The Most Incompatible of Unions is my new pet project! Boo yeah! Anyways, this is a piece that will have five parts; hence, I will make them very large. I will try to write them during my most inspirational trains of thought… bottom line is, this story will take longer to get updated between the parts. I hope it comes off as a tasteful story worth reading. Please do not neglect to read and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own RK and I also do not own any of Jane Austen's works (hint hint).

Summary: When Aoshi and Misao find themselves bound to each other out of filial duty and financial dependency, their enforced wedlock soon blossoms to yield unexpected results.

Part 1: Pride

Chapter 1

Misao shut her parasol grimly as she looked at the impressive inn. Frowning with distaste, Misao closed her eyes in defeat as she anticipated the meeting that would take place with her and her new family. Remembering her small yet happy family in Tokyo, Misao smiled the briefest of smiles—she had loved eating dinner with her older family members, filling the dining room with animated chatter. Although they were all orphans, Misao had never felt out of place without a father or mother. Her cousin Kaoru had always been the shoulder she leaned upon and the arms she looked for comfort. Witty Megumi was her oldest cousin, who characteristically filled the house with her dry remarks and distinctive laughter. Yahiko, who was Kaoru and Megumi's younger brother, had been her favorite partner in crime when they were young, and she treated him like the little brother she never had. Sou-nii had been the breadwinner and the one who she admired the most for his constant optimism and hard work. The pain of missing her best friend; however, surmounted nearly everything—she missed his debonair and clever ways, the way his eyes lit up when he told her about his latest escapades, his low rumbling voice whenever he said her name. Now she had lost them all, being forced to opt for a definite least of her choices with whom to share her life with: her mysterious fiancée. Shaking her head angrily, the young woman pushed aside frustration and sadness as she took in the plain surroundings and overcast sky encircling the Aoiya. She could do nothing—she had been promised to a man she had never met since the day she was born.

Aoshi grabbed his trench coat from atop his Western style canopy bed. Donning it with an impassive expression, Aoshi managed his emotions by treating this meeting like any other business appointment. Except, his mind nagged, this is no ordinary business. You are going to meet the woman you will marry. His eyes flickered to the corner where his kodachi lay as he reasoned with himself. He had never had any reason to love in the marital sense—he had lived contentedly with his few yet valued companions. The crunching sound of carriage wheels on gravel alerted him of his fiancé's arrival. Looking out of the door darkly, Aoshi watched his advisor Okina greet the woman—no, she appeared more like a girl; she couldn't be much more than fifteen or sixteen. Aoshi brought a hand up to massage his temples—out of all his luck, he had to get a baby for a bride. He had hoped for a woman who could at least know how to keep the Aoiya under order or warm his bed. She didn't even seem capable of any of that, automatically diminishing her worth in his eyes. Whatever advantages this union could bring, he certainly didn't suppose they would be of any romantic sort.

Misao had previously stepped out of the carriage with her head held back, having decided long ago to forego with Megumi onee-san's advice to appear modest and withdrawn. She figured that if the bond was true and serious, it would be better for her husband-to-be and his family to see her for what she truly was: untamable and raw, like the wind. Her flashing eyes of the most nautical blue met the shrewd, compassionate gaze of an elderly man, who bowed to her genteelly with a knowing smile, "Ah, you must be Misao-chan, I presume. Welcome, we have been expecting you." Misao returned the bow fluidly, her ebony braid whipping over her shoulder before she straightened up, her long dark eye lashes fluttering as she looked at the old man straight in the eye, apparently waiting for something. Okina looked at her with a quizzical yet easy smile before he caught onto what she wanted to know, "Ah! Pardon my rudeness. I am called Okina, but you may refer to me as Jiya." Giving her a playful wink, Okina turned towards the inn, missing the flushed amusement of the young lady as she took in his words with a quirky smile. Odd, she commented to herself, this man is quite eccentric. He, at least, seems to be personable. Perhaps my stay will not be too painful. Following the old man quickly through the gates, Misao turned to see if she should carry her bags in, only to find people already taking her luggage into the large building. An approving smile emerged, widening when she saw the appealing elegance of the inn and smelt the delicious aroma of simmering stew that wafted from the kitchen. Noting the efficiency of the service at the Aoiya and the genuine hospitality she had witnessed, the young Makimachi agreed with her brother's report on her fiancée's diurnal business standing—now, all she had to do was uncover any evidence of his nocturnal affairs, if he was engaged in any.

