A muscle in Saitoh’s jaw twitched when Takagi stepped closer to him, close enough so their bodies were almost touching. He’d seen real fear in her eyes and confusion, nearly to the point of being overwhelmed when she confessed to being far more innocent than even he’d assumed. The embarrassment and shame that crept over her features afterward, dimming the clear light in her eyes, was enough to almost make Saitoh reconsider his strategy where this woman was concerned.
Almost.
Not accustomed to holding back, he had chosen to approach this issue as he would any other, examining the facts as he understood them to be, coming to a decision and then decisively acting upon said decision. This practice had served him well professionally, allowing him to effectively command a squadron and navigate through the treacherous waters of the New Meiji DOJ.
As to how his Spartan modus operandi had affected his personal life. It hadn’t. Other than his children, he had no family. Other than Watanabe and a few other officers and an even smaller number of civilians who had earned his trust and respect, he had no friends. And up until he’d literally been through hell and back again with this woman in a diner, he’d been perfectly content to let things remain that way.
Takagi reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek. Her fingers were soft. Unsteady. Intoxicating. Saitoh caught the hint of something on her skin, an echo of cherry blossoms in spring. His mouth went dry. (And Takagi worries that she’s going insane …) Resisting the urge to pull her against him and see if she tasted as good as she smelled, Saitoh forced himself to release her shoulders and put his hands on his desk, where he was determined they were going to stay for the rest of this conversation.
He listened to her, accepted her skepticism, glad that the woman was no sycophant, but a strong willed thinker in her own right who wouldn’t embrace any passing thought or fancy to please another, even if the other person was himself. He smirked as she challenged him about Okita, enjoying the hint of fire, relishing the opportunity to prove out his theory.
(This is no theory) This was fact. He knew it as surely as he knew himself and was confident that in time and with patience, that Takagi would see the truth of the matter. She valued the truth, and pursued it as ruthlessly and as passionately as he did.
So it came as no surprise, when she bravely declared that despite her doubts and fears she would not retreat from the pursuit of reason and was unwilling to cast aside the connection she felt with him. What was surprising and perhaps more than a little humbling was the sense of relief that he’d been right about her, that she was no subordinate to bark orders at, but an equal to be reasoned with and relied upon.
Hands still firmly on the desk (because a promise made was…and always would be a promise kept) he looked down at the slender woman with a backbone of pure steel, and knew that she, not he, was taking the greater risk by allying herself with him and had far more to lose by this association, than he had to gain. While she already knew about his wife and the loss of his child, there were other discoveries she would have to make about the man standing before her, details he was duty bound to disclose, that he was also an addict, one still struggling to ensure that he led an honorable life of sobriety and worse yet, that he’d been a less than exemplary father and husband.
(Those disclosures will have to come) He was no coward and would not shame himself by offering up excuses, but he was also not a moron and knew that he was going to have to work his ass off to offset his less than stellar aspects of his being with honorable actions…he couldn’t help but glance at the delicious hint of collarbone that was protruding beneath her tastefully appointed blouse…(and restraint you idiot!) He would not give her reason to regret the chance she was taking.
“I never said I expected you to believe me,” he said with a teasing smirk, “you’d be a damn fool to take a man at his word in matters such as this.” Leaning forward a little (his hands not leaving the desk) he added, “and you are not a fool, Takagi Tokio, not by a long shot…” His expression changed then, becoming open and painfully honest.
“…neither am I. We both need time to make sense of this and to make sense of each other.” He thought of her awkward admission, and how difficult that must have been for a woman to make to a man she hardly knew.
“I have not been with a woman, in any capacity, since my wife died,” he offered this up quietly, trying to put her mind and heart at ease, “and I do not take this connection that we share, or the one with whom I have the honor of sharing it with lightly. My course is already set, and has been from the moment I awoke in the shelter of your arms, but I promise you, on my honor, that I will not ask anything of you, that you are not completely willing to give me.”
no subject
Almost.
Not accustomed to holding back, he had chosen to approach this issue as he would any other, examining the facts as he understood them to be, coming to a decision and then decisively acting upon said decision. This practice had served him well professionally, allowing him to effectively command a squadron and navigate through the treacherous waters of the New Meiji DOJ.
As to how his Spartan modus operandi had affected his personal life. It hadn’t. Other than his children, he had no family. Other than Watanabe and a few other officers and an even smaller number of civilians who had earned his trust and respect, he had no friends. And up until he’d literally been through hell and back again with this woman in a diner, he’d been perfectly content to let things remain that way.
Takagi reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek. Her fingers were soft. Unsteady. Intoxicating. Saitoh caught the hint of something on her skin, an echo of cherry blossoms in spring. His mouth went dry. (And Takagi worries that she’s going insane …) Resisting the urge to pull her against him and see if she tasted as good as she smelled, Saitoh forced himself to release her shoulders and put his hands on his desk, where he was determined they were going to stay for the rest of this conversation.
He listened to her, accepted her skepticism, glad that the woman was no sycophant, but a strong willed thinker in her own right who wouldn’t embrace any passing thought or fancy to please another, even if the other person was himself. He smirked as she challenged him about Okita, enjoying the hint of fire, relishing the opportunity to prove out his theory.
(This is no theory) This was fact. He knew it as surely as he knew himself and was confident that in time and with patience, that Takagi would see the truth of the matter. She valued the truth, and pursued it as ruthlessly and as passionately as he did.
So it came as no surprise, when she bravely declared that despite her doubts and fears she would not retreat from the pursuit of reason and was unwilling to cast aside the connection she felt with him. What was surprising and perhaps more than a little humbling was the sense of relief that he’d been right about her, that she was no subordinate to bark orders at, but an equal to be reasoned with and relied upon.
Hands still firmly on the desk (because a promise made was…and always would be a promise kept) he looked down at the slender woman with a backbone of pure steel, and knew that she, not he, was taking the greater risk by allying herself with him and had far more to lose by this association, than he had to gain. While she already knew about his wife and the loss of his child, there were other discoveries she would have to make about the man standing before her, details he was duty bound to disclose, that he was also an addict, one still struggling to ensure that he led an honorable life of sobriety and worse yet, that he’d been a less than exemplary father and husband.
(Those disclosures will have to come) He was no coward and would not shame himself by offering up excuses, but he was also not a moron and knew that he was going to have to work his ass off to offset his less than stellar aspects of his being with honorable actions…he couldn’t help but glance at the delicious hint of collarbone that was protruding beneath her tastefully appointed blouse…(and restraint you idiot!) He would not give her reason to regret the chance she was taking.
“I never said I expected you to believe me,” he said with a teasing smirk, “you’d be a damn fool to take a man at his word in matters such as this.” Leaning forward a little (his hands not leaving the desk) he added, “and you are not a fool, Takagi Tokio, not by a long shot…” His expression changed then, becoming open and painfully honest.
“…neither am I. We both need time to make sense of this and to make sense of each other.” He thought of her awkward admission, and how difficult that must have been for a woman to make to a man she hardly knew.
“I have not been with a woman, in any capacity, since my wife died,” he offered this up quietly, trying to put her mind and heart at ease, “and I do not take this connection that we share, or the one with whom I have the honor of sharing it with lightly. My course is already set, and has been from the moment I awoke in the shelter of your arms, but I promise you, on my honor, that I will not ask anything of you, that you are not completely willing to give me.”