Author's Notes and General Disclaimer:� Me no own Rurouni Kenshin.� I don't know any simpler way to explain that.� If there are mistakes, they're ones I'm responsible for.� Try not to hold them against me too much, and enjoy the story!

By the way, this is not my usual story fare.� I know I normally deal with Kenshin and Kaoru, but this is an idea I've had floating around in my head (and on my hard drive) for (literally) a few years.� It just feels right to publish it now.� My apologies if it's not what you were expecting, but the story wouldn't let me write it any other way.

What a day.

Budget cuts, political scandals, and morons. MORONS.

Damned bureaucrats. There were days he found himself wishing for the bad old days of the revolution, where "paper work" consisted of intelligence communiqués, the samurai took care of their own damned budgets, and if anyone really pissed him off, well, what was one more body in a dark alley?

Still, he supposed he didn't mean it, not really. It was good to know his family could walk down the street without fear. And, although he'd never admit it, he felt some small sense of pride at having helped achieve that peace. It was a peace that, even now, he struggled to help maintain.

That said, there were still some days when he was absolutely certain that he could solve more problems with his katana than all those sniveling politicians could in years of petty bickering and back-room deals.

There was a knock at the door, temporarily derailing his train of thought.

"Enter." He began to shift through some of the papers on his desk, not bothering to look up at the subordinate who entered. The kid, whichever one this one was, was just a messenger; probably not even a good one at that. He scowled slightly.

"Ah, sir," the young man began, obviously nervous. "Sir, the chief wants to see you. Sir."

Well, at least the kid knew enough to offer proper respect to rank. The man at the desk signed one of the many documents, stamped it with his family seal and set it aside to glance at another report.

The officer at the doorway shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Well?"

"Um, sir," the young man stumbled, "That is, I think he wants to see you now, sir."

"You think or you know or you were ordered to tell me to see him now?"

"Um, well…"

For the first time, the man at the desk glanced up. It was not a nice look.

This kid wouldn't have survived a week in the revolution. The weak ones were always the first to go. And the ones who didn't learn to pay attention to the world around them went even quicker.

If they even made it as far as Kyoto in the first place, that is.

Still, there wasn't much point in berating the kid for something he had no control over. Most people today were frighteningly weak.

Of course, that was why there were people like him. Even though this kid wore the uniform and attempted to command the respect that police officers should have, this particular kid would probably never have to fight anything worse than a stack of reports, might not ever even leave his desk. He was safe. They were all safe.

The wolf was guarding the sheep.

There was probably some moral tale about this somewhere, and it probably didn't end happily.

He stood calmly, appearing unhurried, almost lazy.

"Did the chief say what he wanted?" He had a feeling he it wasn't to invite him for after-work sake. He wasn't the sort of person other officers wanted to hang around with during work hours, let alone after.

"No, sir," the young man said, seeming either frightened or awed by the other man's presence.

"Hn."

The young man jumped to open the door for his superior.

"Um, sir?" he sounded terrified.

A raised eyebrow was the only response.

"Sir," the young officer began, dropping his voice and glancing about the nearly empty hallway, "Sir, I think it may have something to do with the Yoronda case you were working on. I think the chief may be under some extra pressure right now about how it was handled."

The older man paused at the door and glanced at his subordinate.

"Your name?"

"Ho…Hotani, sir," the young man trembled, but didn't look away. "Hotani Yuichiro."

The older officer nodded briefly. "I'll remember that. Dismissed."

Hotani fled.

Interesting. Maybe the boy had more of a brain than he'd given him credit for.

Saito Hajime smirked. Okay, well, maybe the Hotani kid would have lasted a week in the revolution. Stranger things had happened.

He must be losing his edge not to have seen it.

Damn.

And now the chief wanted to talk to him about the Yoronda case. Probably more complaints about how he'd handled things, or more criticism from politicians who didn't understand anything about real work, only that they needed someone to take the rap when things didn't work out the way they wanted them to.

Wonderful, just wonderful.

Oh, yeah, it was one of those days.

Damn, but he needed a cigarette.