After two of his archnemeses have teamed up to drive him out of his castle and into hiding with a now-much-decimated army, Lord Yoshii Toranaga holds a small council meeting with the last few people he believes he can trust.
For a while now, his most loyal followers have been urging him to take back Japan from the corrupt. What if the country once again had a single, good-natured ruler? What if all the petty politics were swept away in a single instant?
Toranaga is hesitant, but his vassals are relentless — and so is his son. “Father…reclaim our family’s legacy. Become Shōgun!” In a desperate, hail-mary attempt, he tries to convince Toranaga with his own track record: “You have never lost a battle!”
The Lord’s answer comes swiftly: “Because I’ve never been first to declare one!”
We see a decorated general with his chest full of medals, and we believe he must be a ruthless aggressor. We see an Olympian gold medalist and assume she must love swimming. We see a billionaire commissioning the largest yacht ever built and think he must be having the time of his life.
But what if the obvious is the opposite of the truth? What if, where we see offense, someone has been playing defense all along?
What if the general never initiated a single battle? What if the Olympian dove into water only to both escape and spite her abusive dad? And what if the billionaire’s sea quest is only a distraction from his existential crisis of meaning?
The winner isn’t always the one most excited to play the game. Look for the motivations behind people’s motivation — and always give the obvious a second glance.