Sakamoto Ryoma’s View on Love — A Man Who Loved Freely, Like the Wind

The man known as the storm child of the Bakumatsu era—Sakamoto Ryoma.

He brokered the Satsuma-Choshu Alliance, helped bring about the Restoration of Imperial Rule, and guided Japan toward becoming a modern state.
But what keeps his name alive and beloved even today goes beyond these accomplishments.

Free-spirited like the wind, deeply loyal to his friends, fond of sake and laughter, and always sincere in his affections—
It’s that deeply human way of life that continues to touch hearts.

This is not a tale of a sword-wielding hero, but a quiet story that traces the true face of Sakamoto Ryoma—the man who, once his hand touched another’s, never let go, and who loved only one person with unwavering devotion.

A Cage Called Class

Born in 1835 in Kochi, Tosa Domain, Ryoma belonged to the “goshi” class—
a status between samurai and townspeople. Though his family was relatively wealthy, they were looked down upon by higher-ranking samurai.

This social tension may have planted in him a longing to transcend class, status, and constraint—to live freely.

The Girl Next Door

There are few records, but it’s said that Ryoma once quietly admired the girl who lived next door during his youth in Tosa.

A fleeting, nameless crush.
He never spoke to her—just watched her smile from the sunny edge of the veranda.

Perhaps, after practicing sword swings, he’d see her face flash in his mind as sweat cooled on his palms.
A glance exchanged by chance could set a young boy’s heart racing.

Unfulfilled though it was, that first, faint love may have seeped quietly into the roots of the man he would become.

Between a Nation’s Fate and a Lover’s Hand

While training in swordsmanship in Edo, Ryoma was shaken by the arrival of Commodore Perry’s black ships.
He gradually turned his eyes toward politics—and upon returning to Tosa, he met a woman who would shape his emotional world.

Her name was Kao Hirai.
They were about fifteen years old at the time.

Kao was the daughter of a samurai, well-educated, and known for her talent in poetry and Chinese verse.
They exchanged letters and met in secret; a true bond began to form between them.

But the era would not allow it.

Ryoma chose to leave his domain without permission—a serious offense.
He could not carry both the dream of saving Japan and the peaceful life of love he shared with Kao.

After their separation, her name never appears again in his letters.

Yet one line remains:

“The things I long for—I find joy in seeing them only in dreams.”

Was it Kao he meant? Or every beloved thing he had to leave behind? No one knows.

A Chance Encounter in Kyoto, a Flight to Kagoshima

At age 29, just after mediating the Satsuma-Choshu Alliance, Ryoma was hiding in Kyoto’s Teradaya Inn, evading the shogunate’s spies.

It was there that a naked woman ran from the bath to warn him of an approaching assassination attempt—
A famous tale now passed down through generations.

That woman was Narasaki Ryo—known affectionately as Oryo—who would become Ryoma’s life partner.

Oryo, the daughter of a Kyoto physician and an employee of the Satsuma residence,
was strong-willed, lively, and spirited—an uncommon character for women of the time.

Her courage and quick action saved Ryoma’s life and set their destiny in motion.

The two fled Kyoto together, traveling to Kagoshima.
This journey, later known as Japan’s first honeymoon, saw them escaping into the smoky mountains of Kirishima and bathing in hidden hot springs—
just man and woman, pausing time in a chaotic age.

Love, Penned in His Own Words

Ryoma’s love letters reveal not learned rhetoric but the warmth of his personality.

In one, he called Oryo “the cutest woman in the world,”
affectionately noting her fondness for drink and her fiery temper as “part of her charm.”

In another, he joked, “A woman’s temper is harder to handle than war,”
revealing both his humor and his sincerity.

His words, plain and unpolished, carried genuine feeling.
He loved honestly, and he wrote as he was.

A Hand Left Reaching

On November 15, 1867, Ryoma was assassinated in Kyoto at the age of 31.

Just after achieving the bloodless return of power to the emperor—ending centuries of feudal rule—he was ambushed and killed.
While the attackers are believed to have been members of the shogunate’s police, the truth remains unknown.

Oryo only learned of his death some time later. She wept bitterly.

For a time, she stayed with the Sakamoto family, but eventually wandered from place to place.
She changed her name to Mitsue Narasaki and even married a photographer at one point.

Life was not kind.
She spent her final years in poverty in Yokosuka.

Up until her death in 1904, she would often say:

“I was the wife of Sakamoto Ryoma.”

Later in life, she reflected:

“My husband’s dream was the beginning of Japan.
But I… I only wished our one day together could last forever.”

Beyond Class, Just One Heart

To Ryoma, love had no set form.
He loved not by status or role, not by manhood or womanhood,
but by looking directly and sincerely at the person before him.

Rumors circulated that he was popular with women or fond of them.
But in truth, Ryoma’s love was honest and faithful.

He held onto the memory of Kao and gave his heart fully to the days spent with Oryo.

Perhaps to him, love wasn’t about comfort—it was about reaching across the divide.

His love, like the wind, could not be bound.
Free, but real. Always blowing for the sake of just one person.

Remembering the Man Called Ryoma

History has no shortage of great figures.
But few feel as human—or as loved—as Sakamoto Ryoma.

His love lived in the corners of letters, in that moment in the bathhouse, in tears shed in farewell.
Not as a warrior, not as a revolutionary, but as a man—his essence lingers.

When you stand at a crossroads in life,
When you love someone so deeply it makes you pause—
Perhaps the quiet memory of this man who moved like the wind will gently stir your heart.