Ryoma : Life of a Renaissance Samurai by Hillsborough, Romulus

A Declaration of Freedom
The hills east and west of Kyoto were aflame with bright autumn red as they always were at this time of year. The Kamogawa flowed through the center of the city like it had since the beginning of time, and its water was as pure as that of its offshoot, the Takasegawa. The age-old black pagoda ofToji Temple still caressed the crystal blue skyline to the southwest, and as was common in late fall, a cold wind blew in from the northeast, cutting through Ryoma s worn out black jacket and ruffling his already disheveled hair. And although the Dragon had been in Kyoto during the Sweltering Summer of Frenzy, and seen the aftermath of Choshu's failed countercoup that had left much of the city in ashes, he had never before felt such intensity in the air.
Such was Ryoma's impression when he finally reached the Imperial capital amidst the death throes of the Tokugawa, but not before stopping along the way at his company's office in Osaka.

Ryoma removed his sword, sat down on the tatami floor with several of his men, and, as if by natural reflex, reached into his kimono for his Smith and Wesson. "Left it in Kochi," he muttered under his breath.

"Yonosuke and Sonojo have loaded the two hundred rifles on the Yugao at Kobe," Kenkichi informed.

"I'll have to get another one," Ryoma said to himself, as if ignoring Kenkichi's remark.

"Another ship?" Kenkichi asked.

"No. We'll need several more ships. But now I need another pistol. And as for those rifles, it looks like we might be needing them real soon."

"Might be?" Toranosuke exploded. "Ryoma, this just isn't right."

"What isn't right?" Ryoma asked, but in an annoyed tone because he already knew the answer.

"Satsuma's ready to begin the war right now, and we're here in Osaka tending to business matters," Taro protested.

"Where's Saigo?" Ryoma asked, again avoiding the subject of war, but swallowing hard to hide his anxiety.

"They say he's in Kyoto," Kenkichi said, gesturing with his chin in the direction of the nearby Satsuma headquarters.

"I see," Ryoma said. "And Taro," he looked hard at his nephew, "I want you to continue tending to business for the time being." Then grimly, "If there's a war," he finally mentioned the word, "we'll fight. But first I want to see if Goto has made any progress with our plan."

"But Ryoma..." Toranosuke attempted protest.

"If the fighting begins," Ryoma interrupted, "then I want all of you to go immediately to Kobe, take the Yugao and sink a couple Tokugawa warships before they even know what hit them." The idea seemed to please Ryoma's men, or at least satisfy them long enough for him to hurry to Kyoto to see Goto.

Ryoma, Toda, Okauchi and Sakutaro left Osaka by riverboat on the night of October 8, arriving in Kyoto the next morning. Having spent two and a half months on the Icarus Affair in Nagasaki and the conservatives in Tosa, Ryoma finally returned to the center stage of the Great Play in the Imperial capital. "Things are much different in Kyoto and Osaka than they have been in the past," he wrote his brother later that day. "Although everyone is talking much about the impending war, it still hasn 't begun."

The four men alighted the boat at the landing on the canal, near Tosa headquarters. "I have to see Goto," Ryoma said, as a muffled voice called him from behind. Ryoma reached for his pistol that was not there, turned slowly around, then smiled. "Seihei!" he shouted.

Mochizuki Seihei and Ryoma had grown up together in the same neighborhood of Kochi Castletown. A charter member of the Tosa Loyalist Party, Seihei was the older brother of Kameyata, the former student of Katsu Kaishu who had died three summers before in the Shinsengumi's surprise-attack on the Loyalists at the Ikedaya inn.

Seihei approached the three men. "Ryoma," he whispered, "what are you doing here?"

"I've come to see Goto."

"Let's talk inside," Seihei said nervously, gesturing toward Tosa headquarters, and looking around in all directions.

Soon they sat around a brazier in a small room at Tosa's Kyoto headquarters, where Seihei told them that the Shinsengumi had been looking for Ryoma for the past month. "They've apparently received a report that you'd be coming to Kyoto with three hundred of your men," Seihei said, drawing an amused howl from Ryoma, who shouted "Three hundred?"

"There are leaflets circulating the city informing people that the Tokugawa authorities are after Sakamoto Ryoma of Tosa and his band oironin"

"It looks like you have the Bakufu scared, Sakamoto-san," Toda snickered.

"You ought to be flattered," Sakutaro quipped. "You're a celebrity."

"Tokugawa police agents have been asking for you here at Tosa headquarters, and they know about your hideout at the Vinegar Store," Seihei said worriedly, but Ryoma was not the least taken aback. He was used to living the life of a wanted man. The Bakufu police had been after him since they had suspected that he was the man behind the Satsuma-Choshu Alliance. He had evaded their attempt on his life at the Teradaya almost two years before, and Ryoma was confident that they would not be able to catch him this time either, although the Bakufu also suspected that he was behind the plan to convince the Shogun to relinquish power. "So you must find another place to stay," Seihei urged.

"Well," Ryoma snickered, "it's comforting to know that some things in this city never change."

"What's that?" Toda asked.

"The ronin-hunters are still after me. But I have to talk to Goto right away. Where is he?"

"Right here, Ryoma," a voice answered through the sliding screen door.

"Goto!" Ryoma shouted, as the door opened. "What's happened with the memorial from Lord Yodo?"

"I've submitted it to the Shogun's prime minister," Goto informed, sitting on the floor opposite Ryoma.

As Goto explained, when he had reached Kyoto over a month before, Satsuma had been ready for war. Saigo, angry that Goto had arrived without the promised troops, was no longer willing to hold off his war plans. Okubo had recently returned from Choshu, where he had coordinated the final plans of attack with Katsura. On October 3, however, Goto suddenly received word from Komatsu that the plan for peaceful restoration was gaining support among the conservatives in Kagoshima.

Confusion over the wisdom of the great changes which the radicals of Satsuma and Choshu were about to effect, the irreversibility of these changes, and the unknown consequences that they might have on the social, economic and political structure of the Japanese nation, caused vacillation among the senior hereditary councilors in Kagoshima. While Saigo and Okubo might be willing to risk everything, including their lives, for the revolution, Satsuma's conservative elite began to worry about the possibility of failure, which would undoubtedly result in the loss of their inheritance. Nevertheless, as Saigo, Okubo and Komatsu still had the ear of their daimyo, and the overwhelming support of the Satsuma samurai, the councilors' hesitation had simply delayed their war plans. There were already thousands of Satsuma troops in Kyoto ready for war, and thousands more due to arrive soon.

"And there are thousands more in Choshu waiting for Imperial sanction to enter Kyoto," Goto continued. "All Saigo needs is an Imperial decree to declare war against the Bakufu, which Lord Iwakura is working to obtain at court."

"I don't understand why Komatsu would tell you about the problem in Kagoshima," Ryoma said, chewing nervously on his left thumbnail.

"Because Komatsu is not as radical as Saigo or Okubo. Although he's determined to bring down the Bakufu, he genuinely supports our peace plan."

"I see," Ryoma nodded approval, cracked his knuckles, then asked anxiously, "When did you submit the memorial?"

"On October 3. Komatsu urged me to submit it on that day. He warned me that war was about to begin, and if I planned to submit it, I'd better do so immediately." Goto reached into his kimono, produced two folded documents. "Copies," he said, and handed them to Ryoma.

The memorial consisted of two parts. The first was a personal statement from Yodo himself, which pointed out in grandiose language the grave danger Japan faced in the present state of national disunity, and stressed the need to reform the political order with the cooperation of all groups. The second part of the memorial was an eloquent version of Ryoma's Great Plan at Sea. The plan to save the nation, conceived of by a lower-samurai from Tosa who had never in his life held a position of official authority, and who was one of the most wanted men in Japan, had finally been presented to the Tokugawa Shogun.

