line with a slash of the naginata. Ryoma squeezed his last three rounds into the charge. Six shell casings hit the ground after he opened the Smith and Wesson’s cylinder. He dumped another six shells into his hand from a pouch concealed in his sleeve. His highly trained fingers dropped them into the cylinder. When he snapped it back in place one of the samurai dived under Miyoshi’s spear and came at Ryoma. He put a bullet to the bold man, but the samurai’s sword still raked across his fingers. Miyoshi ran through the last man in the door and paused. “More are coming through the front.” Ryoma heard them too. He looked down at his hands. They were bloody lumps with five digits attached, each one cut to the bone. His revolver remained clutched in his hand. He willed his fingers to move, but they were unresponsive. “We need to go! Out the back door!” Ryoma and Miyoshi slipped down the back staircase, but they were amazed that no soldiers stood in the backyard. They heard the soldiers crashing in the upstairs room then crept around the lawn as silent as ninja. It is a common misconception that stealth was the primary tool of the ninja. Mostly ninjas kill with infection by swords they left in the latrine for a week. Ryoma often referred to the smaller swords used by ninjas as ‘shit-blades’. Two soldiers peeked through the backyard and looked around. Miyoshi and Ryoma could not find a door to the neighbor’s home. The Makoto family was in bed and reported what happened to police the next morning. Two Ronin covered in blood crashed through the walls, out the door, and into history. Within the week Ryoma would marry Oryu and under Saigo’s insistence they went away while his hands healed. It would be called the first Japanese honeymoon. *** There was no Oryu strutting in as the Venus de Milo to warn him this time. He had seen her for the last time. The owners of the Omi Inn found Ryoma dead and Shintarou dying. Once he had wrote to his sister shortly after his exile from the Tosa Han. “Men like me don’t live very long, but we accomplish the most. Japan could use a lot more men like me.” He died at the age of thirty-three and a month later the rule of Japan passed from the Shogun to the Emperor. But the irony of this would not be lost to Ryoma. *** He watched as his body was carried away. He watched for three days as Shintarou lay dying in a doctor’s bed singing the praises of Sakamoto Ryoma. He refused to see Oryu receiving his corpse for their first anniversary. He saw the peaceful exchange of power to the Emperor. He saw the assassination of each Ishin and the corruption of the Senate that took the power from the Emperor and the swords from the samurai. He saw the civil war he died to prevent happen, and it was an absolute bloodbath. Japan became corrupt and far from the course of Ryoma’s eight-point plan. He stood in smoldering rubble surrounded by thousands of confused and frightened ghosts. A single US plane flew over Hiroshima. There was a flash of light and it all happened so fast none of them realized they were dead. At the pressure of the Americans the Emperor relinquished any claims of divinity. When Ryoma’s view of the world expanded he wondered: why didn’t they make the Pope relinquish his title when Italy was defeated? Times changed, but he could not leave. He was anchored to Japan by some task he could not comprehend or simply could not remember. Ryoma began to ride people whenever possible going with them to arcades and movies. But he would later stop going to the movies. There was a movie about a hairy foreigner going to Japan to whip the Japanese army into technological shape. This was not the portion of the movie that bothered Ryoma. So far this was a movie that he could get behind, and he loved the main character’s choice in revolvers. The part that bothered him was when the man was taken prisoner by samurai rebels, learned their ways, gave up his gun, and fought in