The Manchurian Partition Treaty

The Japanese Foreign Minister, Uchida Kōsai, had logically dismantled Wang Jingwei’s arguments by invoking the principle of national self-determination. Buoyed by his triumph, he crossed directly into Russia with an air of triumph.

‘So this is what they mean by a complete railway state centered on Yekaterinburg. The tracks stretch on forever.’

The new Russia had spun a spiderweb of railways across its entire territory. Add to that an army of over a million battle-hardened veterans from the civil war, plus several million reservists. If Japan were ever foolish enough to claim all of Manchuria and trigger a second Russo-Japanese War, hundreds of thousands of elite troops would pour down far more advanced Siberian trains than before. Naval battles might favor Japan this time, but in the end, victory was decided by whose flag flew over the land. Losing the Korean Peninsula was a real possibility.

As Uchida Kōsai rode the train toward Yekaterinburg, the sight of soldiers stationed at every junction only deepened his conviction.

‘We must remain on friendly terms with Russia. No question about it.’

The European powers were still groaning under the weight of their own war wounds. According to Mutaguchi Renya, the current Tsarina was the reincarnation of both Nobunaga, who once sought to unify the realm, and Amaterasu herself. Honestly, the Nobunaga and Amaterasu talk sounded like the ravings of a sycophant who had received a few compliments from the Tsarina. Still, the dispatched diplomats insisted at least part of it was true. This wasn’t the Middle Ages, yet here was a woman who strode straight into the hail of bullets alongside her soldiers. It sounded like something out of a novel. Given the previous Tsar’s failures, perhaps such theatrics had been necessary to rally the troops. In any case, for Japan this was both opportunity and danger. Russia would not be the same as before.

Even if the Russians lacked the naval strength to land on the Japanese mainland, there was no need to fight them. The Russian Far East offered Japan little worth the cost of occupation. Though the Tsarina had refused Japan’s support, she seemed favorably disposed toward the Empire. If they could simply recognize each other’s claims in Manchuria through this treaty—Japan advancing into China, Russia into Europe—everything would fall into place.

‘The Empire and Russia can become allies.’

If they fought the Chinese, Russia would surely support Japan to protect North Manchuria and Mongolia. Turning these hopeful calculations over in his mind, Uchida Kōsai arrived in Yekaterinburg and met with the Russian Foreign Minister.

The man who greeted Uchida Kōsai was Sergei Sazonov, Russia’s current Foreign Minister. In the original timeline, he had represented Kolchak’s Russia at the Paris Peace Conference, only to be ignored on the grounds that Russia lacked a legitimate government. In this world, however, there had been no such luxury of time. The Great War ended, he remained with Kolchak’s Siberian White Army to mop up Bolshevik remnants in the Far East, and was eventually summoned by Anastasia to serve as Foreign Minister of the newly born Russian United States.

“Not at all. I am grateful that you would receive me on such short notice. First, allow me to congratulate you on the recapture of Constantinople from the Ottomans.”

“Ah, you’ve already heard. Why not convey your congratulations directly to Her Majesty the Tsarina?”

“Pardon?”

Directly to the Tsarina? Where was she?

“She is right over there.”

Following Sazonov’s gesture, Uchida arrived at a place guarded by heavily armed Russian soldiers. In their midst stood a radiant young woman distributing meals to children alongside Russian noblewomen. There was no mistaking it—this was the Tsarina. A saint of chosen bloodline, much like the imperial family of Japan’s unbroken line. A young woman who radiated that unmistakable aura.

True to her title as the “Cavalry Empress,” the Tsarina wore a military uniform and was personally handing out food rations. ‘She may have transferred power to the parliament, but she is still Russia’s leader. A head of state doing this herself?’ Given Russia’s circumstances, the fledgling government might indeed require such personal involvement. Yet this went far beyond mere symbolism. With a leader like her, the new double-headed eagle of Russia—victorious even through civil war—would surely soar into the heavens.

‘We must remain allies with Russia. For the sake of the future.’

The woman who should have been laughing and chatting with noble ladies at her age noticed them, dusted off her hands, and approached.