Ryoma flung the copies on the floor. "Looks familiar," he snickered, drawing uneasy laughter from Goto.

"On the same day I submitted it," Goto said, "Fukuoka and I implored Saigo to wait a little longer, to give the Shogun time to answer."

"What was Saigo's reaction?" Ryoma asked, nervously wringing his hands.

"He said he'd wait five more days. Okubo objected, but Saigo and Komatsu convinced him."

"Why?" Toda asked.

"They had no choice. Not only are they still waiting for an Imperial decree to declare war," Goto grinned cynically, "but our plan for peaceful restoration has apparently won support in Kagoshima."

"But six days have already passed," Sakutaro said.

"And still no war," Goto replied with an air of triumph. Three days after he had submitted Yodo's petition to the Bakufu, the Lord of Hiroshima, at Goto's urging, wavered in his war convictions, and followed the example of his counterpart from Tosa by advising the Shogun to abdicate peacefully. Just as Goto was gloating over what he presumed to be a diplomatic coup, he received word from Komatsu that a large contingency of Satsuma troops had reached Choshu, en route to Kyoto. News of this convinced the Hiroshima daimyo, who feared repercussions from a victorious Satsuma-Choshu Alliance, to rejoin the anti-Bakufu forces on October 8, the day before Ryoma had reached Kyoto. "But," Goto said optimistically, "Satsuma still hasn't received an Imperial decree to declare war."

"Have you received any word yet on the Shogun's reaction to the memorial?" Ryoma asked.

"Nothing certain," Goto said, drawing looks of dismay from the others.

"Nothing certain!" Ryoma echoed nervously.

"No." Goto looked grieved. "I've talked to the Shogun's chief advisor, Nagai Naomune, several times since then, but still there's nothing certain."

"Nagai Naomune!" Ryoma said. "I've heard about him from Katsu-sen-sei." Like Ryoma's mentor, the Bakufu's Great Inspector Nagai Naomune was a naval specialist who had studied under the Dutch in Nagasaki, and was thereafter instrumental in forming the Tokugawa Navy. The son of a Tokugawa-hereditary daimyo, Nagai had advanced through a series of important Bakufu posts, including commissionerships of the treasury, foreign relations and navy; and recently, at age fifty-one, had been promoted to the Shogun's Junior Council. Along with Prime Minister Itakura, Great Inspector Nagai was now one of Shogun Yoshinobu's two most trusted advisors. "Katsu-sensei once told me that Nagai was the most brilliant man in the Bakufu," Ryoma said. "And coming from Katsu-sensei, who rarely had anything good to say about any of the Tokugawa officials, that was quite a commendation."

"Apparently he's one of the few men with any brains whose advice Yoshinobu will listen to," Goto said. "In fact, convincing Nagai to accept our plan would be as good as convincing the Shogun himself."

"What did Nagai have to say about it?" Ryoma asked.

"He likes it."

"Goto," Ryoma suddenly exploded, "I want you to introduce me to Nagai right away."

"Are you crazy, Ryoma?" Goto shouted. "Nagai's one of the Tokugawa's great inspectors, and you're a wanted man. You couldn't get near him without being arrested."

Ryoma shook his head. "I think I could," he said. "If he's anything like Katsu-sensei said he was."

Goto cleared his throat. "I see. I'll arrange for you to meet him tomorrow," he said with a sardonic grin. The idea that Ryoma had no qualms about demanding an audience with one of the most influential men in the Bakufu, and would indeed get one, amused the Tosa minister to no end.

"Good!" Ryoma said. "And I've been thinking," he added.

"Yes," Goto said drolly, "you do a lot of that."

"The mint in Edo should be moved to Kyoto," Ryoma said, Toda muttered amazement, Goto scratched his head thoughtfully, and the other three Tosa men nodded grimly. "Once this is done, it won't matter whether the Shogun resigns or not."

"I don't follow you," Goto said.

"Without control of the mint, the Bakufu would be powerless, and there would be no reason for Yoshinobu not to resign." Unlike Saigo, Okubo, Nakaoka and other Men of High Purpose, Ryoma was less concerned with crushing the Tokugawa than he was with the practical business of setting up a new government. "If the Imperial Court has control of the mint, the Shogun can even keep his lousy title, if that's what it would take for him to agree to restore the power peacefully."

"But Sakamoto-san!" Toda exploded, "you've been saying all along that either the Shogun resigns or we go to war."

Ryoma shook his head slowly. "Go to war over a trivial matter like that?"

"Ryoma!" Goto hollered. "How can you call the Shogun's resigning trivial?"

"Because once the mint is moved to Kyoto, the Imperial Court will naturally be in control of the government and the military, and from that time on, the title of Shogun will be meaningless. There will be nothing to fear from a man whose title is only nominal, and who has no actual authority." The architect of the great plan to restore the political power to the Emperor did not limit himself to politics: finance, he deemed, was the key to the success of any government.

"Brilliant!" Goto exclaimed.

"But simply moving the mint to Kyoto would not necessarily give the court the authority to print money," Toda said. "The Tokugawa would still

control more of the national wealth than any other family in Japan, including the Imperial Family."

"Then," Ryoma said matter-of-factly, "we'll have to counterfeit paper money."

"Ryoma!" Goto shouted in disbelief. "Counterfeiting is a crime!"

"So what?" Ryoma said. "Satsuma is already counterfeiting money," he said. "If Tosa, Satsuma and Choshu counterfeited a million ryo each, we'd have three million ryo to start the new government. Don't you think that would be a small price to pay for the future of Japan?" Ryoma added, then stood up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Seihei asked worriedly.

"To see Nakaoka at his military headquarters. I need his help to make sure that Saigo doesn't start a war for at least a few more days."

"You can't go alone, Ryoma!" Goto said in no uncertain terms. "Not with the Shinsengumi and every other Bakufu police unit in Kyoto looking for you."

"I'm sick of hearing about the row'w-hunters!" Ryoma sneered, then burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Goto said, annoyed.

"It's not that I don't appreciate your concern, Goto, but don't you think you're in as much danger as I am in this city? It can't be much of a secret that you're the one who submitted the memorial to the Bakufu; and if there's anything the Tokugawa police don't want, it's for the Shogun to relinquish power."

"I'm not so sure of that," Goto said. "You see," he added in a confessional tone, "I've recently met Kondo Isami."

"You've met Kondo Isami!" Sakutaro exploded indignantly, followed by disgruntled groans from Toda and Okauchi.

"Relax!" Ryoma demanded.

"But Kondo Isami!" Toda persisted angrily. "Who knows how many Loyalists that son of a bitch has either killed by his own sword or ordered killed by his band of assassins!" In fact, as the commander of the Shinsengumi, Kondo had legal authority to kill whomever he wanted, for whatever reason he saw fit.

"Yes," Ryoma agreed gravely. Then after casting a painful glance at Seihei, Ryoma asked Goto to tell him about his meeting with Kondo.

"I met him a few days before I submitted the memorial to the Bakufu, at Nagai's residence, where I was explaining the urgency of the situation," Goto said in a stressed tone. "While we were talking, Kondo dropped in."

"Didn't you have any qualms about meeting him?" Sakutaro asked bitterly.

"Yes and no," Goto said. "You see, I hate everything Kondo stands for, but I thought it would be beneficial to us if he agreed with our plans."