Breathing in deeply, Misao smoothed the front of her deep lilac-tinted kimono, smiling roguishly as she walked long strides by Okina's side, a feat that would have been otherwise impossible if Kaoru-chan and Megumi onee-san had not altered the dress. The dress was adjusted to fit her easy, free walk, which pleased her to no end. All she needed, after all, was the semblance of a lady, not the actual qualities. When the aged man stopped abruptly in front of an impressive dark oak door, Misao observed him knock and address to the inhabitant of the room somewhat ceremoniously, "Aoshi, your bride is here." Freezing with mortification, Misao frowned distastefully at the older man's for his choice of words, who just chuckled at her discomfort as they waited for her fiancée to open the door, "Well, that is how it really is, eh Misao-chan?" Misao bit back a retort and just settled for glaring daggers at Okina, who was totally unfazed by her countenance and laughed once more, "We should really watch what we do around you, ne?" A fleeting shade of darkness passed over her face as she looked unfocused to her right: would people always have to be on guard with her? Would she always be so disagreeable to them… only of use as the late Makimachi's daughter, and not cherished by her own right as a person? Okina caught it all—the change in spirit and the cloud that hovered over her young innocent face. Furrowing his brow in concern, Okina thought to himself, Uh oh—I hope I didn't go too far with her. Will she cry? I thought she had more to her than that. To his infinite relief; however, Misao brushed composure over her features, her chin setting obstinately and her eyes flashing, ready for battle as she turned to him with a mischievous glint in her eye, mouthing, Just you wait… I'll get you Jiya. Then the door opened on the two, a wave of faint incense and the scent of green tea rushing in their faces.

Aoshi opened the door and quietly analyzed the two people in front of him. Okina seemed completely at ease; in fact, he seemed to be well pleased with something. He would ask him about it later. Turning slightly to face his bride, he bowed slightly, taking in her uplifted chin, her sparkling eyes that bespoke of a challenge and her smooth innocent forehead—still a child. She would definitely be more trouble than she was worth. She curtseyed slightly, not an inch more respectful than she deemed necessary, as she kept his gaze unflinchingly. He had to admire her spunk: few grown men alone could hold eye contact with him, something that this girl seemed to do with ease. She had a fine dose of animal spirits; hopefully, this would provide useful later when she matured enough for him to consider worthy of his association. She stood at least a foot below him with polished ease, her ocean-sprayed eyes blending into his dark indigo, her slender frame emphasized by the fragile lilac creation she wore. With a loose French braid that let strands of jet-black hair fall to her peach-shaped face and full rosy lips, she looked the picture of juvenile health. He had to admit she would probably make an exquisite woman, and hoped her mind would develop with her petite body. Ushering her and his advisor into his room, he asked her with only the absolute obligatory courtesy about her trip and her family. The young woman answered likewise, all emotion drained out of her face—her deep ocean eyes guarded and her lips nearly still. She introduced herself as Makimachi Misao, the only daughter of the late Makimachi, who had lived at her cousins' place for the last year or so after her father had passed away and before the engagement could come into effect. The marital age Aoshi's father, the late Shinomori and Makimachi-san had come up with was sixteen. That meant she was ten years his junior—frowning slightly, Aoshi pondered the wisdom of his father's decision to take up the commitment; after all, this was his son he was compromising. Whatever Makimachi had to offer had to be phenomenal if his father had thrust him into wedlock with a mere child. Some of his thoughts must have reflected in his eyes; however he had tried to hide his emotions, because Misao's face darkened as she peered into his face and presented him with a request, "I am well aware of the awkwardness of first introductions, so could you make up for this dreary start of a day and give me a tour of the Aoiya?"

Ignoring the nodded approval of the older man as he watched his Okashira's young fiancée already make up for his lack of words, Aoshi answered tersely, "Aa" as he gestured for her to follow him.

