"Quickly, reinforce the batteries and establish defensive lines. We do not know when the British fleet will arrive."
When the imperial decree ordering the suppression of Satsuma and Chōshū was issued, Ōkubo Toshimichi immediately persuaded his lord to prioritize rear defense and returned to Satsuma.
Pulling back the entire army in front of the enemy would invite devastating pursuit, so only key figures, including Ōkubo, withdrew.
Though still young, he was trusted. He reinforced coastal batteries and prepared for a British assault.
There was one flaw.
No one in Satsuma truly understood British naval power.
They knew Britain was the strongest.
But not the range of its guns, nor the level of its weapons.
They assumed coastal artillery would match or exceed naval guns.
That assumption did not last long.
"They are coming. The British are here."
"Prepare for battle. Hold your ground."
Satsuma deployed eighty-five cannons along the coast.
"Anyone who flees will be executed."
"Better to die here than bring shame."
Then the bombardment began.
The sound shook the earth.
Explosions tore through the lines.
"Return fire."
"Our range cannot reach them."
"What do you mean cannot reach them?"
The difference was overwhelming.
They had purchased Western weapons.
They had trained.
They had even defeated shogunate forces before.
But this was different.
What they faced now erased all confidence.
Fires broke out across Kagoshima.
The castle burned.
The port burned.
Factories burned.
Steamships, symbols of modernization, were destroyed without resistance.
The British fleet did not land.
It did not need to.
Its purpose was destruction.
For two days, the bombardment continued.
Then the fleet withdrew.
Satsuma attempted to rebuild.
Two days later, the fleet returned.
This time, it was not alone.
After the British guns shattered what remained, shogunate transports entered the harbor.
Then came the voices.
"Why die for traitors who defy His Majesty."
"Lay down your weapons."
"The Emperor is merciful. Those who surrender will be spared."
With imperial authority, shogunate support, and British force combined, resistance collapsed.
Desertion spread.
"I am no traitor."
"I cannot fight against His Majesty."
Some chose death.
Most did not.
Within a week, Satsuma surrendered.
Chōshū followed the same path.
The outcome had been decided the moment Britain entered the war.
The self-proclaimed new government sent envoys, begging for negotiation.
Among them stood a young man.
"I am Ōkubo Toshimichi."
He was younger than expected.
Yet composed.
Around him, the shogunate officials scoffed at the absence of senior retainers.
But he had come.
That alone was enough.
I asked to speak with him privately.
"Ōkubo. Sit."
He bowed deeply.
"To be remembered by Your Highness is an honor."
"I called you to pass the time. If you are uncomfortable, you may leave."
"No. I wished to meet you."
His eyes held fear.
And something else.
Admiration.
"Do not worry. It is unlikely that young men like you will be ordered to commit seppuku."
"That is not my concern. If His Majesty calls us traitors, we must accept it."
Silence followed.
Then I spoke.
"This war is unfortunate. At a time when the nation should be growing, it turns inward."
"…Yes."
"I intervened not only for a promise, but because continued conflict would destroy everything."
"…That may be true."
"If left alone, both sides would have fought until nothing remained."
He did not deny it.
"So tell me. What future do you see for this country."
A test.
If he answered poorly, he was useless.
If he answered well, he could be used.
Ōkubo hesitated.
Then lowered himself completely.
"Your Highness, I beg for a chance."
Interesting.
Not an answer.
A request.
That alone revealed enough.
This one understood.
Power first.
Survival first.
Principles later.
I looked down at him.
A useful piece had appeared on the board.
***
I tilted my head slightly, signaling Ōkubo Toshimichi to continue as he kept speaking without pause despite his humble posture.
"A chance? What kind of chance are you asking for?"
"When this conflict ends, the political system of this country will undergo a great transformation. Satsuma and Chōshū have suffered immense losses, but their young manpower remains."
"That is true. But that could also be a problem. If more young and aggressive figures fill the new government, the country may become unstable."
"…Your Highness is correct. I cannot deny that we are aggressive. That is precisely why I can be useful. Through this crisis, I have realized that Japan must abandon its current path and commit fully to reform, rebuilding itself with the British Empire as its model."
He understood what I was concerned about.
He also understood my influence.
That was why he lowered himself so quickly.
"Then why say this to me? Should you not speak to the Shogun or His Majesty?"
"If this nation begins modernization with Britain as its model, whom will its scholars and officials admire most? If His Majesty is the father of the nation, then Your Highness will be seen as its teacher. Those who follow your will, who seek to resemble you, who interpret your words, they will shape the new order."
It was not entirely unreasonable.
Given Japan's tendencies, it was plausible.
"And how does that make you useful?"
"Satsuma and Chōshū are filled with hot-blooded men. Many still cling to the warrior ethos. If reform proceeds, their power must be reduced. That will create resistance. As someone from Satsuma, I can suppress them with the least resistance."
So he offered himself as a restraint.
A leash.
His awareness and judgment were sharp.
"Very well. But why should I trust you?"
"…That is…"
"I have seen too many men change once they gain power. How do I know you will not do the same?"
"If that happens, Your Highness could expose me as a traitor at any time. I understand. Then I will give you my leash."
He wrote a statement.
In it, he declared his willingness to imprison or purge even his own allies for the sake of advancement.
He signed it.
With blood.
And handed it to me.
"This will be enough to destroy me if needed. And it will not harm Your Highness."
"Good. That will suffice."
The structure was clear.
A constitutional monarchy to elevate the Emperor.
A British-style system to stabilize the domains.
Young reformists to drive change.
And Ōkubo Toshimichi to restrain extremists.
"Do well. And ensure your protection. There will be attempts on your life."
"I understand. I will not fail you."
With that, I listened to his plans while waiting for the negotiations to conclude.
In Kyoto, where the Emperor resided, punishment began.
The daimyō of Satsuma and Chōshū accepted responsibility and committed seppuku.
Their retainers did not all follow.
Some begged.
Some blamed others.
Some showed no remorse.
"There is no mercy for traitors."
Executions followed.
Not trials.
Executions.
For three days, heads fell without pause.
Even seppuku was rarely granted.
It was reserved.
A privilege.
After the purge, order had to be restored.
The Emperor addressed the people.
"This conflict ends today. Our nation will be reborn. We will abandon old customs and ensure such tragedy never repeats."
The people cheered.
Many did not understand.
But they felt change.
Then came the announcement.
Reform.
Fundamental reform.
"The nation will adopt the system of the British Empire. Governance will be modernized. Domains will lose direct control, but a council will be established so their voices remain."
Confusion spread.
Resistance followed.
"What of our lands?"
"What of our rights?"
The answer was simple.
Follow.
Or be branded traitors.
The shogunate moved first.
Land and people were returned to the Emperor.
Other domains followed.
Reluctantly.
In exchange, stipends were promised.
Approximately ten percent of former revenues.
Enough to persuade many.
A transition began.
Similar to history.
But with one critical difference.
"The military will not interfere in politics."
The samurai resisted.
"What remains for us?"
"If you cannot accept it, then leave."
The foundation was set.
Not complete.
But enough.
From Joseon to Japan.
The structure of Northeast Asia had taken shape.
And with it—
the foundation for something far greater.