It starts as an assignment that he refuses to admit evokes more emotion than just his curiosity. Track down his old enemy, see what he's up to and find out what has remained of his strength. Simple enough, boring even for someone like him.

He's not prepared for the reality of this task. Saito does not expect the swell of disgust that wells up in him as he watches from the shadows. Hitokiri Battousai has become a pale imitation of what he once was. He has no killing intend, far too much mercy and has replaced the sharpness of his sword with gentle smiles. Saito no longer doubts that he can defeat this man, one of the rare enemies of his time that he fought more than once. To think that the redhead once was one of Japan's greatest sword fighters is appalling, an insult to men like him. It warrants a new pack of cigarettes that he buys at the stand across the second-rate- restaurant that they seem to favour.

Saito uses disguises and smiles to worm himself into Battousai's home and leaves his brawler friend bloodied and beaten as a calling card. Then he does it again but not before amusing himself, letting a small fry challenge the Battousai just to prove how weak he has become.

He's still disappointed to see chain-shaped bruises on the man's flesh when he finally returns.

Saito makes him suffer for it with more than just the sharp sting of his sword. He delivers truths, harsh truths that the Hitokiri had once been so aware of himself. Did the Battousai not realize that he could've killed his tomboy girlfriend and scrawny little bastard long before he returned? Saito could have ruined his future and burned down his home long before the Battousai was even aware of his presence in it. And this is what he calls protecting?

There's a shadow of the man he once was in the way Battousai refuses to back down and walks proudly into combat. It matters little. Pride does not stop his flesh from parting or his blood from being spilt and still remembering his assignment Saito dissects the Hitokiri as he would a bug.

Perhaps the Battousai is a little faster than Saito expected but then his expectations have dropped considerately low. It takes little effort to take advantage of his weak finish and point out the flaws as he kicks his once so mighty enemy like a wolf might kick the runt of the litter. The Battousai goes flying back to the very spot he just left, leaving another stain of his blood upon the wall.

In turn, Saito towers over the Battousai like a disapproving God would over a cowering mortal with the only difference being that the Battousai refuses to lower his eyes. His sword is a familiar weight on his arm, warmed by his body heat even through the glove, and he raises it ever so slightly as he eyes the many spots it could land.

Instead he ends up eying the Kamiya-girl. Any other time he might've acknowledged courage but right now he has things to do and she's in the way. He tells her as much.

Battousai agrees and though he's bleeding and winded he's also more familiar as he stands and dismisses the girl with a single touch. He's barely seeing her and Saito knows that with every swing of his sword he is slowly but surely returning to his old self.

The Battousai is faster than Saito expects him to be. He disappears to- above? No! Below! Saito catches a glimpse of familiar non-rurouni eyes just before he makes the man cough blood. Battousai, in his present state, has no business getting up and yet still he does.

Perhaps Saito's presence has inspired some sense of the ten years that passed, perhaps the pain has simply pissed him off but either way the time for playing is over. Saito is done dissecting his bug and ready to get to the main event. One simple shift in his stance makes him more comfortable and deadly as the time of holding back has finally passed, leaving room for the true form of his Gatotsu.

Saito charges and though the redhead is fast, he has forgotten about the side attack and with a turn of his sword he will-

Battousai catches him at the back of his neck and though his sword is dull Saito feels as if his skull is splitting. This is how they fought in the war, with bone crunching killer intent that leaves a person reeling and his breath catching in his chest. More rubble falls upon him and there are aches all over his body, far too many when he considers that this is the first hit the rurouni has managed to land. Or perhaps not a rurouni after all…

Surely, no rurouni would order him to stand up and demand a better ending for their first duel in ten years. Surely, no rurouni exists with eyes that burn with pure killer intent. Saito stands and he promises murder and is no longer surprised when he is promised the same. It is finally time to give in, finally time to let go and return to the era where evil was everywhere and he was slaying it. They rise, they clash, they dance with steel and ferocity that ensures only one will be left standing. The man before him is no longer a man of gentle smiles and mercy but a man much more familiar to the lone wolf of Mibu.

A man who uses the sharp side of his sword.

Suddenly, the sword he knows with intimate familiarity has changed and the weight in his hand is no longer the same. Saito's sword, though nameless, nevertheless held meaning and he eyes the lost tip with anger curling in his belly. A simple comment uttered by Battousai's dark voice fans it into flames that burst through his veins until his anger turns into hatred and when he looks up, no part of Saito is on an assignment. He is a soldier in a raging war that once again faces a familiar face of the other side.

