Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Terms of Engagement ❯ Tea and Flowers ( Chapter 2 )

AN: I am trying to write this with a younger, slightly more human Saitou. After reading a few things about what happened to the real Saitou Hajime after the revolution, I figured he'd might still have a few less-then-coldly-perfect qualities that probably wouldn't have been totally driven out of him yet that aren't apparent in RK's timeline. He's going to make mistakes. He's going to feel `softer'. He's going to react a bit differently, since at this time, he hasn't learned some of the harsh lessons of later. So don't say he's OOC. I know he is, and it's on purpose.

 

 

Terms of Engagement

Chapter Two: Tea and Flowers

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Toki

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Toki unwrapped herself from the layers of padding that she had swaddled herself in and spat the fake teeth out of her mouth. As she ran her tongue around her teeth to rid them of the paste she had used to keep them in place, she started washing the heavy rice paste off her skin. She grimaced at the small bug bite on her neck that she had picked raw, but it was all for a good cause. The heavy horse hair wig that had weighed down her head was then carefully unpinned and set carefully to the side. A few more subtractions latter, she sat contentedly chewing on a wintergreen leaf and chuckling to herself.

 

Too bad about Saitou. He was a appealing man. A rarity in these days when every available male seemed to be rushing off to join one side or another in the war. The only ones left were doe eyed pretty boys that were too pampered or too inept to be of use. Saitou was defiantly not a boy and far from inept. From his tautly muscled body that moved with smooth confidence, to his deft swordsman's hands, to his sharp eyes, Saitou Hajime was nothing if not a attractive, intelligent, and powerfully viral man. Thus, too dangerous. A pity really.

 

“Lady, your esteemed uncle wishes to speak with you.” One of the house servants rapped timidly on the door.

 

She hated that. Wasn't it bad enough that Uncle Choju had made his presence a permanent part of her household, did he have to bully the servants into cringing wrecks. Still things could, and if she didn't take care, would get worse.

 

“Of course.” She stood up, smoothing her robes down and checking to make sure all her disguise was erased. “Is he in the garden?”

 

She slid the screen open. The servant who had been crouching outside the door jumped back startled. It was one of the younger girls who usually worked out in the kitchen. A few rumors of how her uncle entertained himself with them whisked through her mind as the girl cowered before her.

 

“Yes, lady.”

 

She nodded and walked calmly down the hall till she opened another screen and stepped out onto the veranda. Her uncle sat, dressed in an silk kimono, on a cushion surrounded with letters, a tray with tea, writing paper, and a pot of ink. It didn't escape her notice that all were of the highest quality. Bought by her money, no doubt.

 

“Uncle, you called for me?” She bowed low, eyes demurely fastened to the ground.

 

“Sit.” He waved to a small pillow set to one side without looking up at her. “You met your betrothed.”

 

“Yes, Uncle.” She settled down on the cushion, keeping a neutral expression on her face.

 

“Good.” He watched a small bird hop through the leaves of a maple tree nearby. “I am worried about you. In these dangerous times, you need more protection than this house can offer.”

 

True, but not in the way you are implying. “Thank you for caring for my welfare.” She bowed.

 

“What was your impression of your husband to be.” He took a sip of tea.

 

And there is the heart of your plan. “He seems like he would make a good husband.” She kept her eyes down, trying to fake a bit of grateful modesty.

 

“Really?” His voice gave the impression of being bored and only going through the motions of being a good uncle.

 

“As you said when you arranged this marriage, he is a man of good position, who has risen through the ranks.” She kept the details bland and formal. “He is not unkempt nor ill mannered, and will not be a disgrace to the family.”

 

“I suppose he is a busy man.” He set the tea cup down and picked up a letter. “I have heard that he is a good swordsman.”

 

She bowed apologetically. “I am sorry uncle. We did not discuss that. He seemed reluctant to discuss anything dealing with his work.”

 

“Hmmm.” He rattled the paper in his fingers. “What did you talk about then?”

 

She wasn't going to tell him she inflicted three hours of talking about the proper cut for an obi and how to get stains out of tatami mats on Saitou's progressively twitchy person. While it had be amusing to watch the feared Wolf of Mibu squirm as she lovingly described the process of pouring vinegar on a mat and how merchants always tried to sell inferior obis to the unwary, her uncle would not find it entertaining that she had frittered away such precious time. Time she was not supposed to know she wasn't supposed to waste.

 

“Tea. Clothes. Common everyday things.” She made herself sound shy. “He didn't seem interested in talking about himself.”

 

The paper was slapped down. “Very well. Dismissed.”

 

She bowed, got to her feet, and left, the picture of an obedient woman. Bastard.

 

She headed back to her room, forcing herself to shake the anger she felt out of her and focus on something more pleasent. Tomorrow, she was supposed to meet her betrothed for a formal tea ceremony, one where she was supposed to do the serving. Supposedly a quiet break for the Shinsengumi's tired officers that would allow them to enjoy the grace, serenity, and polish of their soon-to-be wives. She grinned as all the possibilities danced in her head.

 

Poor Saitou. Little do you know it's for your own good I do this.

