A/N: Hello curious people of the internet! How are you? I've a feeling it wasn't too long ago I saw some of you - you know who you are lovelies - so welcome back.

What is this you may wonder? I have come to bring you another addition to my most beloved and favourite pairing of mine. O ho ho~! Apparently, this is frigging long. No, I didn't write it in one day; yes, I have been thinking about it for a year-been writing tortuously slow in fact, too.

No matter; what this is, is a collection of short stories about said fave pairing. When I say short, not in the traditional sense. They will probably span a couple or three chapters each (possibly of this size) and they will be there to relieve my stress and cure my writer's block, should it appear. Don't fear, and it won't affect my other story, it will most probably boost me to write more.

But since I finally found time to publish it, I'm doing it, before I change my mind.

This was actually inspired by legalronin's: A Meet Cute (Well, Maybe Not So Cute) which is pretty much the same thing, only different AUs and such. You should definitely go check it out, it's great, I loved it. Go check her out in general, all of her stories are golden.

Short version is, have another short, cute re-imagining! First one to a few that will undoubtedly follow. Some may even surprise you, hopefully. Love ya~~

Disclaimer: I wish I did, but I do not own RuroKen. Been wishing the one who did, didn't, too. Also, I have included famous sites/apps in this story, but I didn't even change the name because really, who doesn't know what it is and all? It's not like I'm making profit...

Title: My famous(?) new neighbour.
Genre: Humour, Romance, Slice of Life
Alternative Universe: Neighbours, modernday


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That was the hundredth time she heard that sudden, loud thud today; what the hell was going on? She had headphones on, was buried under her blanket watching a movie on her laptop in her bedroom, the room most removed from the door and any other neighbour, and yet, she could still hear, even feel that. What were people doing? It was the middle of the day; only housewives were home at this time in this apartment complex. And her.

Since she was sure she wasn't the one causing the trouble, then who? No housewife of this building could ever make that much impact, after all.

Apprehensive, she pulled her headphones off – damn thing always snapped hairs off – and waited for another noise. A soft rolling was overheard and then a small pounding on her door. She jolted!

"What the frigging hell—this isn't a horror movie!" she protested loudly to no one other than herself as she clutched at her chest. Making the effort to move to the door, her head fell back, headphones still around her neck. Ah, thankfully the cord didn't break, it wasn't too abrupt. Annoyed at herself, she took their plug off the laptop and headed to the door.

Hunched, shoulders squared, she tiptoed through the hall, grabbing the big one of the three decorative katana she had on her smaller table – still sheathed – finally reaching her destination. She looked outside, ready to strike…but there was no one there.

Ah shit, that was some Stephen King writing in the making, she shivered all over.

Tokio, there's no supernatural, get a grip! The self-scolding worked; shaking her head disappointed, she lowered her sword, bracing herself. Like pulling a tooth, she decided, just be done with it. Her other hand came around the knob and pulled the door open!

Nothing.

Oh wait; she felt something hit her ankle. That was a…round black thing? it was heavy, she decided, too heavy to casually lift with a sword in the other hand, so she opened the door wider, let the thing roll in and looked across the hall.

That is what she got when she stopped paying attention to the gossips of the building: the Akira family was apparently moving out! All sorts of boxes – six by a quick count, exactly as many as the thuds – stood by the open door of the now empty apartment. Huh, bare walls felt so outlandish to see across from her, but there they were and she had no idea. Instead of picking the round thing up though, she lightly kicked it, testing how far it would go. When it covered too small a distance, she went after it, giving it another nudge, stronger this once.

Deeming the distance satisfactory, she kept lightly kicking the thing towards its original place, until both reached right outside the Akira's family doorstep. Oh man, it was a little depressing…the impressions of the photos or mirrors on the walls, shade of beige brighter where it wasn't exposed, left her with a feeling of loss. Dust had settled in at places, dirt carried in by the draft; windows wide open, leading to the large balcony. She always envied that balcony to be honest—so wide and long, perfect for summer gatherings with friends, and if one kept the window doors open, the size was quadrupled, accompanied by the space offered by the living room.

Her head peaked inside, foot resting on the weight. She had come to recognise the round thing as part of an ankle weight; those were the professional type, maybe an athlete's. It stood to reason, seeing Akira-san's son was into judo. Hesitantly, she walked inside, finally picking up the black, perfectly round ball—it had become an ego thing by that point; Akira's son was a twig of a person, who got into judo to build some muscle – and character, as I did at his age, his father would constantly brag – so if he could wear it around his ankle for a long period of time, she would sure as hell be able to lift it.

"Akira-san," she called out "are you here? Are you guys leaving?"

She'd miss that quiet, stereotypical family of theirs; despite all their shortcomings, they were good people in the end, easy going and tolerant of her numerous peculiarities. It would be hard to find such good neighbours again…and she despised change, sudden one to boot.

"Akira-san," she drawled, a little bolder now "where are you? Hasn't anyone told you not to leave your things unattended outside like that? What if someone stole them? Well, not all of them, they'd have to be a gang so someone would see them and stop them…but what if they stole something expensive? Or even something that's only precious to you and gets taken with other things? Akira-san, be more careful," she drawled, sing song voice a little bored "I could have easily been a burglar…!"

"Are you?"

A voice she did not recognise.

"KYAH!

A man's voice, deep and unwavering. She jumped out of her skin, immediately turning around, hands glued to her sides. But what she saw didn't match the picture of the yakuza thug her mind had drawn up instantly – eye patch on from a fight, maybe a scar or two – nor did the age: his voice sounded much older than this man in his late twenties standing in front of her, wearing casual clothes and a judgemental look on his face.

Her hear beat a mile per minute. "Wh-who are you?" she questioned, torn between fight or flight. There was something very predatory in the way his eyes pierced her, coupled with their almost unnatural amber hue.

"The new owner of this house; you?"

She breathed a sigh of relief, sagging pathetically in front of him. "I'm your new neighbour," she tried to be as upbeat as possible, but her previous fright did not allow her too much leeway. "Name's Takagi Tokio, hello."

"Do you always greet your neighbours with a sword?"

Only just realising she was still holding it, her face became deep red, but her smile was large and apologetic.

