Disclaimer- I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, this was made purely for my amusement.

A/N- OH GOD I'M SO SORRY. I can use the excuse that I was extremely busy with school, but honestly? I had time. I just didn't feel like writing. Also, I move on to other fandoms, which makes me not want to write for others. But I was catching up on my story-alerts and a few of them were Saitou/Tokio stories, and it got me in the mood so I'm taking advantage.

This one is AU as it is impossible to have a radio-cassette player in Meiji Era Japan.

Theme 14: radio-cassette player

Okita said he was terribly outdated, keeping an old cassette player lying around instead of the flashier iPods or mp3s or whatever-the-hell people had today. Okita had also bemoaned the fact that he still used CDs until he discovered worse things about his best-friend and decided that the use of outdated CDs was the least of his problem.

Because Saitou listened to cassettes still.

Obsolete, can't-find-them-anywhere-anymore, cassettes.

"Saitou-kun, please let me take you to pick yourself out a nice, modern iPod. It's much clearer—you don't have to rewind anything," Okita was practically giving him puppy-dog eyes, the brown irises shining as the man forced out tears as though it was second nature.

Saitou scoffed.

"I don't need them," Saitou said as calmly as possible as he opened the new box of cigarettes he just bought and hit the bottom a few times against his palm. "How many times have I arrested people for iPod theft? I hardly listen to music anyway."

Okita pouted. Saitou wished he could punch the pout right off his face. What right did a thirty-seven year old man have making that kind of face anyway?

"You listen to that cassette player that you still have for some ungodly reason all the time," Okita retorted as he opened the passenger side door. "You are being a stereotypical old man afraid of new technology."

"Why didn't you stay in the car?" Saitou grumbled as he lit a cigarette before bending his tall body to slide into the driver's seat. "What if Hijikata radioed in?"

"You had your radio with you," Okita replied almost sweetly. "Besides, nothing ever happens at this time of day. Nice try on the distraction, though, but it won't work. Now, about those cassettes…"

Why the hell was Okita obsessed with him listening to a damn cassette tape? Closing his eyes briefly to regain a sense of calm that was threatening to unravel enough to throttle his best friend and partner, Saitou took a deep drag and exhaled the resultant smoke.

"I only have one cassette," he grumbled.

"You look extremely handsome in your uniform," Tokio smirked at him, unnecessarily straightening his tie and smoothing her hands over his starched, unwrinkled shirt. "You should wear it all the time."

Saitou patted his uniform for his cigarettes, as though he didn't notice Tokio's small delicate hands resting on chest. "I thought you liked it when I wear jeans." He located the cigarettes and removed one from the rest of its brethren, going through the familiar motions of lighting it.

Wait, but where were his matche?

Tokio coughed, waving a hand in front of her face, her eyes watering.

"You blew smoke in my face!" she cried incredulously.

A gunshot sounded. But neither of them really noticed.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, grabbing her in his arms and pulling her flush against his chest. She nearly cooed in delight. (Where did his cigarette go?).

"Kiss me," she breathed, sounding hoarse. He happily dipped his head to oblige.

A gunshot sounded. They didn't pay any mind.

Her lips were soft like always. His stomach was warm. The uniform was starting to feel sticky at his midsection. He took a deep drag of his cigarette. (When did he light that?).

"Hajime," she breathed wetly against his lips.

Saitou jerked awake. He was staring at his ceiling, his chest nearly heaving from the dream. With a groan that was more like a sigh, Saitou rubbed his face as he sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge so that his bare feet rested flat on the floor. He didn't bother to look at the other side of the bed.

He took another few breaths before reaching for the drawer in his nightstand, removing both the cassette player with the cassette tape inside and the headphones attached, and the nearly-gone box of cigarettes he had just bought that very morning with Okita.

Almost without thinking, Saitou adjusted the headphones over his ears, placed the cigarette in his mouth, flicked open the lighter to light the tip, and rewound the tape. He pressed play.

The tight muscles in his face relaxed almost imperceptibly as a small shudder ran through his body.

Okita was on a mission. He needed to find out what was on that tape that Saitou listened to so much.

Normally Okita would respect his friend's need for privacy (although Saitou would argue against this), but the curiosity towards this mystery was too great to ignore. Therefore, when Saitou disappeared to the washroom to shower and bathe (he had been vomited on by a drunk he had cuffed—Saitou was predictably extremely unhappy), Okita's casual perusal of Saitou's living room ended when his eyes landed on the cassette player sitting innocently and very obviously on the coffee table.

He almost rubbed his hands together in glee.