“I am Uchida Kōsai, Foreign Minister of the Japanese Empire, here regarding the Manchurian Partition Treaty.”

“I greet the Great Khan of Mongolia, the Saint of All Russia, and the Tsar of All ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Russia.”

Though unsure if the phrasing was correct, Uchida bowed deeply, lavishing praise upon the Tsarina. It was both to ensure a smooth treaty and to flatter the leader of a prospective ally. The Tsarina’s face, however, stiffened at his words.

“That is quite a long title.”

“First, on behalf of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of our Empire and all its subjects, I offer our most sincere congratulations on your victory in the civil war and the recapture of Constantinople, which has restored the glory of Byzantium.”

Uchida Kōsai spoke with genuine gravity. Yet the smile that formed on the Tsarina’s lips was subtly twisted.

“There is no need for such grandiosity. Please convey my thanks to your Emperor as well. As for the Manchurian treaty—hasn’t everything already been decided?”

Indeed. Discussions between the two sides had long been concluded. The Japanese Korean Garrison Army and the Russian Far Eastern Military District had already deployed forces into North Manchuria and South Manchuria, and the borders on the map had been drawn with absolute clarity.

“Yes. It is truly fortunate that our two nations see eye to eye on this matter and have reached such an agreement.”

“I am signing this document in the hope that there will be no surprise attacks like the one in 1904. I trust the treaty will be honored. As neighboring countries, should we not strive to live in friendship?”

“Ahem. Such an incident will never occur again. We of the Japanese Empire solemnly pledge to maintain friendly and neighborly relations with Russia.”

Attacking Russia would bring far more loss than gain. Having secured the Korean Peninsula, Japan could simply push into the Chinese heartland from South Manchuria. If Russia supplied resources during that process, so much the better.

“Ah, there is one thing I am curious about. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I hear you plan to settle Koreans in South Manchuria.”

“Yes. What is your concern?”

“I hope there will be no unrest caused by the Koreans.”

So even the Tsarina had heard of the “disloyal Koreans.” It was true that the March First Movement had caused disturbances, but Japan intended to keep such elements under control within the Korean Peninsula itself. Lately, more Koreans had begun approaching the Yi royal family, claiming that royalty must resolve the national crisis, but that only strengthened Japan’s resolve to encourage Korean emigration even more aggressively. Send every Korean who might cozy up to the Yi family off to Manchuria. At first glance, it might seem they could consolidate power in the borderlands, but South Manchuria was merely a stepping stone for the advance into China. With the Imperial Army stationed there, any treasonous plotting by Koreans would be futile.

“You need not worry on that account. We have already taken that into consideration and plan to send Koreans currently residing in the Japanese mainland first.”

“The mainland?”

“Yes. There are many Koreans living in our home islands. As soon as the treaty is finalized, we intend to relocate all of them to South Manchuria.”

Uchida Kōsai answered boldly while carefully observing the young Tsarina, who was also the Great Khan of Mongolia. For a moment, he thought he saw the corner of her mouth lift slightly. It must have been his imagination.

“I see. Ah, now that I think of it, my Lord has given me a revelation concerning Japan.”

“May I ask what it is?”

“There is a region in your country called Kanto, or Kantō, is there not?”

A Russian princess knew of Kantō? And what disaster was supposed to strike that region?

“Yes, there is.”

“A great calamity is said to befall that area. Perhaps this meeting was destined for this very moment.”

A great calamity?

“I see…”

For a Russian princess to know about Kantō… Perhaps she had learned something from the late Tsar. It was most likely just a dream, but he would still need to report it upon returning home. Since she was known as a saint, it was better to be safe than sorry. Of course, Anastasia herself knew that an earthquake was not something one could prepare for simply by hearing about it, and that Japan would never believe such a warning—but she said it anyway.

The young Tsarina left the rest to her Foreign Minister and departed. For some reason, she appeared to be in an exceptionally good mood. Was that all right?

“Does your Tsar truly work directly for her subjects like that?”

