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The elderly Feline author, nearing a hundred, recounts his friendship with Tomohiko Takagawa, a Phidia writer from Higashi whom he met in 1072 at Victorian National University, where Takagawa served as "Cultural Liaison" to a Messenger group from the Northern and Southern Courts. Shut out of formal negotiations, Takagawa became the author's fast friend. After the Messengers left without promises from Parliament, Takagawa withdrew from politics and returned to literature and history. The two corresponded for over twenty years, exchanging books, films, comics, and games, with Takagawa's widow Hakiko later permitting the letters' publication.
Takagawa's annotated translation of Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku, an ancient text written anonymously by a monk around Terran Calendar 300 under Amakazaru-no-Sumeragimi, opens the history of Higashi. Its myths tell of the Catastrophe Magatsu and the eight-headed Aragami, defeated when the sun deity Amanoharashionkami's five children sacrificed themselves and the reed-field survivors cut off the beast's remaining heads, freeing the goddess Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto. Her conquests founded Ashihara, and her son became the first Sumeragimi. Later, Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi subdued the Sharkfolk and Man-oni, and Kamutaki-no-Sumeragimi issued the Heikarei, tying Catastrophe Patrols to shrines—a tool of central control that bred corruption and noble resentment, pushing nobles toward monasteries.
Reform under Yamaoka-no-Sumeragimi, influenced by Yan's law, renamed the nation Higashi and built a centralized bureaucracy, but the system declined amid financial crises, Catastrophes, and Oripathy refugee influxes. Warriors rose, and Shigekazu Onishoubu established the Shinaisho; after his death, the Sumeragimi line split into Northern and Southern Courts, sparking the Kokusen Shouran civil war. In 807 the Ryoukokurei divided Higashi permanently between the Kusarikawa and Mitsukue regimes under the Eight Great Clans, which later drove the Originium industry era.
The author also discusses the film Oni Bugyou and the animated series Gajuu, Takagawa's final gift, depicting an alternate Higashi defeated in the Bloodpeak Campaign. Contrasting with the "Twenty Years of Prosperity and Recovery" after 1072, Gajuu portrays prosperity resting on fragile foundations, with nameless "tuskbeasts" silently sustaining a nation built on glittering, fragile bubbles.
While writing this manuscript, I have come to the painful realization that I am nearing a hundred years of age. My legs no longer wish to carry this old Feline on his travels. More painful still, my friends have passed on, one after another, even those much younger than me. Not long before writing this, I received a letter from Takagawa Hakiko, widow of Tomohiko Takagawa. She thanked me for my belated condolences and agreed to let me include the letters Mr. Takagawa and I exchanged over the decades.
I never visited Higashi, that faraway nation on the other side of this great land; my visit to Yan will likely be my last in that direction. But over twenty years ago I formed a close bond with a friend from Higashi. In 1072, with war in the Far East and Victoria embroiled in her own bloody turmoil, a group of Messengers representing the Northern and Southern Courts visited Londinium. There I met Mr. Takagawa at Victorian National University, where he held the seemingly insignificant title of "Cultural Liaison." He was a Phidia, about thirty years my junior, tall, bright-eyed, and perpetually frustrated. We became fast friends in under fifteen minutes. Takagawa, a writer with a military background and a scholar who had traveled Higashi extensively, had arrived with great enthusiasm only to be shut out of all formal discussions—though we both knew why, he remained indignant. The politicians of Mitsukue and Kusarikawa had allowed him into the group only to quell public unrest. I told him Parliament had recently hanged the Lion King, and mused that Victoria's eight Dukes might soon be as divided as the Eight Great Clans of Higashi.
The Messengers quietly left after two weeks; Parliament made no promises, for this small nation between two powers was not worth their attention. The Dukes saw no harm in a war redirecting Ursine ambitions eastward, and considering the Bloodpeak Campaign and Ursus's "Great Rebellion," their judgment was perhaps not entirely wrong. Takagawa withdrew from politics and returned to literature and history. Many in Higashi had hoped he could bring winds of change, yet what wind can breach an impenetrable fortress?
For twenty-odd years we corresponded. He invited me to Higashi repeatedly, and to make up for my never coming, sent books, TV dramas, films, comics, and video games with enthusiastic introductions. Susanna joked we were more like middle school boys than scholars—she was right, as always. The first book he sent was his own annotated Victorian translation of Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku, as renowned as Koufuki (the August Manor Chronicles) and among the most important ancient texts of Higashi. Unlike Koufuki, which chronicles the Sumeragimi bloodline and is authoritative for both Courts, this book reads like an accessible introductory text for aristocratic youth. Volume 1 recounts the age of divine myths; Volume 2 covers early settlements and the medieval era shaped by cultural exchange with Yan. It was the first popular historical text of Higashi, profoundly influencing common people, and under the Omikawa Shogunate it became a certified classic revered by all classes—wandering swordsmen in films often carry it strapped at the waist. The reading frenzy even forced the Shogunate to raise the salary of the Satakujiben, officials who copied texts and supervised woodblock printing.
