freenovelworld Chapter 1086 The Deepest Taboo
Chapter 1086 The Deepest Taboo
Takasaki Motonori grinned, his fleshy face twitching as he said, "I just went to see Matsui Iwane. It's not like I'm going to rescue him. I had one of the guards the Takasaki family assigned to Takuto go to see Matsui Iwane. There won't be any problems."
And Matsui Iwane probably doesn't have many days left to live, and those around Takuto... tsk tsk...
Your Majesty, rest assured, no one will know that someone has visited Matsui Iwane, hehe...
This is Matsui Iwane writing a letter of apology, saying that he "commanded poorly and failed the Emperor's grace," and then, on the back of the same piece of paper. "Takasaki Motonori smiled, a somewhat cold smile: "He wrote a list."
He listed twelve generals whom he considered "disloyal to His Majesty and threatening to become too powerful to control."
Guess who's on the first list?
The Emperor did not look at the paper; he simply gazed calmly at Takasaki Motonori.
“It’s Hideki Tojo,” Takasaki Motonori said, emphasizing each word. “Hideki Tojo, the current Chief of Staff of the Kwantung Army.” Matsui wrote on the back, “This man is completely subservient to Army Minister Sugiyama Gen, and has only the military in his eyes, not His Majesty.”
Isn't that interesting? Even at the very end, Matsui Iwane displayed a show of loyalty, surprisingly omitting any mention of Terauchi Hisaichi and Ueda Kenkichi, who had dealt him a heavy blow.
These words are extremely cold-blooded, yet also extremely realistic.
In the eyes of people like him and the Emperor, life has always been just a piece on a chessboard, its value depending on whether it can push the game in a direction favorable to their side.
If the lives of 30,000 soldiers can be exchanged for the "purification" of the Central China Expeditionary Army, can deter the overbearing forces in the army, and can consolidate imperial power, then these 30,000 lives are "valuable".
As for who those who died were—whose sons, whose husbands, whose fathers—that is not within the scope of consideration.
This is the cruel essence of imperial rule, the logic that must be accepted to govern this vast empire.
As the story neared its end, he let out a silent sigh.
The sigh was silent, merely a slight rise and fall of the chest.
He knew that uttering the words "February 26th" before the emperor meant that the conversation that followed would touch upon the deepest and darkest secrets of the empire.
Takasaki Motonori was one of the most important insiders and participants, besides the Emperor, in the "February 26 Incident," which changed the course of Japanese history.
I was only told the truth afterward.
He raised his head and looked at the Emperor.
The Emperor was also looking at him.
Two pairs of eyes met in the dim light, and each saw something complex in the other's eyes: memories, vigilance, weighing options, and a strange trust built on countless secrets.
"This is truly comparable to the 226 Incident..." Aya murmured to herself.
When the Emperor heard Chikao Fumio mention 226 again, he knew that the incident had truly shocked Chikao Fumio. He closed his eyes, seemingly lost in some kind of memory.
When he opened his eyes again, the warmth that belonged to "humanity" had disappeared, and he regained the detachment and profundity of "human god".
"Yes, February 26th. It's been a long time." As he spoke, the Emperor's gaze fell on the white crane standing alone on a pine branch in the painting "Pine and Crane": "That snow was really heavy."
The air inside seemed to become heavier and colder because of those three words.
The charcoal fire in the brazier crackled softly, sending up a few tiny sparks that were instantly extinguished in the ashes.
Emperor Hirohito shifted his gaze from the brazier.
It landed back on Takasaki Motonori's face.
That gaze was complex and unfathomable, as if looking through the person in front of him towards Kyoto, which was covered in snow.
His eyes held a sense of reminiscence; that era filled with betrayal and bloodshed was the deepest scar etched into his imperial career.
There is ruthlessness; in order to maintain imperial rule, any sacrifice can be calculated and justified.
There was also a sense of heaviness, a burden that only they could understand, of sharing a huge secret.
The air in this "room between sycamore trees" seems to still carry the scent of the snow from February of Showa 11 (1942), cold, damp, and with a rusty, bloody smell.
"Speaking of 226..."
The Emperor's voice was even lower, yet in the silent chamber, every word was clear, each syllable like an icicle, slowly and firmly piercing the listener's eardrum.
He adjusted his posture, a subtle movement that held special significance in the eyes of Fumio Chikao and Motonori Takasaki. When Emperor Hirohito made even the slightest adjustment from his absolutely "formal" posture, it meant that what he was about to say transcended the formal framework of the audience between the emperor and his subjects and entered a more private and core realm.
"Fumimaro's concerns are not without merit," the Emperor continued, his gaze lingering for a moment on Fumimaro's face, a hint of approval in his eyes, but more so deep in thought: "Takuto this time, he has indeed reminded me of those years."
The same insubordination, the same rivers of blood, the same... shaking the very foundations of the nation.
He paused, as if weighing his words.
The fragrant wood in the copper brazier crackled softly as a piece of charred wood broke off, sending up a few sparks that briefly arced through the dim room before going out.
"But beneath the similar appearances, the core is completely different," the Emperor finally said, his voice regaining the absolute calm befitting a ruler: "Takuto acts with my tacit approval; who his blade points at, and who it doesn't, is entirely under my control. And the 226..."
He didn't finish speaking, but he didn't need to.
Takasaki Motonori's lazy smile faded somewhat, and his cynical expression receded like the tide, revealing his hard, rock-like nature beneath.
His eyes sharpened like knives, his pupils shrinking to the size of pinpoints in the dim light, as if he had been transported back to that bloody winter day.
The room temperature seemed to drop a few degrees because of the change in his gaze.
He spoke slowly, each word like a blade chilled by ice—cold, sharp, and deadly: "Your Majesty, the situation is completely different."
He glanced at the Emperor, his gaze devoid of the obedience of a subject, but filled with an almost cruel honesty—a kind of honesty that only exists between people who have shared life and death experiences and the darkest secrets.
“Those idiots of the Imperial Way faction,” Takasaki Motonori’s voice was eerily calm, “They really want to ‘purge the court of corrupt officials,’ even…”
He stopped, without finishing his sentence.
But this pause itself is more powerful than any language.
Jinwei Wen's breathing paused slightly, even though more than a year had passed.
Although that rebellion had long been suppressed.
Although the blood of all the participants has long since seeped into the soil of Kyoto.
But the unspoken possibility that the rebels intended to depose Emperor Hirohito and install his younger brother, Prince Chichibu, as emperor remains the deepest taboo of the empire.