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Ito Katashi sipped at his tea as he lounged in his armchair. News from the war was good for now, with the Nanban hordes crashing against the might of Nippon and being pushed back like a wave against the rocks. There were those within Nippon who did not view this war favourably, but they were fools. The Spanish had been partly removed from the Philippines and the Russians had failed to breech Korea. Nippon was strong, as it should be. Petty political feuds and protests merely hampered the war effort. Nippon would be better off with all those pacifists locked up or executed for treason.
Ito took another sip at his tea, only to drink the dregs of tea. He scowled and put the cup aside. One of his many indentured servants entered the room and then scurried off when they saw his cup was empty. The woman in her mid-thirties, one of his favourites he had hired from Korea, poured him a new glass and bowed before leaving. Ito smiled at her and resumed drinking.
Another servant entered the room and started dusting a few of the shelves. This one was younger than the last, one of the new servants from the Philippines most likely. When Ito hired all his servants, he offered them what he considered a fair contract, although some of those who thought themselves more liberal-minded may call it borderline slavery. They didn't understand that indentured servitude saved these people years of hardship. Most of his servants were from the more recent conquests of Nippon, mostly Koreans with a few Filipinos mixed in. They fled to Nippon searching for a better life, and in most instances ended up in poverty. Ito offered them a way out. He offered them food, shelter, and a guaranteed source of work. All they had to offer in return was 10 years of their life. Ito also ensured that every servant was given a small stipend. It wasn't enough to live on if they were on their own, but if saved up over the years, it would give them enough funds to make it on their own when their contract ended. Those that saved wisely would have enough to start their own business or buy some farmland. The fools that wasted their money on their vices usually found themselves on the streets again. That was not Ito's concern. He gave them a chance to find a better life and if they chose to squander it that was their choice.
After finishing his second cup of tea, Ito rose from his seat and left the room. The servant from earlier had moved into the other room and was about to open a door to another. Ito, noticing which room it was she was about to enter, rushed over to her and smacked her hand away. The girl gasped and jumped back, her head down. "Foolish girl, no one is permitted in that room," Ito said. The girl kept her eyes down, saying nothing. Most likely she had not been in Nippon long enough to learn the language and understood nothing he said. He sighed in frustration and shooed her from the room. She scampered off to do her work elsewhere.
Once the servant was gone, Ito slipped into the room he had forbid her from entering. The room was pitch black and smelled faintly of death. Ito lit a kerosene lamp on the wall, illuminating a portion of the room. Standing nearby was a man in a Spanish uniform, a mock expression of anger on his face. Ito circled the man, admiring his handiwork. The stitching seemed to have held. It had taken him years to master the art of taxidermy, but he certainly had gotten good at what he did. The stuffed Spanish soldier before him was proof of that.
Ito had never known the dead man he'd stuffed and put on display, nor did he care. All he knew was the man had been an enemy of Nippon who had fought in the Philippines. It had been relatively easy getting his hand on a fresh corpse after the bloodbath that went on in those isles. Now like an animal mounted on the wall by a proud hunter, this Spanish soldier served as a personal trophy of the greatness Nippon had achieved. Ito smiled and continued on through the room.
The second piece of his collection was a personal favourite of his. Standing before him was a Turkish soldier, much older than the Spanish man who had been in his early twenties. Ito had gone through plenty of hoops to get this man. He'd had men sent to Turkey to find any soldier who had served in the invasion of Kyushu years ago, and then he'd had them kidnap and send the man here. This had been one of his earlier works and the proportions were a bit off. Stuffing a human was not as simple as stuffing a small animal.
Continuing on, Ito came before the pride of his collection. Before him stood an Italian soldier, an expression of terror permanently frozen on his face. What made this one so special was that Ito had killed the man himself. During the recent, and somewhat pathetic, Italian invasion of Kyushu, Ito and a few of his most trusted men had gone out hunting. Of course they had not been hunting game, but rather Italian soldiers who had scattered when their army broke. When they had come across this man, he had been scared for his life. Alone and surrounded by enemies, he had cried like a child. The Nanban were weak like that. Any honourable man would have accepted death without such a show of emotion. The Italian had cried until the moment Ito shot him in the chest and ended his life. Ito pushed aside the uniform covering the man's chest and admired the stitching that repaired the damage caused by the bullet wound he'd given the man. It was not the prettiest sight, but that was the price of art. No other Italian soldier could have graced his collection. This man had been shot and stuffed by Ito himself and would forever serve as a symbol of Nippon superiority. The Nanban were barbarians and deserved no better fate than being stuffed and mounted.
Ito slowly headed towards the door. There were a few empty spots for future pieces for his collection. The count had men in Korea who would hopefully get their hands on a Frenchman or Russian. Those would make fine additions. Ito blew out the kerosene lamp and left the room, this time ensuring the door was locked after he left. As he stepped away from the door, a sharp pain raged through his head. He clutched at his head, waiting for the throbbing to stop. His headaches were getting worse with each passing day.
Ito slumped back into his armchair and had a servant bring him another cup of tea. The tea always helped with his headaches. He took a sip and spat it out instantly as the liquid burnt his tongue. He threw the cup across the room and it shattered against the wall. "I told you to not make it so hot!" The servant apologized and started picking up the shattered porcelain of the cup. Ito clutched at his head again, wishing the aching would go away. What a day he was having.
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