Jacobins. Ito Masaki hated the word. He preferred to call them traitors, for that was surely what they were for rising up against the Emperor and his government. Kyushu was crawling with them. It seemed every time there was an invasion or rebellion, the island got hit the hardest. The Ito family had learned from these past attacks and was more than ready this time.
Most of the Jacobins had focused on the towns rather than the estates in the countryside, but one foolish group had wandered onto Masaki's property. They even had the audacity to set up camp right in the middle of his lawn. Right now a campfire was burning on his finely manicured grass. One of them had even lit one of his prize cherry blossom trees on fire and cackled while it burned. They seemed to be content to sit around their fire and share stories for now. Masaki wondered why they didn't attempt to loot his home. The moment the rebels had been spotted nearby, he had called the servants in and doused all the lamps. As far as these rebels were aware, the estate was freshly abandoned, yet they showed no interest in raiding the wealthy mansion. That served to show just how stupid these Jacobins truly were.
From his upstairs window, Masaki watched as one rebel threw a log on the campfire, probably a chopped-up piece of one of his cherry blossom trees. A mischievous smirk spread across his face. These Jacobins didn't know the trouble they had gotten into. Masaki pulled out a telescope and used it to survey the rebel camp. He could only spot about two dozen of them, so a small band. He had hoped for more so he could damage their numbers more, but it'd be much easier this way. Now it was time to test out his toy.
Doing his best not to make a lot of noise, Masaki pushed a full-sized cannon up to the window sill. He'd used his connections in the Ministry of Justice to get his hands on this fine piece of weaponry. With proper aiming, he could hit a target over a mile away. The rebel camp happened to be in that range. When the muzzle was resting on the window sill, Masaki started sighting down his target and aiming the cannon. He only needed one good shot. Once he believed his aim was accurate, he stuffed in the gunpowder and cannonball and lit a match. This was going to be fun.
Before he lit the fuse, Masaki leaned out the window and yelled, "Hey, you damn Jacobins. Get off my lawn!"
The rebels jumped up, startled by his voice. They scanned around for a bit before they realized where he was. By that time, he had already lit the fuse. A cruel grin spread across Masaki's face as the fuse burned away.
With a loud roar, the cannonball burst from the cannon and soared straight at the rebel camp. Masaki knew his aim had been true when the campfire exploded into a giant inferno. Men screamed in agony and several more went flying through the air. A few of them were lying in pieces. It took a few moments before some of them started to move and get back to their feet. Surveying the damage with his telescope, Masaki surmised he had killed or wounded at least a good two-thirds of them.
Once the rebels regained their senses, they grabbed their guns and started shooting up at him. He was too far away for their aim to be accurate. At least that was what Masaki thought until the window in the room over shattered. Time to teach these rebels another lesson.
With quiet precision, Masaki loaded up the cannon once more, took aim, and lit the fuse. The cannon rocked backwards as another blast struck the enemy. The cannonball struck near two men and send dirt flying everywhere. There were some more rebels who wouldn't be causing trouble anymore. Realizing that their guns were no match for a cannon, the few remaining rebels started to scatter. Masaki patiently loaded the cannon again and fired off another shot. This one only hit one man, but the agonizing screaming that followed showed that it hadn't killed him. By that point, the rest had scattered and were far out of range. The fun was over.
Masaki slowly descended the stairs of his home and entered his study. He plucked his father's katana from above the mantle and made his way outside. From there he followed the cries of pain. The first man he came upon barely seemed even aware he was there. He ended the man's suffering with one quick stroke of his blade. He went from man to man, checking to see who had survived and who had not. When he encountered a survivor, he ended their life. Most of them were missing limbs or had severe burns. Killing them was merciful at this point. The last man he approached was attempting to crawl away. He had a jagged piece of metal jutting from his leg, shrapnel from one of the blasts. He whimpered as Masaki approached.
"Please don't kill me," the Jacobin said. Up close, the rebel was no more than a boy, just barely having reached manhood. His face was covered in a mix of dirt, tears, and snot. Masaki scowled.
"Your fate was sealed the moment you rose up against the Emperor," Masaki said. "Now accept your fate and receive an honourable death."
The boy raised his hands to cover his face. "I don't want to die."
Masaki spat in disgust. "This weakness shames you and fair Nippon. If we cannot face death with honour as our ancestors did, then we are no better than the nanban."
The boy stopped sniffling and stared up at Masaki. There was fear in his eyes, but even more so there was understanding. He wiped the mess from his face and forced himself to rise to his knees. He grimaced in pain, for the shrapnel in his legs hindered his movement. Once he knelt before Masaki, he slowly drew a knife from his side. He placed the tip against his stomach and held his head up high. Despite that, the boy trembled in fear.
Masaki held out his katana, watching the light of the nearby fire shimmer off its finely polished blade. The rebel watched it too and did his best to maintain his composure. Masaki was thoroughly impressed. As he raised his sword, he said to the boy, "You shall die with honour this day."
Masaki's katana swung down as the boy pushed his blade into his stomach. He gasped in pain, but that ended as soon as Masaki cut the boy's head from his shoulders. It rolled away into the darkness. Masaki took in a deep breath and wiped the blood from his katana. This had certainly been an eventful night. Now he just had to worry about fixing his lawn.