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Chapter 4 - Expel the Barbarian faction

In no time, the three figures disappeared from Aoto's sight.

Watching them leave, Aoto felt a great sense of relief and let out a long breath.

He didn't chase after them.

He must have been out of his mind to even think about doing so.

If the three men had been unarmed, Aoto might have been confident that he could take them down with the martial arts skills he had mastered in his previous life—but the problem was, they were all armed with blades.

Moreover, without knowing their strengths and weaknesses, a hasty pursuit could easily have led him straight into an ambush. The fact that this "sudden attack" had ended without bloodshed was, in truth, a stroke of luck.

His tense nerves finally began to relax.

Only then did Aoto realize that the back of his clothes was damp with cold sweat.

More and more curious onlookers gathered around, their eyes filled with suspicion and unease as they stared at him, the samurai who still held his sword at the ready.

"Don't be nervous, everyone," Aoto said hastily, sheathing his blade.

"I am Tachibana Aoto, sworn officer of the Kita-machi Magistrate's Office."

With that, Aoto lifted the lower right hem of his haori, revealing a jitte with a red tassel tied to the hilt of his katana, as well as an inrō hanging from his right side.

[Note: Inrō — a small, box-shaped lacquerware accessory worn by samurai during the Edo period. While decorative, it also served as a pocket for small items such as coins or medicine.]

Aoto always carried the inrō issued by the magistrate's office. Its black lacquered surface was decorated with a golden hollyhock crest and intricate designs — a badge of office carried only by samurai in official service.

In Edo-period Japan, identification tokens were not commonly used, so the inrō served as a symbol of rank and legitimacy.

When Aoto displayed both the inrō, signifying an official position — and the jitte, a weapon carried exclusively by law officers, the suspicion in the eyes of the onlookers quickly faded.

"I was just attacked by a few thugs; nothing serious happened," Aoto said calmly. "Everyone, please disperse."

The spectators, most of whom had come out purely to watch the commotion, realized there was no more excitement to be had and began to leave one after another.

Once they were gone, Aoto finally exhaled deeply in relief.

Who were those three men...?

Did they just call me a traitor who worships foreigners?

Aoto wiped the cold sweat from his forehead as he searched through the memories of "Tachibana Aoto."

It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. The instant he recalled the identities of those men, his face darkened.

---

Edo, Hatchōbori —

Following the memories of the original Tachibana Aoto, he arrived at a place called Hatchōbori.

This was a samurai district — most of the officials working under the magistrate lived here.

Even though it was Aoto's first time walking this path himself, his inherited memories gave him an eerie sense of familiarity, as if his body already knew the way home.

After turning down two narrow side streets, he stopped in front of a modest wooden house.

Before entering, Aoto carefully scanned his surroundings, wary of any lingering presence in the night.

Only after confirming that no one was following him did he reach for the door.

"I'm back," he said softly.

Knock, knock, knock.

As Aoto slid open the door and stepped into the small home, heavy footsteps came rushing from inside.

An elderly man with white hair and a long beard emerged from the back of the house, dropping to his knees in a practiced, almost sliding motion before bowing deeply.

"Young Master, welcome back! Here, please — allow me to take your sword! Ah! Young Master! What happened to your leg?!"

"It's nothing," Aoto replied with a faint, wry smile. "I was just attacked by the Jōi-ha — the 'Expel the Barbarians' faction — again."

The old man's name was Kyūbei, a senior retainer in the Tachibana household.

A junior servant — or koshō — in a samurai household was essentially an attendant, responsible for assisting the master and maintaining daily affairs.

Kyūbei had served the Tachibana family long before Aoto's birth — even before Aoto's mother had married into the family. After Aoto's father passed away, Kyūbei had continued to serve faithfully, dedicating himself entirely to the young heir.

By now, he had been with the family for nearly thirty years.

The original Tachibana Aoto had always respected this loyal retainer, who had spent most of his life in service to the household and continued to do so with devotion. As a result, the bond between them had grown exceptionally close — more like family than servant and master.

Aoto had no siblings and was not yet married.

With both parents gone and no living relatives, Kyūbei was the only family he had left.

At the mention of the Jōi-ha, Kyūbei's face went pale.

