Date: 2012-05-03 12:54 am (UTC)
tokio_takagi: (freshface)
From: [personal profile] tokio_takagi
No sooner had she pushed away her desire to grab him by the waist and pull herself to him, than he did exactly what she had been thinking, what she had been wanting. He reached forward and held her by her waist. It was as though the two of them were the only ones in the world. She felt a sense of peace and safety. She felt an incredible sense of belonging…to him. She was almost moved to kiss him, to see if his lips were as gentle and as soft as the touch of his hand on her face. Somehow she remembered that they were. But she was not forward with men, and she did not know him well enough, not yet.

The surreal spell was broken the moment Saitoh turned off the activation switches on their vests, quelling the already fading blue-white light. With a sigh Tokio stepped away from the man, as he released her from his grasp.

She knew as soon as he slipped his hands around her waist that he felt her connection to him as clear as the sky was visible on a sunny summer day. It scared her, a little, to feel so close, so connected to a man, especially one she’d known for only a day. But there was no way she could deny what she felt, and how he responded to her in return. She finally reached the point that she wished she could remember something more concrete about her past life, if that was what was causing these feelings and fleeting images.

If she had truly been his wife, shouldn’t she remember something? Perhaps it was stress that brought out her memories, as faint as they were, since during yesterday’s extremely dangerous event at the café, she seemed to be flooded with more acute sensations, even calling out his first name, if she remembered correctly. She even *knew* what he would do, and what he would think. At one point she saw him wield a katana, dressed in a blue and white haori. She gasped when it hit her which historical military group wore *that* uniform. She’d been so caught up in events yesterday that it didn’t even register that she pictured him wearing a Shinsengumi uniform. She hated to think that it would take severe trauma to jog her subconscious mind into releasing more of her long suppressed memories.

Whether she had really been his wife or not, really didn’t matter as far as her feelings were concerned. She knew that, now in her present life, she liked him; she liked him a lot. She liked his sense of humor and the strength that seemed to just roll off of him in waves. She knew that if she could cocoon herself in his arms, nothing bad would ever happen to her again. But it puzzled and worried her how these intense feelings for him could develop so soon, in only a matter of hours. That was not normal.

She was still lost in her thoughts when Captain Saitoh suggested they pickup their new fire arms. Walking over to the oak chair, she grabbed her blouse, folded it and stuffed it in her shoulder bag. It was far too warm in the armory at the moment to add another layer of clothing. She would put her blouse back on after target practice. She then slipped her old side holster over her new protective vest.

Tokio followed the captain out of Minato’s office. She was a bit disappointed that the old man was missing. She was actually hoping to see what the captain had planned for the little fellow after the stunt he pulled with her new vest. She would have loved to see that note that caused the frown on Saitoh’s handsome face, but it wasn’t as if she could get away with picking it out of the garbage in front of him so she could read it.

So instead she contented herself with listening to the descriptions of her new weapons. She felt fairly comfortable with the small semi-automatic, because that is what she learned to shoot with, but the higher caliber automatic was another matter. She might need some help with that one, especially when even he mentioned it would take some getting used to. The weapons he took for himself looked truly impressive, but not something that she would want to carry.

Tokio watched intently as he entered his genetic signature on his weapons and recorded the code on the tablet. Her old model from the Yokohama armory didn’t require her to do this. When he was busy with his paperwork, she did the same for her guns, following his example. When she was finished recording the codes, she placed the semi-automatic in her purse, and slipped the automatic into her shoulder holster.
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