Written in a monastery around Terran Calendar 300 during the reign of Amakazaru-no-Sumeragimi, the book's monk-author concealed his name; the Sumeragimi claimed sole credit in the preface, leaving the author's identity a great unsolved mystery. The first volume, Konjaku Kikoegotsu, collects myths of the divine era. A Catastrophe called "Magatsu" engulfed the Far East: the sky glowed five colors with no day or night, and an eight-headed monstrous god, "Aragami," came from the south, slaughtering people and livestock, drinking rivers dry, and preventing rain. People hid in ashihara, reed fields taller than themselves, surviving on dew. The Sun deity Amanoharashionkami ("Himitasu") slashed Magatsu four times, turning the sky into five guardian deities, his children. They challenged Aragami; each time they severed a head, the beast devoured one of them, and its corrupted blood set the reeds ablaze. Those burned grew strong and brave, forming five tribes worshipping the five gods. United, the people severed Aragami's last three heads and found in its heart a sleeping eight-tailed Phidia woman, Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto, Himitasu's granddaughter. When she awoke, people first saw sun and moon and distinguished day from night. She led the warriors to conquer the five tribes and found the nation Ashihara, centered on Onkaminokannogi-no-Miyako. Her son became the first Sumeragimi, Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi, and each Sumeragimi since claims descent from this divine bloodline. As Takagawa noted, these legends were drawn from multiple sources and "refined" in compilation, so the text is more valuable for understanding Higashinese literature than for history—though it reflects a key principle of Terran history: ancient civilizations were often multi-ethnic societies led by a single Elder lineage.
In Volume 2, Ryakujiroku, myth fades into secular rule. After the goddess returned to heaven, Ashihara faced Sharkfolk from the eastern seas on inkblack spiritships and horned Man-onis in the western mountains. Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi subdued both after ten years of campaigns, granting them surnames and land. In reality, integrating the Ægir islanders and the Oni took far longer; divided into clans, the Sharkfolk adapted to political tides and joined the Eight Great Clans, while the militaristic Oni suffered heavy casualties in the Far Eastern War and today hold influence only in the military and law enforcement.
Kamutaki-no-Sumeragimi promoted agriculture and issued the "Otaira Magatsu Shukokurei" (Heikarei): Catastrophe Patrols could be trained only at shrines designated by the Sumeragimi—a ruthless tool to curb local clans and maintain central power. Priests at grand shrines, being educated, initially preserved Catastrophe knowledge, but the shrines' attachment to central power bred corruption and noble resentment; many nobles turned to the monasteries brought by the Oni's eastward migration. Shrines thus dominated political and economic centers, monasteries the rural areas, though the two systems intertwined. Before the Shogunate, temples had become sanctuaries for vassal lords and kugyous—shaving one's head being preferable to losing it—and these elites shaped a unique culture of monks practicing both literary and martial arts.
During Yamaoka-no-Sumeragimi's reign, exchanges with the southern region of Lungin (now "Yan") intensified. Influenced by the Law of Yan's "people-centered governance," he reformed law and politics; Ashihara was renamed Higashi (the Eastern Kingdom), and the Utsuzan Ritsuseirei established a centralized bureaucracy, beginning the Sumeragimi-kugyou era with its census and standardized measurements. Yet by the book's writing, this system was declining: inherited from the Heikarei, it damaged relations with local factions, and the government faced recurring financial crises. Oripathy-infected refugees accelerated land appropriation and the collapse of the land tax system. Unlike Yan, which mobilized national resources for disaster victims, Higashi's government failed to manage finances and manpower, falling into political crisis. The book stands as a milestone marking the Sumeragimi's decline and the rise of the kugyous and warrior class.
The Oni Bugyou VHS tape has sat on my shelf for perhaps twenty years. This old black-and-white samurai film, through an Oni swordsman's training, unfurls a panorama of the Omikawa Shogunate, Kokusen Shouran, and early Nanboku-cho eras. Director Tsubaki Jirou broke from the romance of early swordmaster films, portraying the devastation turbulent times inflicted on ordinary people—even extraordinary figures like Onihappou-no-Take and his rival Ranma Hajime-daimyo appear as fallen leaves swept by history's winds.
Around Terran Calendar 400, Catastrophes and the collapsed land tax system plunged Higashi into chaos. Local elites became feudal warlords; dispossessed landholders formed a new warrior class that pledged loyalty to powerful lords, eventually seizing the country from the kugyous. At Omikawa, Shigekazu Onishoubu—titled "Chingaku-Godaiji" and later "Kenshin (The Sword Possessed)," and the model for both protagonist and antagonist of Oni Bugyou—established the Shinaisho, a central institution ruling alongside the moribund court. For sixty years his warriors controlled internal affairs under the slogan "the rule of law has returned," appointing gokenin as "Disaster Guardians." After his death the reforms collapsed: powerful gokenin interfered with the imperial succession, splitting the bloodline into the Northern Court's Hokuin Kougon Lineage, aligned with the Shogunate, and the Southern Court's Nan'in Mitsumoto Lineage, aligned with the kugyou. The samurai's Chuujo-shugi gave way to the centuries-long Kokusen Shouran.
Yan's official Messenger reported in 631 that Shigekazu's eldest son, Seisaku Onishoubu, defeated in a struggle for Shogunate leadership, fled south cursing the gokenins as traitors and joined the Southern Court, winning major victories against the better-equipped North. Shifting allegiances were common in an era that extolled loyalty while watching it diminish; scholars compared the period to Yan's Hundred Clan Rebellion, and many awaited a great ruler like Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto. Seisaku died of Oripathy in 653 at fifty-five; his "dishonorable" death cost his clan the Southern Court's favor. In the film, Onihappou-no-Take, realizing his rival's death would not end the chaos, donned a straw hat and vanished.