In this instant they are both back in Kyoto during the Bakumatsu and Saito's only concern is how to kill the dangerous assassin in front of him. The Battousai is nothing more than another evil uprooting the country in chaos and, after all, he must slay evil on first sight.

He takes his familiar stance with the unfamiliar weight of his cut sword and charges. He has no intention of fighting the Battousai with a broken sword but there are more ways to kill a man. Especially if the man is distracted by the last flight of his nameless sword, giving Saito the time to reach for his belt. A simple toss of an item never meant for war leaves the redhead wide open and he's not the only one who can move with speed. It's satisfying to bury his gloved fists deep into the too-soft-stomach of a man whose life should have been claimed by the revolution. Every punch is fueled by hatred for those who are against the way of the samurai, the pain is written on his face, but Saito won't allow himself to indulge for too long. Seconds, that's what he has and he has to make them count.

One step takes him out of his jacket and another behind the Battousai. He has wrapped his jacket around the man's throat and with satisfaction Saito uses his towering height to lift the redhead off his feet and isn't he such a tiny man? Puny really under the power of his hold.

Fabric strains, close to tearing but so are Battousai's bones and his neck won't last much longer now…

The sheathe saves him, catching Saito on his chin and the pain and force is too sudden. Saito loses his hold and in no time they're both catching their breath but never letting the other out of their sight. It's surprising how tired he is. There are aches all over his bod and though he has been diligent, disciplined as always, it's undeniable that his muscles are tired. The next attack will have to be his last.

The Battousai is bleeding and all too ready to answer his invitation to end this. Saito has his fists, the assassin his sheathe and this, this is how they will fight. The fight has its own rhythm and together they push towards their final blow. He will crush the man's windpipe, one good but effective punch is all Saito will need to-

Stop. He knows this voice and it cuts through the fog and reaches whatever is left of the man on a simple assignment. He looks up and into another familiar face. An interrupting familiar face. "Regain your sanity, Saito! Your mission was only to test the strength of the Battousai."

Danger, adrenaline, killer intent they're all still swirling in his stomach, his chest, taking away his breath, doubling the speed of his heart and it takes effort to rise from that darkness. Saito rises slowly and let's his satisfied smirk show as he speaks, "We're in the middle of something good."

Something pure, force against force, good vs evil ah...these days, when is he still allowed such a thing?

"I won't let you interrupt, even if you are the police commissioner." It's not simply a statement or a promise; it's a thinly veiled threat and they both know it.

"Mr Saito...I know your pride as a member of the Shinshengumi. However, I don't want you, nor Himura, to waste your lives here."Only a man like Toshimishi Okubo, a man who made such a difference in the war, can truly part the fog of insanity that has drifted into his mind. His voice cuts through the strings on his chest, Saito breathes but it still feels as if one foot stands in the middle of the Bakumatsu and the other only dips its toe in the Meji era.

Naturally it takes Himura no time at all to figure out what is going on and already the fight has been interrupted, attention drifting. Okubo has certainly got his priorities straight; his attention fixated on the Battousai and it's clear that Saito's use, for now, has come to its end.

Breathe, he reminds himself again and immediately picks up the irritating sting of a man who should not be here. A man eavesdropping on conversation far beyond his understanding. It seems this time once again needs him to clean up the dirty critters crawling beneath rocks, or dojo steps in this case.

He takes his jacket, a little worn from being wrung around the Battousai's neck, and allows himself the small pleasure of a single taunt.

"The great duel we had going has been ruined. The score will be settled some other day." And what a fight that will be.

"Your life has been spared." The Battousai tells him and it ought not to give him such a leap of pleasure. But it does because it's the Battousai speaking not a waste of space of a man and what's the harm anyway? A good enemy is hard to find.

"No, yours has." He tells the redhead, satisfied of the truth and goes to get rid of the dirt beneath the dojo. Or at least, that's what he intends to when the police commissioner stops him. One final task, then, before he takes his leave.

"Mission report," He tells the man, "Himura Kenshin is no good whatsoever." Softened by the lullabye of peace. Lazy. Harmless. Useless to anybody.

"However, Himura Battousai will do relatively well." He's missing a tooth and his jaw aches just speaking the words. "That is all."

And so it ends; with a missing tooth and a broken sword but Saito knows now that his enemy is still out there. Hidden, perhaps, beneath layers of smiling simpleton but there.

He can't wait till their next encounter.