 

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Saitou

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The garden was the essence of tranquility. The meticulously sculpted trees, the exquisitely placed ornaments, the artful streams and pools, overlooked by serene tea houses set to give any tired soul a peaceful retreat to compose themselves and enjoy the calm harmony of a tea ceremony combined to create the perfect romantic setting. In the bushes, nightingales sang of the perfection of the evening.

 

Saitou and his lovely fiancée strolled along the paths enjoying their togetherness, as other couples settled down to tea. She was a vision in her ornate orange and pink robes decorated with bright green and yellow chrysanthemums. The obi that valiantly tried to reign in her delicate waistline, was a muddy brown with gold leaves and was tied in a crooked bow in the back, while a multitude of jingly combs adorned her tresses. She was idly scratching at her neck, where a particularly irritating acne eruption seemed to be bothering her, causing some of her creamy complexion to flake and crack.

 

“I do hope I don't have to sit for very long doing this.” Tokio sighed in a voice that would have done justice to a farmer cursing at his ox. “I have bad knees, and honestly, it's such a bother to have to keep getting up to go urinate when your knees are creaky.” She squinted through the gathering twilight at her darling. “Don't you think?”

 

Saitou had, over the past day of searching valiantly for the dreaded Battousai and failing to find him, had been bracing himself for just such an occasion. “Of course.” Damn Battousai, you will pay for this. I could be peacefully dead, but no, you have to be coy. And the word is that you have taken some idiot oath not to ever work as a hitakori again. Couldn't you have waited? What would a couple of weeks really mean in the overall scheme of things! A few less mindless politicians? Damn you Battousai!

 

His beloved snorted a laugh, that turned into a sound like a horse- I didn't mention you Kaze!- choking on a piece of wire. “I knew you'd agree with me!” He tiny be-ringed hands clutched onto his arm with a vice like grip. “We're just the same.”

 

He summoned a small pathetically sickly twitch of his lips that he hoped passed as a smile. “How lovely.”

 

“Oh, look! An unoccupied tea house!” Tokio squealed digging her nails into his arm. “Let's go have tea!” She paused, pursing her lips into a pout. “Maybe I should go pee first. All that tea…”

 

Saitou looked hurriedly around the elegant landscaping, hoping for some miracle. None came, so his betrothed bustled off behind a bush already tugging at her lopsided obi.

 

“You just go right ahead, Hajime. I'll catch up after I pop this cork.” She called back in a voice that echoed across the garden, causing some of the other couples to look over at them.

 

The Wolf of Mibu slunk into the teahouse and awaited his doom. Please, let her wash her hands. Please, let her wash her hands. He had noted that today, his darling had dirt caked under each tiny, ragged nail. With the added…popping of the cork….he shuddered to think of those hands…doing anything. He had consigned his kimono to the trash three minutes after she had latched onto his arm when they met. It would never come clean. Even if there were no marks, he'd always know those delicate hands had been on his sleeve.

 

“Hajime, do you have a handkerchief?” She bellowed from the bushes.

 

“No.” He settled down on a handy cushion to stare glumly at the tea service that was set out for them to use. After a second, he blinked, then quickly stood up, grabbed the porcelain and pitched the set into the stream that bubbled musically below. With a relieved sigh he set himself down on a cushion. Disaster averted.

 

A few minutes later his wife-to-be lumbered her delicate way up the three steps and stood panting and fanning herself with one of her sleeves. “It sure is warm out today.” She paused looking around. “What? No tea?”

 

“Apparently not.” Saitou shook his head, looking regretful. “We will just have to enjoy our evening without it.”

 

Tokio pouted. “I was so looking forward to serving you real tea.” She then grunted, turned, and waddled her dainty way back down the steps. “I'm going to go borrow a set from someone else.”

 

“No, please. Don't go to so much effort. Your company is all…” Saitou, seeing disaster looming again clambered after the lovely enchantress he was going to marry.

 

“Excuse me!” She called with the dulcet tones of a dying yak. “May we borrow your tea service, ours is missing.”

 

A soft, elegant, cultured voice quietly murmured, “So sorry. We are still using ours.”

 

Not to be deterred, Tokio turned and headed to another peaceful teahouse. “Excuse me! Can we…”

 

~*~*~*

Toki

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Infuriating man. He was still apparently determined to marry her. She had turned a simple tea ceremony into one of the punishments of hell with spilled tea, burned hands (his), and ripped cushions; she had used the manners and language of a half wit street urchin; she had deliberately not bathed and spent most of the afternoon doing yard work in the sun, so she smelled and had the cleanliness of a farm hand fresh from the field; and she had deliberately been over-familiar with him, using his first name without his permission, and clinging like a fish monger desperate to sell a three day old tuna. And he still was nothing but pleasant and polite.

 

And men call women fickle. If I actually wanted him as a husband, he'd probably half way to Hokkaido by now. She sulked along at his side as he tried valiantly to point out some of the more attractive features of the park. She made little grunting sounds in her throat and glanced boredly at each attraction.

 

“Listen, a nightingale.” He paused under a tree, tipping his head slightly to listen to the song.