"Hmm," Ryoma muttered, nodding slowly.

"I also figured that if I showed any weakness Kondo might try to cut me right there on the spot. So I suppressed my personal feelings about him as best I could and decided to make him understand that the Shogun must resign in order to save the House of Tokugawa from total destruction." The welfare of the Tokugawa was a priority of the Lord of Tosa, and of the commander of the Shinsengumi. While Lord Yodo's incentive was based on a strong feeling of ancestral obligation, Kondo's was more immediate. The third son of a peasant from the Tama region, just west of Edo in the province of Musashi, Kondo had been adopted by a local fencing master, whose position he succeeded several years before founding the most dreaded police force in Japanese history. Kondo's blind dedication to the Tokugawa was not uncommon among the peasants of Musashi, which was under the direct control of the Shogun. After the notorious attack at the Ikedaya inn in the summer of 1864, the Shinsengumi's prominence as protector of the Tokugawa had greatly increased; and recently each of its some 250 members—most of whom had been recruited from among the ronin in Edo and Kyoto—were elevated to the rank of direct Tokugawa retainer, which gave them the right of audience to the Shogun himself. Nor did honors stop here for Commander Kondo, who was now the official bodyguard of the Shogun. Matters of social prestige aside, as head of the House of Tokugawa, Yoshinobu was Kondo's liege lord, on whose well-being the commander's livelihood, social position and indeed life now depended.

"By the look in Kondo's eyes after I first mentioned the Shogun's abdicating," Goto said with a sardonic grin, "I thought for sure he was going to draw his sword."

"What happened?" Ryoma asked, impressed with Goto's nerve.

"I explained to Kondo that even if the Shogun were to relinquish power, as long as the House of Tokugawa survives, its vast landholdings, which make Yoshinobu the wealthiest of all the lords, would certainly ensure him a position of power in a new Imperial government." While Goto was by no means certain of this assumption, he used it as a ploy to win over the dangerous commander of the Shinsengumi.

Goto's strategy seemed to work, as he learned soon after in a letter from Kondo asking to see a copy of the memorial submitted to the Bakufu.

"What did you do?" Ryoma asked.

"I showed him a copy, and explained it in detail."

"And?"

"Apparently Kondo isn't completely opposed to our plan, because he invited me to his headquarters to drink and discuss the matter further. Of course I have no intention of going to the headquarters of the Shinsengumi," Goto said derisively. "But for whatever reason, Kondo has guaranteed my personal safety in Kyoto." In fact, after their first meeting, Kondo issued an order to all of his men to neither harm nor show disrespect to Tosa Minister Goto Shojiro. "And so, Ryoma," Goto concluded, rubbing his hands over the brazier, "while my life, for the time being, doesn't appear to be in danger, yours most definitely is."

What Goto avoided mentioning, however, was that he himself had recently come very close to being assassinated by a Satsuma samurai. The incident

occurred after one of several meetings with Saigo, during which he angered many of the Satsuma men by urging them to wait just a little longer before starting a war. When Goto left Satsuma's Kyoto headquarters it was after nightfall, and Saigo had given him a lantern which was emblazoned with the Satsuma crest. When the Satsuma samurai who lay in wait, sword drawn and ready to cut the Tosa minister just outside the outer gate, saw the mark of the Lord of Satsuma, he resheathed his blade and let Goto pass. Saigo heard of the incident soon after, and reprimanded the Satsuma man, telling him that at this critical time Japan could not do without the likes of Goto Shojiro.

Back to Ryoma. Despite Goto's warning, he left Tosa headquarters alone just after sundown, because, as he explained, "one of us is less apt to attract attention than two or three." Besides, it wasn't the danger to his own life that riled Ryoma's nerves as he hastened northward through the city. Rather, it was what he had, and had not learned from Goto that made Ryoma feel as if his head might burst from anxiety. The memorial from Lord Yodo urging peaceful restoration had been submitted to the Shogun, while Satsuma and Choshu troops waited for Imperial sanction to attack the Bakufu. "Will it be war or peace?" Ryoma wondered aloud and increased his pace. The great compromiser had finally returned to Kyoto, where he found two opposing plans simultaneously set in motion, and himself in the middle of a race against time for the Japanese nation.

A full moon was shining in the night sky when Ryoma reached the headquarters of Nakaoka's Land Auxiliary Force in the northeastern outskirts of the city. The headquarters consisted of one plain wooden rectangular building, large enough to accommodate two hundred men, and completely surrounded by a high white earthen wall. Tosa had originally purchased the minor estate in the previous winter to house its own troops; but when the plan was scrapped because of its distance from the center of the city, Goto and Sasaki arranged for Nakaoka to use it as a sanctuary for ronin in Kyoto, who were hunted daily by the Tokugawa police. Unlike Ryoma's company, the function of Nakaoka's band of over one hundred men was strictly military, but like the Kaientai it was an independent entity sponsored by Tosa and prepared to fight against the Tokugawa forces whenever war might break out.

Nakaoka greeted his old friend just inside the front gate. "Ryoma," he said as nonchalantly as if it hadn't been nearly three months since the two had last met, "it's about time you showed up. I've got something I want to show you." Nakaoka led Ryoma into a large room near the front of the building. "Here," he said excitedly, slid open the door with a loud bang, and disclosed an array of rifles and lances, and lanterns fastened at the ends of long poles to light the way for a night attack against the Tokugawa forces.

"It looks like you're ready, Shinta," Ryoma said, yawning.

"We're ready to fight at any time. My men are drilling daily. They can't wait for the war to begin." This was Nakaoka's way of telling Ryoma that he too opposed the plan for peaceful restoration. "It's too late," he said. "There's nothing left for us to do but fight. After Goto arrived without troops, and then convinced Saigo to postpone the attack, and even got the Hiroshima men to back down in their military support of Satsuma, I was ready to cut him down."

"Shinta!" Ryoma shouted angrily. "If you cut Goto, you'll have to cut me too."

"I've had enough of Tosa's vacillation," Nakaoka snarled. "They've gone back on their word too many times, and now while Goto is interfering with our plans for war, the Bakufu is surely sending more and more troops here from Edo."

"What made you change your mind about cutting Goto?" Ryoma asked drolly.

"Because Hiroshima is back on our side," Nakaoka said. "But Ryoma," he snapped, "this is no time to joke."

"I'm not joking." Ryoma was amused at Nakaoka's temperamental disposition. "But Shinta," he said in a more somber tone, "you know that Goto has submitted Yodo's memorial to the Bakufu. Now that we've come this far, don't you think we owe it to ourselves and our men to give the Shogun a chance to abdicate peacefully?" The great mediator found himself acting as the devil's advocate with both sides, promoting the peace initiative among those who wanted war, and defending the cause of war among the backers of the peace plan in case it should fail. In Tosa he had played the hawk, supplying that han with guns, while now in Kyoto he assumed the role of dove to give his peace plan one last chance. And while his words and actions may have seemed contradictory to those who didn't know him, Nakaoka knew Ryoma very well. "You can't expect the Shogun to give an immediate answer," Ryoma said. "Think about the pressure he must be under. He's being urged to restore the power to the Imperial Court after seven centuries of samurai rule. Either he relinquishes the power which his own family has held for over two and a half centuries, or he faces total destruction." Ryoma paused, took a deep breath. "We owe it to the future of Japan, Shinta, to give the Shogun a few more days to make his decision."

"The longer we wait, the more time the Bakufu has to send reinforcements from Edo," Nakaoka groaned. "The only way to unite Japan so that it will be strong enough to deal with the foreign threat is by first burying the Tokugawa, to be absolutely sure that it will never rise again."

