Sagara Sanosuke was in trouble.

Not the usual kind of trouble – there were no murderous henchmen's skulls to crack today – but one he considered far more dangerous.

She had lost her mind. There was no other explanation.

For three days, the lady doctor had only conversed with him in quiet tones, lips curled into a demure smile, eyes gazing up at him through those long lashes, the very picture of yamato nadeshiko.

It was completely unnatural.

Megumi was a loud woman with unabashed opinions and straightforward eyes, and she hid her softer side locked so firmly beneath a shell of sarcasm and sharp wit that he had only glimpsed it at the truly trying moments of their odd acquaintance.

They had been enemies first, when Sano had hated her for her hand in his friend's death. Later, they were grudging allies who put up with each other only at the behest of their friends. He eventually was forced to go to her to patch him up when he was more hole than man, and somehow, along the way, they had become friends and commentators on the state of their friends' lives and mental health.

As she vigorously (Sano would say sadistically) bandaged his hand or knee or whatever part of him had been pummeled last, she would bemoan Kaoru's uncertainty when it came to Kenshin, her constant fear that he would take up wandering again. He would agree and wonder why Kenshin wouldn't just settle down with Jo-chan, since it was obvious that would make them both the most happy. Maybe then Jo-chan would stop being so violent, and hell, maybe Kenshin could even teach the girl how to cook a little!

Despite that one area where they had the same opinion, Sano and Megumi fought like cats and dogs the rest of the time they spent in each other's' company. Their personalities wouldn't allow for anything else – the pair of them were too stubborn not to resist jabbing at each other with every chance they got.

So why on earth this woman, who he could have believed didn't have a demure bone in her body, was suddenly a shy, sweet creature that was bandaging his latest wound with gentle, gliding hands, he could not even imagine.

There was something going on here, and he was not seeing what it was, and, staring intently at her as she worked on a cut to his bicep, Sano had a feeling it was meant to end badly for him.

But the worst of it was that this was so wildly unlike her and that somehow pissed Sano off.

"What's gotten into you?" he barked bluntly.

Megumi lifted her gaze to meet his for a second, before flicking her eyes back down, eyelashes fluttering. Sano nearly growled.

"I don't know what you mean, Sano."

Had she ever used his actual name before? Sano was sure she hadn't.

"Cut the bullshit. You're acting like some fresh-faced maiko from Yoshiwara, and it doesn't suit you, fox-lady."

For the first time in three days, he saw a flicker of irritation in the tightening of her mouth, but it smoothed out in the next second and her face was a mask of serenity once more.

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about, Sano. There, all done." She patted his freshly bandaged arm softly.

"Wha-" Sano tried to protest the abrupt end to his interrogation, but was silenced by the same unnervingly gentle fingers on his bicep brushing down the length of his arm, almost to his wrist, as she pulled away.

Sano stared dumbfounded as she walked to assist another patient, her hips swaying under her blue michiyuki.

It didn't end there, either.

Over the next few weeks, when he came to see her for regular checkups on his battered right hand, she spoke to him with her face tucked down and eyes angled up, the words coming from her pretty mouth professional, even as her thumb traced a subtle circle across his knuckles. It was all little things like that: she touched him a second too long when she examined his wounds, her laugh was just slightly breathy, her hair would fall forward and brush his shoulder accidentally. It smelled like sakura petals.

Sano would scowl and bat it away.

He wanted to confront her again, to shake her by the shoulders until she confessed to doing this to him, but part of him wasn't sure.

A doctor did have to have a certain amount of contact with a patient. Was he imagining things?

If he was, his own mind was starting to get to him.

Sano got into a fight three weeks after Megumi had started to go crazy with some punks picking on hapless Tsubame running errands for the Akabeko. One of them had gotten lucky, and when Sano sheepishly slid open the front door of the clinic, head bleeding, Megumi hadn't called him an idiot like usual but at least she rolled her eyes as he sat. He'd grinned at her familiar bothered expression, but the next second had to grit his teeth against a groan as Megumi slid her hands into his hair, her nails gently scraping his scalp as they searched out the growing lump, sending shivers down his spinal cord.

And gods forbid he need aid on an injury somewhere below his belt again, because two days after that he learned the hard way that Megumi with her new-found air of innocence, on her knees before him and tenderly massaging the torn ligament behind his knee was more fucking dangerous than a million Shishio Makotos.

He vowed to stay away from her, until she regained her normally sharp demeanor, but the damned fox woman had already worked under his skin.

He awoke more often than not now gasping for breath, flashes of pale skin and wicked lips fading before his eyes as reality took hold.

"Are you alright, Sano?" Kenshin asked, noting with concern the dark circles ringing his friend's eyes. "You look tired."

Sano grimaced as he sipped his morning tea, both at Kenshin's inquiry and because the tea was made by Kaoru.

"Fine," he grunted, not making eye contact.

"Bet some woman from the red-light district is wearing his good-for-nothing ass out," Yahiko supplied, mouth stuffed with rice and miso. "Hey, Sano, be careful. Heard those ladies can suck a man's soul out of his-"

Kaoru's and Sano's fists landed upside his head at the same time.

"Hey! I was offering some good advice!" the boy shouted indignantly.

"You're about a hundred years too young to be giving me advice on women, brat," Sano snorted, settling back again.

His eyes flicked to Megumi who was reading a doctor's journal and sipping her tea carefully, face calm.

Sano's eyes narrowed. Here she was, perfectly put together and proper, while he felt like he was walking on a fine edge.

It wasn't right that Sagara Sanosuke could be this thrown by a woman that barely reached his shoulder.

He'd find a time to ask her again what the hell was going on in her head, and he wouldn't let her get away this time.