them are corrupted. But not all. Your father is rich, you told me, I assume that he has connections. You had the way to know some that you can trust.”

“I don’t know any, those I knew I disowned, and I don’t want to have anything to do with them. They work for the dogs,” she repeated, stubbornly.

She looked like a kid having a temper tantrum, grating on his nerves and more as he reminded her age, 24. So she had disowned her brother because he had acted sensibly? Little idiot. It dawned on him, suddenly, that she was surely not happy at all with the perspective of her marriage with Lieutenant Fujita Goro. Yet the odd thought that if she had known who he was she might have let him die in the snow finally bemused him, instead of feeding his exasperation. The irony was pleasing what people called his twisted sense of humor.

He considered her, the brightening gray eyes and the penetrated expression on her delicate features. She had the right convictions yet she was overreacting, blinded by her experience of the war, for sure. She needed to learn, if only because he would have to put up with her in the future. He hoped that it wasn’t a constant state of misplaced narrow-mindedness.

“So, you’re ready to die and pay any price for your convictions…that’s admirable.”

She stiffened, incredulous again. “This isn’t. This is what any of us is expected to do in order to accomplish their duty.”

Ah, he liked this better. She wasn’t involved for other reason than what she thought was her duty, obviously.

“I’m curious again…Are you ready to see other people dying for your convictions, too?”

The gray orbs turned icy fire. “The enemy deserves no pity.”

Yes, he agreed with that too. Good. Yet…his smirk inflected in a cruel way.

“I didn’t mean the enemy, that’s a given. I meant the people that obviously you want to help. You know, Aizu citizens.”

She frowned. “Of course not, what nonsense…”

“Oh. I wonder how you see Matsudaira-sama, then? As a traitor? As a coward?”

“What?”

She was baffled, what a nice view. It would be easy to show her the lack of logic of her “reasoning”.

“Yes, with what you say, I can’t figure your opinion. He surrendered to Meiji, after all,” he pointed, suavely.

“If not, the city would have become what they have made of Tsuruga-Jo: a pile of ashes. They would have killed everyone.”

“So, he had to give up on his allegiance to the Bakufu, because of a superior motive.”

“Yes, and by the way, there was no Bakufu left. Like the survivors around here didn’t fight again Meiji after the defeat. Of course, what Hijikata Toshizo did was highly honorable. But it’s a question of superior motive, as you say.”

“I see. And tell me, what would happen if a group of men were attacking the Meiji police, around here, without the government aware that there are corrupted elements in connection with Mitani? What would it mean for the people here? Do you think that the “Meiji dogs” would be lenient…or would they see it as a renewed necessity to subdue Aizu to their still challenged authority? Mmm…I think the latter, and you?”

He saw the situation occur to her, he saw the facts sink into her mind. He pushed his advantage further.

“Oh, and what would have happened if there had been no one accepting the new order? Don’t tell me that you forgot the pillages, the chaos following the defeat…”

The images played into the gray gaze, the kids stomped over or abandoned to the fire, the women raped, the personal revenges accomplished, the false accusations, the population prey to a violent frenzy, the worst human instincts and cowardice awoken by fear and lack of order, as the Meiji army had behaved no better.

He had himself made his decision when, wounded but alive, he had made it to the city. He had had the intention to join Hijikata in Hokkaido since Aizu had fallen, since there was nothing more that he could do to pay his debt. Yet, the nightmarish vision had reminded him what the priority was. In particular, the first image that he had taken in was still vivid, that small girl crying for her father in front of a burning house, then shouting desperately for help as a thug grabbed her and took her away. Saitoh had rarely felt helpless but that day, when he had fallen with exhaustion before he could do anything….and two days ago, when he had fallen in the snow. He had never regretted anything, but oddly, this image was still popping in his mind from time to time. It was defeat for him, incarnating his personal failure in the great debacle.

His disdain for Tokio’s fanaticism changed against himself into a kind of understanding while he observed her now bewildered and appalled face. His long experience of fighting, of war, casualties and of political realism had pushed him to the sensible choice. He had chosen order against ideals. He hadn’t changed allegiance: he still carried out the way of Aku-Soku-Zan, the Justice of the Shinsengumi. Yet, there was a superior motive: there were Japan and Japanese people. He had known that his country was menaced of foreign domination, of shackles that would be heavier than Meiji’s. The government wanted to save Japanese independence, which had been the only common ground between Ishin and Shinsengumi. They had disagreed on the means, and there was too much to lose to stay stubborn on a mere method. He had chosen, and he knew that it was the right decision.

There was no way that she had had the possibility of a sensible choice. She had been a civilian, too young, and too involved personally. But she had to understand now.

“What if nobody had accepted Meiji, without anyone to direct their efforts? Japan would have become Aizu after the defeat. Japan would have been taken over by the foreigners.”

“Stop it,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

“What if now, as we speak, Japan is still threatened? What if everybody was focused on their local problems, not caring about our independence?”

“It isn’t fair,” she burst out. “How can you accept what they’re doing here?”

He thought about telling her who he was, once again. That would be the final blow. The idea, nevertheless, that it might look as if he was making excuses and explaining his own behavior prevented him from it. He had no excuses to make, not explanations to give. It wasn’t about him, but about her.

So he shut up, letting her make the way by herself.

