Shōgun recap: "Flowers are only flowers because they fall"

Boy, is this ever Shōgun’s Mariko-sama episode. We begin with a flashback to her 14 years before the action of our story, wandering in the snow, heavy with child, and hellbent on self-destruction. Once she has been led into a tent to warm up, we learn that these attempts to escape her husband and end her life have formed a pattern for her. Here, she meets Father Martín for the first time. He christens her “Maria” and plops a rosary into her hand (“something to hold onto when she can’t talk”). She trembles at the sight of the cross.

This, we assume, is the moment that led to her conversion to Catholicism, and her faith plays a more pronounced role in this episode of the show than in any before. Up to this point, we have seen the Japanese characters either treat death as a path to honor for oneself or one’s family, or as a mundane inevitability. Mariko-sama even goes so far as to tell her Anjin, “Living and dying are the same.” (He counters, “Only one is permanent.”) But self-sacrifice through death is foundational to Christian lore, and, as we see in this episode, it seems to have been Mariko’s primary draw to her religion of choice.

Let’s get this out of the way: She finally gets her wish here. But there are fake-outs aplenty before it’s finally granted. We understand quickly that her very purpose in coming to Osaka was to use her own death as a bargaining chip to expose that hostages are indeed being held there—no one, not even the Regents’ family members can leave without an Ishido-issued permit—and to either free them peacefully or incite war. Toranaga’s new baby is the excuse, too. If he has to observe his mourning period for Nagakado-sama in his own castle for the rest of the customary 49 days, following which he’ll be killed, the Council should at least allow his consort to come to him so that he can meet his kid. Will Ishido allow it? No.

When her attempt to exit the palace with the consorts in tow ends in samurai bloodshed on both sides, Mariko announces that it is not possible for her to win against Ishido’s men and vows to take her life by sunset. Kiyama, a fellow Christian, agrees, at first, to second Mariko in seppuku, as he would know this act constitutes a mortal sin for her. However, as he admits to Blackthorne earlier in the episode, he’s more of a Catholic for trade reasons than any kind of religious dude, so when the time comes for him to draw his blade and stand beside her, he’s nowhere in sight, as Ishido dissuaded him from helping her. Her legs already bound, her intent already stated, she cries and rips her rosary from her neck, prepared to go it alone. But her Anjin, previously hiding a bit behind a partition, emerges to serve as her Christian second. What a heartbreaking, horrible prospect; what an act of love. “Hell is no place I haven’t already known,” he says, and they prepare to say goodbye. But then (of course) Ishido emerges at the last second with permits allowing his captives guests to leave.

Now, as Mariko is dealing with all this crap, Yabushige is still out here scheming. When he arrives in Osaka, he surrenders to the council on Toronaga’s behalf, presents Ishido with the list of all who surrender with their lord, and cedes their weapons. He offers Blackthorne to him, too, insisting he’s “well-trained,” but Ishido declines, saying the heir has no use for him. He also tries to convince Ishido that he was deceived into helping Toranaga leave Osaka before, but Ishido doesn’t care. (This guy apparently isn’t told much of anything, because he’s also livid when Mariko reveals her plans to leave with Kiri, Shizu, and the baby boy.) He has some other tricks up his sleeve, though, as we learn here at the end of the episode. At midnight, as the soon-to-be-released captives are either partying it up or sleeping, Yabushige ushers in some loyal assassins. Ishido couldn’t really let the women leave alive, so he struck a deal with Shōgun’s shadiest dude.

The women and Blackthorne (fresh from pillowing with his beloved Mariko after her near-seppuku) flee from the attackers and sequester in a storehouse with heavy doors. Once inside, they hear the sounds of bombs being planted. And here the religious themes return with gusto. Mariko stands before the big doors in her white robe, arms outstretched, angelic. Blackthorne implores her to take cover with the others so that he can push a barricade in the way of the blast. But no. This is the kind of death Mariko has wanted all along, not a shoddy seppuku job and not some weird joint suicide with her husband she doesn’t even like. She declares, “I, Akechi Mariko, protest this shameful attack by Lord Ishido… and by my death—” she is cut off by the explosion, her body absorbs it, and the others are thus spared. Martín’s melodic chanting plays over the credits. Our dear Mariko, heart of the series, is gone. But on her own terms. What will our Anjin do now?

Stray observations

• The Portuguese church people serve as a little Greek chorus for us as they try to figure out what Toranaga’s plan could be. Has he given up? Why is Blackthorne there? It’s a handy device, and it feels natural, too. It also reintroduces the Catholics and reminds us that they have also come to Osaka so that it isn’t as jarring when Martín shows up to chant with Mariko.
• I love how the Regents think Mariko’s plan to commit seppuku is just plain old girly drama, but Ochiba knows better. She knows how serious and smart her friend is and the extent to which she has thought things through.
• Poetry is used nicely in this episode. In most of this series (though Mariko does present a written poem as her last statement as she prepares to commit seppuku), poetry seems to be a largely improvised and ephemeral medium. It serves as a metaphor for the beautiful but fleeting nature of life.
• They take such pains to set up that Mariko and Ochiba used to spar that it sort of makes us think a fight between the two is inevitable. But in their actual exchange with each other, things are much more sisterly, at least on Ochiba’s end. Her words are laden with care, and her face registers genuine shock and concern for her old friend, the girl “who did everything right,” as she sees how determined she is to die. It’s heartbreaking.
• Also heartbreaking: the timing of Mariko’s son’s angsty “I hate you, Mom” attitude. It’s normal for teens to be gravely embarrassed by their parents, but his indifference to her really seals her plan for suicide. Poor kid. This is all so messed up. But he’s also a little jerk here.
• As he fends off those midnight attackers, Blackthorne actually gets to use his gun in this. Turns out he’s pretty okay at it.