‘Shōgun’ Season 2’s 10-Year Time Jump Means Big Changes for the Show’s Story

Shōgun‘s freshman season, the most Emmy-winning television season in current history, was originally intended as a 10-episode miniseries. Co-creators Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks had no plans to expand their Herculean vision beyond the events depicted in author James Clavell‘s equally sweeping 1975 novel. After the series’ phenomenal critical and cultural reception, Shōgun‘s team re-envisioned the epic historical odyssey into an ongoing saga. However, without more source material at their disposal, Kondo and Marks had a new conundrum on their plate: inventing brand-new stories that lived up to their established high standard.

Over 12 months after Shōgun left our screens, an exclusive Deadline report confirms that the series’ second season will take place 10 years after Season 1’s closing frame. Additionally, one-third of the season’s leading trio of actors, Cosmo Jarvis, will return alongside main star Hiroyuki Sanada. (Viewers already knew that the trio’s final third, Anna Sawai‘s mesmerizing Lady Mariko, died during the first season’s penultimate episode.) What could a 10-year time jump mean for a series as dedicated to honoring its historical roots as Shōgun, especially since Season 1 neatly concludes its concise tale? Until more plot details emerge, the same history that Shōgun values might have some answers.

What Historical Events Could ‘Shōgun’ Season 2 Adapt?

In the Deadline report, FX describes the second season as “continu[ing] the historically-inspired saga of these two men from different worlds whose fates are inextricably entwined.” Although FX chairman John Landgraf doesn’t offer more direct information, he reiterates Kondo and Marks’ statements about using both the original novel and the history that inspired it as a blueprint. Inaccuracies aside, Clavell crafted his entire six-book Asian Saga following years of heavy research. However, only one of the other five novels, Gai-Jin, shares continuity with Shōgun, and over 200 years separates the two.

As they stand, Shōgun the novel and the adaptation’s freshman season conclude with Lord Toranaga and John Blackthorne finally reaching an amiable truce. Satisfied both with Blackthorne’s emotional evolution and preventing a civil war, Toranaga stares into the distance, surveying the nation he loves — and perhaps basking in satisfaction that his benevolent yet unyielding machinations secured him the coveted title of shōgun.

From a purely dramatic perspective, a 10-year time skip is more beneficial than immediately detailing Toranaga’s next steps. A decade’s difference gives Toranaga’s significant victory and how its aftermath reshapes Japan — like any improvements, fallout, and rumblings of dissent from his lingering enemies — breathing room to develop before boiling over into definitive action. For clarity, Shōgun takes place in 1600 and fictionalizes the formation of Japan’s militarized government, the Tokugawa shōgunate, as well as the country’s transition from the Sengoku period into its Edo period.

What Makes ‘Shōgun’ Season 2’s Time Skip a Smart Idea?

By 1610, Toranaga’s historical equivalent, Tokugawa Ieyasu, had secured near-complete supremacy over Japan’s sociopolitical and religious spaces; the Emperors were figureheads and subordinate to Tokugawa’s rule in almost every respect. Even though Tokugawa abdicated from his shōgun title after only a few years (1605, to be exact), he retained his authority and secured his son Hidetada’s — and, later, his continued descendants’ — right to inherit.

All the while, Tokugawa quietly secured the period of lasting peace for which he had fought. He pacified and rewarded his most loyal lords by redistributing the country’s existing feudalistic landholdings, instituted new supervisory checks and balances to reduce the likelihood of greedier daimyōs accumulating too much military and political power, and insisted that said daimyōs swear absolute fealty to him. These regulations increased and centralized Tokugawa’s power base while also benefiting the larger populace, especially the citizens of Edo. The province economically and artistically flourished, even expanding to include a shōgun-approved pleasure district — a detail keen-eared Shōgun viewers might recall from later episodes.

These layers-upon-onion-layers of maneuvering and oversight, as much psychological as they are political, are where Shōgun, novel and series alike, shine the most. Theoretically, skipping ahead a decade lets Season 2 pull on the most relevant, existing threads leftover from Season 1, but skip the drier years dedicated to building out Toranaga’s rule. Relatedly yet unsurprisingly, Tokugawa also continued to crush religious skirmishes inside and outside Japan’s borders; in 1612, he entirely outlawed Christianity.

‘Shōgun’ Season 2’s Time Skip Has Plenty of Dramatic Potential

As for William Adams, Blackthorne’s historical inspiration, he assumed an increasingly larger role in Tokugawa’s government, becoming a trusted advisor and an official samurai. Given Jarvis’ return, it’s likely Season 2 will see quite a different flavor of John Blackthorne than the self-serving scoundrel we’re familiar with, one more integrated with Japanese culture and willing to assist Toranaga by negotiating foreign trade relations and expanding the isolationist Japan’s naval presence. Whether or not Blackthorne and Toranaga’s relationship fractures once Blackthorne discovers Toranaga intentionally trapped Blackthorne in Japan (that little stickler of a secret) probably hinges upon the strength and resilience of their semi-bromance — specifically, whether Blackthorne views Toranaga’s strategic move as a betrayal or has adapted enough to understand his motivations. There’s also the question of how long a shadow Mariko casts upon Blackthorne’s future; a decade might ease an inescapable loss the characters and audiences will feel regardless. Meanwhile, surviving characters with less obvious historical equivalents, like Toda Buntaro (Shinnosuke Abe) and Usama Fuji (Moeka Hoshi), might become effective shorthands to introduce the audiences to new situations or be off the board entirely.

Given the timing and the figures involved, the most likely and promising storyline revolves around Season 1’s most enigmatic and arguably influential figure: Ochiba no Kata (Fumi Nikaido), the late Taikō‘s consort and the mother of his only heir. Without potentially spoiling too much, incorrect assumptions and misguided pride began taking root in 1611 before culminating in the Siege of Osaka, a devastating military conflict between Tokugawa and Ochiba’s real-life counterpart, Yodo-dono. Season 1 subverts expectations by forgoing violence, but Season 2 has every opportunity to tragically flip the script. It’s more than fair to question whether forcing Shōgun past its intended vision will end in disaster. If any creative team stands a chance of accomplishing an emotional and technical spectacle worthy of one of the decade’s finest televised accomplishments, however, it might just be the tirelessly dedicated Kondo, Marks, and Sanada.