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saitoh_hajime) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
gumi_reloaded2012-04-16 03:12 pm
Explanations and Explorations
Time: Late Afternoon - Early Evening
Location: New Meiji Department of Justice (Police Wing, Armory, Shooting Range)
Characters, NPC, Saitoh, Tokio
“YOU HAVE ACCESSED THE NEW MEIJI POLICE DEPARTMENT ANSWERING SYSTEM. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE FOLLOWING OPTIONS BEFORE MAKING YOUR SELECTION.”
Saitoh took an impatient drag on his cigarette and listened.
“TO CHANGE YOUR PERSONAL GREETING, PLEASE PRESS 1. TO LISTEN TO YOUR PERSONAL GREETING, PLEASE PRESS 2. TO FORWARD CALLS, PLEASE PRESS 3. TO ACCEPT FORWARDED CALLS, PLEASE PRESS 4. TO FORWARD A CALL TO A FORWARDED NUMBER, PLEASE PRESS 5.”
Saitoh swore, and tried to resist the urge to throw his office phone out the window, wishing that they would stop changing the options every few weeks.
“TO CHANGE YOUR RINGTONE, PLEASE PRESS 6, TO LISTEN TO AVAILABLE RING TONES, PLEASE PRESS 7. TO REQUEST A CUSTOM RING TONE FOR ALL FORWARDED CALLS PLEASE PRESS 8”
Exhaling smoke out of his nostrils in a murderous sounding snort, Saitoh slammed the phone down onto the charger with enough force that his terminal and desk shook.
“Yorimoto!”
Saitoh’s new secretary jumped in his seat, knocked over a picture of his mother and her passel of pugs, and then tried to give his commanding officer a smart, manly sort of salute. “Yes, Saitoh-sama!” Newly promoted from the office accounting pool, Yorimoto Katsume was a twitchy little ferret of a man, one whom Saitoh suspected had an unholy fixation with fountain pens. “How may I provide you with assistance, Sir!”
(Holy freaking hell…) Saitoh gave his newest secretary a long measured look. “What is the prompt on the automated phone system so I can listen to my messages?”
“That’s easy, Sir! It’s option 18. Would you like me to assist you in button pressing, Saitoh-sama?” Yorimoto said hopefully, eager to prove his worth.
“No.” Saitoh pinched the bridge of his narrow nose and prayed for patience, since his preferred course of action, that being strangling his secretary and shoving the body where the sun didn’t shine was generally speaking, frowned upon.
“Oh,” Yorimoto’s face fell. “Well, if you have any trouble, please know that you can safely rely on me to provide you with timely assistance.”
Saitoh pinched harder, reminding himself that slaying evil instantly was not applicable to the mentally deficient, no matter how annoying they might be, “I will keep that in mind.”
“Oh, and if you are wondering about that voicemail you received fifteen minutes ago, the transcript is on your desk.”
Saitoh glanced down at his desk and saw that there was in fact, a memo near his cigarette ash covered keyboard. (Unlike most people, he preferred typing rather than relying on voice recognition software) He frowned (due mostly to the smiley face stamp that was by Yorimoto’s name) and began reading.
MEMO:
To: Captain H. Saitoh
From: Office Secretary K. Yorimoto (recently promoted)
Subject: Voicemail from O. Murakami, DOJ (13:35:05)
Dear Captain Saitoh-sama,
Here is the transcript of a voicemail you received from one O. Murakami. Please review and let me know if you need any further assistance in this, or any other matter.
With the most profound respect that you could ever imagine,
K. Yorimoto ^__^
Start Message
“Hello, this is a message for Captain Saitoh-san. This is Oharu Murakami. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I was the secretary to the late Fujita Hiroshi? Yes, well… I am now working for Takagi Tokio, Assistant Prosecuting Attorney. She asked me to call and let you know that she will be stopping by your office to return an item that you lent her the other day and that you should anticipate her arrival no later than 15:30….
Saitoh-san, I heard about your injuries sustained in the line of duty. I hope that you will make a speedy recovery and that your boys, bless their hearts, are safe and well. If you have any questions, or can’t speak with Takagi-san during this time, please call me directly or send an email so that I can reschedule.
Warmest Regards,
O. Murakami”
End Message.
.
no subject
Caught off guard by her candor, Saitoh couldn’t quite school his expression and his eyes widened. The fact that she’d done her due diligence and had investigated his background didn’t come as a surprise. One did not obtain the highest conviction records in Yokohama by being taking anyone or anything at face value. It was the realization that she’d done her research and was here of her own volition, with her arms around his waist and her head resting against his heart that was so unexpected.
Not being the most merciful of individuals, he was unaccustomed to be on the receiving end of that particular emotion and for several unpleasant seconds, he wondered if mere pity was prompting the attorney to say what she did, a concept that was incredibly repellent to the proud man.
I have considered what you did to try to cope with your family tragedy, and I don’t think of it as a liability. I think of it as a life challenge, something that I would be honored to help you with if you would allow me.
Saitoh wasn’t sure if she was crazy or a candidate for sainthood. (Perhaps both) he mused, a faint, half-forgotten overheard conversation from long ago between a weasel girl and a laundry obsessed swordsman coming to mind.