"Civil war will give the foreign powers a perfect opportunity to attack," Ryoma countered. "And besides, Shinta, a war against the Bakufu will undoubtedly win wider support if we give the Shogun just a little more time to reply."

"Alright," Nakaoka muttered, his fists clenched tightly. "How long do you suggest we wait?"

"Another four or five days. If the Shogun refuses, or if he doesn't answer by then," Ryoma said with absolute conviction, "my Kaientai will be the first to join the Satsuma and Choshu forces to destroy him."

"Alright," Nakaoka said. "But I still don't think the Shogun will agree to resign without a fight."

"That's something we're going to have to find out. But Shinta," Ryoma

grabbed his friend's arm, "I need your help to stall Satsuma, because with the way things are right now I don't think I can do it alone." In short, Ryoma needed the help of a leading proponent of war to convince Saigo to give his peace plan one last chance.

"Alright," Nakaoka said, a bit surprised at the lack of self-confidence in his otherwise overly confident friend.

"Good." Ryoma grinned. "And one more thing. Is there a place here I can sleep?" Ryoma was exhausted. He had been on the go constantly since leaving Nagasaki for Tosa, and now he could not return to his hideout at the shop of the lumber merchant just west of the Takasegawa in the Kawaramachi district, because it had been discovered by the Bakufu police. He was in desperate need of rest to prepare himself for the critical days ahead; but before laying down to sleep in a room which Nakaoka had provided, he scrawled out a short letter to his brother in Kochi, summarizing his trip back to Kyoto, and the critical state of things when he arrived in the Imperial capital. "This is to let you know that as of today" he ominously concluded the last letter he would ever write to his family, "I am alright."

Ryoma slept at Nakaoka's headquarters, undisturbed until the next morning when a message arrived from Goto informing him that Nagai would see him at his Kyoto residence that afternoon.

Over the years Nagai had heard only good things about Sakamoto Ryoma from Katsu Kaishu and Okubo Ichio, men with whom he maintained a relationship of mutual respect, if not friendship. Nagai had also heard from the Lord of Fukui about Ryoma's private navy, which consisted almost entirely of anti-Bakufu ronin in Nagasaki; and recently word had it that the outlaw was in Kyoto with three hundred of his men to fight along side Satsuma and Choshu against the Tokugawa. In fact, Nagai knew that Ryoma was no less dangerous to Bakufu interests than were Saigo and Okubo of Satsuma, and Katsura of Choshu. And so, when the Shogun's chief advisor heard from Goto that Ryoma wanted to see him, his initial reaction was to have the outlaw arrested. "Preposterous!" Nagai shouted at Goto. "Isn't he aware of the risk he'd be taking by coming here?" When Goto answered affirmatively, and made the unheard of request that he treat the outlaw as if he were an envoy of the Lord of Tosa, Nagai acquiesced with a confused shrug. Then, when Goto informed the Shogun's chief advisor that it was actually Ryoma who was the mastermind behind Yodo's plan for peaceful restoration, he was suddenly anxious to meet him.

This is not to say that Nagai welcomed the downfall of the Edo regime, even by peaceful means. Nor did he harbor feelings of goodwill for the man behind the Satsuma-Choshu Alliance and the plan to topple the Bakufu, however peacefully. But Nagai was wise enough to realize that Ryoma's plan was far preferable to that which Satsuma and Choshu had in store, for the simple reason that it offered a way to save the House of Tokugawa from total destruction.

Nagai was staying at a villa in the precincts of a great temple, in the south of Kyoto. When the outlaw arrived at the outer gate of the villa later that morning, the Bakufu's great inspector was waiting for him, as attested by the cordial reception he received at the guardhouse when he identified himself by his real name.

Ryoma, in fact, was risking his life on Kaishu's evaluation of Nagai's character, and on his own conviction that the future well-being of Japan was riding on the decision that the Shogun must make within the next few days. It was for the goal of securing the desired decision that he surrendered his sword to a guard, whom he followed into the house, down a long wooden corridor to a large drawing room overlooking an exquisite garden, where he introduced himself to Great Inspector Nagai Naomune.

"I'm Sakamoto Ryoma, originally of Tosa," he said.

"Originally of Tosa?" Nagai repeated with an amused grin, although reason dictated that he have the outlaw arrested on the spot. "I've never heard anyone introduce himself quite like that before."

"Well, you see," Ryoma said in an exaggerated Tosa drawl, "I prefer to consider myself as belonging to all of Japan, rather than just Tosa." Ryoma paused momentarily, grinned widely, then added as nonchalantly as if he were commenting on the weather, "Because neither Tosa nor any of the other clans will be around much longer."

"I see," Nagai said in a confused tone, and to his own surprise found himself returning the outlaw's smile. Ryoma's outlandish remark, not to mention overwhelming physical stature, dark complexion, unkempt hair and worn out clothes might have given Nagai pause, but the honesty in his eyes and his uncanny air of self-confidence which nevertheless radiated a childlike innocence immediately captured the goodwill of the great inspector. "Welcome, Sakamoto-san," he said.

As great inspector of the Tokugawa Bakufu, Nagai was in charge of supervising general affairs for Edo, overseeing the conduct of the feudal lords, and exposing negligence on the parts of the various Bakufu officials; but more than anything else, Shogun Yoshinobu counted on his chief advisor for his extensive knowledge of the West, administrative skills, long experience in government, farsightedness and ability to cope with crises. Nagai looked his fifty-one years, all the more so for the great stress he was under as the most important advisor to a shogun who was faced with the most momentous decision in the two and a half centuries of Tokugawa rule. He was dressed immaculately in royal blue silk, his hair freshly oiled and neatly tied into a topknot, his expression somber in the presence of one of his government's greatest enemies. "Please sit down," Nagai said, then looking hard into Ryoma's eyes, added, "What you have to say must be exceedingly urgent for you to risk coming here like this."

Ryoma replied with a nod, and without wasting time on further formalities, sat down on the tatami floor opposite Nagai. "Not only won't the clans be around much longer," he said, "but neither will the Tokugawa Bakufu."

"What?" Nagai shouted, as if deeply insulted.

"If you'll excuse the bluntness of the question," Ryoma said, "I'd like to

ask if you really believe that the Bakufu has the military power to defeat the combined forces of Satsuma, Choshu and several other powerful han."

Nagai was stunned by the suddenness, if not frankness of the question; but since he had been consumed with this very problem since Goto had submitted the memorial one week before, he regained his calm and replied gravely, "Unfortunately, I think victory would be very difficult to achieve."

"In which case," Ryoma answered without hesitation, his fists clenched, his face thrust so far forward that Nagai could feel the heat of his breath, "the only way to spare Japan the danger of foreign invasion, and the House of Tokugawa from total destruction, is for the Shogun to restore the power to the Emperor."

A painfully long silence ensued, while Nagai stared hard into the piercing eyes of Sakamoto Ryoma. "Just who is this man?" he thought to himself. "Where does he get the audacity to come here and say such things to me, a Tokugawa retainer?" But nevertheless Nagai recognized the bitter truth of the outlaw's words, as attested to by his evaluation of Ryoma years later: "Sakamoto was an even greater man than Goto, and what he had to say was really something.'"

