In truth, a deep-seated animosity had already existed between Tominokoji Hironao and Hishijima Yoshiteru.
It had happened shortly after Yoshiteru had taken up his post at the Akasaka Palace as the Captain of the Imperial Guards. Hironao had come directly to the guards’ barracks, declaring that by the Emperor’s command, Yoshiteru was to lend him half of his soldiers. When Yoshiteru inquired as to the nature of the business, Hironao replied that they were to conduct a rabbit hunt within the palace grounds.
A rabbit hunt? In Satsuma, rabbit hunting was practiced as a rigorous means of training the young sons of samurai. Both Yoshiteru and Saigo Takamori had once sprinted through fields and mountains with hounds in pursuit of rabbits. Could it be, Yoshiteru wondered, that the Emperor intends to lead the troops himself for a military exercise?
It was nothing of the sort. It was merely a pastime that had been practiced within the imperial court of Kyoto. Rabbits would be released into the palace gardens, and as they fled into the thickets, the court nobles would act as seko—beaters—to flush them out, allowing the Emperor to catch them alive with his bare hands. It was nothing more than a childish game.
Yoshiteru was incensed.
“I cannot lend my soldiers for such an absurd matter,” he stated flatly.
“An absurd matter? How dare you speak of His Majesty’s pastimes in such a manner!” Hironao’s voice rose in anger. “The previous captains of the guards always lent their men without a second thought. What is the meaning of this sudden refusal now that the command has fallen to you?”
“My men are stationed here specifically to defend the palace. If I lend them out, we cannot fulfill our solemn duty to guard the imperial residence. I cannot spare a single soldier. If this is an absolute necessity, please contact the Imperial Guard Headquarters in Takebashi. They may dispatch surplus troops, or perhaps temporarily recall off-duty soldiers.”
Hironao grew increasingly impatient, his irritation palpable. “His Majesty wishes to conduct the rabbit hunt now. How can we afford the luxury of sending a messenger all the way to Takebashi? Are you using your official duties as a shield to defy an imperial decree?” he demanded haughtily.
“I have absolutely no intention of defying my Sovereign. Therefore, I shall go to Takebashi myself to confirm this matter. Please wait a moment.”
“Enough. I shall report exactly what you have said to His Majesty,” Hironao spat out sullenly, before turning on his heel and retreating back into the inner chambers of the palace.
Yoshiteru had no intention of disobeying an imperial command. Yet, if he were slandered by treacherous and sycophantic officials and called to account for his actions, his best-case scenario would be demotion; his worst, a prison cell. Surely, in this new Meiji era, he would not be ordered to commit seppuku, but the anxiety lingered.
For a time, there was absolute silence regarding the matter. Then, one day, Tesshu approached Yoshiteru with a revelation.
“Thanks to you, the rabbit hunts are to be no more,” Tesshu said.
“What did you say?”
“To tell you the truth, I, too, found those rabbit hunts to be a public nuisance. The court nobles were merely using the warriors like servants to vent their daily frustrations. It was a loud, bothersome affair, with all that prodding and thrashing of the bushes. But then you refused to lend the troops. Seizing the opportunity, I explained to His Majesty that continuing such a whimsical eccentricity defied all reason. His Majesty found the argument entirely sound.”