"I'm so sorry about the sword, I had it with me because I heard noises…I live alone…I scare easily…" her voice was becoming smaller by the word as she attempted to hide said instrument of death behind her back. It was a lost cause, seeing the blade alone was a metre long and she stood at 1.62 at most, aka on her toes.

"I see…is that one of my weights in your hand?"

"Oh, yes! That's the reason I'm here on the first place; kept hearing noises and then something hit my door, I was scared as hell, I took the sword to protect myself and opened the door to find it at my feet. It obviously rolled all the way there."

She had never talked so fast her entire life! she took a long breath and this one succeeded in giving the brightest most awkward smile she had ever graced anyone with.

"Glad to confirm you are definitely not a burglar."

Alright, now he was just teasing her; she noticed that twitch of his lip, the internal struggle not to laugh in her face, that forced severe expression. He was mighty intimidating by height alone, towering over her like that – despite being a good three metres away – and the fact he was carrying seemingly effortlessly three of those heavy boxes that lay outside his home.

She shook her head. "Excuse me for intruding, I didn't mean to," she said in the end, picking the higher road "I'll leave you to it…sorry if I scared you, too."

Oh yes, a tiny woman with a sword she didn't even know how to hold, how intimidating. The only time he'd been on edge was before he actually saw her and then till he made sure she wasn't a thief. But then again…who has ever heard of a thief in hot shorts and crop tops, with mismatched shocks and headphones that they were not even wearing? Not to mention she wasn't wearing any other type of footwear. And her hair was a mess, a tangle at the back with black hairs sticking out at all directions.

Reading his mind, she shook her head violently. "Let me save a little face, will you?"

He chuckled, finally giving her a break. "Sure thing."

"So, um, I live right across from you so…if you need anything, just knock on the door. I work from home so I'm nearly always there. Well, not always, but usually; I mean, I do go out to buy groceries and such, maybe socialise with people…sometimes they come over too though—but they don't stay too late, don't worry."

Crap, her mouth was running away from her again. She cleared her throat. "So whatever you need, just a knock away…"

Embarrassed, she turned to leave, praying to god she would be left alone for the next decade—

"Knock knock."

—but no such luck, as he just addressed her again. Fuck. She took a deep breath. "Yes?"

"I'mma need that weight back."

Why?

Why did she have to be the most awkward part of herself in front of this complete, tall, gruff yet cool stranger?

"Right; I was just…sorry. I'll leave it on the—…"

She just stopped talking. On the what, Tokio her mind screamed at her? the dresser? The table? That none existed so far!? And the fact he seemed to be enjoying this so much could drive her positively mad.

She exhaled, determined look suddenly taking over. "Know what? I'm done. Here, take your weight," she left it carefully on the floor, as she walked towards the exit he was still blocking "take my dignity with it. But what I said still applies you know! You shouldn't leave your stuff unattended like that. We haven't had many instances of theft, but you never know. And what's that?"

She noticed three large plastic containers in that unmistakable paint-size and style. There were three used and one unused brushes accompanying them, rolls and all, paint buckets piled one into the other. "You wanna paint the house?"

"If you can already tell, why ask?"

"You could have finished a job and brought the left overs."

Ah, right, this person was a stranger in his brand-new living room brandishing a sword; she did not know him or what he did for a living. "I want to freshen up things a little."

"Oh, I see." from smartass to conversational in an instant, she knelt to inspect the containers; when she didn't get what she wanted just by looking at it, she shamelessly took the lid off of one and looked inside. "That's cool," she said then, taking a whiff "I love the smell of paint, don't you?" Her ability to charge through topics like that left him staring. "So what colour are you painting it?"

"…what do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?"

"The colour is right there."

She looked confused; he mirrored her expression. That went on for a while until she widened her eyes nearly scandalised. "You can't be serious of course! That's white—all of it."

"I am aware, seeing as I was the one who purchased them."

"You can't paint an entire house white, that's ridiculous! What's your name?" She cut off her own tirade for a second.

"Saitou Hajime."

"You can't paint an entire house white, Saitou Hajime, that's ridiculous," she picked right where she had left off "not to mention incredibly boring and ordinary. Are you married?"

"No…"

"Attached?"

"No."

"Then you have to paint the house something else otherwise you'll never be able to bring anyone here! Unless you enjoy living alone, in which case my only criticism is the offense to my own aesthetic."

He blinked. "I happen to like white."

She scoffed; he felt nearly offended.

"No one likes white; it's the choice of those who are too bothered to think about it. White is the base, not the final colour. As if it wasn't enough Akira-san was wasting this place, leaving it this drab beige." Turning about, she all but stomped to the largest wall of the living room, hands outstretched in front of her. "Look at this wall; look at its potential. See that column there? Easily a dark shade of peach; the rest of the living room a mellow orange-yellow, savouring of sunset; every column that darker colour. That is if your furniture matches it. What colour is your furniture?"

"Black."

"Hmm, not bad; we could do with a silver-grey, too. Maybe a bold orange then—but not red in the kitchen," seeing they were connected "they say it makes you hungry. Or edgy. Neither of which are good. So that rules it out for the bedroom, too." She considered, hand on chin. "A nice light purple with darker shades at the columns would be a great choice for the bedroom; or something blue. Those are relaxing colours for sleep. If your bed and all are black, too, it'll look perfect. Maybe a bordeaux if your personality is confrontational."

She turned to look at him, as fast as her thoughts. "How much time do we have to work with? Do you have to be back to work soon?"

"I took the week off because of the move."

"Great! Look, there's this hardware store, not two blocks from here—amazing! Has all you need and then some. It's quite cramped but they do have everything. We'll go there, look at the colours and decide what's best. Do you have any pictures of said furniture?"

"They're coming tomorrow."

"I want to see them now, genius," she remarked, unamused "anyway, no matter; are they modern or that classic style?"

"Minimalistic."

She had taken him so much by surprise, he couldn't not answer her questions; her intensity was compelling as well as her commitment to his walls. This woman went through moods and emotions fast!

"Oooh, then I have to say we should stick with silver-grey." She scoffed again. "White? How ridiculous."

He shrugged. "It's a decent colour to be surrounded by."

"Just come with me," she went on, shaking her head; noticing the boxes again, she pointed "pull those inside and close the door behind you once you are sure you have your keys."