The great ruler never came. In 807 the Northern and Southern Courts jointly issued the Ryoukokurei, and Higashi remains divided to this day. The Eight Great Clans—the North's Kougon, Kurogo, Hoashi, and Nishigori; the South's Mitsumoto, Kushimatsu, Kanou, and Kaneshiro—rose from the ashes, riding two waves of innovation from Yan and Ursus into the Originium industry era. Though nomadic cities have replaced castles, many pre-war traditions persist under their influence.
Gajuu, Takagawa's final gift while bedridden, is based on a hypothetical: what if Higashi had lost the Bloodpeak Campaign? The Foothill Line collapses, Kusarikawa falls, a ceasefire is signed without authorization, and Mitsukue becomes a city in crisis as factions clash and crime surges, sweeping Otsui Mamoru and his Special Tactical Unit into covert battles. It reminded me of when Takagawa and I "occupied" a lecture theater to watch his urban footage: neon lights, jazz, billboards—and armored warriors and assault boats parading past waiting traffic, the only hint of war.
After the war, the Courts clashed over prisoner swaps until the early 1090s, when young veterans entered politics and Yan's mediation eased tensions. The two decades after 1072 can be called the "Twenty Years of Prosperity and Recovery": Southern reformers centralized the Mitsumoto government and built a new economy on Originium crystal electronics, with Higashinese appliances smuggled into Siracusa and Rim Billiton; the North's wartime military surplus was absorbed by the Four Great Clans into industrial conglomerates, and reconstruction emulated Yan's infrastructure. By the early 1090s, entertainment was abundant, and even the North eased controls on popular culture. The capitals are Mitsukue in the South and Kusarikawa in the North, Higashi's two most important nomadic cities.
A friend wrote that Ursus's brutal demonstration of superiority forced Higashi's lords to face reality: "Only after Ursus's massive fist struck Higashi square in the chest did its fractured heart begin to beat again." Takagawa believed the doors to the future had opened. Many times I picked up my pen to disagree, but put it down, fearing my negativity would harm his health. Gajuu portrays a different view of prosperity: peace built on an extremely fragile foundation. In the conglomerates, the slums of the Infected, polluted waters, and unseen battlefields, nameless "tuskbeasts"—the Gajuu of the title's unspoken question, humans or beasts—stitch golden threads into prosperity while the nation above rests on glittering, fragile bubbles, and the moment they burst draws ever closer.
On multiple occasions, while writing this manuscript, I have come to the painful realization that I am now nearing a hundred years of age. My legs no longer wish to carry this old Feline on his travels, instead demanding that he take care of them. However, what’s more painful is that my friends passed on, one after another, even those much younger than me. Not long before I wrote this passage, I received a letter from Takagawa Hakiko, the widow of Tomohiko Takagawa. Her Victorian handwriting was smooth and concise. Her tone was restrained, a stark contrast to her late husband. She thanked me for my belated condolences and agreed to let me include the letters Mr. Takagawa and I exchanged over the past several decades in my manuscript.
I never had the chance to visit Higashi, that faraway nation on the other side of this great land. Even if my stamina and resolve were as firm as they were in my youth, the long journey east would cause my old ailments to resurface. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, my visit to Yan will likely be my last one in that direction. I’ve never denied my good fortune. Over twenty years ago, I was lucky to form a close bond with a dear friend from Higashi. In 1072, the winds of war in the Far East blew westward. At almost the same time, Victoria found herself embroiled in her own bloody turmoil. It was during this tumultuous period that a group of Messengers representing the Northern and Southern Courts visited Londinium. When I first met Mr. Takagawa at Victorian National University, he held the title of “Cultural Liaison”—which, at the time, seemed highly insignificant. He was a Phidia, about thirty years younger than me, tall, with bright eyes and a long tail. A constant look of frustration seemed to cloud his face. I remember it took less than fifteen minutes for us to become fast friends, despite the age difference. Takagawa was fed up with the pointless politics of both the Messenger group and Londinium. He arrived with great enthusiasm, only to be shut out of all formal discussions. Though we both knew why he was excluded, Takagawa remained indignant. No one, apart from me, showed the slightest interest in his views.
Takagawa told me he hadn’t come here to beg for scraps. He was a writer with a military background, a key supporter of the Messenger
group, and a cultural scholar who had traveled extensively throughout Higashi. He managed to gather support for the Messenger group, but the politicians from Mitsukue and Kusarikawa had their own agendas. They allowed Takagawa to join the group, but only to quell the growing public unrest. I gave a wry smile and told Takagawa that Parliament had recently hanged the Lion King in Londinium. Perhaps, I mused, Victoria’s eight Dukes would soon be as divided as the Eight Great Clans of Higashi and tear this city apart.
After a two-week visit, the Messengers quietly left Londinium. As we had anticipated, Parliament made no promises to Higashi; this small nation, sandwiched between two major powers, was clearly not worth their attention. The Dukes weren’t concerned that Messenger infighting was hindering the negotiations. They didn’t see any harm in a war that redirected Ursine ambitions eastward. Looking at the results of the Bloodpeak Campaign and the ensuing “Great Rebellion” of Ursus, it’s hard for me to say that their judgment was entirely erroneous. Soon after, Takagawa withdrew from politics and returned to his familiar fields of literature and history. I heard that many in Higashi had high hopes for his political career, seeing him as someone who could bring the winds of change... Yet, what wind can breach an impenetrable fortress? I find myself without an answer.
