Chapter 66
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Okinawa. The former Principality of Ryukyu. A very particular place within Japan.
The history of these islands diverged sharply from the version I knew in the world of Vasi-Sensei. And the divergence began with my arrival there, in 1807.
Okinawa is the largest island in the Ryukyu archipelago, which consists of one hundred and sixty islands, forty-eight of them inhabited. Its geographical position — between Taiwan, China, and the Japanese home islands — made it an important waypoint, and eventually a small trading empire that conducted business with China, Taiwan, Japan, and even the Philippines. Which, naturally, made it wealthy. And wealth invariably draws the envy of greedy neighbors. Japan got there first. In 1609, the southern Japanese Satsuma clan, under a fabricated pretext and with the Emperor's blessing, sent an army of over three thousand samurai on a hundred ships, armed with cannon, against the Principality of Ryukyu. They crushed the local militia, plundered the accumulated treasures, and occupied the islands.
But they didn't annex Ryukyu into Japan. This particular nuance is important. You see, the Japan of that era was already firmly committed to its idiotic policy of isolationism. Trade with China, Taiwan, and anyone else was forbidden. The only exception was the Europeans — but then, good luck arguing with them when they sailed in on their galleons armed to the teeth. Try refusing to trade with that — they'd take what they wanted for free.
Trade was not conducted by Japan. But Ryukyu was not Japan. Ryukyu was, officially, a tributary of China. And Ryukyu was perfectly entitled to trade with China — in Japanese goods, which Satsuma shipped there. A textbook demonstration of that particularly Japanese brand of cunning: finding a convoluted and "clever" workaround instead of a straightforward solution.
But that was politics. And the local population cared about politics about as much as they cared about sea cucumbers. Occupation, on the other hand — they cared about a great deal. Especially an occupation as brutal as the one Japan imposed.
The Japanese, generally speaking, are a hard people. Completely, unflinchingly hard. Human life has never been valued by them in any meaningful sense. That's true today, and it has been true throughout their entire history.
Under the Satsuma decrees, the Ryukyuans were not merely forbidden from carrying or using weapons — they were forbidden from even owning them. The study of any martial art whatsoever was punishable by death. Meanwhile, the official Japanese laws of the era stated: "If a person of the lower classes, such as a townsman or peasant, is guilty of insulting a samurai through speech or rude behavior, he is to be cut down on the spot." There was also the practice of tameshi-giri — sword-testing — which granted samurai the right to try the edge of their blade on any commoner's head. And all of this on top of ruinously extractive taxes.
Everyone wants to live. Nobody will tolerate that kind of treatment indefinitely. But the army was gone — destroyed. Resistance, however, remained. And all of it went underground, into guerrilla warfare. For centuries.
It was precisely in that underground — in conditions of maximum secrecy and concealment — that over those hundreds of years of struggle by an unarmed peasantry against invaders armed with swords and, often enough, Portuguese muskets, a native and remarkably powerful Martial Art was born and refined. It was simply called Te, and later, Okinawa Te.
By 1807, when I arrived on Okinawa, it was already a formidable and honed fighting system, built around one cardinal principle: ikken hissatsu — to kill with a single blow. And it worked.
I remember how hard it was to break into the underground, to earn the trust of the locals and worm my way into becoming the pupil of one of the Masters. How many Japanese samurai fell by my hand in the process.
But that's not the important part.
Up to that point, the history here and the history of Vasi-Sensei's world were identical. Beyond it, though…
Sabretooth is a formidable combat asset. Sabretooth as a partisan is an occupier's nightmare. And Sabretooth as a partisan under the guidance of a radical patriot of a teacher, honing every technique and strike of Okinawa Te on the occupiers themselves…
In short, by 1817 — seeking to resolve the situation and save face — the Emperor recognized Okinawa as a constituent part of Japan, with full civil rights confirmed for its population. The occupation and discrimination officially ended. The Satsuma edicts ceased to apply. Taxes were equalized with the rest of the Empire. And the trade continued — because the Ryukyuans couldn't have cared less about Japan's isolationist policy. And the Emperor simply didn't have the strength to force their compliance.
In Vasi-Sensei's world, Okinawa's recognition as part of Japan didn't happen until 1875. Nearly sixty years later.
The second significant difference: the Battle of Okinawa. In 1945, the island was never taken by the Americans. Japan surrendered first. And no American military base was ever established on the archipelago.
The US placed its base further out, on Yakushima, beyond the Ryukyu chain.
Stark's plane, with me aboard, landed at Naha Airport — the capital city of Okinawa. We checked in there, had lunch at a local restaurant, and flew on to Kumejima Airport, on the island of the same name, to the west of the main island of Okinawa.
It was on this island that my Master — Master Sotama — had spent the last years of his life.
"Viktor Ivanovich," Romanova ventured the question that had clearly been building in her since Naha Airport, where she had been staring with enormous suspicion and bewilderment at the blond crowns of most of the locals they'd passed. As for the form of address — at some point during this flight, she had shifted, almost without noticing, from "Comrade Creed" to the somewhat less formal "Viktor Ivanovich." I didn't object. "Put my doubts to rest: the Japanese are supposed to be dark-haired, aren't they? Are they all dyeing their hair? Is this some local fashion?"
"Heredity," I grunted. "I lived on these islands for thirty-five years — and I hadn't met Suo yet."
"So that means…" She frowned, trying to process what I'd just told her.
"Well, hello there, old man!" A fellow with distinctly Asian features, vivid blue eyes, and a thick mane of fair hair stepped out to greet me. He was half a head shorter than me. "Not dead yet?"
"Hello, Yui," I said with a smirk. "Good to see you too."
***
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