Hello, dear readers. My name's Mengde, I've written one other piece for RuroKen in the past (it's on the site!), and this has always been one of my favorite fandoms.

I participated in a Secret Santa this year, and I was chosen to write a gift fic for the lovely Nagia (you should check her out, her stuff is awesome). She's a fan of Misao and Aoshi, so with that in mind, I wrote her this piece.

The fic is complete, but I'll post it in three chapters over the next six days, for ease of reading and also to let it bob up to the top a few times to catch eyes. Enjoy!

The Price of Innocence

A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic

For Nagia

"Is Shinomori Aoshi here, please?"

Misao blinks at the question. The man standing in the doorway of the Aoi-ya is tall and thin, even gangly. A pair of thick, round glasses sit on his nose; the sun reflecting off the lenses obscures his eyes. He wears a tailored Western suit, black against the noon sky. Those of his features Misao can see are unremarkable.

"He doesn't usually take visitors," Misao says cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I beg your pardon," he tells her, his tone all earnestness. "My name is Ryūnosuke Kazuya. I have recently been appointed to the position of Minister of Justice here in Kyoto."

"Fun," Misao says brightly. "And what's your business with Aoshi-sama?"

Kazuya gives her a wide, sincere smile.

"Why, I am here to arrest him."

In a heartbeat, Misao has a pair of kunai in her hand. She's dressed in her street clothes, not her uniform, but she always carries some of the knives. "You want to run that by me again?" she asks.

The disarmingly sincere smile still on his face, Kazuya gestures at her kunai. "Please put those away, Makimachi-san. I am unarmed, and I am not a violent man by nature. To be more precise, I have come with a warrant for his arrest. I wish to deliver it to him and invite him to surrender himself into police custody. That is why I am here alone, without any policemen – to prevent a scene."

"You have a lot of nerve!" Misao snaps. "Showing up at our door like this and expecting me to just let you waltz in and take Aoshi-sama! Why do you even want to –"

"Misao."

Aoshi's voice freezes her in midsentence. Misao turns to see him standing in the hall, still wearing the simple robes he dons to meditate. "I heard our guest," he says. "Let him enter. He can explain himself to me."

Misao opens her mouth to argue, but something in Aoshi's eyes tells her he's not in the mood for any of her normal lip. With a scowl, she palms the kunai back into her sleeve. "Fine. But I'm warning you, Kazuya-san –"

"You do not have the authority to warn me of anything," Kazuya says, cutting her off. He steps through the door into the Aoi-ya, the sunlight disappearing from his glasses, and Misao sees his eyes for the first time. The bottom half of his face remains fixed in that perfect, sincere smile, but his eyes are cold, dark, and calculating. He spits her with his gaze like a doctor eyeing a sore. "You and I are finished, now."

Without another word to her, he brushes past her, gestures for Aoshi to lead the way. Misao, fuming, is not too enraged to miss the glance Aoshi gives her as he turns to lead Kazuya into the meditation garden. It is a glance she knows too well: be quiet and stay hidden.

She gives him her mightiest frown, but his back is already turned to her.

Well, he didn't say 'don't eavesdrop.'

Seconds later, Misao is crouched on the roof. She carefully flattens herself against the rough tiles and elbow-crawls to the edge overlooking the meditation garden. From this vantage point, she can't see anything going on in the garden, which means Aoshi and Kazuya can't see her – but she can hear just fine. The Oniwabanshū trained her from a young age to hear like a bat.

"What is this about?" Aoshi's voice, deep and somber.

"Are you familiar with the new legal codes instituted by the Meiji government this year?" Kazuya. His voice is middling, pleasant. Bland. Misao grits her teeth at the sound of it. She should have known from the first instant that he was bad news.

"Only in passing."