Over the next twenty-odd years, Tomohiko Takagawa and I maintained our correspondence, even after I retired from the university and gave up my teaching position. Takagawa invited me to visit his home in Higashi on more than one occasions, offering to be my tour guide. To make up for the fact that I never made the journey, he sent me books, TV dramas, films, and even comics and video games, all accompanied by his enthusiastic letters of introduction. While helping me organize everything, Susanna joked that we were more like two middle school boys than serious humanities scholars. I think she was right—she’s always right. They may not have been the best research material, but as gestures of friendship, they still served their purpose, offering me glimpses into a mysterious Eastern culture.
Author's Note
I still remember the first book Mr. Takagawa sent me—it was his own personal, annotated, Victorian-language translation of Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku. According to his introduction, this book is every bit as renowned as Koufuki(the August Manor Chronicles). It is considered one of the most well-preserved and important ancient texts of Higashi. However, unlike Koufuki, which chronicles the origins of the Sumeragimi's bloodline and has long been regarded as a formal, authoritative text by both the Northern and Southern Courts, Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku seems more like an introductory text for students of Higashinese history. The book provides an accessible guide through history for aristocratic youth to study and learn from the past. Volume 1 recounts the age of divine myths, when the Gods "severed Magatsu with a sword and banished Aragami". Volume 2 explores the development of early local settlements in ancient times, and concludes with the medieval era, where the legal and political systems were shaped by cultural exchanges with Yan. In this sense, Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku can be regarded as the first popular historical text in the history of Higashi. It had a profound influence on the lives of common people during the medieval period. As a result, during the era of the Omikawa Shogunate, when the samurai class rose to power, the cultural significance of Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku was not affected by the temporary decline of the court's aristocracy. Instead, it became a certified classic, revered by all social classes. If you happen to see a wandering swordsman in a Higashinese film with a book strapped to his waist, there's a good chance it's Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku. The frenzy to read this book even forced the Shogunate to increase the annual salary of the Satakujiben (Development Overseers of the Left)—the officials responsible for copying ancient texts and supervising woodblock printing.
Author's Note
Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku is an ancient text written in a monastery around Terran Calendar 300, during the reign of the Amakazaru-no-Sumeragimi (Emperor Adorned by Heaven). The monk who wrote the book seems to have deliberately concealed his name. Amakazaru-no-Sumeragimi himself wrote the preface, in which he claimed sole credit for the book's creation. The true identity of the author remains one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in the history of Higashi. The complete version of Konjaku Kikoegotsu Ryakujuroku consists of two volumes. The first, Konjaku Kikoegotsu, is primarily a collection of myths and legends that have been passed down since Higashi's divine era.
During the Konjaku Kikoegotsu era, a great Catastrophe known as "Magatsu" engulfed the Far East. The sky was bathed in five strange, vibrant colors, with no distinction between day and night. A monstrous god called "Aragami" came from the south. It had eight heads, each as large as a mountain peak. Aragami wreaked havoc by slaughtering people and livestock, drinking rivers dry, and preventing rain from falling on the land. To escape Magatsu and Aragami, people hid in ashihara, or vast fields of reeds that grew taller than themselves. They survived by drinking dew, never once seeing the sun or the twin moons for the rest of their lives.
In response, the Great Divine Deity of the Sun, Amanoharashionkami (or "Himitasu" for short), wielded a sword and slashed Magatsu four times, turning the five-colored sky into five guardian deities known as the Satsunoame-no-Shinshou. These five gods were the deity's children. The five gods went to challenge Aragami. However, each time they severed one of Aragami's heads, the beast devoured one of them! The gods' sacrifices caused Aragami to bleed profusely, and its corrupted blood set the fields of reeds ablaze. Those burned by the fires of the ashihara grew strong and brave. They formed five tribes, each of whom worshipped one of the five gods. The people united to sever Aragami's last three heads. They cut open its heart and found a beautiful, eight-tailed Phidia woman asleep inside. She was Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto, Himitasu's granddaughter. When the goddess awoke, the people of the ashihara saw the sun rise and the moon set for the first time, distinguishing day and night.
The goddess then led the warriors, who had vanquished the Aragami, to conquer the five
Even before the rise of the Omikawa Shogunate, the temples and monasteries of Higashi had already become popular sanctuaries for vassal lords, landowners, and kugyous. Although the Far East's political struggles may be difficult for outsiders to grasp, we all understand one simple truth: shaving one's head is preferable to losing it. Naturally, the elites who took monastic vows didn't just abandon the military skills and literary knowledge they had accumulated throughout their lives. Instead, they influenced the monasteries that sheltered them, gradually shaping the unique Higashinese culture in which monks practiced both the literary and martial arts. By becoming honored guests of kugyous and great lords, many monks who "re-entered society" went on to achieve even greater accomplishments than before they had taken their vows. Of course, there were also those who chose to sever their attachments entirely, dedicating themselves to spiritual practice and retreating from worldly matters.
great tribes one by one. Eventually, they established their nation centered around a place called Onkaminokannogi-no-Miyako. The new nation was named Ashihara (ancient Higashi), in homage to the reeds that had once concealed them. Shrines were also erected to venerate the five deities. Her son became the first Sumeragimi (Emperor) of Higashi—the legendary Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi (Emperor of Divine Order). According to Higashi political tradition, each Sumeragimi is a direct descendent of Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi, born from a divine bloodline.