"Because if the Shogun refuses," Ryoma continued, sitting up straight, his eyes ablaze with conviction, "we're going to have a civil war, which the Bakufu has no chance of winning. And a civil war would give France and England a perfect opportunity to invade Japan, and divide the spoils among themselves." Ryoma paused, then continued calmly, "Which brings me back to my main point. The only way for Japan to avoid foreign subjugation is for all of the clans, including the Tokugawa, to unite into one strong nation. But in order to do this, the Shogun must first restore the power to the Imperial Court. And he must do so without further delay, and take his place in a new Imperial government as an equal among other great feudal lords." Ryoma, of course, cared nothing for the social status of the Shogun, or of the feudal lords. His sole concern was for the welfare of Japan—specifically, establishing a modern government which would be representative of all clans and social classes, and which would be strong enough to handle the many problems which threatened the nation. But since convincing Nagai was a means to this end, Ryoma was willing to make whatever concessions were necessary, including guaranteeing the welfare of the Shogun and the House of Tokugawa.

"As you know," Nagai began speaking in a sad, deliberate voice, "Lord Yoshinobu is a son of the late Lord of Mito, who was the founder of Imperial Loyalism. Lord Yoshinobu cannot help but revere the Son of Heaven; it's in his very blood. He of all men is dedicated to the good of our sacred nation, and desires more than anything else to avoid a civil war and foreign subjugation. For this reason he would very much like to follow the sound advice of the Lord of Tosa, but fears that once he relinquishes his rule, Satsuma and Choshu will wrest the power from the Imperial Court and destroy the House of Tokugawa."

Nagai stopped speaking, and the room was silent. From the garden outside was the soft sound of running water trickling into a small pond, and the gentle singing of a single thrush. Ryoma nodded slowly, eventually releasing a long sigh because he well understood the Shogun's fears. "It's true that Satsuma and Choshu want nothing less than the absolute destruction of the Tokugawa," Ryoma said. "But the longer the Shogun waits to relinquish power peacefully, the more dangerous the situation becomes. Nagai-san," Ryoma suddenly hollered, slamming his fist on the floor, "leave Satsuma and Choshu to me. If Lord Yoshinobu will agree to restore the power to the Emperor immediately, I, Sakamoto Ryoma, promise on my life that no harm will come to him or the House of Tokugawa." The Dragon paused briefly, then in a tone which left no room for doubt, added, "But if the Shogun should refuse, I will personally see to it that he is destroyed."

Nagai was aware of Ryoma's influence with both Saigo and Katsura. He knew that it was Ryoma who had gotten these two former enemies to unite against the Tokugawa, and he knew from discussions with Kaishu, Okubo and Lord Shungaku that Ryoma was a man of his word. "Sakamoto-san," he said, "if you can guarantee that there will be no war if Lord Yoshinobu restores the power to the Emperor, I will do my utmost to convince him to make a decision immediately."

"I'll do my best," Ryoma vowed, raising his right fist. Then, with nothing more to say to the Shogun's chief advisor, Ryoma left him with nothing less than the fate of the Japanese nation on his shoulders.

Three days later, October 13, 1867, brings us back to the first page of this story, almost one month to the day before the ill-fated thirty-second anniversary of Ryoma's birth, and the end of his life.

Ryoma was beside himself with anxiety as afternoon turned into evening, and he waited with twelve others in his new hideout, located in the Kawaramachi district near the Kyoto headquarters of Tosa and Satsuma. The new hideout consisted of two small rooms above the storehouse of a soy dealer called the Ohmiya. The owner of the Ohmiya was a wealthy merchant who, like most of the townspeople of Kyoto, sympathized with the Loyalists. So when one of Saigo's men asked the merchant to hide Ryoma, he gladly obliged. He immediately cleared the rooms above the storehouse in back of his building, and attached a ladder to a rear window in case Ryoma should have to make a quick escape to the temple behind the house.

The atmosphere in the rooms this evening was tense, as it had been since early morning when word arrived from Goto that the Shogun had summoned the highest ranking officials from forty leading han to Nijo Castle to make a very important announcement. All of Ryoma's dreams, his life, and the fate of the Japanese nation were pending on the decision which the Shogun would make on this very day. Would he abdicate peacefully, or would Satsuma and Choshu, Imperial decree in hand, attack the Bakufu, causing internal chaos and possible foreign invasion?

"Damn it!" Ryoma groaned, drawing similar sentiments from several of the others. Sakutaro, Okauchi, Toda and Seihei were present, as were

Yonosuke and Kenkichi, who had come earlier in the day from Kobe. Taro, Toranosuke, Kanema, Umanosuke, Shunme and Sonojo had also arrived this afternoon to wait for news from the Shogun's castle in Kyoto. "What's taking so damn long?" Ryoma wondered aloud. Goto had left for the castle just before two o'clock that afternoon, but now the sun had already set.

"It's getting late," Sakutaro groaned.

"It looks like we'll be going to the castle," Toranosuke muttered impatiently.

"Yes, the castle," Taro seethed, and Sonojo pounded on the floor.

"For the sake of the Japanese nation," Toda said in a crazed tone.

Ryoma drew his sword, which he held on his lap, and sat with his back against the wall, below a window which afforded a view of the Buddhist temple behind the house. "We'll wait a little longer," he said with resolve, then slammed the blade back into the sheath.

"Since you are prepared to die if things do not work out," Ryoma had written Goto earlier in the day, "if you do not return from the castle I'll know what happened." Goto had told Ryoma that if the Shogun refused to restore the power to the Emperor, then he would commit seppuku without leaving the castle. "In which case my Kaientai and I will get vengeance by killing the Shogun; and regardless of what happens after that, I will meet you underground." Such was Ryoma's own resolve to die if his peace plan should fail, in atonement for having interfered with the war plans of Satsuma and Choshu, and to initiate the war on the Bakufu.

A full moon was visible in the dark sky outside the window when the tense silence in the room was interrupted by the heavy thumping of footsteps on the staircase, and Ryoma, without thinking, drew his sword. "Sensei," a gruff voice called, the door slid open and several men jumped to their feet.

"Tokichi!" Ryoma called the name of the large man who stood at the threshold. Kenkichi had recently found Tokichi working as a deliveryman for a local restaurant; when he learned that Tokichi was a former sumo wrestler in Kyoto who had fought under the name "Sky Dragon," he recruited him as Ryoma's private servant and bodyguard. Ryoma immediately took a liking to the Sky Dragon, because, as he had drolly remarked, "we have the same name." Since Ryoma's return to Kyoto, Tokichi had prepared his master's meals and bedding, delivered and retrieved messages for him, and in general took care of his daily needs. "This has just arrived from Goto-san," Tokichi said, handing a letter to Ryoma, before leaving and closing the door.

All twelve men watched in anxious silence as Ryoma broke the seal, unfolded the letter and began reading. He held the letter so close to his face that the others could not make out his expression, but it was nevertheless apparent that he was weeping.

"What does it say?" Sakutaro gasped. The entire room was silent, because everyone present was sure that the news was bad.

Ryoma sat down in stunned amazement, no longer trying to conceal the tears that streamed down his face, and, in a voice overflowing with emotion, read Goto's message aloud: '"I've just left the castle. The Shogun has indicated that he will restore the political power to the Imperial Court."'

"Ryoma!" Toranosuke screamed, as if he couldn't believe his ears, but the others remained silent, mesmerized by what they had just heard. Though Ryoma could not foresee the future, for now at least a bloody civil war had been avoided; and with the announcement of the end of Tokugawa rule, the Dragon had reached the final stage of his long and perilous quest for freedom.

Ryoma handed the letter to Kenkichi, then turned to Sakutaro. "Now I understand the true intentions of the Shogun," he said in a loud wail. "He's really made the right decision. He's really made the right decision. I swear I would die for him now." Ryoma was ready to give his life for the man whom until moments before he had been prepared to kill, because it was this very man whom Ryoma now considered the savior of the nation.

