Edo, Japan.
Late July 1836.
The report did not arrive as something dramatic.
It came quietly.
Carried by men who had no proper words for what they had seen.
By the time it reached Edo, a week had already passed.
The fishermen who had first seen the foreign ship had not gone directly to the capital. They had returned to their coastal villages first, speaking in hurried tones, trying to explain what they could not fully understand. Their stories spread quickly along the shoreline, changing slightly with each retelling, but always carrying the same core detail.
A ship.
Too large.
Too fast.
Too strange.
From there, the information moved upward, passing through local officials, then regional authorities, until it finally reached the Tokugawa administration in Edo.
By then, it was no longer a rumor.
It was a report.
Inside Edo Castle, the atmosphere was controlled as always.
Nothing moved without order.
Nothing was spoken without purpose.