As Mr. Takagawa noted in his commentary, many of the ancient legends in this book were drawn from multiple sources and were likely “refined” during their compilation. As a result, the text is more valuable for understanding the origins of Higashinese literature than for historical research. On the other hand, the stories and characters in the “Great Divine Deity” mythos still reflect a key principle of Terran history: when examining ancient civilizations, we often find multi-ethnic societies led by a single Elder lineage. This principle can clearly be seen in the birth of Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto, her conquest of the tribes, and the establishment of her rule.
In the second volume, Ryakujiroku, the “mythological” aspects of the mythos gradually fade, as the mortal descendants of Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto, along with their successors, increasingly display the characteristics of secular rulers. After the goddess passed the reins to Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi and returned to Amanoharashionkami in the heavens, Ashihara faced threats from enemies on multiple fronts. The Sharkfolk arrived from the far-eastern seas on their inkblack spiritships. Their heralds spoke politely, but they wore thick scaled armor, and their swords could split boulders. In the wild mountains of the far west, ferocious, horned Man-onis raised their flags. They had coveted Ashihara for over a century but refrained from invading out of fear of the goddess’s might.
In Ryakujiroku, Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi inherited his mother’s beauty and divine majesty. After ten years of waging campaigns east and west, he subdued the Sharkfolk and the Man-oni. As a gesture of mercy, he granted them surnames and land, transforming these “national enemies” into citizens of Ashihara. In reality, the integration of the Ægir islanders and the Oni into Higashi culture was a much longer process than a single war. In his annotations, Mr. Takagawa noted that when the Sharkfolk and Man-oni became Ashihara citizens, they were divided into different clans, each with its own surname, and these clans went on to experience vastly different fates throughout history. Overall, the Sharkfolk adapted quickly to the political tides of Higashi, eventually rising to join the Eight Great Clans. The more militaristic Oni briefly supported the samurai government during the shogunate era but, after several ups and downs in the North-South conflict, suffered heavy casualties in the Far Eastern War. Today, their influence is limited to the military and law enforcement institutions on both sides of the conflict.
After Kamujiki-no-Sumeragimi’s reign ended, his eldest son, Kamutaki-no-Sumeragimi (Emperor of Divine Rapids), followed Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto’s teachings. He promoted agriculture and animal husbandry, rewarding those who contributed to the construction of shrines and herb fields. But his greatest legacy is his decree, which merged the selection and training of Catastrophe Patrols with traditional animistic beliefs. This decree was known as the “Otaira Magatsu Shukokurei (National Edict for Peace and Protection from the Calamitous)”, or simply the “Heikarei (Edict for Peace from the Calamitous)”. According to the Heikarei, Catastrophe Patrols, whose role is to predict Catastrophes, could only be trained at shrines designated by the Sumeragimi. In the era when the Sumeragimi’s descendants were still widely revered as the Kami-no-Sotomago (Grandchildren of the Gods), the “Heikarei” served as a cold and ruthless tool to curb the expansion of local clans and maintain the Sumeragimi’s
Ryokujiroku recounts a Catastrophe that occurred in Shimoki-Sajikawa (the Sajikawa region) during the reign of Kurokazaru-no-Sumeragimi(Emperor of Occult Elegance). Some local nobles had a dispute with a shrine over ownership of an ancient forest. As payback, the shrine’s head priest instructed the Catastrophe Patrol to give the nobles false information about the evacuation timeline. This ultimately led to thousands of people falling ill. The Catastrophe Patrol took the brunt of the blame, and was eventually exiled, while the head priest was pardoned. Seen from a different perspective, Konjaku Kikoegatsu Ryakujiroku, written by a monk, contains numerous accounts of the misdeeds of shrine priests, highlighting the once-contentious relationship between the monasteries and shrines, which have since reconciled.
[?] Because the priests and priestesses at the ancient grand shrines were often educated castes, the Heikarei initially ensured that knowledge about Catastrophes was passed down. However, the shrines' attachment to the central government led to rampant corruption, which inevitably caused deep resentment among the local nobles. Many of these nobles turned to the temples and monasteries brought by the eastward migration of the Oni. This led to shrines gaining influence in densely populated political and economic centers, while monasteries holding greater sway in rural areas. Despite this, the two religious systems often intertwined and influenced each other.
During the reign of Yamaoka-no-Sumeragimi (Emperor of Mountain Land), for which there are clear historical records, cultural exchanges between Ashihara and the southern region of Lungin (Now called "Yan") became increasingly close, with multiple envoys exchanged between the two nations. Yamaoka-no-Sumeragimi was heavily influenced by the Law of Yan and its core philosophy of "people-centered governance". He led a movement for legal and political reform during the latter part of his reign. It was at this time that Ashihara was officially renamed Higashi (the Eastern Kingdom) to emphasize its governing political doctrine: "The Sumeragimi civilizes the land and governs her people through laws". Higashi then instituted the Utsuzan Ritsuseirei (Criminal and Governmental Code to Move Mountains), based on the Law of Yan, establishing a centralized bureaucracy. This marked the beginning of the Sumeragimi-kugyou era, which would later be characterized by landmark initiatives such as the national census and the standardization of measurements. Ryakujiroku provides a detailed account of these legal reforms and praises them extensively, while also offering a cautionary reminder that rulers should provide sufficient autonomy to local municipalities and govern with benevolence.