“It is fortunate if she only does so here. Russia is vast. She visits every city that suffered under Bolshevik rule to personally tend to the people’s hearts. And that is not all—she also protects the Mongols fleeing into European Russia to escape the Chinese army. Having based herself in Asian territory during the civil war, she holds a deep affection for Asia.”

That was welcome news. It meant Russia would not stab Japan in the back when the Empire advanced into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠China.

“I see.”

If that was the case, it would certainly help foster friendly relations between Japan and Russia. Uchida Kōsai made his assessment. If the young Tsarina felt goodwill toward Asia, she would naturally seek good relations with Japan, the only civilized nation in Asia. Still, she was an extraordinary figure for the modern age—a woman who charged straight into the storm of bullets to fight alongside her soldiers. According to the repeated reports from Major Mutaguchi, she had taken the lead in battle so often that enemy cavalry attempting a rear surprise attack had failed to catch her off guard.

“Then let us finalize the treaty.”

“Yes, let us do so.”

The contents of the agreement were simple.

As drawn on the map, North Manchuria and South Manchuria were divided. In the event of possible Chinese retaliation, both countries would respond together. The treaty concluded with a mutual non-aggression clause guaranteeing each other’s safety and independence. For Japan, eager to advance into China, this was the ideal partition agreement. For Russia, it secured stability in the Far East. It was a treaty that benefited both nations.

Japanese Foreign Minister Uchida Kōsai and Russian Foreign Minister Sazonov reconfirmed the treaty text and affixed their signatures, thereby officially recognizing Russian ownership of North Manchuria and Japanese ownership of South Manchuria.

Meanwhile, in the United States of America, the snowball Anastasia had set rolling was also influencing American politics. The League of Nations had been established to restrain the Bolsheviks following their successive revolutionary plots and to secure a swift end to the war. Fearing that American communists might sympathize with the Soviets, the Senate gave its approval, allowing the United States to join the League.

Woodrow Wilson had been spared the stroke that, in the original timeline, resulted from overexerting himself on a cross-country train tour to rally public support. Naturally, he avoided becoming a half-paralyzed invalid. However, at the beginning, Wilson had desperately wanted to tear Austria apart. He had denounced the Austro-Hungarian Empire as a Catholic dictatorship and wished to dismantle it completely, ending Habsburg rule. Yet because of the Bolsheviks, he had been forced to keep the Habsburgs alive. Since that plan had failed because of the Bolsheviks, the only remaining goal was to crush them.

The League of Nations itself had been founded to defeat the Bolsheviks and secure world peace, so Wilson poured American power into White Russia. The result? The young Tsarina he supported won the civil war, and the Soviet Union—the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very heartland of communism—perished. Sometimes he regretted not tearing Austria apart even at the risk of overextending himself. Still, it had all turned out well in the end.

This outcome affected not only Wilson’s physical health but his political life as well. He had essentially orchestrated the collapse of the Bolsheviks from behind the scenes by manipulating White Russia—an astonishing achievement. Newspapers ran sensational headlines detailing every hardship faced by the White Army and every Bolshevik military advantage, all while trumpeting that America had destroyed communism. Political cartoons even depicted Wilson pulling the strings of a puppet Anastasia as she fought the Red Army.

“A third term! Could I not aim for a third term?”

Wilson was intoxicated by the dream of a third term. The League of Nations, created to defeat the Bolsheviks, had clearly succeeded under American leadership by destroying the Soviet Union. Across the American continent, voices supporting Wilson rose like a tide.

“Darling, please don’t overdo it.”

And so Woodrow Wilson, aiming for a third term, rode the cross-country train with his wife’s assistance. He campaigned across the nation, announcing everywhere that he had destroyed communism. Naturally, he overexerted himself once again.

“Thank you. This Wilson—ugh… krrghhh!”

“D-Darling!”

A little later than in the original timeline, he suffered a stroke and became half-paralyzed. The only historical revision had been the part that read ‘Continue supporting White Russia with Lend-Lease until they win.’ In the end, Wilson collapsed just the same.

And so Patton, whose life’s achievement had been raising Ungern’s blood pressure in Russia, was quietly forgotten.