The imperial palace was quiet. All the respected people and the emperor himself were waiting for the arrival of a man invited from America—a retired captain who had agreed to train the Japanese army in the use of European weapons. The air smelled of sandalwood incense mixed with the faint metallic tang of newly forged rifles stacked outside. Sunlight streamed through shoji screens, casting geometric patterns across polished wooden floors.

Finally the door slid open and three men entered, one of whom was the American captain. The interpreter had explained proper protocol: look at the emperor but speak only when addressed. The captain noted the tension in the room—the young emperor's nervous fidgeting, the hard stares of advisors who clearly resented foreign presence.

The conversation was stilted. Through the interpreter, Emperor Masahiro asked about American battles against Indians. The captain confirmed the exotic rumors about feathered headdresses and face paint, feeling uncomfortable with how his nation's expansion was perceived as glorious adventure rather than conquest.

Abruptly, the emperor rose from his seat and stepped forward into the light, revealing his youth—barely seventeen. In broken English, he thanked the captain, then bowed slightly—a remarkable show of respect that stunned everyone present. As the men retreated, the captain wondered if the boy emperor understood the bloodshed his modernization would require.

Training began immediately. The captain found himself teaching men who had never held firearms, their hands calloused from swords rather than triggers. The smell of gunpowder soon hung permanently in the air around the training grounds. The soldiers struggled with the foreign weapons, their precision and discipline with traditional weapons failing them with these new tools of war.

Then came the order no one expected: they would march against the samurai within days. The captain argued vehemently with Colonel Taisa, pointing out the men weren't ready. His protests fell on deaf ears. "Their bodies may not be ready, but the emperor's will demands action," Taisa replied coldly.

The battle was a disaster. Panicked soldiers fired prematurely, then couldn't reload fast enough as samurai on horseback charged with gleaming swords. The metallic clash of steel against bayonets and the guttural battle cries mingled with the sharp reports of firearms. The captain fought until exhaustion overtook him, watching his trainees fall around him before everything went black.