March 8th, 1935
From the Journal of Nakano Seigo
Kai Nakamura has an issue. History is complicated and most of it obscure. That's a problem when you're trying to write historical fiction. He knows that Ludendorff's "Total War", in the lead up to World War Two, served as a guide for Japanese Imperial leaders. He also knows those same Japanese leaders consistently railed against "Western Influence". Used to claim that it corrupted their fair Nippon and made it weak. He's also aware of the irony of crying about "Western Influence" while holding up a German man's political philosophy as the path forward. Were those same Japanese men also aware of the irony? Who knows? The answer can only be known by pouring over obscure letters and journal entries written by the men in question. But it's not really a problem. It is, after all, fiction. So Kai forces the issue and just decides the Japanese Imperialists in his story are aware of their own contradictions.
March 9th, 1935
From the Journal of Kai Nakamura
Mr.Seigo was writing today. I was looking over his shoulder. All around us were the kinds of settings made to slowly immerse you. Nothing modern. No sign of the 1940's existed in that room. Old style paper and ink brushes only. Mr.Seigo knows, on some level, there's nothing true in his worldview. That it's a cynical undertaking. All of his worldview boils down to "might makes right" and everything else is window dressing made to obscure that fact. Make it so that all his actions can be framed as noble. It's how cynical undertakings work: It lets you say to yourself, "well this is all nonsense but I'll do it all the same". Knowing that your current faux-noble motives will become a future truth when actualized in practice, in going through the motions. And the greater the cynicisms the better it works in helping you undergo the whole affair. But it stops working if you never eventually drop the cynicism. If you never forget your cynicism. So you have to exorcise a part of that cynicism. Mr.Seigo likes to bleed it out of his brain onto paper. Exorcise the truth out somewhere so you can set it aside. I look over his shoulder and see my name.