"Yes ma'am." He did as she ordered; he really wanted to see how far she'd go with this.

"How long did you plan to take to paint the entire house?"

"A day…?"

"The entire house!?"

"A friend is coming over to help, we'll manage."

The doubt on her face was evident.

.

The doorbell jingled as the two of them entered the cluttered shop, outlets spilling out from shelves and cords or laces hanging out.

"Ken-san! Hello, hello; how are you?"

The old man behind the counter smiled the moment his brain registered the voice, before he even looked up.

"Ah, if it isn't Tokio-chan. What are you doing here so soon?" She went for the colour palette, knowing where it is by heart, and Ken-san frowned. "It's been three months since you last painted your house."

"This isn't for me, it's for Hajime-san."

Said man gave a little bow, as he informed "I am Hajime-san."

"My new neighbour and, can you believe it," she put the colour chart down "he wanted to paint his house white."

The old man gasped. "You didn't," he said in a really adorable way that Saito couldn't help but smile at.

"He did."

"Oh lord…"

"Seeing what I want is inconsequential, though" story of his life, it seems "we came here so she could choose new colours, for my home, in which I will be living in."

"Hush, you have no taste."

But the old man's hearty laugh put an end to their argument. "Don't worry, son, when it comes down to it, it's always the woman that makes these decisions. I'm sure you are better at something else." Many things, Saitou was certain. "Though I don't understand why don't you just move in together."

"Oh, we—Hajime-san and I aren't in a relationship," she easily cleared the misunderstanding, polite and upbeat. But then a longsuffering sigh escaped her, smile turning sad. "Haven't been in one for a long, long time now, come to think of it…a year…"

He had to summon his darkest thoughts in order not to laugh in her face. "Want me to call a friend of yours to talk about it?"

She glared. "You're one to talk! Didn't you tell me you were single?"

"I was married till half a year ago…"

"What!? How old are you?" She wanted to punch that smug sneer of his.

"Twenty-nine."

"And you've been married and divorced already? Leave something for the rest of us…"

The shopkeeper seemed perplexed. "How long have you known each other?"

Saitou looked at his watch. "Give or take half an hour."

The man was gobsmacked, kept looking from her to him in shock and panic; Tokio didn't seem to care or notice him, going back to the colour chart, but Saitou knew. He agreed. His own eyes widened in relief he found some solidarity and shook his head.

"So, what do you think about this colour?" She tapped her finger against the petrol spectrum. "Combined with this for the most of the walls." He leaned in.

"Tokio-chan, don't you think you shouldn't?"

"Ken-san," she demanded his attention; not only the man intended, but Saitou too looked at her "I know better." But why did Saitou expect something better was the real question? "Will you look at the damn colours? Show me some of your furniture, too!"

"I know what they look like and that's enough," he dismissed her but made the effort to take a look at them.

Shit. He really liked those colours; the black shade of his three piece in the living room would look very pronounced with this certain hue. And this one, for most surfaces, was a nice mixture of petrol and grey, damn. She actually had a good eye for these things.

"If the dictator says it's alright," he tried to cover it up, shrugging "then I guess we'll have them."

"Splendid!" She clapped. "These colours, Ken-san, the second for, what, three rooms? One full container for the other is enough I think. We could always get some to mix ourselves…"

"No need, Tokio-chan; they are ready. But they have to be painted white underneath for the colour to be that exact shade, yes?"

"Yes, I know; how much time should we wait between first and second hand?"

Ken-san considered. "…it's summer now so no longer than half an hour."

"Ah, nice; we can finish before sunset! Thank you so much, Ken-san! We'll take it now, please."

"As you wish."

When he returned, a younger man who also knew the woman – he blushed at the sight of her and stumbled to speak but called her by her name – carried the heavy stuff, while Ken-san simply brought in some brushes. They were small and just what they needed!

"For the detailed parts," he explained to a curious Saitou, who was relieving the young man from his weight.

Tokio beamed at them! "Thank you so much, again; you are a life saver. Bye Ken-san, Ken-san Two, have a great day."

Just before she exited, she made a motion to the older man, one that simulated writing; he nodded knowingly and bowed after them. Winking, she ushered Saitou outside.

But just as then, the man patted himself down, anxiously. Oh no. "Good thing this place is close, I forgot my wallet in the car," he almost spat out "stay here and-…what? why are you waving me away?"

"We paid the man. Let's go."

"No, we didn't; no money was exchanged." She pursed her lips. "I didn't pay this person."

"Ken-san and I have an understanding, don't worry. Come on."

He didn't move. "I won't let a stranger pay for my expenses."

"If the stranger insists on you making those expenses without asking you if you can afford them or not, then you should." He stared. "No, really, it's on my tab now. It's done, it's written; it can't be unwritten. Come." He stared harder; his face was a dead-set frown. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll carry it, I don't care."

When she attempted to pry the load off of his hands, he actually withdrew himself, offended beyond belief! "What are you doing?"

"Helping myself to one of the containers?"

"Don't you dare," he growled and started walking back to their building. "How much was it?"

She shrugged. "I'll find out when I come to pay for it."

He could strangle her right now. "Why didn't you ask?"

"Ken-san never takes advantage of the trust his customers show and Ken-san Two develops a crush on every woman who enters the shop twice, so I have nothing to worry about."

He really wanted to strangle her; she was lucky he had his hands full, otherwise he'd kill her!

Only he never did.

Not only did he not strangle her, he didn't even have the heart or time to chase her away. With Okita's "running a little late. Be there in an hour" text, the blow dealt to morale and schedule was too great to ignore. And seeing she was more than ready to get down and dirty, pointing out how this or that should be done and suggesting ways to integrate the colours or styles of things, he couldn't afford to send her on her merry way.

"Don't climb on the ladder with the entire thing, you'll fall," he commented when he caught her with the edge of his eyes.

He had his back at her, painting the wall looking out to the balcony with a roll; she had mounted her roll on one of the two shafts he had brought, staggering each step of the way.

"Ceilings are always white, everyone knows that."

"We already painted it. And that's not what I said."

"The ceilings will remain white, so they need a second layer." She looked at her watch. "Where's that friend of yours anyway?"

"He's coming…I still advise you to get off the ladder."