The Shogun's decision was not as selfless as Ryoma had at first assumed; rather, Yoshinobu had finally realized that he had no other alternative. It had been apparent for some time now that support for the Bakufu among the clans was waning; not even such traditional allies as Owari and Fukui could be counted upon to side with Edo in case of war. The military aid which had been guaranteed by the French was not forthcoming, while Britain seemed sympathetic, if not outright supportive, of Satsuma and Choshu. In short, had Yoshinobu waited much longer, he would have found his armies engaged in battle with the combined forces of Satsuma, Choshu, Hiroshima and any number of other lords who had previously sworn allegiance to the Tokugawa but would have no choice but to fight under the Imperial banner. In fact, on the day after the Shogun's announcement, just before he was to petition the court of his decision, a secret Imperial decree, bearing the Emperor's seal, was issued to the representatives of Satsuma and Choshu, authorizing their armies, and those of all the daimyo who were "loyal" to the Emperor, to attack and destroy the Bakufu.

Five days earlier, on the day that Ryoma had reached Kyoto, Saigo and Okubo had requested Lord Iwakura to draw up a decree. Iwakura immediately set to work on the document, which called for the destruction of the Bakufu, the punishment of the "traitor" Yoshinobu, and the deaths of the Lord of Aizu, who was the Bakufu's Protector of Kyoto, and his younger brother, the Lord of Kuwana, who was the Shogun's official representative in Kyoto in charge of inspecting the Imperial Court and its nobles. Iwakura entrusted the completed document to his confidant at court, Nakayama Tadayasu, the maternal grandfather and guardian of the fifteen-year-old Emperor. Early in the morning of the day after Yoshinobu had made the announcement at Nijo Castle, the Imperial decree, with the Emperor's seal secured by Nakayama, was smuggled out of court and presented to the representatives of Satsuma and Choshu, while on the previous day, the Emperor had pardoned Choshu of all crimes.

After the Shogun's decision had been announced in the Grand Hall of Nijo Castle, the representatives of the forty han assembled there were invited

to offer their opinions. Never throughout the two and a half centuries of Tokugawa rule had a shogun discussed affairs of state with representatives of any of the clans, whose lords, after all, were his vassals. The unprecedented request for counsel was quite naturally met with strained silence from all but four of the eighty men present. Those who accepted were Komatsu Tatewaki, the Satsuma councilor who had advised Goto to delay no longer in submitting Yodo's memorial to the Shogun (Saigo and Okubo, still determined to crush the Bakufu militarily, had declined to even appear at the castle); Goto and Fukuoka of Tosa; and the top minister to the Lord of Hiroshima.

After each of the four men offered their praise to the Shogun for his momentous decision, it was Goto who got to the point. "Your Highness," he said, sitting, like the others, prostrate on his knees so that his face nearly touched the tatami floor in front of Yoshinobu's pedestal, "it is of the utmost importance that you inform the court right away of your decision."

As Yoshinobu had already suspected that the Imperial decree for war would soon be issued, he was not surprised when Goto informed him to this effect. "I see," he said with a grim nod, an indication of agreement. To be sure, Yoshinobu also feared that Satsuma and Choshu might start a war before he could inform the court of his decision to restore power; and he was equally worried that his two most loyal vassals, the Lords of Aizu and Kuwana, bitterly opposed as they were to restoration, might make the first strike, and so give Satsuma and Choshu an excuse to attack even before Imperial sanction could be obtained. But once the court approved the Shogun's decision, it would become legal, and his enemies would no longer be able to justify a first strike. That is, of course, unless the court were to refuse to accept the restoration.

"I'll follow your advice," the last Shogun told the four representatives, all of whom retained their prostrate positions, "but you must first make sure that my decision will be accepted by the court." Yoshinobu was aware that the powers that be in the Imperial Court opposed the restoration. Although Lord Iwakura had indeed succeeded in cajoling the Emperor's grandfather into obtaining the Imperial seal on the decree of war, the leading court officials rightly reasoned that since the court had not ruled in over seven centuries, it did not know the first thing about governing.

Goto and the others readily accepted Yoshinobu's request, and on the following day paid a visit to the court chancellor, urging him to accept the restoration of power immediately. "I cannot make such a decision on my own," the old man said curtly, avoiding a direct reply. Like all other Bakufu supporters at court, the chancellor was not only aware of his own ineptitude to govern, but was also worried that once the restoration became official, he may very well be replaced by one of the Five Banished Nobles, still in exile at Dazaifu.

"But you must," Goto implored. "With the Imperial decree for war already issued, you must do so immediately."

"Since I am a member of the Imperial Court, I am not allowed to commit seppuku" the chancellor complacently retorted, alluding to the ancient custom by which a samurai could atone for his shortcomings or failures by self-immolation, but a court noble could not.

Aware that this was indeed true, but determined that the chancellor would nevertheless approve Yoshinobu's decision, the mild-mannered Komatsu astonished all present when he said with a sinister grin, "If you don't approve the Shogun's decision immediately, I have an alternative to seppuku."

Komatsu's remark apparently worked, because later that day Imperial approval was issued, and the mandate for war which had been handed down to Satsuma and Choshu on that same morning was, for all means and purposes, annulled. When Goto asked Komatsu later if he had intended to kill the chancellor by his remark of an "alternative to seppuku," the Satsuma councilor answered with an amused look on his face, "I never intended anything of the sort. I was just intimidating him a little."

The distraught chancellor was not the only one concerned with the Imperial Court's inability to govern the nation. Like the leaders of the powerful domains of Satsuma, Choshu, Hiroshima, Tosa and Fukui, Ryoma had also foreseen the problem. This was why he had included in his initial restoration plan the formation of upper and lower legislative houses to represent the Japanese people. And this was also why, while Saigo, Okubo, Goto and Fukuoka prepared to return to their domains to report the events in Kyoto, the former outlaw Sakamoto Ryoma got down to the more practical business of devising a plan for the new government.

On the night of the day after the Shogun's announcement, Ryoma summoned Yonosuke and Toda to his hideout above the storehouse of the soy dealer. The air was cold, and the three men huddled around a rectangular wooden brazier at the center of the room. Partially buried in the hot ashes of the brazier was an open pot of steaming water; inside the pot set a large flask of sate. Ryoma's bedding was laid out near one of the walls, where he had napped for an hour or two before his two friends arrived. "Just because the court has agreed to accept the restoration of power from the Shogun," Ryoma said, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, "doesn't mean that it's in a position to govern."

"What exactly do you mean, Sakamoto-san?" Yonosuke asked, as Ryoma's servant, Tokichi, took the flask from the pot of water and filled three cups.

"Today the court officially accepted the restoration of the political power from the Shogun, right."

"Yes." Yonosuke nodded, sipping hot sake.

"But think about it," Ryoma said. "The Emperor is just a boy. And as for the Imperial Court, it hasn't ruled for over seven hundred years. You can't very well expect the court nobles to know how to handle affairs of state."

"True," Toda admitted with chagrin, then drained his sake cup. Toda's distress was understandable. After all, he was a retainer of Lord Sanjo Sanetomi, the leader of the Five Banished Nobles and champion of the Loyalist movement.

"And although we must establish a democratic form of government,

whereby the people will be able to elect their own representatives," Ryoma echoed ideas he had heard years before from Katsu Kaishu, Okubo Ichio and Kawada Shoryo, "most of the farmers and merchants don't know any more about governing than the court nobles do." The common people, who had been suppressed by their samurai overlords for centuries, had no conception of Western democracy; most of them had no education at all, and were more concerned with simply making ends meet. "Which leaves only a small number of men who have the ability to govern," Ryoma said, then drained his sake cup.

