Kill the Shogun

CHAPTER 7

One of Okubo’s earliest memories was of seeing a man boiled alive. His father had a special fondness for this type of punishment, and he prescribed it often for miscreants of all types. Okubo couldn’t remember the crime of the first man he saw boiled, but he did remember the event.

In the center of the courtyard of the Okubo villa, a large iron pot was placed. This kind of pot was normally used for cooking vegetable stew for large numbers of troops, but it served admirably for the purposes of Okubo’s father.

On the wooden veranda that encircled three sides of the courtyard, new tatami mats were placed. Okubo’s father sat on one of these mats, with his young son at his side. Okubo’s mother pronounced the proceedings “gruesome” and refused to attend the execution.

Okubo remembered that his father, who was a tall, normally phlegmatic man, was very animated and excited about the boiling. He was constantly leaping up to inspect or supervise some aspect of the execution. He directed his vassals as to how to arrange the logs around the pot and where to put the kindling. Then he sat on the tatami eating pickled radishes as he waited impatiently for the servants to bring bucket after bucket of water to fill up the pot.

When the condemned man was brought into the courtyard, Okubo’s father personally supervised tying him up before placing him in the pot. The prisoner was crying, and Okubo clearly remembered his father slapping the prisoner and telling him to be a man.

When he returned to the tatami, Okubo’s father explained to him some of the fine points of how the man was tied. Tying up prisoners was one of the skills learned by samurai, but these ties were meant to immobilize a prisoner, not keep him trussed up in a pot. Okubo especially remembered his father telling him not to loop a length of rope around the prisoner’s neck, because he might be able to use it to strangle himself and thereby cut short his misery.

Finally, when all was ready, Okubo’s father ordered the fire lit.

At first the man was relatively stoic, crying softly as the logs surrounding the pot gradually heated up the water within. By the end, the man was screaming for mercy and begging Okubo’s father to end his agony.

At the very end, one of the guards broke ranks and stepped forward with a spear, ready to thrust it into the prisoner to end his suffering. Angrily, Okubo’s father ordered the guard arrested before he could deliver the thrust of mercy. Okubo couldn’t remember what happened to that guard, but he supposed that the guard was himself boiled at a later date. What he did remember was that his father quite enjoyed himself, laughing out loud while the other witnesses to the execution all turned away.

Okubo’s father kept the man in the pot until his flesh started boiling off his bones. Young Okubo and his father sat on the veranda for the entire time this took. Then, when it was all over, Okubo’s father asked his heir if he enjoyed the spectacle. The young Okubo answered, “Hai! Yes!”

When Okubo was around nine, his father conducted a series of disastrous campaigns against his neighboring daimyo. Although he was outnumbered, the neighbor was just too good a general to be beaten by the Okubo clan, and Okubo’s father was forced to settle for peace under humiliating circumstances. Part of the peace agreement required the young heir to go to the enemy’s castle as a hostage for three years, to guarantee the Okubo clan’s good behavior.

So the young Okubo, then ten, was sent to the next fief. He took with him several servants and retainers so he could continue to live in spoiled comfort. He was officially an honored guest, but his entire clan knew his life would be forfeit if his father started another ill-fated adventure within three years.

What only he knew was that, on the night before he left, his father came to him in his room.

“I hate those people!” his father declared. “They think they’re more virtuous than us, even though our rank in the Imperial Court is much higher than theirs! I want you to know that since you are my heir, I will try to restrain myself, but someday the Okubos will have a chance to bring that family to ruin! If that day comes sometime within the next three years, I intend to act. I can always father another boy.” Then Okubo’s father left without a further word. The next morning, as Okubo and his entourage left for the next fief, his father did not appear to say farewell.

Despite his precarious position, the neighboring daimyo turned out to be quite kind and solicitous of Okubo’s welfare. Instead of responding to this kindness, the young Okubo felt bile in his soul, and for some reason his hatred and contempt of the neighboring clan grew to exceed even the hatred expressed by his father.