He was handsome, her fiancée—she had expected otherwise. Dreading the worst, Misao had thought that she had been promised to a pot-bellied, lecherous middle-aged man with a bald spot. When she met his eyes, she was surprised to find him young, good-looking in a dark way and utterly inclined to keep things distant between him and his bride. Suit yourself, she thought with relief, I don't want to share a bed with anyone—no matter how attractive he may be. I am my own person; I will not give myself to anybody. This vow of abstinence was anything but rashly thought out: Misao had the misfortune of witnessing sexual coercion and abuse up close. Her cousin Megumi had been a widely popular doctor in Aizu living alone while Kaoru and Yahiko lived in the dojo in Tokyo. During the time Megumi had been under the tutelage of a certain Genzai-sensei, she wished to undergo deeper research in medicine and accepted a wealthy businessman by the name of Takeda Kanryuu's offer of sponsorship. Soon, it became evident that his intentions were not noble, and she had been raped before she could fully escape from his grasp. She would never forget the day Megumi had arrived back in Tokyo—ill at body, heart and mind. It had taken her months to recover, although she was thankfully spared the unwanted complications of a pregnancy. It was then when Misao had seen the first glimpses of a cruel world, and consequently matured by force. In honor of her cousin's wishes, and with the wisdom that comes with learned lessons, Misao had decided to abstain from any sort of sexual relationship—even one with her husband, if it was not what she wished with her whole being. Misao couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when he brought her to their shared quarters and saw that there would be separate futons. She was even more pleased to find that they would not move into that room until way after their marriage: Aoshi used the excuse that he would have to deal with some business and paperwork before he could shift his office to a room next door. Unrestrainedly smiling, Misao began to relax and take her surroundings into account—really, the Aoiya was a pleasant place to live in, and she was sure there would be plenty for her to do.

Aoshi, on the other hand, felt a growing sense of tension gather in his abdomen. How would he keep his matters silent from this intruder? He watched several emotions fleet over her features: apprehension, determination, and then ease. Really, she was quite amusing to observe—she had all her thoughts out on her face for the world to see. Taking in her straightforward smile with a wry one of his own, he ran a hand through his hair. He had to admit he was glad they wouldn't have to share a bed either. Sharing a bed would possible prompt her to demand intimacies from him, an idea that seemed infinitely unfavorable to him at the moment. He was loath to take his office apart and risk betraying his other affairs to prying eyes, but it would seem not only rude to leave his future wife alone, but also suspicious. The last thing he needed was a town consensus that he was either afraid of his wife or had set his attentions elsewhere. Shaking his head ruefully, he waited for his fiancée to catch up as he took her to their last destination: Okina's garden. All he had to do was open the doors when Misao rushed out, eager to feel the sun on her skin and greet the wonderful sight with admiring eyes.

"Kirei," she whispered as she noticed that even with the gray and somber sky, the garden seemed untouched in its noble beauty. Tall, burgundy maple trees, plum trees and beautiful sharp green grass met her gaze as she took in the vibrant colors with a genuine smile. The sun reflected everywhere on her, making her shine in golden splendor—even Aoshi noticed the transformation. She is quite an outdoors person, he noted briefly, she will not grudge helping outside once in a while, then. Taking a turn in the garden, the unlikely pair walked in quasi-companionable silence, with an interruption or two of Misao's delighted exclamations. Okina watched the two stroll with an amused smile, Funny how she fell in love with my garden at first glance, but she seems to barely be able to stand the Okashira, who she is stuck with for life.

Did he know how to talk? Two days had passed, and she had barely ever seen him. When she had, he had uttered what was most strictly necessary, and then refused to converse anymore. It didn't seem like he was shy, nor was he abnormal in any other sense. Maybe he is a bore, she commented to herself lazily as she hung the wet laundry out in the fresh morning: Oh well—it could have been a lot worse.

He sat back, looking out the window as he saw his betrothed hang the linen to dry in a smart smock over her working kimono to guard her from the cold. Of the few words he had shared with her, they were always so bland. Once he had fallen into silence, he waited to see if she would have anything more intriguing, keen, perceptive to talk about. So far he had been disappointed—he had little hopes for her intellect. He was never a great talker, and she seemed equally inclined not to inquire more about him than what was necessary. Even watching her was uninteresting: she seemed to be a simple, unquestioning type. Turning his gaze from the window, Aoshi began to concentrate on issues that interested him infinitely more than his fiancée.

Both started with unfounded prejudices against one another, and both were to find that they were utterly wrong.

Chapter 2

Misao tugged unhappily at the folds of her wedding kimono. Who would have thought that she, a slip of a girl as of now would marry a man who was a decade older than she? Standing fully in front of a full-length mirror, Misao smiled dryly at her reflection: at least there were no dangers of her husband forcing himself on her—she looked a day over thirteen or so, she was not yet desirable. Grasping the end of her braid, Misao brushed the soft ends of her hair against her cheek pensively as she thought of the last moment she had shared with her closest confidant with a wistful, soft smile playing on her rouged lips.

"How come you never got caught, Sano?"

The two of them sat on a riverbank, watching golden fish swim past their submerged fingers. Her tall friend, who already showed the signs of maturation through his impressive height, well-chiseled features and deep voice laughed languidly as he turned to look at his petite friend: "Cause I'm too clever, Mi-chan."