Interestingly, during the Amakazaru-no-Sumeragimi era when the book was written, Higashi's legal and political system was about to decline after reaching its peak. Higashi's legal system was inherited from the Heikarei, but it damaged relations with local factions. As a result, despite the government's aggressive efforts to control the country's finances, it frequently faced financial crises. Particularly during years with frequent Catastrophes, local nobles could plainly see that the Sumeragimi's promises and decrees were worthless. The influx of Oripathy-infected refugees only accelerated the process of land appropriation (where nobles annexed land from independent farmers under the guise of disaster relief) and the collapse of the land tax system. In Yan, it was considered natural for the ruling class and the central bureaucracy to "mobilize the nation's resources to aid disaster victims and support the people in their mourning". During her rule of law era, Higashi adopted a similar system, but her government struggled to manage finances and manpower, ultimately falling into a political crisis as it failed to address mounting social issues. Konjaku Kikogetsu Ryakujiroku, the last great historical account of the rule of law era and an important collection of Ashihara literature, serves as a milestone marking the changes of the time. It chronicles the decline of the Sumeragimi's power, as the kugyous and the warrior class rose to dominate the next era.
The Oni Bugyou VHS tape has sat on my bookshelf for a long time—perhaps twenty years. Since Mr. Takagawa sent it to me, I've been reluctant to put it away. I'd rather let it gather some dust than store it out of reach (it has a dust-resistant case anyway). Yes, you can only find VHS players at flea markets now, and the film's technology is outdated, but I believe this old black-and-white samurai movie has lasting significance. Through the story of an Oni swordsman's training, director Tsubaki Jirou unfurls a sweeping panorama of the Omikawa Shogunate, Kokusen Shouran, and early Nanboku-cho eras. The film is filled with bloody and realistic sword fights. Higashinese sword
fights are gripping and intense, but unlike common action films, there is little satisfaction or relief to be found in the death of any character. In his accompanying letter, Takagawa mentioned that Oni Bugyou earned its place in Higashinese cinematic history for breaking free from the romance of the early swordmaster films. Instead, it vividly portrays the harsh devastation that the turbulent times inflicted on ordinary people. Even extraordinary people, like Onihappou-no-Take and his rival, Ranma Hajime-daimyo, are depicted as nothing more than fallen leaves swept up by the winds of history, their fates uncertain.
Around Terran Calendar 400, during the end of the rule of law era, frequent Catastrophes and the collapse of the land tax system plunged many regions of Higashi into chaos. Local elites amassed military power, becoming feudal warlords. Meanwhile, dispossessed landholders formed a new class of independent warriors, who would soon play a pivotal role in Higashi society. These warriors sought to carve out a future through their courage and strategic acumen. They pledged loyalty to powerful lords and clans, hoping to gain influence by serving under them. Those who succeeded laid the foundation for the rise of the samurai clans. These young warriors rose swiftly to power, using brute force to replace the influential kugyous around the Sumeragimi and eventually seize control of the entire country.
It was at Omikawa, the outskirts of Onkaminokannogi-no-Miyako, that the samurai clan leader, Shigekazu Onishoubu, whom the Sumeragimi granted the title of “Chingaku-Godaiji (the Mountain-stifling Samurai)”, established the Shinaisho (Inner Office), a central political institution that operated alongside the moribund court and bureaucracy. Shigekazu Onishoubu has etched his name into Higashi history, earning the illustrious title of “Kenshin (The Sword Possessed)”. He was also the model for both the protagonist, Onihappou-no-Take, and the antagonist, Ranma Hajime-daimyo, in Oni Bugyou. In his youth, he was a fearsome Oni warrior with extraordinary swordsmanship and an unrelenting spirit. In his old age, he became a shrewd, ruthless member of the ruling class. During the 60 years when Shigekazu Onishoubu held absolute control over the government, the warriors affiliated with Shinaisho firmly controlled Higashi’s internal affairs. Their slogan was “the rule of law has returned”. They attempted to rebuild relations with local regions by appointing their gokenin (vassals) as “Disaster Guardians” to enforce the Sumeragimi’s decrees.
However, the reforms initiated by Shigekazu Onishoubu quickly fell apart after his death. The powerful gokenin of Shinaisho, who commanded vast military forces, violated the taboo against interfering with the succession of the Sumeragimi’s bloodline. They supported the Northern Court’s Hokuin Kougon Lineage, who were aligned with the Shogunate, leading the “Grandchildren of the Gods” Lineage to split into two factions: the Northern Court’s Hokuin Kougon Lineage, and the Southern Court’s Nan’in Mitsumoto Lineage, who aligned themselves with the kugyou. The samurai, once proud of their Chuujo-shugi (Magnanimism), were responsible for the centuries-long civil war and the division of Higashi into the Northern and Southern Courts. The brief rule of Shigekazu Onishoubu’s iron fist was merely the last flicker of stability before chaos erupted. As the opening narration of Oni Bugyou states:
“When the samurai clans rose, the nation descended into chaos. Weapons clashed, and the fates grew uncertain”. (Translation by Tomohiko Takagawa)
The centuries-long conflict, later known as the Kokusen Shouran (Nation in Strife and Turmoil), ravaged Higashi and even caught the attention of Yan’s imperial court far to the south. In a report submitted to the True Lung in 631, Yan’s official Messenger detailed a moment from
the early stages of the Far Eastern War. The envoy described how Shigekazu Onishoubu's eldest son, Seisaku Onishoubu, was defeated in a political struggle for leadership of the Shogunate. After cursing the gokenins as "dishonorable traitors", he fled south with his clan and supporters, aligning himself with the Southern Court's Mitsumoto Lineage. The Northern Court held overwhelming advantages in both manpower and equipment, yet Seisaku won several major victories against them in battle, buying valuable time for Mitsumoto's forces to mobilize.
