Reincarnated as Napoleon II

Edo Castle, Japan

Early February 1837

The brazier had burned low by the time Abe entered the chamber.

The heat it gave off barely reached the edges of the room. Cold air clung to the floor, seeping through the layers of wood and stone, settling into sleeves and bones. Normally, someone would have added more charcoal before a meeting like this.

No one had bothered.

Abe lowered himself into position without a word.

Across from him, Matsudaira was already there.

Of course he was.

Back straight. Hands resting on his knees. Not stiff, not tense—just... set. Like a man who had already made his decision before anyone else had even arrived.

Hotta stood slightly behind, closer to the side of the room, quiet as ever. Watching. Always watching.

No one greeted each other.

No one needed to.

The news had spread before dawn. Faster than anyone expected. A foreign engineer stabbed. Inside the enclosure. Inside the space the shogunate had promised to control.

Abe kept his gaze low, but his thoughts weren’t steady.

He could still see it.

The way Laurent had fallen. The sound of tools scattering across the ground. The sudden shift in the French soldiers—the way they moved after, tighter, sharper, like something inside them had locked into place.

That was what bothered him most.

Not the attack itself.

The reaction.

The brazier cracked softly.

Then—

"We have seen enough."

Tokugawa Ienari’s voice broke the silence.

Abe lifted his head slightly.

The shogun hadn’t moved. He rarely did. But there was something in the way he spoke now—less distant, more... grounded. Like he wasn’t speaking to a room anymore, but to a decision that had already been waiting.

"We allowed them to remain," he said. "Now we see what follows."

A pause.

No one spoke.

"Division," he continued. "Violence. Pressure."

The words settled into the room without resistance.

Abe lowered his head. "Yes."

That was all he said.

Matsudaira shifted.

Not much. Just enough.

"Then we end it," he said.

His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

"We close the port. Remove them. Restore order."

Simple.

Clean.

As if the past weeks had been nothing more than a mistake waiting to be corrected.

Abe felt the weight of those words immediately.

"If we force them out," he said carefully, "they won’t leave quietly."

Matsudaira turned his head.

"They’re already pressing us."

"They’re reacting," Abe replied.

"To what?" Matsudaira asked. "One man with a blade?"

Abe met his gaze.

"To what that represents."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Matsudaira’s jaw tightened slightly.

"They’re using it," he said. "Turning one incident into leverage."

Abe didn’t argue.

"Yes."

The admission didn’t weaken him.

If anything, it made the room feel tighter.

Hotta stepped forward, just enough to be heard without interrupting.

"They haven’t moved against us openly," he said.

"Not yet," Matsudaira replied.

"And we haven’t refused them either."

Matsudaira let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

"That’s the problem."

Abe could feel it now.

The line.

Not drawn in the room—but there.

Between holding the past.

And dealing with what was already here.

"My lord," Abe said, turning toward the center, "closing the port doesn’t end this."

Matsudaira didn’t wait.

"It removes them."

"For now," Abe said. "But they’ll come back."

He leaned forward slightly.

"And next time, they won’t come like this."

No one needed him to explain.

They had all seen the machines.

The way they moved. The way they didn’t stop. The way they didn’t hesitate.

Matsudaira’s voice came again, sharper this time.

"We’ve dealt with foreigners before."

Abe raised his head.

"Not like this."

That hung in the air.

Not pride.

Not opinion.

Fact.

"They believe they’re stronger," Matsudaira said.

Abe shook his head, just once.

"This isn’t about belief."

He held his gaze.

"It’s about what they can do."

Hotta nodded quietly.

"That’s what we saw," he said.

The brazier cracked again.

No one moved.

Even the guards along the walls seemed to shift their weight, just slightly.

Tokugawa Ienari said nothing.

Not yet.

His eyes moved across the room.

Matsudaira—unyielding.

Abe—holding his ground, even if it cost him.

Hotta—watching both sides, waiting for something to give.

Three directions.

None of them safe.

Abe felt his hands tighten slightly in his sleeves.

He hated this part.

The stillness.

Because once the decision came, it wouldn’t stop.

"There is no path without risk," the shogun said at last.

Matsudaira lowered his head. "No."

Abe didn’t move. "No."

"If we remove them," Tokugawa continued, "we regain control here."

Abe listened closely.

"But we invite them back later. On their terms."

That part settled deep.

"If we allow them to remain..." the shogun went on, "we gain time."

Time.

Abe felt that word more than the rest.

Time to understand.

Time to prepare.

"But we accept pressure," Tokugawa said. "And resistance."

Matsudaira stepped forward.

"My lord, this is about preserving what we are."

Abe followed, almost at the same time.

"My lord... it’s about making sure we can continue to be that."

It sounded similar.

But it wasn’t.

Tokugawa closed his eyes briefly.

Just a moment.

Then—

"They remain."

No hesitation.

No adjustment.

Just the decision.

Abe lowered his head. "Understood."

Hotta followed. "Yes."

Matsudaira didn’t speak.

But Abe saw it.

The shift.

Small.

But there.

The kind that didn’t show disagreement—

only that it hadn’t gone away.

The shogun continued.

"We maintain control. They remain within the limits we set."

Abe listened.

"But we do not remain as we are."

That pulled his attention back.

"We study what they brought," Tokugawa said. "Quietly. Carefully."

Not copying.

Not yielding.

Learning.

Matsudaira spoke again, voice controlled.

"And the resistance?"

Tokugawa’s gaze moved to him.

"It will be dealt with."

A pause.

"No more incidents."

That ended it.

The room emptied quickly.

No one lingered.

Abe stepped out into the corridor, the cold hitting him harder than he expected. He stopped for a moment, letting the air settle.

Hotta joined him.

"You got what you argued for," he said.

Abe let out a quiet breath.

"This isn’t what I argued for."

Hotta raised a brow. "No?"

Abe looked ahead, toward the open courtyard where frost still clung to the stone.

"This is a delay," he said.

Hotta didn’t respond right away.

"Yeah," he said finally. "It is."