"You are so uptight," she complained as she ascended the steps.

His grin was skewed. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"It is. It most definitely is."

"Just make sure you don't fall off otherwise I'll have a problem explaining to any sort of doctor exactly what happened."

"I'll be fine, Hajime, stop bossing me around."

"Better luck asking the rooster not to crow," teasing was heard behind her and she immediately turned to the source of the sound. "Hello there; I'm-"

"Souji, he's Okita Souji" Hajime rushed through formalities, thundering at the short man "and you're late."

"I know, I'm sorry pal; the missus wanted my help with a couple of things."

"If that's a euphemism for sex, I'll paint you, too," the taller man threatened.

"If that's a euphemism for sex, good for him, leave him alone. Don't listen to him, Okita-san, he's been like this the entire morning."

"Don't you worry, I know what he's like; and he's like this at any given time of day," he assured her amused "whoever you are…"

"Oh, right, you don't know me. I'm Takagi Tokio, hello. I'm his new neighbour! I live right across the hall."

A glint appeared in the man's eye that went unexplained.

"I see; how nice of you to help him, Tokio-chan."

She smiled carefree in return; immediately, her focus shifted back to the task at hand. The moment she did, Okita all but interrogated Saitou, as silently as possible, with exaggerated stares, gestures and mouthed words. Pretty much flummoxed, Saitou kept shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. No, he had no idea how he was roped into this; no, he didn't know this person previously; no, he didn't get her to do it—he wanted her out of here. Well, maybe not out, but he didn't ask her to do anything. Anything.

Okita struggled not to laugh out loud.

"Instead of whispering behind my back, why don't you grab a brush or roll and get to it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he conformed in an instant. But just as he was about to dip his unused roll into the paint, he stopped short and stared. "Wait, what colour is this?" He looked up alerted. "Saitou, they gave you the wrong paint—this is blue…ish."

"No, that's the right colour." Her tone implied that was undisputable. "No one should have to paint their house white."

The short man looked between him and her startled; when Saitou sighed, resigned, Okita chuckled, disbelief yet glee plastered on his face. Who in earth was this woman who managed to convince Saitou Hajime of all people, to change his mind on something like this?

"And that's for the columns and the protrusions. If you wanna go at it at a wall pick one of the other two."

"What, two colours? Oh my, how trendy of you, Saitou!"

"Shut up or I'll bury you."

"Don't wanna be buried I guess, so I'm shutting up." A pause. "How long have you guys been here?"

"Couple of hours."

"And only now we're getting to actually painting the house!?"

"We had to do it in white first, idiot; can't apply the other colour otherwise."

"In other words, while you and your misses were getting your kicks, we painted this house twice," Tokio said with meaning, earning a collective snort of laughter.

"Man, I wish; she had me move things around actually—my back is killing me."

"You're too young to complain about your back," Saitou snubbed.

"You say that coz you're the pinnacle of health, bastard. We can't all be blessed with such good genes and a tireless appetite for training."

"Genes have little to do with it."

"Genes have everything to do with it," Tokio countered from the ladder "ask me, I should know. I can't get myself lower a certain weight no matter what—genes are important."

They could see what she meant; she was curvy and a little rounder than most women. She was lucky though, the fat deposits were all in the "right" places, as far as what was socially acceptable was concerned. Small waist, tiny compared to her thighs, ample breasts and a soft looking butt. Sure, she could do with losing a few, but she was still pleasing to the eye.

To Saitou's eye at least.

"Weight and being healthy aren't always related," he said instead, "and your weight ranges within normal limits. He's just lazy, hates making the effort."

"But he's so thin."

"That's my good genes; I can eat a wild boar at one sitting."

Tokio held him in her gaze for a while, death in her eyes. "Prick."

Tokio was on and off the ladder a number of times; somehow, the shortest person in the room, decided the highest places were best suited for her. She would help in other departments, too and coordinate them well, but she had exclusively handled the ceilings and tricky corners. The really detailed stuff as well as columns and protrusions were left to Okita though, who proved to be an expert with that brush.

Saitou took the biggest walls, easily and steadily blowing through them, with his long hands and even longer reach. The blessing was that by the time they finished one room, the other had pretty much dried and they could at any moment go back to it. but they kept the order clear cut: living room - kitchen, bedroom, guest room and bathroom. The small storing loft, right above the bathroom door, was left alone mostly, other than one hand of white paint that of course Tokio did, per her desire to climb high.

She was the last to finish with all of her appointed tasks, too. Not only did she work more leisurely, she also had to tell them what to do and how at times, so she'd stop her chore to check on theirs. Plus, she didn't feel like she was in a hurry, like the other two did for some unfathomable reason.

She was in fact up on that ladder, adding the finishing touches to the living room ceiling corners – that Saitou had messed up a little with his fast but careless movements – singing something just for herself while the other two were taking their most deserved rest. Sitting down on the floor, they could finally put their backs against something, namely the boxes he had brought with him that contained only the essentials.

Okita sighed satisfied, melting against the paper. "Would you look at that…it took us all day, but we are done."

Saitou hummed content, inspecting their handiwork. Both forearms rested on his bended knees, looking as relaxed as ever. What he saw was not bad at all. He hated to admit it, but having that crazy person around made their life easier. She not only guided them but was there before Okita ever came. If it weren't for her, they'd have to come back tomorrow.

His eyes slid – more like returned – to her being as carefree as ever, still crooning an unrecognisable tune. He wasn't sure he even knew the language, she was that much of an oddball. But, he realised with dread, he had to thank her, this strange thing in front of him.

"She really helped," Okita read his thoughts in a low tone, hand ruffling through his own light brown tresses "she's earnest."

He hummed in agreement once more, a little sour this once; Okita chuckled. "Don't have to do it now; get her something nice once you settle in, she'll appreciate it."

"We'll see…"

"Though, I really have to ask, does she realise what she's wearing?"

Both men's stares concentrated and intensified at exactly the same spot: her half-exposed ass. They didn't even have to look at one another to know that's what they were talking about, they didn't even have to specify; hell, he didn't even have to mention it, they both noticed the other look or somehow signal to the other to notice.

"No, I don't think she does. She was holding a katana when I first saw her and didn't realise that either."

