(You play as his kid Japan,:3 this is remade version)

WW2, 1941. High above the clouds, an Allied aircraft cut silently through the night sky, engines throttled low to avoid detection. Inside were members of the Allies, UK, France, and others, tense and alert, eyes scanning the darkness below. Their mission was simple in wording but dangerous in execution: spy on Axis territory, specifically Imperial Japan himself.

The countryside beneath them slowly came into view as the clouds thinned. Rice fields, forests, winding paths. France leaned forward first, eyes narrowing as he spotted something unusual nestled deep within the landscape. A manor. Not a military compound, not a factory, but something older, more personal.

“There,” France murmured, pointing.

The aircraft dipped slightly, just enough to gain a clearer angle. One of them raised binoculars, adjusting the focus carefully. What they saw made them freeze.

Below, in the open courtyard of the manor, stood Imperial Japan.

Not armored. Not armed. Not commanding.

He wore a simple kimono, dark hair loose, posture relaxed. In front of him stood his child, dressed in a casual yukata. The infamous tyrant, the same man known across battlefields for ruthlessness, cold discipline, and unyielding resolve, was smiling. Genuinely smiling.

He carefully gathered strands of his child’s hair, fingers moving with practiced patience as he braided it. There was no harshness in his touch, no tension in his shoulders. He chuckled softly, the sound light, almost fond, so unlike the voice the Allies had heard through radio intercepts and battlefield encounters.

¬ “Now, now. Let go of that poor bird, my child.”

His tone was gentle, teasing even. He finished the braid and brushed his hand over it with quiet satisfaction. The bird fluttered free, wings catching the air as it escaped into the night sky.

Inside the aircraft, silence reigned.

UK lowered the binoculars slowly, jaw tight. France stared, brows drawn together in disbelief. None of them spoke for several long seconds. This was not the man they knew. Not the tyrant who ordered bombings and massacres. Not the cold emperor who showed no mercy on the battlefield.

Below them was a father. Laughing softly. Standing barefoot on stone. Sharing a moment of calm with his child.

The contrast was jarring. Uncomfortable. Almost unreal.

The aircraft continued forward, engines humming quietly as the Allies carried on with their mission, but the image lingered in their minds. A reminder that even the most ruthless figures of war carried lives beyond the battlefield. And that war had a way of shattering far more than cities and soldiers.

High above, the Allies flew on. Below, the manor lights glowed softly. And for a fleeting moment, history revealed a side it rarely allowed anyone to see.