"You're referring to the few able court nobles and daimyo, and some of the more talented samurai, right?" Yonosuke said.

"Yes. But since our goal is to set up a democracy, we must include commoners who have ability. But we must act quickly, before the restoration document that the Shogun submitted to the court today becomes nothing more than wastepaper."

"What do you mean?" Toda asked.

Ryoma picked up the flask, refilled the three cups. "Tokichi," he called, "bring more sake." Then rubbing his hands over the burning coals of the brazier, answered Toda's question: "War might still break out if the Bakufu and its allies, particularly Aizu and Kuwana, refuse to cooperate; or even worse, if they interfere."

"But they can't interfere," Toda protested. "The political power has already been restored to the court."

"Don't be so naive," Ryoma snickered. "You don't think that the Shogun's most loyal vassals are going to accept his resignation that easily, do you?" Indeed, at this very moment Aizu and Kuwana, infuriated now with Yoshinobu, were, with the help of the Shinsengumi and other equally enraged Tokugawa police units, contemplating burning Satsuma's Kyoto headquarters, occupying the Imperial Palace, kidnapping the Emperor, and taking him to the Tokugawa fortress of Osaka Castle. For although the Shogun had indeed restored the power to the court, the pro-Tokugawa forces knew that the revolution was like a game of chess: whoever controlled the Emperor controlled the nation. "That's why we must form a government quickly," Ryoma said, "to gain the confidence of the people so that Aizu and Kuwana have no choice but to accept."

"I see," Toda said, as Tokichi replaced the empty flask with a full one. "But what do you have in mind, Sakamoto-san?"

"I've been thinking about it all day," Ryoma said. Without bothering to stand up, he slid on his knees over to the desk at the other side of the room; and while Toda and Yonosuke watched over his shoulder, the lower-samurai from Tosa who had no official authority whatsoever, outlined in his typical sloppy script the posts for the new Japanese government.

1) The court noble with the greatest integrity and vision should be selected to serve as Chief Imperial Advisor, to assist the Emperor in all affairs of state.

2) Imperial princes, court nobles and feudal lords, with the greatest integrity and vision, should be selected as ministers to assist the Chief Imperial Advisor and help him decide matters of state.

3) Councilors should be selected from among the court nobles, feudal lords, leading samurai and the people at large to participate in the conduct of state affairs, and to assist the ministers.

Ryoma felt that Japan would eventually have to adopt a completely democratic form of government if it was to develop into a modern state capable of taking its place among the most powerful nations of the world. He would have therefore preferred to ignore completely the social positions of the lords, nobles and princes, but he knew that Japan was not ready for such a giant leap forward. Similarly, Ryoma would have liked to establish the highest office of the nation along the lines of an American president who would be answerable directly to the people, rather than a chief advisor who served a sovereign. But he was also aware that even his most progressive allies, including Saigo, Okubo, Goto and Katsura, were no more ready to abolish the Imperial system, than they were to turn their backs on their feudal lords. "What do you think?" Ryoma said after he finished writing. "Exactly who do you have in mind to fill these posts?" Toda asked. "Probably the same men you do," Ryoma said, yawing loudly. "But right now I'm exhausted. We can discuss it in the morning." Then calling his servant, "Tokichi, put out some bedding for these two." "What will happen in the morning?" Yonosuke asked. "I'm going to Satsuma headquarters to see what Saigo thinks about this," Ryoma said, waving the document in front of him.

"I see." Yonosuke nodded, as Toda followed Tokichi into the next room. "Sakamoto-san," Yonosuke said, "I'm going to Osaka tomorrow."

"What for?" Ryoma muttered. He was already sprawled out in his bed, his eyes shut.

"To get you a pistol. With the way things are in Kyoto now, you aren't safe without one." Although Sakamoto Ryoma had officially ceased to be an outlaw the moment the Shogun relinquished power, the Tokugawa police who had been hunting him since the attack on the Teradaya nearly two years earlier, were determined now more than ever to reap vengeance on the man most responsible for toppling the Bakufu. Ryoma's men suspected as much, and although he had changed his hideout from the shop of the nearby lumber merchant to the storehouse behind the shop of the soy dealer near Tosa headquarters, Yonosuke, Taro and several others had been after him recently to get another pistol to replace the one he had left in Kochi. "Sakamoto-san," Yonosuke called out, but Ryoma was already snoring loudly.

Ryoma, however, was unable to sleep for long. He was anxious to get back to his trading business in Nagasaki, and to rejoin his wife. But as he believed himself to be one of the few men in Japan with the ability to devise a plan for the government, he was determined to complete the task before getting on with the rest of his life. And although he wished for the counsel of Kaishu's Group of Four, he was resigned, as usual, to act alone. The room was cold

A DECLARATION OF FREEDOM

when he got out of his bed, lit a candle on the desk, and commenced writing the general plan for the new Japanese government. Like his restoration plan on which it was based, it consisted of eight points.

1) The most able men in the country should be invited to become councilors.

2) The most able lords should be given court positions, and meaningless titles of the present should be eliminated.

3) Foreign relations should be conducted through proper deliberations.

4) Laws and regulations should be drawn up. When a new code, free of weaknesses, has been agreed upon, the lords should abide by it and have their subordinates implement it.

5) There should be upper and lower legislative houses.

6) There should be army and navy ministries.

7) There should be an Imperial guard.

8) The Imperial nation should bring its valuation of gold and silver into line with international usage.

These points should be taken up with two or three of the most able and far sighted samurai; then, when the time comes for a conference of lords, X should become head of the conference, and respectfully suggest to the court that these steps be proclaimed to the people. Whoever then protests disrespectfully against such decisions should be resolutely punished, and no deals should be made with the powerful or the nobles.

The X whom Ryoma would appoint head of the conference of lords, was none other than Tokugawa Yoshinobu, the former Shogun whose decision had now made the formation of a new government possible. By including Yoshinobu, Ryoma hoped to appease the Tokugawa allies so as to avoid the still very real possibility of civil war.

Satisfied with the plan, Ryoma signed his name at the bottom, then returned to an outline of official governmental posts that he had composed earlier in the night.

"Sakamoto-san," Yonosuke called from the next room, before joining Ryoma. "What are you doing awake?"

"Filling in the names."

Looking over Ryoma's shoulder, Yonosuke read the names of the men to whom Ryoma intended to entrust the leadership of the new government. The Lords of Satsuma, Choshu, Tosa, Fukui and Uwajima were on the list, as were several court nobles, including Lord Iwakura. As councilors Ryoma named Komatsu, Saigo and Okubo of Satsuma; Katsura of Choshu; Goto of Tosa; financial wizard Mitsuoka Hachiro of Fukui; and Yokoi Shonan of Kumamoto. "But Sakamoto-san," Yonosuke said in a puzzled tone, "you're name is not on this list." Ryoma's right-hand man had every reason to be confused. After all, there was nobody who played a more important role in toppling the Bakufu than Ryoma. It was Ryoma who had united Satsuma and Choshu; it was Ryoma who had devised the plan for restoration; and now it was Ryoma who was proposing the plan for a new government. "How can there be a government without you in it?" Yonosuke exclaimed.

"Simple," Ryoma snickered. "It's my way of making it up to Satsuma and Choshu for stopping them from fighting the war they wanted so badly. Anyway, in order to get Japan on the right track for the future, I have to be very careful not to create animosity between the men of Satsuma and Choshu who wanted war, and Goto and myself who didn't."