Okita burst out laughing. "A what!?"

"An actual, real katana. I saw it up close, no replica—looked hefty, too."

"Where did she even get it?"

"That I didn't ask. Why don't you?"

"I will." He gave his friend a look. "Should we tell her about the other thing though?"

A smirk. "Be my guest."

"I'll sound like a pervert!"

"And I won't?"

"She's already come to terms with the idea you're an asshole," he could not avoid the elbow to the gut "she'll just have one more reason to think so."

Another smirk. "But I don't wanna." Okita had to laugh again. "Yet, I won't stop you from doing it…"

The tune died down just then and she climbed off the ladder; they knew because they kept staring at her; they didn't even have to act indifferent when she turned around because they knew just how to act and when, to appear innocuous.

"Oooof, that's finally over with! You should really pay more attention, Hajime-san."

His I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about look was flawless. "Ask Okita, I've been really attentive all day."

"Attentive, my ass! It took me twenty minutes to fix your carelessness." Stupid slang phrases, he nearly had a heart attack! And Okita all but died laughing next to him. "What's his deal?"

"Nothing, Tokio-chan, nothing…just remembered about the sword." That was just spoken of, how sly of him. And the way she changed a thousand colours in a fleeting second was so funny. "How did you come by it I wonder?"

"Ah, that was a gift. It's part of a set of three: that katana, a wakizashi and a ko-wakizashi. They are all hand-crafted by the same man, bearing same colours and crests."

The two men stared, but it was Saitou who made the obvious question. "Why would anyone give you such a gift?"

"It was recognition for my work, if you must know."

"Yeah, come to think of it, you've been here all day; don't you have a job to go to?"

"She works from home," Saitou informed, "hence she gets to bother her neighbours full time."

Saitou ignored her murderous glare, thus Okita ignored the offense on Saitou's face when she kicked his shin with a vengeance. "That sounds incredibly interesting, Tokio-chan! What is it that you do?"

She looked high and mighty, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "I'm a writer."

"As in, you make a living out of it?"

The doubt in his voice and face was so potent, she had to kick him again, but on the other shin. He gave her the evil eye.

"I make a fine living out of it."

"Then how come I have never heard of you?"

He would have let it go, had she not hit him a second time.

"I don't use my real name. But people who read my stuff a lot, know it…and my face, most probably, since I post a lot on social media."

"What's your pseudonym, Tokio-chan?" Okita decided to ask, to spare himself the oncoming battle.

"It's Akai."

And they immediately recognised who she was, as witnessed by the look of utter amazement and disbelief.

"You're the super-famous author Akai of The Romantic Samurai series?" She nodded proudly to Okita's incredulity. "You must be loaded!"

"I was born into a wealthy family anyway, but sure, now I can say I am wealthy all on my own, pay for my eccentricities myself."

"Good for you," Hajime started "those books are well-known for keeping very faithful to history. I read the first one myself and it was enjoyable. Also, I expected you much older…what are you, twenty-five?"

"Seven."

"You're a highly prolific writer, so I figured you'd be at least in your late thirties, but…no."

Saitou seemed to be honest and she had to stare. "Is that a real compliment? For me?" She giggled. "How did you come by my book?"

"Our superior is a fan, but…my ex-wife Yaso, she adores your books; you are her favourite author." Now it was her turn to look on in utter amazement. "Has two copies of each one: one for reading and one for storing."

"Aw that's nice of her. But dude, that sucks; you came here after the divorce was finalised – I guess – and you ran right into a reminder of your ex? Harsh."

"Ah, please, no; I am not attached to her. One of the reasons that led to said divorce."

"The other being she's a greedy hag who-,"

"Okita…!"

He stopped instantly. "Sorry."

Her cheeks burned. "I didn't mean to pry, sorry."

"No, it's fine. But we've known you for, what, half a day? Ex wife bashing is an at least two-month acquaintance achievement."

At least he wasn't bitter about the break up, that was a good thing; she laughed along with the other two. But then had an idea. "Did you say she's like a super-fan?"

"Pretty much; follows you on all of your sites."

A malicious grin appeared on her face. "Do you want to make her sting?" The men looked at one another. "Really hurt and seethe all over?"

"Yes," came the natural answer from Okita. She waited until Saitou nodded, too though.

"Then I have just the thing. Wait."

She took out her cell phone; data connection on, apps on the ready. Twitter and Instagram were both needed for this. She started writing. They watched on interested. It took a couple of minutes but she was finally ready. "Now smile!"

She snapped a selfie with Okita jumping into the frame with a peace sign and Saitou, who only just realised what was going on, ducking as far away as he could. "Hahahaha, Hajime! You have to be in the picture, come on." She saw he was surprisingly easy to distinguish so she deemed it satisfactory. "Meh, it's fine; it feels in character, too."

"Wait, you're posting that?" Okita asked incredulous.

"Yeah, sure; tags and everything. Follow me at notthatromanticallyinclinedauthor on all platforms."

"Alright!" Okita exclaimed and immediately did the same as her, opening the data and logging in.

"I don't have an account on any of them," Hajime warned "don't look at me."

"Cute profile pic, Tokio-chan," the short man noted when he saw she had the same picture on all media: she was face to face with a huge Akita Inu, puffing up her cheeks, wearing a flower crown.

"Aw, thanks; that's my sister's dog. He's a huge softie."

A beat of silence and then Okita laughed. "Tokio, that's brilliant!" A scroll down. "Here, read this," he shoved the phone in Saitou's face. "Read from here onward."

Okita had taken him to the twitter thread she made only seconds ago, consisting of a series of tweets, all about their first meeting. It read:

Story time!

Yours truly is the single most unaware person in the entire country. My neighbours moved out and I didn't catch on at all, until the new one came in this very morning! Heard the racket and thought they're moving out.

They already had.

I saw boxes and assumed it was them…but it wasn't.

I kept hearing strange sounds, too and you know what a scaredy-cat I am.

So, something knocks on my door and I FREAK; grab sword from the display and head to the door; hello? No one answers. I open the door…no one's there. Only a black, perfect rounded ball of LEAD hitting my ankle.

It was a weight, Tokio, why didn't you realise from the beginning?

