Edo, Japan
Early January 1837
The crackdown brought things back under control.
At least, that's how it looked from the outside.
Guards returned to their posts with tighter discipline. Patrols increased, not just at the port, but across the city. People were watched more closely. Conversations didn't go unnoticed anymore. Kuroda's name slowly disappeared from public talk, and those who had been seen with him kept their distance.
On the surface, order had been restored.
But underneath, nothing had settled.
Kuroda remained confined.
The room they gave him wasn't harsh, but it made its purpose clear. No chains, no visible restraints, but the guards outside never left, and the door only opened when necessary. He was fed, given water, and treated as someone of his station.
Nothing more than that.
He sat near a low window, light coming through the wooden frame. His posture was relaxed, but his thoughts were not.
He had expected punishment.
That part didn't bother him.