"In brief, the government has adopted the French codes of penal and criminal instruction and adapted them to Japanese custom. Laws are clearly defined, punishments set out. The governor is eager to show the public the equanimity and efficacy of the new code and judicial system to promote order, especially after last year's… incident." Misao flashes back for a moment to Shishio's troops storming Kyoto, trying to set the city ablaze.

"So he wants a scapegoat."

"Of course not," Kazuya says, smooth and calm. "He wants a high-profile criminal who can be tried, found guilty through due process, and punished. Aboveboard, honest, forthright."

Misao realizes she is clenching the tiles beneath her so hard they are cracking. She forces herself to relax her fingers.

"Then make a show trial of one of the war criminals captured after the incident," Aoshi says.

Kazuya makes a condescending clucking sound. "If only things were that simple. The governor is also eager to appease… certain factions within the government. Factions which are concerned about the continued presence of an illegal spy ring within Kyoto."

A beat. "The Oniwabanshū are disbanded," Aoshi tells him. "We are innkeepers."

"Innkeepers who maintain a network of carrier pigeons and keep weaponry on their property," Kazuya replies. "Innkeepers who, lest we forget, all worked as onmitsu for the Shogunate. Your friend Makimachi Misao is the exception, but there are other avenues we might take to ensuring her harmonious citizenship. You understand me."

"You said you have recently been appointed the Minister of Justice," Aoshi observes, his tone conveying none of the sarcasm Misao knows the statement bears.

"Justice is a difficult concept," Kazuya replies. "Actualizing it often requires sacrifice. Compromise. You understand me."

"I will if you speak plainly."

Misao can imagine Kazuya's utterly sincere smile flickering. She hopes it is.

"Surrender yourself to police custody," Kazuya says. "You will be tried for crimes you committed while in the service of the Shogunate, while head of the Edo Castle Oniwabanshū, and while head of the private army of Takeda Kanryū. You will not deny your guilt, but instead confirm it in a public hearing. In view of your cooperation, the judge will be merciful and give you a sentence the end of which you will live to see.

"And in exchange, we will turn a blind eye to the operations of the rest of your innkeepers. We will forget their past allegiances. And we will let our interest in Makimachi Misao's activities throughout Japan – robbery, fraud, assault – lapse. Is that plain enough for you, Shinomori-san?"

"It is," Aoshi replies. "I will present myself at police headquarters tomorrow morning, then. Goodbye, Ryūnosuke-san."

Misao can only lie there, stunned, as she listens to the sound of Aoshi escorting Kazuya out the door. He can't do this. Aoshi-sama can't agree to this. I'll never see him again. He can't.

After a minute, she realizes there are tears pooling against the roof tiles, and is almost surprised to find they're hers.

That evening, Aoshi calls all of them together in the back room. They sit on the floor mats in the otherwise featureless space and he talks. Misao listens, solemn for once in her life, as he gives them an abbreviated version of his meeting with Kazuya.

She has not seen him since that meeting. After he saw Kazuya out, Aoshi also left the Aoi-ya, and Misao was in no state to follow him.

"There is nothing for it," Aoshi concludes. "I am going tomorrow."

Okina has furrowed his brows in anger. Shiro and Kuro both look incredulous. Omasu has concern written all over her face, while Okon keeps her usual composure – except, Misao notes, the way she worries at her long, black hair, rubbing it between her fingers.

"'Nothing for it?'" Okina asks. "This young punk threatens us and you just agree to go along with it? One message and we'll know everything he's ever done, who his family is, and whose palms he had to grease to get this Minister of Justice position. We can make this go away."

"We cannot make the Meiji government's fear of us disappear," Aoshi replies. "Especially not with the kind of tactics you suggest. We must compromise."

Shiro crosses his arms. "Must we? Or is this you not wanting to get your hands dirty again, Okashira?"

"It's not like that!" Misao snaps.

