The Closing of the Fist

From his high window in the governor's mansion, Qin Shi Huang had watched the entire bloody spectacle unfold in the square below. He had seen the charge, the chaos, the swift, brutal efficiency of his guards. He had watched Meng Tian dispatch the rebel leader with the disdainful ease of a man swatting a fly. He felt nothing. No fear, no relief, no anger. It was merely data, an expected variable in a complex equation. The attack had failed. The outcome was predictable.

When the last sounds of fighting had faded, he turned from the window and calmly walked down the grand staircase into the aftermath. The air in the mansion's entrance hall was thick with the coppery smell of blood and the tense sweat of nervous soldiers. He stepped out onto the top of the mansion steps, surveying the carnage in the square. His presence was a sudden, absolute focal point. The panicked whimpers of the crowd died away. The movements of his own soldiers became sharper, more precise. Even the wounded seemed to hold their breath.

He looked at the bodies of the twenty dead assassins, their short swords still clutched in their hands. He looked at the terrified peasants, who were being herded into tight, controlled groups by his soldiers. He looked at the blood staining the land deeds that were now scattered across the cobblestones like fallen leaves.

He turned to his spymaster, Shen Ke, who had appeared at his side. "A desperate and foolish plan," QSH said, his voice quiet but carrying an immense weight. "But they came closer than I expected. They were willing to sacrifice themselves to reach my governor. A level of fanaticism that must be… addressed." He glanced at Shen Ke. "Your intelligence network saved my life today, Master Shen. The warning was timely. You will be rewarded."

"We were fortunate, Your Majesty," Shen Ke replied with a bow, though he knew luck had little to do with it. His network had performed exactly as designed. "But this proves that the enemy is more resourceful and more desperate than we anticipated. We must tighten the net."

"Tighten it?" QSH said, a cold, humorless smile touching his lips. "No. We will not tighten the net. We will close the fist. The 'soft' approach of winning the loyalty of the peasantry through land and rice has clearly failed to pacify the fanatics. From this day forward, we will rule this province through absolute order and unwavering control."

He strode back into the war room, his commanders and ministers following in his wake like iron filings drawn to a lodestone. The atmosphere was tense and cold. The assassination attempt had changed everything.

"This cannot be allowed to happen again," QSH stated, his voice a flat, hard line. He began to issue a series of new decrees, each one a hammer blow designed to crush the possibility of any future resistance.

"First," he declared, looking at General Song Qing. "A city-wide curfew will be imposed on Nagasaki, effective at sundown tonight. The curfew will last from dusk until dawn. Anyone found on the streets during those hours without a stamped permit from the governor's office will be executed on sight. No trial, no questions. Their bodies will be left hanging in the public square until noon the next day as a reminder."

The generals nodded grimly. It was a harsh but standard military occupation tactic. But the Emperor was just beginning.

"Second," he continued, his gaze shifting to the now-trembling Governor Tanaka, "we will implement the Baojia system. It served my ancestors well, and it will serve me now." He explained the ancient system of social control. "Every ten households in this city will be organized into a single unit, a jia. The heads of these ten households will be made mutually responsible for the actions of every man, woman, and child within their unit. If one person in that unit is found to be aiding the resistance, providing them with food, shelter, or information, all ten heads of household will be arrested and executed. The people will police themselves. Their survival instinct will become my greatest intelligence network."

Li Hongzhang looked horrified, but he knew better than to protest this time. He had seen where this Emperor's logic led.

"Third," QSH said, his voice dropping, "the age of the samurai is officially over. All private ownership of weapons is now and forever forbidden in this province. This includes the swords of the samurai class. My soldiers will conduct a house-to-house search of the entire city. Any person found in possession of a weapon—a sword, a spear, a rifle, even a knife longer than a man's hand—will be put to death. And so will their entire family. There is only one source of legitimate violence in this land. It is my army."

The decrees were a blueprint for a perfect police state, a system designed to atomize society and make resistance impossible by turning every neighbor into a potential informant.

Just then, two Imperial Guards dragged a prisoner into the room. It was the merchant Kajiwara, the man who had been funding the resistance. He had been arrested in the chaos following the attack. He fell to his knees, prostrating himself before the Emperor.

"Your Majesty! Mercy!" he cried, his voice shrill with terror. "I was forced! The rebels, they threatened my family! I only did what they asked because I was afraid!"

QSH looked down at the sniveling man with utter contempt. "Your excuses are irrelevant," he said coldly. "You were a weak link in my new order. Your greed and your sentimentality allowed weapons to fall into the hands of terrorists who attempted to disrupt the peace I have brought to this city." He turned his chilling gaze on Governor Tanaka. "Governor. This man is a traitor to the new government. What is the traditional punishment for treason?"

Tanaka, his face pale and slick with sweat, swallowed hard. He knew this was a test. "Death… Your Majesty," he whispered.

"Correct," QSH said. "But his death, like all things, must serve a purpose." He issued his final, cruel order for the day. "He will be hung in the main square tomorrow at noon. And the members of your new 'Merchant's Guild Security Force'—the men who have pledged their loyalty to you and to me—will be the ones to do it. They will build the gallows and they will pull the rope. They will hang one of their own. Let it be a message to all who would collaborate with us: your loyalty must be absolute. There is no middle ground. You are either with me, or you are an enemy to be erased."

With the fate of the merchant sealed, QSH turned his attention to the true target. "Master Shen," he said to his spymaster. "The men who attacked today were merely the sword. I want the man who wielded it. This Kuroda Makoto. He is the true disease. The captured rebel lieutenant… Tanaka Isoroku… break him. I don't care what methods you use. I want the location of Kuroda's base. I want the names of his inner circle. I want to know everything. The time for subtlety is over. The fist is closing, and I want him crushed within it."