So, I try lifting the thing; heavy af, know what I mean? So, I kick it to my destination: the neighbours. Door was wide open tho; I walk in, pick up the weight. I look around. No one in sight. I call for my neighbour; nothing.

I kept calling and talking until someone answered.

Definitely not the voice I expected.

Even more freaked out, I turn around; there's a stranger at the door, tall and scary and at this point, I have shat my pants; faking composure, I demand the intruder's identity…!

I'm the owner, he says. Hashtag firstimpressionskids hashtag theymatter hashtag dontbelikeme

I DIED. Hashtag embarrassed, hashtag IDIOT

Turns out he's the new neighbour. And I'd just walked into his house uninvited, holding his weight as a rock and brandishing a katana in his face. FML

He took it well tho; didn't kick me out on sight and listened to my suggestions about what colours to paint his house. Hashtag notreallyasuggestion hashtag didntreallylisteneither hashtag buthadnochoicenowhesstuckwithme

Said a friend would come over to help him with the actual labour. Hashtag friendwasawfullylate hashtag toobusyboninghisgirlfriend hashtag stillaprettycoolguytho

Long story short, we just finished painting the house! Took us till sundown but turned out great. Jump over to see the happy workers. hashtag mediajump jashtag hatepostingpicshere hashtag loveyoubabes

And then, Okita immediately opened Instagram, to see the photo they had just taken: a winking Tokio, a peace-signing Okita, looking taller than usual because he was still mid jump and himself, clearly there, but only distinguishable to those who knew him, trying to escape the frame.

Tall neighbour doesn't like having his picture taken lol, it read underneath.

"When did you manage to write all of that?"

She shrugged, smile wide. "I write fast."

"Let's see if it'll wor-"

Okita's words died in his throat when they all heard Saitou's phone ring; exchanging looks, he took it out to see "Ex-wife" calling him. The anticipation built up every fraction of a second it kept ringing.

He swiped to answer but put her on speaker. "Yes?"

"You absolute ass Saitou Hajime! You are the new neighbour of my favourite author!?"

Her voice was shrill and full of emotion, they all winced. "What are you talking about?" he faked bewilderment perfectly.

"Akai—Tokio! Takagi Tokio."

"That's the name of my new neighbour, how did you know?"

"Because that's Akai, you moron! It's her nom-de-plume, she's the author."

"I see; then yes." A pause. "How did you know?"

The suspicion in his voice killed both; they were already trying not to laugh, but now it was too hard to even breathe!

"How—she posted it all over Twitter! She helped you paint your house!?"

"Tch, I hate these things; I'll ask her to take it down." Most extra yes in the history of mankind, but it did its job, as they heard her screech for no particular reason. "I should say thanks for telling me but I didn't appreciate hearing you so there's that."

"NODONTHANGUP!"

"What the hell Yaso?"

"Can you…ask her for an autograph for me? Or a signed copy?" The silence turned heavy as the laughter died down. "Do that and I promise to give up on the car."

"…you give up the car, and I'll send you the entire collection."

"Done! I'm calling my lawyer right now!" The pat on Saitou's back was a little more violent than a regular one from Okita; he was a little enthusiastic. "Oh and…Hajime…what's she like in person?"

His eyes slid to her; hers were warning. "…positively insane."

"Not that; I meant if…never mind. You'll hear from my lawyer. Bye."

"Bye."

She hanged up.

"Heeeeeeeey, look who's getting the car back!" Okita all but jumped on his back "Tokio, you're awesome!"

"Why thank you; but what do I get for my services? I mean, he got a car, she'll get a bunch of books…"

"I'll let you arrange the furniture tomorrow." Her eyes sparkled. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Oh my god, I always wanted to be an interior designer, only I never really had time for it. Entrust me with it, and I promise I'll make this a place you never wanna leave." She already started looking around, to see where could go what according to potential shape and size. "Will you show me the damn furniture already so I can have a head start?"

"I don't have the damn furniture in my phone; I know what my living room looks like."

"Saitou, you finished buying the furniture not two months ago; they'll still be online, just show her."

He grunted; she shook her head.

"You know boys, the place needs to stay open overnight; so why don't we take the boxes and move them to my place? And let's stay there for tea or something, I need the pick-me-up."

She stretched then…and felt something out of place, apparently, that caused her to look down at herself. She stared; she stayed like that for a long time then, processing the new information. Her colour started changing.

"I'll, uh," she rotated her pointer fingers, settling them towards her apartment "need to, um, change," she started backtracking that way "so why don't you start lifting boxes while I lock myself in my room and proceed to scream without actually producing any sound for the next ten minutes?"

"That'd be a nice follow up to your other posts," Saitou suggested as she was leaving and he could still see steam blowing out of her ears.

"I didn't realise I never changed out of my shorts okay!?" She really screamed that one, already out the door. "I hate wearing these around other people!" she was heard but no longer seen.

The two men looked at one another. "Bet other people don't, though," he commented shrewedly and Okita burst out laughing. "Let's take the boxes across the hall."

.

Tea was a quiet affair. Modest, too; Tokio had changed into a simple, blue summer dress – barely above her knee – perfect for welcoming newcomers. She was actually a good hostess, Saitou had to give it to her, for she brought out snacks along with the tea in the same tray and even turned off the air-condition, per their request. They of coursed geeked out over the swords a little, surprised to see them so well-maintained and sharp. They even had a plaque underneath that detailed the date the swords were made and gifted by the Shigaku zasshi, as well as the name of the craftsman.

"You do the maintenance yourself, Tokio-chan?"

"Naturally; I did a lot of research on the Japanese sword, seeing it's the weapon the main character uses, as well as the majority of the cast. I even sharpen it myself when I feel like it—have the whole set somewhere in the house. Use it on kitchen knives, too, very effective."

She held out her palms, proud, to show them they were littered with scars of all sizes; then she flipped them and noticed some small scars on the upside, too, as well as on her wrists and a little lower. "I'm such a klutz, but it's worth it. I make the prettiest dishes."

"Awwwwww," Okita fawned "that's so cute; for whom?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who's the lucky guy who gets to eat your pretty dishes?"

She dimmed; Saitou tried not to laugh. "We don't talk about relationships in front of Tokio."