"Again… those 'Expel the Barbarians' zealots? They've truly gone too far! Young Master, you only worked at the American embassy for a short while — why do they keep targeting you? If they truly wish to drive out the barbarians, they should confront the real ones, not harm their own people! Ah! Please, come inside! Let me tend to your wound!"

---

In this era, proper bandages did not exist.

People used strips of linen cloth to stop bleeding and cover injuries.

The wound on Aoto's leg was shallow — it wouldn't affect his movement and would heal fully with a bit of rest.

As Kyūbei clumsily wrapped the linen around his master's thigh, Aoto rubbed his temples and frowned.

What's going on…? I just transmigrated, and I'm already being hunted down by sword-wielding fanatics?

After carefully searching through the memories of the original Tachibana Aoto, he finally identified his attackers — members of the radical Expel the Barbarians faction, or Jōi-ha.

But what exactly is this faction?

How did all of this start…?

---

More than a thousand years ago, while the great Eastern empire across the sea had already entered the Sui and Tang dynasties, Japan was still trapped in the primitive age of slavery.

After witnessing the vast gap between their country and the Sui-Tang Empire, Japan's rulers decided to learn from their powerful neighbors. Thus, in 645 AD, they initiated sweeping reforms known as the Taika Reform — a transformation that propelled Japan from a slave-based system into a feudal state.

Shortly afterward, Japan moved its capital to Nara, marking the beginning of the Nara Period (710–794).

In 794, the capital shifted again to Heian-kyō (modern-day Kyoto), ushering in the Heian Period (794–1192).

During both periods, the Emperor wielded true power, much like the Chinese monarchs of the time.

However, in the later Heian era, the samurai class began to rise.

Originally a group of provincial warriors, they banded together, grew in influence, and gradually seized control of the government, sidelining the Emperor and transforming themselves into Japan's dominant political class.

This reform, known historically as the Taika Reform, fundamentally transformed Japan, propelling it from a slave society into a feudal one.

Shortly after the Taika Reform, Japan moved its capital to Nara, marking the beginning of what would later be called the Nara Period (710–794).

In 794, the capital was moved once again — this time to Heian-kyō (present-day Kyoto), ushering in the Heian Period (794–1192). During both the Nara and Heian eras, the Japanese emperors, like their Chinese counterparts, were true heads of state, wielding immense political and spiritual power.

However, by the mid-to-late Heian period, the samurai class began to rise.

Originally little more than rough provincial warriors, the samurai gradually banded together, gained influence, and began to dominate the government, effectively sidelining the Emperor. Over time, this warrior class transformed into the most powerful and influential group in Japan — the samurai aristocracy.

---

Finally — by the end of the twelfth century — the Minamoto clan had completely usurped the Emperor's authority, seizing absolute control of the Imperial Court.

Because of Japan's unique political and cultural traditions, it was impossible to depose the Emperor or change dynasties as easily as in China. The imperial bloodline, regarded as divine, could not simply be abolished.

Thus, Minamoto no Yoritomo, the leader of the Minamoto clan, created a new system — the Shogunate.

Granted the title of Sei-i Taishōgun ("Barbarian-Subduing Great General") by the Emperor, Yoritomo retained the imperial institution but established a separate government in Kamakura.

This new government came to be known as the Kamakura Shogunate, the first of its kind in Japan's history.

Because it was established in Kamakura, it was commonly called the Kamakura Bakufu (or military government). The position of Sei-i Taishōgun became hereditary within the Minamoto clan, and though the Emperor still existed in Kyoto as a symbolic ruler, real power was held by the Shogun and his administration in Kamakura.

From that point on, the Shogun became the de facto emperor of Japan. The title Sei-i Taishōgun came to represent supreme authority — a position coveted by countless ambitious men.

The Kamakura Shogunate lasted a little over a century (1185–1333), a period now known as the Kamakura Era.

After its fall, the Imperial Court, under the Emperor's command, attempted to reclaim power but failed. Authority was soon seized by another samurai family — the Ashikaga clan.

The Ashikaga destroyed the remnants of the Kamakura government and established Japan's second shogunate, centered in the Muromachi district of Kyoto — hence called the Muromachi Shogunate (1336–1573).

Although the Ashikaga Shoguns held power, the Emperor remained as a figurehead, maintaining ceremonial authority but no real control over the nation.