***

Tokio had spent the rest of the day in front of her unanswered interrogation. She had never been confronted to another point of view. Everybody in Aizu was disgusted and had felt abandoned: few acted, but all resented. She had stayed silent, only addressing him from time to time, with an objection that he had immediately rejected with deadly logic.

She tried to find the fail, she tried to find reasons, and as she couldn’t she felt oppressed, oppressed by the smallness of that place, oppressed by those thoughts that he had put in her mind, oppressed by his gaze on her, every now and then. Maybe it was because she was there, with no chance to escape, that she couldn’t find a way out; maybe it was because he was so impressive, and so…so…there, that she couldn’t think straight.

The most troubling was that the other Shinsengumi survivors had had the same discourse as him before the corruption became too open, the repression too unfair for them to witness without intervening. They had married, they had children, they had settled, and were working, saying that the most important was to rebuild Aizu and to make sure that everybody had enough to eat. That was how they loyalty expressed, had said Okada, the leader, and the ex-commander in second to Saitoh Hajime. To be absolutely honest, she couldn’t have helped, at first, the idea that they might be cowards or too tired to go on with the fight to float at the corner of her mind. It hadn’t been the case, she had understood quickly.

He had lit another cigarette, and she could feel his satisfaction as he smoked, slowly. She tried to ignore his stance, yet it was impossible since her brain was getting more and more confused and her eyes were irrepressibly attracted by him. She sensed bitterness invading her heart, mounting in her mouth, it was his fault if she was in that state and she needed to spit it. She had to unsettle him, too see him affected too, if she wanted to calm down. Her last train of thoughts gave her an idea.

“Yes, you talk about Japan…but isn’t that all pretexts? Isn’t the truth that you have your wife and maybe children, and you prefer a calm existence rather than fight for your ideals, as before? You just hide your cowardice behind big beautiful words,” she remarked poisonously.

She thought that she was going to pull her hair out, when instead of looking offended or angered he contented himself with widening his smirk.

“Two mistakes. I never fought for ideals, ideals are good for fools like you, they’re misleading and blinding. I fought for order, and against chaos,” he pointed. “Second, I have no family, so once again you are completely missing the point.”

“Oh, you said you had a wife in your delirium, don’t lie.”

His eyes got so severe that she felt her throat constricting. There was something emanating from him that made her feel like running and hiding.

“I am *not* married *now*,” he stressed, and she knew that it was the truth, just by the way he said it.

He *had* called his wife, though. Then…she froze. Maybe he was a widower? Shame replaced bitterness, and she could do nothing but take his following sarcasm.

“So, is that what you do when you’re wrong? Throwing tantrums and behaving childishly? If you want to stomp your feet or scream like a harpy, do it outside, or I’ll give you…”

***

A good spanking. Saitoh refrained from saying the words at the last moment.

“…I have no patience for spoiled brats, neither for morons,” he finished instead.

Now she was so off-balance…damn, she wasn’t sensible, but that didn’t prevent fantasies from rushing into his brain, euphoria of winning a verbal fight mixing with desire, and somewhere he felt a tad sorry for her. The idea to touch her was just too tempting, she was so lost that she wouldn’t resist, she was in need as much as an anchor as of expelling her bitterness, and it wasn’t a spanking that he wanted to give her…working her anger out, and then make her hold on to him as if she drowned, and sinking with her, and into her…

She was so close, revolt and acceptance written in her eyes, and she looked so despaired yet refusing to give up. There was something that that drew him to her, maybe that combination of vulnerability and spirit, and also her eyes, her lips, her body just at arm reach in the little cabin, in the heavy atmosphere and in the impression to be alone in the world, cut from it by the snow’s fury.

***

Tokio was trying to control her sizzling emotions, she felt deprived of everything. In her marriage, she would lose it all, and the only precious thing that she had thought would left were her beliefs, her fights. It had been her whole life for the last 6 years. This man had just robbed her of them: she knew that there was no turning back with what he had shown to her. She hated him for it yet at once, a part of her was thankful, because of the consequences that her actions could have had and that she had overlooked. He was wrong on one thing: she didn’t want to delude herself. She preferred the truth.

She was empty and too full of contradictive feelings, and she had no idea on what to do, on what to think. She glanced at him, needing something to hold on to...His gaze rooted her on the spot. It was hungry and yet indulgent, like it had been the previous day, when he had had fever, and as his eyes swept over her she felt as if he was touching her. The caress reverberated in her whole body, her nerves wringing, her breath stopping.

He froze too, so briefly that she almost missed the sudden stillness, his expression back to noncommittal.

“I didn’t want to ignore all this,” she whispered. “What can I do?”

“You have to figure out by yourself,” he answered, adding after a hesitation: “You can.”

Then he threw his cigarette into the fire, and lit immediately another one.

TBC…

Author’s notes:

Well, yes, this isn’t really fitting a blanket scenario, blame “character development” disease. I’ve always been interested by Saitoh’s reasons for working with the Meiji government. The basis is directly taken from what he says in tome 7, when he gets rid of Arundo and Shibumi, and I made a little sewing on the theme. Plus, I can’t throw them in bed like this (well, I did, but not for fooling around…yet) they have to be in condition. Don’t worry, now they are, the man is on burning charcoals in spite of the cold, and the poor girl doesn’t know what to hold on to (I *know* what hentai thoughts have crossed your mind just now, LOL).

The little girl is who you think she is (^-^).

Next chapter: I announced hot sex, hot sex there will be, and it should worth the wait. *foxy laugh*