During the Kokusen Shouran, it was fairly common for samurai lords like Seisaku Onishoubu to shift allegiances and serve different factions. It was an era that extolled loyalty and honor as never before, yet it was also a time when these core values were swiftly diminishing in significance. During those chaotic times, anyone—from daimyos to ronin, whether aligned with the Northern or Southern Court—could craft their own "code of ethics" to suit their needs. Scholars and samurai of the Kokusen Shouran era often compared it to Yan's Hundred Clan Rebellion, expressing their ambitions in poems and songs that drew parallels between the ancient and the contemporary. Many believed that a great ruler would one day emerge, a hero capable of bringing order to the chaos, much like the eight-tailed Asayoyoakihime-no-Mikoto, who once swept through the land, restoring unity and prosperity to the Far East.
In 653, Seisaku Onishoubu died from Oripathy, contracted after years of continuous warfare. He was fifty-five years old. This "dishonorable" death caused his clan and followers to lose favor with the Southern Court, and the once-powerful Onishoubu clan quickly faded into the shadows of history. Similarly, in Oni Bugyou, after defeating Ranma Hajime-daimyo, Onihappou-no-Take abandoned his plans to create a samurai school. Realizing that Ranma's death would not end the chaos, he donned a straw hat and quietly vanished, along with the swordsmanship he had once hoped to pass on.
In the next three hundred years, the long-awaited "great ruler" never emerged. The Far East became permanently divided among the Eight Great Clans into the Northern and Southern Courts. Specifically, Higashi's Nanboku-cho (Northern and Southern Courts) era, which continues to this day, began in 807, when their respective emperors jointly issued the Ryoukokurei (Twin Nations Edict) at what was once Onkaminokannogi-no-Miyako. At that time, large-scale conflicts between the Northern Kusarikawa regime and the Southern Mitsukue regime subsided, and both sides entered a new period of recuperation and development. The Eight Great Clans, including the royal lineages of the Northern and Southern Courts, rose from the ashes of the Kokusen Shouran. They capitalized on two waves of technological innovation introduced from Yan and Ursus, propelling Higashi into the Originium industry era. The Four Great Clans of the Northern Court—Kougon, Kurogo, Hoashi, and Nishigori—led by the Kougons, and the Four Great Clans of the Southern Court—Mitsumoto, Kushimatsu, Kanou, and Kaneshiro—led by the Mitsumotos, established vast political and economic alliances, building on the foundations of the old kugyou and samurai clans. These groups absorbed many of the existing power structures and political factions. At their core, these coalitions were still composed of the feudal lords and their blood relatives, but as their roots extended deep into Higashinese society, they branched out into intertwined political groups, banks, factories, and distribution networks. Thus, even though nomadic cities have replaced the old castles of the lords, and life has changed drastically since those days, many pre-Kokusen Shouran traditions have been preserved under the influence of the Eight Great Clans.
Author's Note Gajuu was the "newest" of all the books and films Takagawa sent me. That was also the last time he personally wrote me a letter. In a letter penned by his wife on his behalf, I learned that his health had deteriorated rapidly.
In his final days, he was effectively bedridden. My delayed response was something he held onto, his unfulfilled wish.
Gajuu is based on a historical hypothetical: What if Higashi had not managed to turn its near-disastrous defeat in the Bloodpeak Campaign into a (very costly) victory? In this alternate reality, the Foothill Line collapses, the enemy captures the Kougon capital of Kusarikawa, and the entire northern region falls. With Yan's emergency mediation and without authorization from Deity Grypherburg, the army unilaterally signs a ceasefire treaty with the Mitsumotos. Afterward, the Ursine military withdraws to the traditional border between the Northern and Southern Courts, and refugees are allowed to flee south. Forced to take in a large population, Mitsukue becomes a city in crisis. Two opposing factions form: those who oppose the peace agreement and those who wish to defend the southern border, and they clash fiercely. Escalating clashes between Northerners and Southerners lead to widespread protests and a surge in violent crime. When the classified news of Ursus's "Great Rebellion" reaches the North, Otsui Mamoru and his Special Tactical Unit are swept into the covert battles between Mitsukue's bureaucratic institutions and political factions at home and abroad.
This animated series reminded me of when I first met Mr. Takagawa. We discreetly "occupied" the lecture theater at the national university to watch urban footage he had filmed himself. The neon lights of Mitsukue made it seem far removed from the war. The air was filled with the sounds of crystalline components and jazz music, and the massive illuminated billboards for home televisions and music players overshadowed the stagnant traffic. Many pedestrians and vehicles were waiting for the traffic lights to turn green, and they had to wait a while longer, as armored warriors and assault boats painted with clan crests paraded down the streets.
That was the only hint of war in the footage.