By the end of the Muromachi period, this fragile balance collapsed. The country fractured as regional warlords — daimyō — rose to power, leading Japan into an age of civil war and chaos: the Sengoku Period (1467–1603).

It was an age of blood and ambition — an era where countless lords fought for dominion over a fragmented nation.

Ultimately, one clan emerged victorious — the Tokugawa.

Under the leadership of Tokugawa Ieyasu, Japan was finally unified once more. In 1603, Ieyasu established the Edo Shogunate in Edo (modern-day Tokyo), ushering in an era of peace and rigid social order that would last for over two centuries.

From that moment onward, the title of Shogun became synonymous with ultimate power — and it would remain in the hands of the Tokugawa family.

This was the world that Tachibana Aoto now found himself living in — the Edo Period, ruled by the Tokugawa Shogunate.

By Aoto's time, the shogunate system had reached its peak.

Kyoto, once called Heian-kyō, still housed the Emperor and Imperial Court, but they had long become powerless symbols.

In truth, Japan now had two governments:

the Imperial Court in Kyoto, headed by the Emperor — a figurehead;

and the military government in Edo, led by the Shogun, the true ruler of the nation.

The Shogun held both political and military authority, the true "Emperor in all but name."

Aoto wasn't deeply familiar with Japanese history, but based on the memories of the original Tachibana Aoto, he could estimate the era.

It was roughly the mid-to-late 19th century — because seven years ago, the American "Black Ships" had arrived and forced Japan to open its borders.

Given the appearance of steam-powered vessels and the interference of Western powers, there was no doubt: this was the final century of the Edo Shogunate.

Shortly after its founding, the Tokugawa Shogunate had issued a national isolation edict to maintain order and prevent foreign influence.

For more than two hundred years, Japan remained almost entirely closed off, trading only with China, Korea, and the Netherlands.

Under this strict isolation, the nation enjoyed peace — though at the cost of stagnation.

That peace lasted until 1853, when Commodore Matthew Perry of the United States Navy led a fleet of black steam-powered ships to Edo Bay.

Their sudden arrival — the "Black Ships Incident" — shocked the nation.

How could Japan, still living in a feudal world, hope to compete with a power that had undergone the Industrial Revolution?

Faced with overwhelming military might, Japan was forced to sign the Treaty of Amity and Commerce with the United States — its doors opened at last.

The event shook the foundations of the Shogunate and sent ripples of panic throughout the country.

Some scholars and officials recognized the vast technological and cultural gap between Japan and the Western powers. They proposed that Japan should, once again, learn from outsiders — just as it had done over a thousand years earlier during the Taika Reform — to strengthen itself.

These reformers called for modernization and self-strengthening through a new movement of national renewal.

However, their voices were few — drowned out by centuries of isolationist arrogance.

After nearly two and a half centuries of seclusion, the Japanese people — from samurai to commoners — had grown narrow-minded and proud.

To many, the arrival of foreigners was not a lesson in progress but an insult.

The prevailing belief of the time was simple:

foreigners were barbarians, corrupt and inferior.

They must be driven out.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Those who cried for the expulsion of the Westerners raised their banners under the slogan "Sonno Jōi" — Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians.

Collectively, these extremists became known as the Jōi-ha, or Expel the Barbarians faction.

Their ideology quickly became the dominant thought in Japan.

Those who advocated coexistence with Western powers — or, worse, suggested learning from them — were a tiny minority, often scorned and branded as traitors.

Within the Jōi-ha itself, different factions existed. Some were relatively moderate, advocating peaceful expulsion and minimal violence.

But most were far more radical — they believed that force was the only way to restore Japan's purity.

In the past seven years, as more foreigners arrived on Japanese soil, the radicals grew increasingly extreme.

They began to claim that anyone who admired the West, worked for foreigners, or even showed sympathy toward Western ideas was a traitor who worshipped barbarians — a disgrace that deserved death.

Such twisted fanaticism spread like wildfire, consuming reason and spreading chaos throughout the country.

The three samurai who had attacked Tachibana Aoto that night were members of this radical Jōi-ha.

And why had they chosen him as a target?

Because Aoto had once worked at the American Embassy — for a mere seven days, just over a month ago.

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