----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DECADE OF STRIFE WAR MEMORIAL, KYOTO, KYOTO PREFECTURE, HEAVENLY EMPIRE OF JAPAN
06:55 LOCAL TIME, JANUARY 17, 1787 COMMON CALENDER
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tanaka Masayoshi often came to the War Memorial in the mornings. It had the official title of the “Decade of Strife” Memorial because although the period which it referenced was known popularly as the “Fourteen Years of Bloodshed,” no actual fighting occurred in the first four years, merely the prelude. Typically he would sit and contemplate, or walk through its surroundings alone; his security detail (efficient and fairly strong, though not as much as say, the Holy Roman Emperor Valerian; his position had an unending line of qualified successors, so he was theoretically expendable) kept its distance and was generally inconspicuous; it leant a feeling of being alone in the Memorial typically. It was a massive park, and its air was always solemn and sobering – it was not a depressing place, but it evoked the same feelings as an old Shinto temple or the Imperial Palace. It made a good place for reflection, especially when considering the fate of the whole of the Empire and, indeed, by extension, the world at large. This was especially true now, as many analysts had begun going on and on about how Japan was now the foremost nation in the world in terms of economy and military. It had been an astonishing rise they said; Japanese power had basically tripled in just six years. All it had taken was work, capital, patience, and death. He did not mourn for the British Empire, the South Sea Company, or even the Xin Han Chinese Empire, though he did feel a twinge of remorse for the last. His position did not really allow sentimentality for those who opposed or were otherwise known to be plotting to betray the ambitions of his own nation. And so one by one, each had been knocked out, routed, crushed. He could recall very vividly the hostility of the South Sea Company’s ambassadors once fighting had begun. He could also recall his response.
“Gentlemen, you style yourselves a company; therefore, you must be aware of our own saying that ‘Business is war’,” he had said.
He had gone on, with “All existence is war; from the smallest of bacteria to the largest of empires, the natural state of life is to compete – for resources, for honor, for ideals, for dreams, for survival.”
“It is when these conflicts can be balanced and mediated that there is harmony, and when they spiral out of control, then there is chaos; but always there is conflict.”
“The only state of perfect ‘peace’ is that of nonexistence; you do not fit our plan, and we intend to out-compete you – as a business, I am sure you can understand what happens when your competition gains a complete advantage over you.”
“Now if you will excuse me, I have important matters to attend to, and I do believe your business has closed,” he had concluded.
They had been left in stunned shock for some moments at his frankness before shouting indignations as he had walked off. They had been, of course, immediately removed by security. The justifications had been laid out, for that conflict and all the others. The treachery of China had provoked an invasion; what they found amidst the records of Zhongguojing pointed to clear and evident collusion with the Russian Union to destabilize Japan. So they had mobilized against the Russians as well, and of course rejoined the Allies. It had been patently clear from the start, at any rate, that Russia was merely playing for time and trying its hand at divide and conquer; if it had somehow vanquished the Holy Roman Empire, it was inevitable it would turn back east, again seeking Pacific interests. With the (in retrospect) traitorous Xin Han at the helm of China, it would likely have been fatal for Japan. And so now there was conflict; war of unparalleled scale. “All existence is war,” but most people were only cognizant of the war from
without. Few ever contemplated the conflict and war
within.
That was what he thought of this morning. He sat on one of the benches in the center of the park; at its very core was a large, vaguely obelisk-shaped structure, only very thick and with the upper half removed, so that it looked as if someone had cut off the top. It was made of black obsidian, and upon its four sides were engraved in white the names of all those who had died serving the Empire during the Decade of Strife. The list itself seemed almost endless and contained several tens of thousands of names, and littered about the base of it were countless offerings, pictures, and flags. Around its perimeter was a circular walkway, from which branched out eight paths leading to the outer sections of the park. Where each intersection branched off, there was a statue; there were eight in all. There was
Shōgun and first Prime Minister, Tokugawa Nobunaga, situated to the north and standing proud and tall. To his right, on the northwest corner was Rōjū Kurosaki Isshin, looking contemplative. To his left, at the northeast, the various reformers amongst the feudal lords who had gone on to become the first members of the Diet, and who contributed so much materiel to the war effort. To the south was
Gensui Ikari, famed Field Marshall of most wartime operations. To his right, at the southeast, was a group statue of the
Ippanbakuryou, amongst them the variously ranked Generals and Admirals of such fame as Iwakura, Kaneda, Kuonji, Saotome, and Tendo. To his left, at the southwest, was a statue of two figures: “Pip” Bernadotte and Seras Victoria. By the end of the war, Bernadotte had earned a General Staff ranking for combat action, and Victoria had been granted an honorary rank for her actions during the war as well; both, despite being
gaijin, had eventually earned the trust and respect of those around them, and eventually the Empire as a whole, and despite being foreigners, had set a precedent amongst the entire nation for acceptance. In the western corner was another group statue, this one of the survivors of the 451st Brigade, whose names any school-child could probably recite; Kusanagi, Hibiki, Aoyama, Mitsune, Matsumoto, Arisawa, Mabiki, and others, in full war regalia; they too had set another precedent. It could probably not be said that women were fully equal to men, but many seemed to think it was progressing along that path. Certainly, at least in the military, there was no dispute by this stage. And lastly, to the east, silhoutted by the rising sun every morning, was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Atop the massive, plain sarcophagus were twin statues; one of a plain infantryman, the other of a plain sailor, to represent all those others who made the ultimate sacrifice and whose names were not recorded on the monument. All of them were focused to look inwardly at it, and though their expressions may have been grim, proud, confident, impassive, or perhaps (particularly on Bernadotte and Victoria) even amused, it created a reverent atmosphere. It was a place of heros. A few of the ones portrayed in statue we still alive, it is true, but their reputation had grown far beyond their person. It was not uncommon, during the day, to see people staring up at the statues silently, or even talking to them. Even the monument was sometimes the recipient of conversation. People could connect with the place.
And it was for precisely that reason that Masayoshi came here. It aided his thinking, to be reminded of those who had gone before, and to meet their examples. To have the courage to not just face the outer problems, but the inner ones as well. Japan had absorbed so much territory, populated by so many different nationalities and ideas, that it was becoming unwieldly. It was an
empire to be sure, in that it represented many different types of people. It was, perhaps, not even fitting to call it “Japanese” anymore. It spoke Japanese, by and large, certainly. Japanese citizens were scattered throughout it, and the vast bulk of its population either was, or was becoming accustomed to, thinking in the Japanese way. But Japan had gained too; many foreign ideas from the outlying territory had been incorporated into its culture. It had, between the Decade of Strife, and the growth of Empire, grown tolerant. It was true that the “core” territories were mostly content, the Manchurian uprising excepted, and even that was provoked by outsiders, but Masayoshi knew quite well that the newer gains would sorely test the flexibility of the existing system. And even then, in some places that had been stable for quite awhile, it was clear there were still residual undercurrents of seperatist feeling; the last gasps of those wanting to cling to the notion they should only associate with those like themselves. It was clear change of some sort was needed, but what?
As Masayoshi sat under the watchful gaze of past heros and the sun cast its first rays through the Cherry Blossoms onto his face, so too in his mind’s eye did it dawn upon him what would be required…
That was my reason to support Persia.
)
