A/N – In 1877, during Saigo Takamori's rebellion, Katsura and Okubo talk of honour, of weapons, and of the future of Japan.

Disclaimer – I don't own Ruroken. Katsura and Okubo are long dead. Don't sue.

An Honourable Man

1877

"He has risen against us," Okubo said flatly.

Katsura did not look at him. "Aa," he answered. "I know. Did you really expect him to back down?"

"I did not expect him to be such a fool. Does he think that he and his band of disaffected samurai can bring back the old ways?"

"He is a charismatic man, and his message is a popular one. Many people believe we are betraying Japan with such rapid Westernisation." Thoughtfully, Katsura tossed some breadcrumbs to the koi at his feet, circling aimlessly within the confines of their man-made pond.

They stood in the gardens of the Imperial palace in Kyoto, two men in Western dress, far removed from the radical revolutionaries they had once been. Now, they had to save the government they had fought so hard to create…

"Stiff-necked pride," Okubo growled. "Hide-bound fools, so blinded by the past that they can't see the future." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace back and forth.

Still, Katsura watched the circling fish, his expression calm and thoughtful. Pacing past him, Okubo spared him an irritated glance. "Well, Katsura? What are you thinking, with that look on your face?"

"I have heard you use those words before. Eleven years ago, when we first spoke of joining forces against the Bakufu…"

A snort. "Another irony. We are beset by them. –Do you still fear assassination?"

Fine, intelligent eyes flicked to meet Okubo's, a spark of hidden amusement graven in their depths. "Saigo-san is too honourable."

"An anachronism. We don't need honourable men, Katsura; we need flexible men, who understand the price of greatness and power."

"This government was built on the blood of honourable men who knew nothing of power."

"Don't say that Saigo did not desire power." Okubo's mouth tightened. "Or tell me that every man who died for sonno-joi was a hero. You are not such a fool –"

"No." Katsura shook his head. "No, Saigo has his flaws, most of them larger than life like he is. And, as you say, many of our fellow Imperialists fought for their own advancement – but you mistake my point, Okubo. For every man who sought profit, there were two more sincere in their beliefs. And when those good men see the government opening to the foreigners –"

"How else did they think Takasugi bought those guns?"

Katsura ignored the incredulous interjection. "We can no longer eliminate troublemakers and naysayers. They have gained too powerful a leader. And those honourable, inflexible samurai who fought for us, for the Emperor, will now see no choice but to turn against us."

"Eliminate? You had a much stronger word for it, ten years ago." Okubo, watching, saw Katsura tense. Now they came to the true point of the discussion.

"We all have our ghosts."

"Yes; you most of all. Your Battousai was an honourable man. Has he joined the rebellion?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know." The words were slow, accusing; this was an old, old dispute between them. "You should never have let go of him, but having let him go, you should never have lost track of him; ten years, Katsura; the most dangerous killer in Japan roaming free for anyone to use –"

"You mistake him," Katsura said, his voice harder now. "He is not samurai; he will not turn against the government he helped create. His honour is of a different sort; he seeks now to fight for individuals rather than the greater good."

Okubo clenched his fists. "A sword that cannot kill, used only in defense of the people? Yes, I have heard the rumours, Katsura – not even your influence can cover his trail completely. This…rurouni quest for atonement is naïve in the extreme."

"Perhaps. But I do know one thing – he will not allow anyone to use him or his blade again."

"He will not allow it? Or you will not allow it?"

There was a minute pause, a small silence. Katsura deliberately turned his attention back to the koi pond. "Hitokiri Battousai has served his purpose," he said mildly. "Do you truly wish to see him resurrected? I thought you sought to bring us all into the future." And then, feeling the other's irritation, he smiled slightly. "Do not cross me on this, old friend. I have given my word."

"Your word?" Okubo scowled. "I have dedicated my life to strengthening Japan. Twenty, even ten years ago, we were weak, vulnerable; it will take another twenty at least before we are strong enough to be safe. We cannot afford internal dissent, Katsura. And we cannot allow weapons such as Himura Battousai out of our control."

"I know. Intellectually I know it, and you are quite right – but there is more to life than chess and politics, Okubo. Having won our fight, we must make sure we do not destroy all that we have fought for – that is why so many follow Saigo, and speak out against our modernization though they know they can no longer live in the past. Because Japan is more than an intangible ideal, and Himura is more than a weapon. He is a man – in the end, we are all just men."

Okubo considered the man who had helped him destroy the Tokugawa, and worked so hard to create a new world in its place. Katsura was a good five, six years younger than he, but his normally straight shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were dull and shadowed. "You are tired," he said in some surprise. "I know you have not been in the best of health, but –"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to die just yet."

Okubo smiled slowly. "No," he repeated. "We have come too far to die now – and there is still so much farther left to go. Once Saigo is defeated, and the samurai no longer resist our changes…"

Katsura smiled ruefully. Together, they walked through the beautifully kept traditional gardens, guiding the future course of Japan's modernization.