Kazuya's home is austere. He sleeps in a windowless room. It's fitting, Misao thinks as she stands over him. Dark, empty. Like his eyes.

He wakes without her touching him or saying anything. "Makimachi-san," he says, still detestably smooth. "Are you here to kill me?"

"Maybe," Misao says. "Haven't decided yet."

"If you are indeed undecided, then let me at least fetch us some tea," Kazuya says. "I find it calming. Perhaps it will improve my chances."

"Don't see why not."

They move to another room. Misao watches him prepare the tea in silence, feeling the kunai lining her shinobi uniform. If he's afraid, he doesn't show it.

He sets a cup in front of her. Misao picks it up, sips it. She can't taste any poison, and she was watching him closely enough in any event that she is sure she'd have noticed if he'd slipped something in. Green tea, she thinks. Calming indeed.

"So," Kazuya says after a minute of silence. "Any thoughts yet?"

"You're not helping your case by bugging me about it constantly," Misao says. "Look, Kazuya."

"Kazuya-san, please."

She sticks her tongue out at him. "Look, Kazuya. I don't think killing you will help Aoshi-sama. The judge already banged his little hammer and everything's decided. Matter of fact, I think not killing you will help Aoshi-sama a lot more." She produces a kunai, holds it up for him to look at. "But trust me, bud. I will slit your throat if Aoshi-sama isn't a free man by the time I walk out of this house. Then I'll go and kill that judge, and I'll go and kill the men guarding Aoshi-sama, and we'll run away together. And you – well, not you, you'll be dead, but you like the government you – will never find us. And if you do, I'll kill whoever you send to catch us. Because I care. Because I love him. And because I don't think he should be punished so the government can show off."

Kazuya's gaze is steady. For the first time, his smile is not sincere – it is bitter, and mocking. "Well. That certainly outlines your position."

"That it does." Misao drains the rest of her cup in one gulp, not caring that it's too hot to be comfortable. "So, Kazuya. What's it going to be? Are you going to work with me, or am I going to walk out of here a murderer?"

"That depends." Kazuya sips his own tea, savoring it. Misao supposes that makes sense; it might be his last cup, after all. "I am the Minister of Justice here in Kyoto, and I represent certain august powers which could reverse Shinomori Aoshi's sentence. Commute it, I should say." His smile widens, and it is wicked. "To working for us."

"You want Aoshi-sama to do your dirty work," Misao says. "To take care of the stuff the government can't do officially."

"That's right. It was my aim the entire time, of course, but Shinomori proved to be quite difficult. Far too honorable. I was honestly surprised – how could a man of such rigid principles have ever been an onmitsu?" Kazuya gives Misao an appraising glance. "But I understand now. He's grown them fresh. For you."

"Careful," she says, laying the point of her kunai flush against his throat. "I can cut so you don't die."

"Makimachi-san, think what you will of me, but I am a patriot. I want Shinomori Aoshi on the side of angels, so to speak. Whatever he does, it will be for the good of Japan." Kazuya finishes his tea, unconcerned with the deadly weapon pressed against his jugular. "I will give you two papers. One, a letter of passage, permitting you to see him in his cell, before he is transferred to prison. Two, a document which, if he signs it, will make him ours. He will repay his debt to society by working to protect it from the shadows." Kazuya reaches slowly, exaggeratedly so, into his robe, and produces the papers. "Anticipating your visit, I prepared them earlier this evening."

Misao takes the papers from him, tucks them into her shinobi uniform. She palms the kunai, removing it from his throat.

"If this isn't on the level," she says, "I will come back for you."

"I know," Kazuya says, his eyes glittering in the light of the fire. "I would expect nothing less."

As Misao turns to leave, he adds, "Makimachi-san?

"I look forward to working with you."

Misao waves the letter of passage in the policemen's faces and shoves past them into the station. To Aoshi.

He's just like he was on the day she and Kenshin went to see him. Sitting in the center of his cell, eyes closed.

This time, though, he stands when she walks up to the cell. "What are you doing here?" he asks, seeing her shinobi uniform and clearly assuming the worst.

"I'm here to save your life, dummy," she says. She shoves the document through the bars. "Read it. Say you'll sign it. I'll get a brush and ink from one of the policemen and we'll get out of here. Forever."

Aoshi scans it. "Misao," he finally says. "What have you done?"

"I went to Kazuya," Misao tells him. "I told him I'm not willing to let you go like this. I'd sooner die. Or, in this case, I'd sooner kill him and everyone else involved in this plan and bust you out." She ignores the way his eyes widen at her proclamation and plunges onward. "He already knew. He gave me that. For you. It's what he's wanted the entire time."

"Misao…"

"Sign it," Misao says. "Right now. I mean it, Aoshi-sama. Himura told me why you're doing this. He says you'd rather to go prison for the rest of your life than see me lose my innocence. So I'm telling you, right now, that I would rather lose my innocence than lose you. I'll kill before I let you go again."

His composure, his icy calm that she has never seen break, through which she has never glimpsed anything but pure, logical calculation – she sees it crumble.

It's not a dramatic thing. He just closes his eyes and leans against the bars, almost imperceptibly.

But she knows she's won.

"All right," he says, his voice impossibly tired. "Give me a brush and ink, Misao. I will do this for you."

They leave ten minutes later. Together.

"You're sure you won't stay any longer?" Misao asks.

She and Aoshi stand outside the Aoi-ya with Kenshin, the following day. She hasn't told him the details of what happened, and she's sure Aoshi hasn't either, but she can tell the swordsman knows.

"This one cannot, sadly," Kenshin tells her with a small shake of the head. "Kaoru-dono and this one – to avoid feelings of recrimination, nothing was said before, but we were going to be married two days ago."

Misao blinks. "Wow. I'm so sorry, Himura."

"It was necessary that this one come, so he did," Kenshin says with a gesture of dismissal. "But now this one must return… or Kaoru-dono will be very angry." He gives her a conspiratorial wink. "You know this one would rather face Shishio again than see Kaoru-dono angry."

"I know."

The swordsman turns to Aoshi. "This one does not know what happened," he says. "But you are here, and Misao-dono is here, and you are together. And that is what is important."

"Yes," Aoshi agrees quietly. "It is."

Kenshin nods. "If you are ever in Tokyo again, this one would be honored to have tea once more." He bows, and then he turns and leaves.

Misao and Aoshi stand there watching him go. "I think this is what he was hoping would happen," Misao says. "He just knew there was no way for it to happen unless I was willing to cross the line he could never tell me to cross."

"And I hope you never do," Aoshi says. She realizes he is looking down at her, and he is very close, closer than he has ever been. Not just physically. Her heart rate picks up.

"As long as I have you," Misao tells him, "I won't have to."

Aoshi nods. "Then I will stay with you.

"Until the day I die."

The Price of Innocence

Fin