In the twenty years following the Bloodpeak Campaign, the Northern and Southern Courts continued to clash over prisoner swaps with Urus, even using it as a pretext for several localized armed conflicts. It wasn't until the early 1090s, when young Civil War veterans first entered the political arena, that the tension between the Northern and Southern Courts slowly began to ease. Yan's consistent diplomatic mediation played a significant role in normalizing relations between the two sides.
On a positive note, we can indeed refer to the two decades following 1072 as the "Twenty Years of Prosperity and Recovery". In the South, which was less affected by the war, many highly skilled talents who had studied abroad in countries like Yan and Leithanien survived the conflict. In 1080, these individuals drafted and implemented a reform plan which reorganized the Mitsumoto government into a more centralized, streamlined administrative structure. They also helped establish a new economic foundation in the South through advancements in Originium crystal electronics. Home appliances and entertainment systems produced in Higashi were smuggled into Siracusa and Rim Billiton, where they had a significant impact on the market, forcing local famiglie or law enforcement—who usually turned a blind eye—to take action and crack down. In contrast, in the North, where most of the fighting took place, military production was ramped up to meet the demands of the conflict. After the war ended, this increased capacity led to a surplus, which was divided and absorbed by the Four Great Clans, who reintroduced it to the public as newly formed industrial conglomerates. These conglomerates, controlled by the ruling clans' technocrats, became the backbone of the Northern economy. During its post-war reconstruction, the North emulated Yan's approaches to infrastructure development. As nomadic cities expanded, contracts to build city routes were signed one after another, providing ample employment opportunities for those eager to leave the shadow of the war behind.
By the early 1090s, the economic prosperity of Higashi was reflected in the abundance of cultural entertainment, including TV dramas, pop albums, animated series, and video games, all of which had become accessible to everyone. The melancholy mood that had lingered since the Civil War seemed to dissipate during these short two decades. Even the North, which
once resisted jazz music, began to shift its attitude and eased its strict controls on emerging popular culture.
The capital of Mitsumoto's Southern Court is the "Nan'in Anzai Mitsukeooyashiro (Southern Palace De-Facto Capital Mitsukue Grand Shrine)", or "Mitsukue" for short. The capital of Kougon's Northern Court is the "Hokuin Chinju Kusarikawa-jo (Northern Palace Military Garrison Kusarikawa Castle)", commonly known as "Kusarikawa". These are the two most important nomadic cities in Higashi.
One of my friends from Higashi wrote to me in a passionate letter, arguing that it was the Ursine Empire's brutal demonstration of its military and industrial superiority that forced the Mitsukue and Kusarikawa lords to face reality. He noted that beyond the divide between North and South, an even greater chasm now separated Higashi's past from its uncertain future. "Only after Ursus's massive fist struck Higashi square in the chest did its fractured heart begin to beat again." That's how he put it in his letter. Tomohiko Takagawa, once a cynic, now believed that the people of Higashi had broken through that barrier and that the doors to the future had opened for the land he loved so dearly.
Many times I picked up my pen, intending to rebuff him as I had in the past, to tell him I disagreed with parts of his argument. But each time, I put the pen down again. I worried that my negativity would adversely affect his health. Besides, after traveling through many countries in this great land, I have come to realize that ignorance and arrogance are indelible facets of human nature, and I would prefer to keep mine in check. I believe Mr. Takagawa understood the meaning behind my silence, which led him to choose Gajuu as his final gift to an old friend while he lay bedridden.
Gajuu is presented as an episodic series that tells the story of the protagonist, Otsui Mamoru, during his service in the Special Tactical Unit—a fictional elite police force. In the first episode, a group of former Northern soldiers attempt to help refugees illegally enter Mitsukue City but are surrounded and killed by the Special Tactical Unit. Meanwhile, the refugees seek to distance themselves from the veterans to avoid getting their families exiled from the city. The fifth episode explores how financial institutions controlled by powerful clans manipulate the operating capital of major corporations. Pushed to the brink, one business owner hijacks an industrial vehicle and causes widespread destruction, dragging hundreds of innocent people into the turmoil. Episodes nine and ten tell the story of a war hero returning from the Bloodpeak Campaign. He gathers his old comrades, who have been infected with Oripathy, to launch a kamikaze attack on the Mitsukue imperial shrine. It's only during the autopsy that people discover the war hero hadn't been infected with Oripathy himself. These strange yet deeply realistic stories are linked by the unspoken question of the protagonist: Are we truly humans, who walk upright, or merely tuskbeasts, or Gajuu in Higashinese, who walk on all fours?
Without a doubt, the serious subject matter of Gajuu portrays a different view of the "Twenty Years of Prosperity and Recovery", in stark contrast to the optimism of my friend from Higashi. I tend to agree more with Gajuu. The peace and rapid development Higashi enjoyed in the twenty years following the war were built on an extremely fragile foundation. What we do know is that Higashi will continue to be wedged between the great powers of the East, and that the Northern and Southern Courts will keep disrupting the ever-shifting balance. Meanwhile, in the conglomerates controlled by the Eight Great Clans, in the slums where the Infected hide, in waters polluted by Originium refineries, and on battlefields unseen by city dwellers, nameless "tuskbeasts" work silently, stitching golden threads into the fabric of prosperity. As their claws carve trenches into the blood-soaked soil, the nation above, where humans live, is built on glittering, fragile bubbles. And as these bubbles lift people toward the fleeting joys of jazz music, the moment they burst draws ever closer.