Words failed him and he stared down at her as if he’d lost the facility for thought and speech in one fell blow. Katsu, the last woman who’d been made aware of his alcoholism had never forgiven him for the mistakes he’d made, nor would she permit him to forget the damaged he’d caused his entire family. Saitoh had never held her hatred against her, believing her reactions to be fair and understandable, considering the circumstances. The gulf between his sister’s furious condemnation and Takagi’s calm, sober acceptance was immeasurable and humbling.
And then she turned away from him, as if she was ashamed of her tears or was afraid that he’d think less of her for having a tender heart where he was concerned. While Saitoh would never admit it outright, nothing could be further from the truth. There was no dishonor in being decent and kind.
Even with her back turned, He knew she was crying. He could hear gasp, saw her slender back shudder with the emotions she fought to control. An echoing ache registered in his heart, when she tried to stifle a sob and as she slid her holster over her thin shoulders and silently slipped on her blouse. He found the juxtaposition of the delicate, feminine fabric concealing a high powered automatic weapon and military grade armor to be ironic, though not nearly as ironic as the fact that despite his promise to keep this woman from harm, she was in pain and weeping....and yet, he could not bring himself to approach her. He yearned to comfort her, but he was sorely out of practice after three years.
Eventually, she gained a measure of control and sighed, sniffled and tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her bandaged hands. She’d suffered harm for his sake, and was still in pain; he could feel her distress as surely as he could smell the salt of her tears. This of course was absolutely unacceptable. He had a duty to protect her…and a deep seated desire to ensure that the only tears she ever shed going forward were ones grounded in happiness rather than sorrow.
My medi-burn gloves are supposed to come off today. It takes two hands to get them off, and since I live alone there is no one there to help me. Would you mind removing them for me, now that we are finished with our target session?
“Aa,” Saitoh turned her round to face him, not wanting to have a discussion with the back of her pretty head. He registered that she lived alone, a fact that both pleased and concerned him. “First things first, however,” he said seriously as he reached up and carefully erased the remaining evidence of her weeping with a gentle swipe of his fingers. Her skin was soft, cool and pale; contrasting sharply with the heat of his body, calloused hands and skin that even in the winter was darkened from being exposed to the sun while on patrol.
Her eyes dry, his hands moved on, following the trail of wetness that travelled along the soft contours of her cheek and jawbone, the way a canine would follow a trail of blood. “I won’t accept your apology for calling me on ornery old wolf,” he grumbled, the cautious, almost tender touches belying his gruff tone. “I was an obnoxious pain in the ass when I drank, and am still an unpleasant, ornery man most of the time and will no doubt continue to frustrate you to no end.”
Saitoh looked down at the woman, amber eyes darkening with emotions he would not hazard to name as he drank in the blessed familiarity of her features. “Some things never change, apparently.” His acerbic words applied to far more than his pissy attitude. She was still beautiful, still kind, and still brave enough to risk walking beside him, despite his weaknesses. His regard for her had also remained strong and constant. With every touch, with every passing minute, the past he’d shared with this woman was blending fluidly with the present, making him feel like they were simply picking up where they’d left off so many years before and were continuing on their journey.
Saitoh realized that he was in danger of waxing poetic (Takagi had this strange effect on him) so he kept his damn mouth shut lest he say something idiotic and focused instead on complying with her request for assistance with her burn gloves. He reached down and took her hands, one after the other, and carefully peeled the burn gloves back, exposing her healed flesh.
“Move your fingers, a little,” he said, massaging the previously compressed flesh of her palms and wrists until the skin was a healthy shade of pink. “Is there any residual pain or numbness?” There were a few blisters that were in the final stages of healing and while the burn gloves had done their job and prevented deep tissue scarring, it was plain to see her timely intervention on his behalf at the diner had come at a price.
“I don’t recall whether I had the opportunity to properly thank you for saving my life yesterday,” Saitoh said quietly as he brought her hand up and placed a soft kiss on the ridge of her knuckles. He had a hazy memory of something similar happening at the diner, but was unsure if he’d been awake or dreaming. He let his lips linger against her cool skin for a second and then reluctantly pulled away.
As he moved back, Takagi moved forward, much to his surprise. Her expression for an instant was absolutely inscrutable, and then the apples of her cheeks took a little more color right before she wrapped her arms around his neck and, rising up on her toes, kissed him softly on the cheek.
The gentle, almost hesitant endearment infused him at once with such raw emotion that he nearly shuddered in response. He felt himself closing his eyes, his arms instinctively encircling her waist rather than risk having her pull away from him. The feel of her mouth against his skin was electric, sending a shiver running down the length of his spine. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Pressed up against him, she was blushing now, but her arms were still around his neck, an action that Saitoh chose to interpret as an invitation.
(I’ll take only what is freely given) That kiss had been and as far as he was concerned, one good turn deserved another.
He leaned down, but only a little, his eyes locked on hers. He swore he could hear her heat beating like a signal drum beneath her body armor. She swallowed nervously, but her grey were anything but wary and her hands around his neck pulled him down towards her slightly upturned mouth.
Being a reasonable man, he met her halfway.
As far as kisses went, this one was chaste. He kept his mouth closed and the pressure light. Her response was innocent, yet unbelievably arousing, the sweet taste and the perfect fit of her lips against his causing an avalanche of memories, of another first kiss with this woman to pour out into his mind.
When he pulled away, she was still looking up at him, her mouth slightly agape, and her cheeks flushing beautifully.
Despite the fact his own breathing was none too steady; he gave the woman a roughish grin.
“It’s getting late. Let me walk you to your car,” he offered his deep voice slightly husky as he offered Takagi his arm.