Practically skipping, Okita kneeled next to the table and did quick work in setting up the player, the headphones feeling strange against his ears after having been used to using earbuds for years. He would finally find out what kind of music Saitou preferred. Nearly twenty years of friendship and Okita still had no idea—Saitou drove in absolute silence, unless he was listening to talk radio, and most of the time he'd turn that off with an annoyed 'tch'.

He rewound the tape a little (he was amazed he even still knew how to work such an ancient relic) and pressed play.

"Alright so—don't laugh at me now! I just thought I'd do something different…oh boy I'm nervous. I don't know why. Probably because you'll make fun of me, because you're a jerk."

Okita's eyes widened as a young woman's voice (one that he knew too well) greeted him instead of the music he had been expecting.

"I'd do this on something much more substantial, like a CD, but well, I had this recorder and this blank cassette—I found them after cleaning the attic—and well, I thought I'd record something for you on a whim. So when you're thinking of me and I'm not there, you'll still be able to hear my voice! I know we can do that over the phone, but well, sometimes I travel to places and the time difference can be so vast and, well, I don't want to cause you any inconvenience. You work so much, Hajime.

You're probably thinking—" here, she comically deepened her voice in a poor impression of a man's, "Nagging woman, why on Earth do you think I would want to listen to you talk? Just sit there and be pretty.

That's what you'd say, Hajime, although I know you don't really mean it (except the whole me being pretty part, of course). How do you ever expect me to marry you if you never say a nice thing in your life? Oh and—well it's been three years already, I think it's about time to pop the question. I'd have to pretend to think about it, to make you sweat, but I'd ultimately say yes. I wouldn't want to live without you.

Well my dear, I really do have to get that shopping done. I'll add more when I get back from buying the dinner I'm cooking for you, so you better appreciate me later. You must kiss me whenever I demand it.

I love you dearly, always."

The tape played on, but the only sound emitting from the player was a strange, fuzzy static-y noise that indicated there was nothing left to the tape. It was another moment before Okita realized his face was wet with tears.

Sniffing deeply, he dried his face with his sleeve, still staring at the tape in mild disbelief, but mostly overwhelming sadness.

That had been Tokio, the love of Hajime Saitou's life that had died on her way to the grocery store nearly ten years ago. She had been shot in the stomach by a wayward bullet and died on the ambulance ride to the hospital. Saitou had been on duty, but in another district. Needless to say he hadn't made it in time.

Saitou had fallen deeply in love with her after a disastrous first marriage. She had, in a way, been his savior. Someone who had brought happiness to his taciturn friend's routine life. She had been Okita's dear friend.

With sudden determination, Okita swiftly removed the cassette from the player and pocketed it, and then stood and left the apartment before his friend was even out of the shower.

The tape was missing.

It was fucking missing.

He had torn his entire apartment apart looking for it. Pillows were tossed carelessly on the floor, blankets and sheets ripped from the bed, supplies laid scattered on his desk that had once been neatly packed in the drawers. He couldn't find it anywhere.

His hair was a mess, not his usual-sleeked back look. He had gripped it so hard at times he was sure it was nearly ripped from his scalp. For the first time in many years, he had the overwhelming urge to cry.

He knew he left it in the player. Yet the player was empty, but had been in the exact same spot he left it.

He was going to murder Okita. He meant it this time, the overwhelming urge to kill him was near stifling.

There was an almost timid knock at the door.

Storming over and not feeling sorry at all for the person that stood on the other side, Saitou flung open the door, giving the cowering man on the other side a look of death. The man whimpered, shoving a package towards him.

"I was told to hand-deliver this," he squeaked before running away.

Without closing the door or moving from the doorway, Saitou frowned as he ripped open the packaging, freezing as he saw the contents inside the box. It was the tape, along with a CD. A note was attached to its case.

Hajime-kun,

You know, cassettes get worn after overuse. I converted the contents into CD-format so you don't have to worry about losing it forever. It's time to retire the old cassette (which really, Hajime, hasn't been popular since the early 90s). No need to thank me.

-Souji

P.S. You should've told me. Jerk.

For the first time in a long while, a small but true smile lit Saitou's face.

Well, they can't all be happy stories, can they?

Don't even know where this came from, was not what I originally planned. I just sat down to type. I guess my mind is naturally morbid.

DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS. I just wanted to post this freaking chapter, so excuse the errors. Maybe I'll go back and fix it one day. Maybe. Anyways, as always, read and review!

Edit: 1/16/12 I finally went back and fixed little things that bothered me.