A/N – For the first time, I'm trying my hand at Meiji himself. The poor boy hardly gets any credit. And as for the title, well, I couldn't resist …

Disclaimer – I don't own Ruroken, any of the canon characters, settings or situations. Don't sue.

Killing in the Name Of

It had been a long night: an interminable meeting, followed by a slow, dangerous trip back to the inn. The Shinsengumi had been out in force, despite the relentless, pounding rain, and Kenshin had been forced to guide Katsura back via numerous side-streets and rubbish-strewn alleys. It was the fourth time in as many nights that Kenshin had returned to the inn as the night was fading to dawn, and he was weary with lack of sleep and constant tension.

He rested in the corner of Katsura-san's room, his katana propped against his shoulder, the black-lacquered sheath smooth and familiar to his palm. His mind absently catalogued his surroundings: the calm, hypnotic sounds of drumming rain and rustling, shifting scrolls, the mingled smells of paper, ink and the damp streets – all safe, familiar, even – dare he say it – comforting. His drowsing ki-sense touched on the hidden guards, alert and wary, and the other, sleeping samurai – calm, reassuring presences in the back of his mind, telling him that all was well with the night.

From the direction of Katsura-san's writing desk there was a long, weary sigh, and a last crinkling and rustling of parchment. Reluctantly, Kenshin roused himself and prepared to return to his own room. "Himura," came Katsura-san's quiet voice, "stay a while longer, will you?"

"Katsura-san?" he asked, concerned.

"I see that you are growing disheartened, Himura," Katsura-san said. "You keep to yourself more and more, and your drinking has increased… Takasugi charged me with your well-being, and I feel that I have not been watching over you as well as I should."

Kenshin smiled a little at the thought of Takasugi-san, who drove himself unmercifully, not caring for the restraints of his failing body.

"I am not disheartened, Katsura-san," he reassured the older man. "It is only that the number of my victims is rising steadily, and still I cannot see any weakening of the Shogunate's grip. Perhaps it is only that the weather is so depressing," he added in a low voice.

"I see." There was a long silence, and then Katsura-san sighed. "I cannot tell you with any certainty that we will prevail. I can only say that I feel the wind slowly changing in our favour. The young boy-Emperor, Meiji, is with us, with the full force of divine right behind him; Satsuma is making overtures and speaking of alliance for the first time in centuries. Our momentum is growing, Himura. The Bakufu's foundations are not as steady as they seem – a few more victories, enough support from the gai-jin and other, dissatisfied provinces…" He trailed off. "I always knew it was possible, but now I am starting to believe it."

"I have always believed it," Kenshin said. "If I doubted, I could never have brought myself to make the first kill. Do you think," he asked suddenly, "that the Emperor knows what we have done in his name?"

"If he does not know," Katsura vowed, "I will tell him myself."

Years later, when the boy-Emperor was finally restored to his rightful position, Katsura told him of the sacrifices the young Himura Kenshin had made for the sake of the new era. Meiji would have publicly honoured the former Battousai for his actions. But Katsura only asked that the boy-Emperor acknowledge Battousai's sacrifice, and in return, to ensure that he would always be worthy of it.