The neighboring fief seemed to be run more efficiently than Okubo’s own, even though the daimyo seemed so weak that he didn’t grind his vassals into the dirt. Instead, he treated them with respect, and they responded with loyalty and maximum efforts in peace or in war. Instead of embracing this model, the example only hardened the heart of the young Okubo. It made him want to embrace the autocratic ways of his father all the more.

One thing the young son missed was executions by boiling. When execution was required, the neighboring daimyo had it done swiftly, with a single stroke of a sword. Missing one of his favorite recreations, the young Okubo decided to rectify this.

He had three of his retainers find him a stray dog. They trussed up the poor animal, taking special care to tie up its muzzle. Then, behind the villa of the daimyo, Okubo had firewood and a pot of water brought. The dog was in a panic when Okubo had his retainers place the animal in the water. The dog thrashed about, causing the water to fly. Okubo himself lit the fire; then he stepped back to see the fun.

“What are you doing?”

Okubo looked over his shoulder to see the person who now called himself Matsuyama Kaze looking at him. Okubo’s body was shielding Kaze’s view of what was in the pot. The three Okubo retainers had stepped away when the young Okubo lit the fire, and none of them made a move to intercept the young Kaze.

Kaze was nine then, and in his youthful hands he held a paper kite and twine. Okubo ignored him. Kaze was the son of a mid-level samurai at the castle, and should not have even been addressing an heir and future daimyo like Okubo.

“I asked, what are you doing?”

Okubo was not used to being addressed in such a tone of voice, and he said irritably, “This is none of your business. Go off and play your stupid games!”

Kaze stepped to one side to see the contents of the pot that was sitting in the midst of the newly lit fire. When he saw the pot’s contents, he dropped his kite and twine to the earth.

“Let that poor creature go!” Kaze’s voice was sharp and low. Although he was a full head taller than Kaze, Okubo somehow felt threatened.

“Take care of that brat,” Okubo ordered his retainers. Incredibly, they made no move to comply. Instead, they stood there immobile and mute.

“I said, let that creature go!” Kaze had advanced on Okubo, his hands now in two tight fists.

Okubo looked at his retainers, still not understanding why they hadn’t moved to follow his orders. When he looked back at Kaze, his face was filled with a fist flying toward it.

The fight was not an elegant one. It was a schoolboy scuffle. Okubo was taller and stronger than Kaze, but Kaze had the strength of will and rapid reflexes that rained a shower of blows on Okubo. The fight ended with Kaze sitting on Okubo’s chest, pummeling his head, while the older boy tried to protect himself by placing his hands over his face. The three Okubo retainers simply looked on.

Convinced he had thrashed the older boy, Kaze got off Okubo and ran to the fire. He kicked the pot over and the spilling water doused half the flame, sending up a cloud of white steam. Kaze took the struggling dog out of the pot and untied it, first making sure the water had not yet gotten hot enough to harm the animal. As soon as Kaze released the dog from its bonds, the animal leapt up and ran with all speed out of the area.

Okubo complained about the beating. Since he was the son of a daimyo, the Lord who was holding him hostage called Kaze and his father to explain themselves.

As they sat outside the Lord’s reception room, Kaze could see his father was irritated by the trouble Kaze had caused. Kaze knew the Lord had power of life and death over his father and everyone in the fief. From the fact that his father was irritated but not concerned, Kaze guessed the situation wasn’t as serious as that. Still, he felt acute embarrassment for causing trouble.

He sat waiting, trying to wash all thoughts from his mind and concentrating on his breathing. Breath was life and Kaze had already been taught the breathing exercises that samurai students were drilled in. It calmed him and also steeled him to go through his first direct contact with his daimyo. He wanted to greet the daimyo as a warrior and not a child.

The Lord finally called them in.