"I can speak for myself, Misao," Aoshi says. She feels her breath hitch at the rebuke in his tone. "Yes, Shiro. I am uninterested in dirtying my hands, as you put it. I swore on the honor of the Oniwabanshū to use my skills against those who threaten the peace with their dark powers. I did not swear to use my skills to escape responsibility for what I have done. This may be political jockeying, but they have the right… and the leverage." He looks at her, just for a moment, but the weight of it presses on her.

"They can't possibly have proof," Omasu says. "Just accusations. Hearsay."

"Irrelevant. If I do not give a full account of my crimes, Kazuya has made it clear the Meiji government will come after all of you."

"We're willing to deal with that," Kuro says.

"But I am not willing to force you to," Aoshi replies. He leans forward, just slightly. "As Okashira of the Oniwabanshū, I give you this order: do not try to help me or stop me. Do not interfere with Kazuya or his cohorts. Let this happen as it must, and perhaps I will see all of you again." Standing, he gives Misao one last glance. It hits her like a blow. "I am sorry."

He leaves, sliding the door closed behind him.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Misao asks. "We can't just let this happen!"

"But you heard Aoshi," Okina tells her, stroking his beard – a sure sign of discontent, for him. "He gave us a direct order in his capacity as Okashira. We must obey that. And as his friends, family, we must respect his wishes. No matter how they make us feel."

Misao can tell she's on the verge of crying again, so she does the only thing she knows will salvage her composure – she leaps forward and hits Okina, a savage right cross in the face, not playful or teasing like so many other times. The old man takes the blow without complaint, narrows his eyes at her as blood trickles from his split lip. "Are you done? Or do you want to hit Aoshi too?" He gestures at the door. "He's only gone back to his room, you know. I'm sure he won't try to dodge any more than I did."

Her stomach does a flip as she realizes that yes, it's Aoshi she wants to strike, it's his face she wants to hit over and over until he gives up his idiotic nobility and promises he'll never leave her again –

Misao flees into her room, and she does not come back out.

The next morning, her crying done and her mind made up, she throws the door open, ready to storm out of the Aoi-ya and do what needs to be done.

Okina, who is having breakfast in the dining hall, sees her purposeful stride and remarks, "Your spirits seem to have improved since last night, Misao-chan."

"I figured out a loophole while I was asleep," Misao says triumphantly. "Aoshi-sama told us not to help him or hurt Kazuya. But I know someone who doesn't have to follow his dumb orders, and I'm going to write to him."

"Oh, you mean Himura-kun?" Okina asks. "I sent a letter last night, after you stormed off."

Misao blinks. "What?"

The old man favors her with a smile, despite the nasty, bruised split lip she gave him. "Please, Misao-chan. If an idiot girl like you can figure something out, I would have to be dead to miss it."

She leaps into a flying kick at his head, which he dodges easily, even in a seated position. "Jerk!"

"Whelp," he shoots back. "Now stop trying to kill me and have something to eat. Even if they rush the process – and I'm sure they will – it will still be two weeks or more before Aoshi has his hearing. That's plenty of time for Himura-kun to arrive."

Misao – sprawled on the floor, having botched her landing – looks up at him miserably. "Two weeks? With Aoshi-sama sitting in a jail cell? I might just die, Gramps."

"It would certainly make the experience more palatable for everyone else involved," Okina snaps. "We will persevere, Misao-chan. We are family."

She brushes herself off after getting to her feet. "I know. I just… Why does he have to be like this?"

Okina takes a noisy sip of his tea. "Because it is his nature," he says, the mask of a kindly old man falling away from his features as his eyes narrow in thought. "Because he cannot see any end to his journey but solitude and death. Your Aoshi-sama is a very fatalistic person, Misao-chan. That's why I made him train you and care for you, while he was here. To try to get some light to pierce the darkness of his life."

"So I'm a sunbeam," Misao says, sitting down with him.

With a smirk, Okina hands her a bowl of rice. "Yes. And the sunbeam should stop talking and eat now, so this old man can have his breakfast in peace."

Misao picks at the rice, trying to stay positive. Trying to find hope.