"I'm single, is what he means," she glared "no lucky guy; lucky siblings instead. And parents. And a sister and brother in law. One nephew. And friends." A pause. "Huh; I give out a lot of food, turns out."

"If you're in the habit of giving out food in general, slide a plate or two my direction some time…if you're any good at cooking that is."

She actually slapped his arm! Okita tried not to die laughing, today that'd be the goal. "Don't try to win yourself a free meal by insulting the person who's going to give it to you, it's bad manners. Wait, did you hear that?"

A short but loud sound; both men looked down at Hajime's cell phone. "I have a text." All looked at the screen at the same time. "It's Yaso's lawyer; says he's drawn up the paperwork."

"Awesome."

Okita extended his palm, and Saitou hit it without even looking up. The smirk of satisfaction appeared on his face. "I guess all that's left is for me to go buy your books and have you sign them…"

"My friend, I keep at least two copies of each around the hose; I can give them to you. I can even throw in a special deal and give her a book with some of my notes in it; you could bargain for a little more with it."

"…why would you do that?"

"Why not, she'll leave you alone."

"No, I know, obviously that's good for me; why would you do it, though?"

She shrugged, "I picked a side now, it's too late to change it." She made a face. "I hate change." Then a devious smile formed. "And I can get you to do something for me one day that you'd otherwise say no to."

"Hahaha, you go Tokio-chan."

"Besides, I'm a bad neighbour; I could come knocking on your door at three in the morning because I heard weird noises from downstairs. I want you to have at least one good memory of me before that time comes."

"Sly fox."

"Nah, don't worry, Tokio-chan. Saitou is very traditional, loves being the man women go to when in fear and doubt."

"What the idiot means is that I'm tolerant when it comes down to one's safety," he explained while trying to grab the short man by the head, but he kept being illusive.

"Glad to hear it; expect a lot of intrusions on my part. The Akira family had basically drawn up a schedule for when I was allowed to pester them, so I suggest you do the same."

This and that, time passed. And when Okita's phone rang, it was his fiancé, they decided to call it a day. "So, you'll be staying with Souji, yes?"

There was a pause from both men then, looking devoid of any emotion. They stared at her for a long time…

"I never asked him."

"I never thought of it."

They spoke at the same time; she shook her head. "Where did you think you'd stay? Where have you been staying till now?"

"…I rented a small flat; the contract ended today." He blanked. "I never realised the house wouldn't be ready to live in today."

"Shit; me neither."

She had to laugh at their simple-mindedness. "Ah, yes, manly men; would finish painting an entire house in two hours and have enough time to move in the furniture." She ignored their annoyance.

"What're you gonna do now? I'd gladly...but Ka-chan, my Ria-chan's sister, is staying over tonight."

What awful timing; he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I can go to a hotel, I suppose."

Tokio scoffed. "Anywhere decent is booked this time of year; you don't wanna end up next to a booty call or worse, do you?"

"What am I supposed to do? I'm not asking for my previous flat, even for one night; the guy is an asshole."

"And both Nagakura and Harada have their in-laws around…"

A low sound was produced by both men as they raked their brains. "I'll tell Ria-chan to cancel with Ka-chan; it can't be helped."

"Do this and Ka-chan will be vindictive for the rest of her life, you know what she's like."

"You won't sleep in your car, dude, no matter how much you like it."

"I'll find a room somewhere, don't cancel it."

"No, I'm calling right now, consider yourself invited."

"Okita, no."

"There's no—give me my phone back, prick."

"No way, idiot; go. I'll be fine."

"You can crush here," Tokio finally suggested, after looking between them this entire time, trying to find the perfect moment to say what she wanted. That only caused both of them to turn to her shocked, nearly offended though; she was confused. "What?"

"You don't know me; I could be a psychopath."

"Are you?"

"Does what I say matter?"

"He's right, Tokio-chan, you don't know him at all. Don't be too trusting with people."

"If either of you wanted to do anything to me you could have done so the previous, what, six hours we spent holed up and no one knew about it? Now I snapped a photo of him and established a relationship of sorts; should anything happen to me, he'd be the first suspect." She turned to him. "And you don't look like an idiot to me." She shrugged. "I have a perfectly fine guest room, clean and orderly. I'd suggest the couch but you're too tall for it."

"I don't think…" Saitou looked at Okita for help, but his friend appeared to be convinced by her arguments. "What do you think?"

"Stay, man, sounds reasonable."

"Huh." He looked left; she was expecting a favourable answer. He looked right; Okita was egging him on to give it. He considered. "Fine. I'll stay. What's the worst that could happen, fall out of bed?"

"Right! And he won't have to get in a fight with the missus."

"It's settled then; you sleep here, she'll sleep here, I'll sleep home…we're cool right?"

"Yeah, just go, you idiot."

"Alright; goodnight people. It was very nice knowing you Tokio-chan."

And with that, he was out the door, wave and smile huge. Her own smile lingered even after he was gone. What a pleasant man.

"I'll be going now, too," Saitou said only after he heard Okita's car pull away "no need to—what's that look for?"

"But we just said!"

"I only said yes to make him go; I'm bound to find a room somewhere." That made her purse her lips and cross her arms in front of her chest. "What's that look for?" he repeated disbelieving.

"I will now go make the bed for you and provide you with appropriate clothes; if you find it in your heart to leave while I'll be labouring over your accommodations, I don't know what to tell you."

Flabbergasted, he watched her walk away. What was up with this woman!? He was doing this for her sae, so people wouldn't talk. If a stranger slept over, it would look bad. But she just did whatever she wanted, trying to force him to do her bidding. If he felt like being bossed around, he'd have stayed with Yaso damn it! Alright, that was mean even in his head, so he decided not to say it out loud. The annoyance remained though.

If that's how she wanted to be, two could play this game. Undeterred, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door…

The bell rang and he stopped dead in his tracks. Even the universe wanted him to stay apparently.

"Tokio, there's someone here."

"I heard," she sounded like she was in the middle of a stretch "I'm coming."

She took some time, but the bell didn't ring twice; and yet, when she opened the door there was a person behind it. He was taller than her, but not too tall, in his thirties. He was a good-looking guy, dressed sharply and face stern. His eyes, nearly as black as his suit, were piercing.

"Sister," he saluted as he took a single step inside "sir."