As they entered, the daimyo and his son, who was a few years older than Kaze, were sitting on a dais at the end of the room. Kaze and his father marched to the daimyo, stopping a respectful distance away. They both gracefully sank to their knees, put their hands on the floor before them, and gave a deep, formal bow, almost touching their heads to the floor. Then they both sat up, sitting on their legs, with calm faces and rigid backs.

The daimyo was impressed. The young boy had been well schooled in proper etiquette, but any child likely to have contact with daimyo and other high officials of the clan would be so schooled. What impressed the daimyo was the calm of the boy. Most children would be nervous or even crying when summoned to see the Lord of the fief after beating the son of another daimyo. The daimyo glanced at his son, to see if he had also noted the young boy’s presence. In the normal course of things, this young boy would someday serve the daimyo’s son, just as the father served the daimyo.

“Young Okubo complained about your beating him,” the daimyo said without preliminaries. The young boy sat calmly, not denying the charge or rushing to offer an excuse.

“I did beat him, great Lord,” the boy said.

After waiting to see if the boy would say more, the daimyo continued. His respect for this youth increased because he maintained an impressive composure, and he started looking at him as a precocious young man, and not a child. “Why did you beat him?” he asked.

“Young Lord Okubo had a dog tied up in a pot of water and he seemed intent on boiling it alive.”

“So he was torturing your dog?”

“It was not my dog, great Lord.”

Surprised, the daimyo asked, “It was not your dog?”

“No, Lord. I think it was a stray dog.”

“Then why did you rush to protect it? Are you aware that some daimyo hunt dogs, shooting them from horseback with a bow and arrow?”

“Yes, great Lord.”

“And would you beat up the son of a daimyo if he was doing that?”

“Probably not, great Lord.”

“Why not?”

“Because that is not cruelty for cruelty’s sake. I was taught that all creatures must die, including human beings. Death is inevitable, by one means or another. The manner of death, however, is important. Being boiled alive to give another pleasure is not a good death, even for a dog. I have never seen this type of cruelty exhibited before by our clan. Young Lord Okubo is a future daimyo, but he is also a guest of our clan. He should abide by the customs of our clan. That includes not inflicting pain for callous reasons, even to a dog.”

Kaze’s father opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. His son was acquitting himself like a man. He didn’t know from what depths the young boy was pulling up the answers he was giving. He wanted to turn his head and look at his son, but protocol prevented him from doing so in this type of formal interview. He had to keep his face toward his daimyo.

The daimyo raised his eyebrows at Kaze’s answer, surprised at the response.

“Undoubtedly there are other customs in Okubo’s own clan,” the daimyo said diplomatically. “Why do you think Okubo complained to me about the beating you gave him?”

“To get me in trouble because he was defeated and …” For the first time in the interview, Kaze looked his age as youthful embarrassment flitted across his face. He stopped talking.

“Finish your thought,” the daimyo commanded.

“Yes, great Lord. I believe young Lord Okubo complained to you because he has not been properly trained in bushido, the way of the warrior. A true warrior would never complain about such a trivial matter.”

The daimyo placed his hand to his face to hide his smile, but his son, who was not as experienced in maintaining his composure, laughed out loud.

After a moment, the daimyo said, “All right. I’m not going to punish you this time, but please try to restrain yourself from beating up the sons of daimyo, even if they’re engaged in what you think is cruelty.”

Kaze and his father gave another deep, formal bow and left the room. As they left, Kaze’s father looked at his son as if he were seeing him for the first time.

When the father and son were gone, the daimyo looked at his own son and said, “Someday that young man will become your right arm.”

Okubo was assured that proper punishment had been given to Kaze, but he continued to hate the young boy. He also hated the retainers who did not defend him, and when he returned to his own fief, he had the three retainers put to death.

Later, Kaze and Okubo met again during the finals of Hideyoshi’s great sword tournament. There, Okubo’s clan tried to bribe Kaze, which made him want to destroy Okubo, not just defeat him.