"Mou, you're way too cocky."

"I'm justified: I can outwit you anytime. Besides, you're too saucy for your own good, none of the guys in town want to even approach you."

Standing up to her tallest, Misao looked up indignantly at her smirking brown-haired friend with flashing eyes, "But you associate with me, Sano! Isn't that going against what you just said?"

Sanosuke got up slowly, his face first below her, then level, then growing way beyond her reach as he towered over her with graceful ease: "No, I said none of the guys from town—that doesn't include me. I'm just a temporary inhabitant. I know what your worth is—I see it every time you laugh."

Misao blushed uncomfortably—she hated it when he talked like that. Laughing nervously, Misao waved his comment off as she said, "Ano, just make sure the butcher doesn't connect the stench in his carriage with a certain rascal, eh? He already has suspicions—you should lay low for a while."

"What? And kill all the fun? That's totally unlike you, Mi-chan!"

Misao flattened her unruly hair against her forehead as she flushed again, "I—I just don't want you to get hurt in any way, Sano."

Sanosuke stiffened as he looked down at her gently, his turquoise eyes deep with undecipherable emotions as he said softly, "If it worries you, I won't."

The two of them walked in awkward silence as the sun faded into the treetops, shrouding the pair in darkness with Sanosuke leading the way back to the Kamiya dojo. Misao stopped suddenly as she watched the approaching moon with large effulgent eyes, "Sano—I have something to tell you."

The tone of her voice put him off edge—it was the same voice she had used when she had given him a black eye, her eyes brimming with guilty tears as she apologized for hitting him so hard with the bokken. He let out a groan as he halted, keeping his back to her when he asked tersely, "What is it now?"

Misao winced; it seemed like breaking the news to him would be harder than she surmised. She; however, had dealt with harsher circumstances—she would not falter now: "Sano, I'm going to leave Tokyo."

Wheeling around with an astonished expression on his handsome features, Sanosuke growled, "Nani?"

"I am engaged to a man in Kyoto. It is an agreement that I cannot back out on; it was set by my father and his father, and I have already agreed to go."

The tall young man ran a hand through his unruly hair in frustration, "You don't even know his name. How could you sell yourself like that?"

His last comment stung. Blinking back tears, Misao retorted, "I've been thrust into this situation at birth! There is nothing I can do! I won't allow any more criticism—especially from you!" Then, to her horror, she burst into angry, hot tears as she attempted to run away. He; however, had anticipated her next move, and caught her in his arms, pressing her to him feverishly as he stroked her hair. Moist sobs wracked her small frame as she vented her rage and found comfort in her friend's embrace. It was completely dark when she had calmed down enough to wipe her eyes with the last shred of dignity she had left and drew herself from him. Squaring her shoulders, Misao offered, "I'm going through with my promise. However, I will promise that if I am miserable at my husband's place, I will leave him and come back home."

Nodding darkly as he peered into his friend's tearstained face, Sanosuke said, "Write to all of us regularly. I will try to visit you when business allows it. If he makes you unhappy, I'll whisk you away and bring you back where you belong..." Then, leaning over to tuck her hair behind one ear, he fingered her ear gently as he whispered, "with me." Shrinking back from his closeness, Misao nodded wordlessly before she ran back to the dojo, leaving her friend to mourn the loss of his best friend and first love in nocturnal solitude.

She blinked back tears—it would not do for her to smudge her makeup after Okon had spent so much time applying it earlier. Standing by the window with her arms wrapped around her in an attempt to give herself comfort, Misao watched the wilting leaves fall off the maple trees with an ache: that was real love. Sanosuke had shown her his love when he let her go. She refused to accept any other form of lesser love from anyone; no, she would scorn any attempts otherwise. Bringing a finger to swipe a tear away, Misao clenched her fist as she glared determinedly at the swirl of blazing colors that met her eyes: she had thrown away her only chance at real love for the sake of a promise and convenience.

