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It's September 11, 1945, just days after the end of World War II. A group of American GIs make their way through a crowd of reporters

and head for the front door of a nondescript house in suburban Tokyo.

Inside, a 60-year-old man sits in a chair, loading a pistol. With his bald head, thick mustache, and round, thick-rimmed glasses, this man looks unimpressive, but he is far from ordinary.

His name is General Hideki Tojo, and until recently, he was one of the most

powerful figures in Japan. But the general's reign of terror has come to an end. The war is over.

Japan has surrendered. The empire Tojo served for so long is in disgrace. Tojo glances down with

the cold and heavy pistol in his hand. His shirt is open. On his

chest, he can clearly see the charcoal outline his doctor drew around his heart. A target.

From outside, Tojo hears one of the GIs banging on the door and shouting, surrender now. But

Tojo, the descendant of a samurai warrior,

has no intention of surrendering. He will claim the final honor of the samurai, Harakiri,

the ritual act of suicide. Slowly, he removes his glasses, puts the gun to his chest,

and pulls the trigger. As the shot rings out, the GIs kick in the front door.

Footsteps thunder as the troops burst into the room, reporters hot on their heels.

The bulbs flash and pop across the general's body slumped over in the armchair.

His head lulls to one side.

A crimson stain spreads rapidly across his chest,

but Tojo is still alive. Tojo's final samurai act, like his military campaign in the Pacific,

...