 

“Pesky things. They've been making a racket all night.” She muttered, trying to kill the romance of the moment.

 

It was romantic too, thanks to the efforts of whichever officer of the Shinsengumi had arranged this little interlude. The park was aglow with white paper lanterns and each small pond they passed had a sprinkling of flowers floating on the surface. In a few of the small clearings, flute players sat playing serene, romantic songs into the night. Small tables of enticing foods and drinks were also placed here and there along with tables to sit and enjoy a small meal. The chaperones were all ensconced in a small tea house in the center of the park being entertained by a small troop of performers, keeping them busy and away from interrupting.

 

The other couples were meandering through the park, smiling at each other and talking in soft voices. They all seemed happily matched. She even noticed one couple sneaking off to a less lighted area of the park, and she was sure they weren't the only ones, or that that section of the park hadn't been overlooked by the planners of this outing. No, they planned that.

 

She looked over at Saitou with watching the way he glided at her side, a quiet, intense shadow. His kimono had, during the chaos of their relaxing tea- probably when she had set the cushion on fire- come open slightly, exposing a glimpse of a well toned chest. His long black hair was caught back with a simple black tie, tempting her fingers to slip through it to see if it was a sleek and supple as it looked. His slender face was composed and, even after all the aggravation she had heaped onto him, serene and heart-stoppingly handsome. Tempting man.

 

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Saitou

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Someplace as he was hauled through the garden filled with happier couples, it finally came to him. The perfect way to get out of the hell that was opening up at his feet. He'd just make her not want to marry him. If she broke the engagement, then he would be free and, more importantly, completely blameless. It would be perfect, difficult, but still the perfect solution to his woes. The…lady… was probably under the impression that he was from a good family and in marrying him, no matter how it was arranged, would advance her, and more importantly her family, in the world. Still, he needed more information about her. He'd been careless, allowing himself to get trapped like this without any information about his soon-to-be bride.

 

He glanced over at her as she trundled along at his side with the grace of a water buffalo. He suppressed a shiver as it worked down his spine as his likely future gaily leaped by, gracing him with small previews of endless meals of questionable origin spent in her company, rainy days trapped in the same house as her, and worse, fathering children with her. He focused on the paper lamps that swung on thin wires from the trees, as his mind shuddered. If he was lucky he'd have to lay with her only a couple of times, then he could flee to the arms of someone…cleaner, more intelligent, more cultured, more…not her. He glanced over at him, noticing her looking at him with barely concealed interest, and with and inward shiver pretended he hadn't seen.

 

“Tell me. Why did your family arrange this?” He looked away towards a nearby bush that was rattling suspiciously. Probably one of the others sneaking way to the less lighted sections of the park, but with a war raging around them, he wasn't going to let his guard down.

 

“My father and uncle think it is time for me to be married.” Tokio snorted. “I suppose I am a bother to them.” She grimaced. “For some reason they believe I am getting lazy. Why I can't imagine. Uncle sleeps later than I do. He doesn't even rise before mid-afternoon, so why whine at me about being abed till noon?”

 

Ask and you know. Great. Her own family is dumping her on…me. He nodded noncommittally. He also figured out the bushes were rustling because of a stray Okita lurking in the leaves. I thought he was going to be patrolling till midnight. “Indeed.”

 

“How about you?” She sounded as if she had been coached into asking polite questions and wasn't all that thrilled to know.

 

“I generally wake up early.” And if I have to suffer being married to you, I'm going to haul you out of bed with me so we…wait…no, on second thought, sleep in. Please, sleep in as long as possible.

 

She gave a little flounce of her head, setting her combs jingling. “I don't see why anyone would do such a thing.”

 

He shrugged, half his mind on the conversation and half on keeping tabs on Okita. In a way it was reassuring that his friend was there, watching his back, but it also worried him. Okita wouldn't abandon his patrol without a very good reason. “It keeps me busy.”

 

“Sleep keeps you busy too.” She muttered, with the grace of a five year old throwing a quiet tantrum.

 

“Habit I suppose.” He shot her a look from the side of his eyes. “My father was a foot soldier and believed in keeping that routine.”

 

“Really.” She sounded bored, not shocked.

 

“He would get us all up at dawn.” He looked away pretending to be lost in his memories. Okita was trying to get his attention, slipping through the shadows, catching his eyes, and nodding toward the exit. He would have to end this little tete a tete. Something was not right.

 

“Us?” She pursed her pale lips.

 

“My brother, sister and me.” He steered her toward one of the clearings that held a table of sweets. “I regret to say this, but it seems that I am needed.” He nodded to where Serizawa was walking toward them with a expression of controlled anger on his face.

 

Tokio waved on hand dismissively, her eyes already entranced by the spread of fattening foods. “Very well. I suppose I will see you tomorrow.”

 

He bowed to her in farewell, then went to meet Serizawa. “Yes?”

 

“Takada,” Serizwa snarled angrily. “We just found he's bee sending messages to the Ishin. Yatate and Toriyama, who were sent to Aizu with him are dead.”

 

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