No, in truth none of those things really mattered. This dispute was entirely about the past: The atrocities perpetrated by his own grandfathers on the Chinese people so many decades ago. The humiliation felt by the Japanese people at their eventual surrender. The newfound conviction of his own generation that they should not be damned to a life of penitence for things that occurred years before they were even born.

The Americans felt understandably justified at having fashioned the Japanese constitution in a way that forbade military force and limited the country to defensive troops. His ancestors had been a warlike and often even brutal people. But that world existed now only in the books he’d studied in school. Japan had become an incredibly wealthy country built on a fragile foundation of stability and economic cooperation. It had become one of humanity’s great innovators and a responsible world citizen that spent billions aiding its less fortunate neighbors.

Despite this transformation, though, the threats from China and the Koreas were real and growing. Could the United States be trusted to protect them in the current world order? And even more important, should this even be America’s responsibility any longer? In Akiyama’s mind, the answer was a resounding no. It was time for Japan to stand on its own feet.

This was, however, a seismic shift that would have to be handled with the utmost political skill and cultural sensitivity. The events unfolding around him were anything but the careful first steps that he’d imagined. No, this was a senseless escalation engineered by politicians concerned only with retaining their power. It had played out in history so many times but no one ever learned. Once the nationalist flame rose to a certain height, it could only be quenched with blood.

The breeze picked up and Akiyama raised the collar on his jacket, continuing to watch the sun sink into the ocean to the west. He was about to head belowdecks when the deceptive peace was broken by a high-pitched wail. The executive officer spun and saw the men on deck behind him freeze for a split second and then begin sprinting in every direction.

“Battle stations!” Akiyama shouted, dodging the men rushing by. “Battle stations!”

Over his headset he could hear a nearly unintelligible patchwork of voices. For the moment he ignored the calm drone of the captain’s orders and instead focused on the more panicked voice of a junior officer stating the reason for the alarm. A Chinese Luzhou-class guided missile destroyer had locked on their targeting radar.

Akiyama started to run the length of the deck, checking his men’s positions, offering words of encouragement, and shouting harsh criticisms when warranted. Above all, though, he did everything in his power to encourage calm.

“No one lifts a finger without direct orders!” he yelled repeatedly. “Is that clear? I don’t care what the circumstances are. No one acts without specific instructions from an officer!”