She cut a lonely figure by the window—probably bathing in self-pity. He had been standing by the door side for quite some time. When he had reached the doorway, she was already in deep thought in front of the vanity mirror, her reflection betraying her countenance. She was striking in the deep plum kimono, her face stark white and her lips painted dramatically. The way she was holding her braid childishly up to her face was the only gesture that betrayed the woman for what she truly was. She seemed to be absorbed in deep thought, not even taking notice of the intruder on her thoughts staring silently at her reflection. He scowled darkly—she wasn't daydreaming about some silly romantic notions, was she? His fears of her wallowing in fantasies about their marriage were halted when he saw her expression change into something deeper and her eyes tear up. No—she was going for the sorrowful effect. His eyes followed her as she walked up to the window, brooding as she lifted her hand up and flicked something away impatiently. Then, she suddenly clenched her fist and punched the wall on her side. Again and again—he watched her disapprovingly and sighed slightly; he would have to stop her before she broke her hand or damaged the wall.

"Emotions are foolish."

Whirling around with a fierce expression, Misao glared at the tall man at the entrance of her room—her husband-to-be. Her chest heaving as she looked at her bruised fist with little care, Misao arched her eyebrows in an attempt to regain her composure, "What did you say?"

He crossed the room in a matter of seconds, his long strides bringing him by her side before she could blink twice, as he repeated in a rumbling, poised manner, "Emotions are foolish."

Aoshi was quite surprised: how many times could this girl change on him? She had been the insipid child, self-pitying and unwilling bride, and now she was the great dame? She was standing in front of him with rigid posture, her eyes flashing—she looked quite formidable; anger complimented her features well. "I completely disagree," she said firmly, no hesitation in telling her husband a piece of her mind, "Without emotions, there is no point in life."

Aoshi looked down at her with mild amusement, "Really? Enlighten me on your views."

Misao returned his gaze severely, "If men were devoid of feeling, then there would be nothing they would believe in with feeling; nothing that they would find worth to defend and live for. Life is not given just for the sake of living, but for the sake of making the best of it in all aspects."

"Then aren't you throwing yourself into a living death, so to speak?"

Misao smiled wryly—it would be dreadfully amusing if the longest conversation she would ever hold with her husband was a philosophical one, "In terms of love, yes. I don't have many hopes for love—I gave it up a long time ago. I do anticipate; however, some form of marital security and a way to sustain my family back home. After all," she added with a dry look, "this is a union of convenience, ne?" Giving Aoshi an arch smile, Misao reverted her gaze to the garden again, an implied message of her unwillingness to converse with him any longer.

She was still fresh, untouched (for all he could tell) and child-like; how in the world had she gotten so mistrusting? His interest in her grew: perhaps there was more to her than what met the eye. Stepping forward so that he took a place by her side, taking in a view of the smoldering colors in the garden, Aoshi inquired, "Whose convenience?"

Turning irritably, Misao asked, "Come again?"

"Whose convenience will this union serve to bring?"

"Oh—ours, in the material sense. My father's business was promised to whoever marries me. He knew Sou-nii didn't have the touch for…such matters. Sou-nii is much more of a humanitarian: he would much rather work in the clinic with Megumi onee-san. That's right," she added smoothly once she saw Aoshi's eyes sharpen almost imperceptibly at her cousin's name, "Kamiya Megumi—victim of Takeda Kanryuu. Anyways, the business is yours—the only hope for the survival of his ideals rests with us."

Aoshi stood in silence, absorbing her words. So she knew. She had infinitely grown in his interest. Blinking as a question flitted through his mind, Aoshi asked, "Is there anything in this for you?"

Misao looked at him with indifference, her eyes measuring him up as she tried to decipher the reason for his sudden notice of her: "I'm doing it because of duty and for love." Aoshi's eyes flickered, a minute action Misao caught, making her smile slightly in response, "Oh no—not romantic love; like I said, I don't have time for such nonsense. It's for my family. I," she said with a fiery look in her eyes, "love them. If I could do anything to make them happy, I would. In this case, I am helping them keep their place in Tokyo and offering them some semblance of protection through the allegiance we are sealing today."

Aoshi held a moment of silence as he gazed at the falling leaves with guarded eyes and his arms crossed—the image of an insurmountable fortress, "We should go downstairs."

"Oh—is the ceremony starting soon?"

"Aah."

Heading for the stairs together, the mismatched couples went down to meet their guests, each lost in their own thoughts as they prepared themselves to make the most incompatible of unions.

Author's notes: What an unflattering beginning, eh? Sheer realism and hardheaded thinking…

I know, I know… Misao is OOC in this one (at the beginning, anyway), b'c she's just getting over the disappointment of her first love (she can't have Sanosuke). Nobody can stay cheerful all the time—she's only human, eh? By the way, I must say I really like Misao—she's so headstrong, real and natural that you gotta love her. I tend to like to portray her as less genki, though. A slightly more mature Misao… also a bit OOC, but what can I say?