"Hey Tora," she kissed his cheek casually "how come you're here? It hasn't been a week since you guys last visited."

"I was concerned." He turned to Saitou, formal as ever. "Hello, my name is Takagi Tora. Can you be the neighbour my sister mentioned in one of her Twitter posts?"

"Yes; Saitou Hajime is the name." He gave a bow that felt like a nod.

"I see…and…you do not seem upset to me."

"I am not."

The older man sighed a breath of ultimate relief. "Oh, I am so glad; I read her posts, and I was worried. Didn't want anyone pressing charges on her."

She rolled her eyes "The door was already open," she defended herself "I wasn't trespassing!"

"Tokio, you had a sword, a real sword."

"It was sheathed."

"You still held it as a weapon; even though I repeatedly asked you not to."

Saitou made the connection then. "I take it you are a lawyer, Takagi-san."

"Indeed, I am; her legal advisor, too. Forgive me, but when your stupid, youngest sister is rich, you never know how one may take advantage of it."

"I get it, don't worry."

"I do worry; she's a constant source of trouble." Then Tora bowed deeply, disregarding his sister's glare. "I hope she didn't scare you too much, sir."

He actually snorted with laughter. "A hobbit with a sword that didn't even know how to wield it; I'm frightened."

"D'you just call me a hobbit!?"

"I did. Live with it."

"We can't all be Elves of the High Council!"

Her brother had to look away not to laugh. "All appears to be normal here, so I shall be taking my leave."

"No, come on in, have a drink."

"Can't; the wife and I have reservations and you know how she gets when I am late."

She immediately excused him, waving his worries away. "She barely sees you all day, I'd be upset if you were late at that one dinner date, too." A moment. "You only came to make sure I was alright?" He nodded. "Awww, what a good brother!"

"More concerned than anything; have you looked at Twitter since?" She shook her head. "Well, do and then tell me I should not have been concerned." He sighed. "Bye, stupid." He flicked her forehead. "It was nice meeting you, Hajime-san."

"Speaking of Twitter, I need to post this."

She took out her cell, connected to her wifi already, and started typing; suspicious, he craned his neck to see what she's writing. He glared. "Don't publicise that!"

"Should've thought of that before you said what you said."

"I don't like it."

"Oh, come on, it's not a personal thing." His glare didn't abate. "Last one, I promise."

A critical eyebrow was raised. "Last one."

"Yes! And," she drawled "published. Cool. Now let's see what my brother meant."

"Lemme see what you published first."

Random update: my over-185-cm tall neighbour just called me a hobbit! To that I say: I'm normal! He's the one who's freakishly tall! hashtag booooooooooooo hashtag gobacktotheundyinglandssnottyelf hashtag justicefortheraceofmen

He chuckled; she deemed it worthy and went on to read the comments and the retweets…only to stare at her screen wide eyed. Involuntarily her shoulders squared, as her head was approaching the screen more and more with each passing second.

"What is it?"

A smile was starting to form on her face, guilty but without any regrets. "…apparently "tall neighbour" is trending." She giggled at his ire, but he didn't breach the subject, so she let it go. "I'll read the retweets later." A moment of pause. "So, what do you wanna do? I usually sleep late and it's barely nine; you said you had a leave from work, too…wanna watch a movie? I was about to, in fact, when I heard your weight hit the door and got spooked."

"It doesn't sound too terrible."

She was shaking her head the entire way to her laptop, her usb drive, and back into the living room, where the large tv screen was. She had a curved monitor; damn, he was jealous now. He was also startled, for he found himself unwilling to leave as he had intended; kept making up excuses not to move or make a run for it even when she was gone in her room to transfer the file from one device to another. Instead, he slowly but surely made his way to the very comfortable looking black couch situated in front of the dazzling tv, and found the angle that the viewing experience would be best.

Also, she apparently changed clothes again, only this once she went for the pyjamas. They were still more modest than that previous outfit though—a simple pair of black shorts with a red spaghetti strap top.

"You're in my seat," she snapped as she passed by, barely glimpsing him on her way to the kitchen. The kitchen was on the left of the living room, one huge room altogether, much like his, only on the opposite side. "Savoury or sweet snack?"

"Both."

She laughed. "That's a man after my own heart."

Sounds could be heard from the kitchen, but he didn't feel like making the effort to help; so, he chose to believe the two, large bowls simply appeared right in front of him, full to the brim one with chips and the other with chocolate chip cookies. Two bottles of beer on the tray, on either side of the bowls and they were ready.

He said it before, he'll say it again: she was, at the very least, a good hostess.

She pressed play. "It's an American movie, want me to turn subtitles on?"

"No need."

"Cool." She pressed pause. "Now get out of my seat."

"Not happening."

"Hajime."

"I ain't moving; good luck doing it on your own."

She was offended; she was outraged; she was determined. Refusing to lose to him in her own home, about her own couch, she challenged him; he challenged her right back. With a noncommittal grunt she made her stand: she gave him a look and proceeded to fall right on top of him!

"Wh-!?"

Her feet landed directly in his lap, her body perfectly pinning him down.

She smirked. "I don't need to move you to make you move," she gloated at her victory; and to show just how serious she was, she pressed play again. Nonchalant, she reached for the bowl of ships and grabbed a handfull. "Want some? They are oregano flavoured."

"…sure." She actually fed him one; he actually ate it. "I prefer barbeque in general though."

"Mmm, barbeque ones are very hit and miss; too few maintain that original barbeque flavour. Most taste like bacon and I hate bacon."

"Hey, we agree on something." They shared a moment of pleasant silence. "Give me another one."

"Sure."

In the end, no one gave in. Instead, Tokio decided to take the chip bowl in her lap so they could eat easier. Once that was over, she swapped it for the cookies' one. And once that was over, too so was the movie. Yet, they remained huddled on that certain small part of the entire couch, one refusing to let the other win by moving first and losing this most peculiar battle of wills.

In the end, no bed was used; she never got to read her replies or retweets and he never changed out of his clothes. They only fell begrudgingly asleep tangled together in a ball, on her very comfortable couch.


A/N: End of chapter one, of the first short story! Hope you had fun dearies. And before any of you ask, nope, I have no freaking clue when the next update is coming. Leave a review on your way out, boo, love you.