Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Rurouni Kenshin.

This story takes place right after the Kyoto Arc. I haven't seen much of the third season, so if anything is inaccurate, you'll have to forgive me. :) I'm not even entirely sure where this story is going to lead. It's my first fanfic in years, and my very first Kenshin fanfic ever! I'm just interested in the relationship between Saito and Tokio (since she is my competition, after all!) so… yea! Hope you enjoy!

Tokio rolled over in her bed, almost jumping out of her skin as she came into contact with a warm body. She'd been half asleep, but the grunt that emitted from the man beside her woke her back up. She could feel the futom shift as Saito lifted himself up to rub his forehead where Tokio had accidentally struck him.

"God, woman, you certainly do take up the bed," he grumbled. Tokio felt her face harden as she rolled onto her side, her back to him.

"Maybe if you slept in my bed more often, I'd be more accustomed to sharing it," she retorted curtly. She closed her eyes, hoping to fall asleep before he started on how his work consumed him, and how grateful she should be that he provided for her. She'd heard the lecture often enough when she got impatient with him, and she was fully expecting it now. Instead, she only heard him sigh quietly and get up out of bed.

"I'm going out for a cigarette," he said, sliding the door open.

Tokio only stayed in bed for a few minutes before finally rising and pulling on a thin kimono. She came out on the porch, studying her husband for a moment. He glanced at her, taking another draw from his cigarette before his emotionless eyes turned back to an equally unfeeling moon.

"I'm sorry, Hajime-sama," Tokio said softly. Saito shook his head, flicking some ash from his cigarette.

"It's nothing, Tokio-san," he said, his voice unusually low. "I know I haven't been the loving, attentive husband that all you girls dream of…"

Tokio was about to object, but she stopped herself. It was true, the man standing before her wasn't the doting, worshipping husband that she and all of her friends had hoped for as children. But she thought of Saya, and knew that it could have been considerably worse. Saito was not a good husband to her… she wasn't about to lather him with false praises. She slipped up behind him, carefully putting her arms around him, making sure to avoid his newest wounds. She rested her head on his back, listening to the slow, steady beating of his heart.

"You take care of me, Hajime-sama," Tokio whispered, knowing that he couldn't object to that sliver of truth. He had, after all, given her a house with plenty of space, located on a small plot of land far enough from the city to be a quiet retreat, but close enough to easily make a trip to spend the day there. He'd bought her enough beautiful kimono when they first married to last her for the rest of her life, and had even recently provided her with a son… of sorts. There was nothing she had a need for that he had not given to her.

Tokio suddenly felt very foolish. All the complaining she did about her husband was undeserved. He had been good to her, and all her lashing out was, in essence, over simply the fact that she missed his company. All he had ever asked of her in return for giving her such a comfortable life was that she take care of the house.

Tokio started from her thoughts when she suddenly felt Saito's hand resting over hers. His entire body was tense, and she could sense that there was something he wanted to tell her, but struggled with the words. Tokio tried to wait patiently for him to speak, but after a few silent minutes, she finally pulled away from him.

"Let me change your bandages before we go back to bed, Hajime-sama," Tokio murmured, gently urging her husband back into the house. Saito threw the barely smothering tip of his cigarette into the grass and silently followed his wife indoors. Tokio quickly pulled out a chair, kneeling on the floor before it as her husband took the seat. Tokio pulled out her medical kit, her fingers opening it with a familiarity that she had aquired over the years from being the wife of a police officer. She sighed softly at her husband. This past mission had left him in possible the worse condition he had ever crawled home in. He'd gone all the way to Kyoto and helped defeat the infamous Makoto Shishio. Saito hadn't told her any of the details, and she hadn't asked. A local doctor had sewed and patched most of the wounds that Saito had returned home with, but he'd left most of the work up to Tokio. She was the only one that he fully trusted, and her needle was as effective with flesh as it was with the uniforms she was endlessly mending.

Saito slowly let his robe slip off. The angry glint in Tokio's eye was certainly not missed, and the source was well known to both of them. He draped the robe over the back of the chair he was sitting in, revealing the exposed cross-shaped wounds on his chest.

"Saito Hajime!" Tokio exclaimed, her lips thinning in anger. "What do you think you're doing, taking off those bandages? Are you TRYING to get an infection!"

Saito could only offer a sheepish grin.

"They were itching…"

Tokio sent him a look that would have made him flee tail between legs if his legs weren't still a bit weak from his injuries. Her eyes narrowed till they were nearly as thin as Saito's, and her lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Well, then… I'll be sure to cover the cuts in PLENTY of extra salve so that the bandages don't bother you so much."

Saito gulped, but didn't object. Tokio had lit a few lanterns to give her enough vision to tend to him with. In the flickering light, he could see the shadows creeping into the lines on her face. She'd aged beyond her years since they first married, and her visage, so youthful then, was now creased with worry. Worry that he had caused. His hand reached out to stroke her cheek of seemingly its own volition. Tokio looked up at him from where she knelt on the floor, startled. She looked at him for a moment, then pulled her face away, kneeling back as she finished with the bandages on his chest. Saito knew the drill by now. He stood and turned his back to her as he pulled off his pants, then sat back down. Tokio didn't look up as she knelt by Saito's parted knees, and he couldn't help but note with amusement that she was careful to keep her blushing face away from a certain area of his body. Saito smirked. He didn't know what Tokio did with her spare time, but at least he could be assured that she wasn't cheating on him.

Tokio slowly finished wrapping the gash on Saito's left leg. The cuts on his chest had nearly finished healing, but those on his legs still had a way to go. Saito spent most of his time at work behind a desk, but the walk back from Kyoto, and the walk to and from the city on an almost daily basis was certainly not helping in the healing process. Tokio had offered to hire him a palaquin into Tokyo each day, but he stubbornly refused. His pride would somehow always get in the way of his health.

Tokio turned away from Saito's naked form as she rolled up the remaining bandages. For as much as she acted like she hated him, in the end, she was still his wife, and her duty was to him and his house.

Tokio was startled for what seemed like the hundredth time that day as she felt strong arms wrap around her, and hot breath warmed her neck. Her initial reaction was to pull away, but Saito had a firm grip on her now, hugging her to himself tightly. Tokio stopped struggling and reached back, touching his face gently with her soft hands.

"There's something that I've been wanting to tell you, Tokio-san," Saito murmured, his lips brushing against her neck as he struggled with the words. "In Kyoto, I…I thought for sure that I was finally going to die… I walked back into that flaming fortress and I thought it would be my end. I had… only two regrets. One was that I might never have my rematch with the Battousai, and the other… was that I've never taken the time to really appreciate you… to… to thank you for.. for your patience with me… for taking care of me when I'm here… I walked into that fire and I knew I should have died, but I couldn't, absolutely could not…"

Tokio put a finger to Saito's lips. She turned around in his arms, looking into his eyes. His countenance was as cold and hard as ever, but his eyes were just a sliver more gentle, with an almost pleading sheen to them. There were so many words she wanted to speak to him, now that he had opened up a bit of his heart. Words of longing. Words of strength. Words of gratitude. Words that could never possibly be sufficient. For the first time in years of marriage, Saito was truly opening his soul to her. Tokio found a more appropriate use for her lips than uttering weak words and kissed her husband. Saito gathered his wife into his arms, carrying her to the futon where he gently laid her down. Tonight, he would make sure he appreciated every part of her to its fullest.