"Then why have you included Goto's name of the list, but not yours?"

"Because I think Goto belongs in the government, whereas I don't."

"You don't? But why?"

"Because I've already accomplished what I set out to do," Ryoma said.

"You mean cleaning up Japan, don't you." Yonosuke understood Ryoma perhaps better than anyone else.

"Yes, Yonosuke," Ryoma snickered. "Anyway it's not good for one man to take all the credit for a job well done."

"Why?"

"Because after he's accomplished eighty or ninety percent of something, he ought to let others finish the last ten or twenty percent for him. Otherwise, he might cause bad blood by keeping all the glory for himself."

"I see," Yonosuke said, a bit taken aback. During the four years that he had known and served under Sakamoto Ryoma, the man who would become one of Japan's greatest foreign ministers had never ceased to be amazed by his mentor's understanding of human nature, nor impressed with his selflessness.

"Better get some sleep," Ryoma said, blew out the candle and went to bed.

The next morning Ryoma and Yonosuke went to the nearby Satsuma headquarters to present the new government plan to Saigo.

"Sakamoto-san," Saigo the Great boomed upon greeting the two men in the reception room, "I had intended to visit you today."

"I saved you the trouble." Ryoma grinned at Saigo, to whom he could not help but feel he had done a slight injustice over the past few months. But now he had come to make amends, by, in Ryoma's own words, "letting Satsuma and Choshu finish the last ten or twenty percent of a job well done."

"Sakamoto-san," Saigo's face was grim, "I wish you'd stay here with us, where you'd be safe. Things are very dangerous in this city right now. I have no doubt that the Shinsengumi, among others, is looking for you, as it is us." Saigo was correct. Just as Kondo Isami's police force was after Sakamoto Ryoma, who it still believed had returned to Kyoto with a band of three hundred ronin, it had also decided that the three Satsuma leaders—Saigo, Okubo and Komatsu—must be eliminated as well. In short, Kondo's sources told him that, along with the court noble Iwakura Tomomi, these were the four men most responsible for the Bakufu's downfall.

"I have something to show you," Ryoma said, ignoring the warning. He was content with his new hideout. At his own private quarters above the storehouse of the nearby soy dealer he could do as he pleased, while he felt that the restrictive atmosphere in any of the han headquarters, even that of Satsuma where he was always welcome, would interfere with his planning.

"What's that?" Saigo said.

"I think Okubo and Komatsu should see it as well."

"Certainly," Saigo said, then sent for the two other members of the Triumvirate of Satsuma.

Soon after, Okubo and Komatsu joined them, and Saigo asked Ryoma what it was that he wanted to show them.

Ryoma produced two folded documents from his kimono. After handing them to Saigo, he sat in a corner of the room, away from the others, his back to a wooden post. "A plan for the new government," he said.

Saigo read both documents carefully, handed them to Okubo, then gave Ryoma a puzzled look. "Sakamoto-san," he said, almost suspiciously, "your name is not on this list." Saigo's suspicion was not uncalled for, although he had never before doubted Ryoma's integrity. But for the man who was most responsible for persuading the Shogun to relinquish power not to include himself in his own plan for a new government, was beyond Saigo's comprehension.

Ryoma nodded slowly. "Saigo-san," he said in a lazy Tosa drawl, "you ought to know that I could never stand a government job."

"What?" Saigo gasped, drawing a grimace from Ryoma, who continued. "Leaving for work every morning at the same time, and coming home every evening at the same time would make me crazy with boredom." Ryoma's decision, in fact, was not quite as selfless as it may have seemed. To be sure, he had spent the past five and a half years struggling and risking his life to topple the Bakufu, and to achieve a strong, democratic government in Japan. But this had never been his ultimate goal, which was rather the attainment of simple freedom. Now that he had finally eliminated the biggest obstacle to this goal, Ryoma wanted more than anything else the freedom to be, the freedom to think and the freedom to act as he chose. But Ryoma's was by no means a selfish goal; rather, his own personal freedom was deeply intertwined with that of his friends', and with the well-being of the new nation, which depended more than anything else on economic development through international trade. And it was on the well-being of Japan which Ryoma had based all his hopes and dreams.

"If you're not going to be in the new government," Saigo said, still looking suspiciously at Ryoma, "what do you plan to do?"

Ryoma leaned back against the wooden post, folded his arms at his chest and said with his usual nonchalance, "I think that I just might give the whole world to my Kaientai." Thus was Ryoma's Declaration of Freedom, which, if nothing else, relieved Saigo of any doubt he might have had concerning Ryoma's good intentions. All three Satsuma men stared in amazement over Ryoma's curious remark. As did Yonosuke, who would never know exactly what Ryoma meant by the remark, nor would he ever forget it. In fact, from this day on, and for years to come, Yonosuke was wont to compare the ronin who was his mentor with the most influential man of the most powerful domain in Japan: "It was at that time," Japan's greatest foreign minister would repeat over and over again, "that I realized Ryoma was a far greater man than even Saigo himself."

"1 see." was all lhat Saigo the Great could say to Ryoma at this point. Then after a short pause, "But who is Mitsuoka I lachiro of Fukui?" he asked. Saigo knew, and indeed approved of, all the people Ryoma had listed, except for the Fukui samurai Mitsuoka Hachiro. This was Lord Shungaku *s former financial advisor who had four years ago helped convince his daimyo to loan Ryoma 5,000 ryo for Kaishu's naval academy in Kobe.

Ryoma moved closer to the others, and sat up straight in the formal position. "When it comes to financial affairs," he said, "Mitsuoka has more talent than any man I know. And that's why we need him."

"How's that?" Komatsu asked.

"Because without a solid financial base the new government will never succeed," Ryoma stated matter-of-factly. All the names on Ryoma's list belonged to men who had demonstrated superior talent over the past years. The lords who would be ministers were selected for their farsightedness, and the loyalty they commanded among their people. Katsura, Goto and Okubo were superb politicians; Saigo was a natural leader; Iwakura was a master of political intrigue; Yokoi a political genius. But among them, only Mitsuoka, a former student of Yokoi *s, had demonstrated genius in financial affairs, filling Lord Shungaku's treasury by devising a system to sell Fukui products throughout Japan, and establishing a trading office in Nagasaki. "We need Mitsuoka to handle the financial affairs for the new government," Ryoma insisted.

"Financial affairs," Saigo repeated, almost stupidly. "Yes, we must have a financial expert in the government." When it came to monetary matters, Saigo was unable to argue with Ryoma, who after all had quite a reputation for economic prowess. In fact, the great military commander who had captured the hearts and minds of samurai throughout Japan, had never even once considered the matter of finance.

"Where is Mitsuoka now?" Okubo asked.

"Under house arrest in Fukui," Ryoma replied.

"House arrest?" Saigo repeated grimly. He too had suffered a similar fate in exile years before, and for similar reasons, as Ryoma proceeded to explain.

"Yes, house arrest, in spite of all his talent," Ryoma said with disgust. "It's a complete waste. As you know, Fukui has been under the control of conservatives for the past several years. The suppression of the Loyalists there was nearly as bad as it was in Tosa. But with the way things are now, I think I can convince Lord Shungaku to let me see Mitsuoka, and perhaps bring him back with me to Kyoto," Ryoma said.

"Sakamoto-san," Saigo said, "I leave the matter entirely to you." This was the great man's way of saying that Satsuma had accepted Ryoma's plan for the new government, although Saigo was still unaware that Ryoma intended to appoint the former Shogun as head of the conference of lords.