Pathway to Japanese Literature

1. Maeshima Rinoemon

Itakura Shuri was struck by severe nervous breakdowns just as his post-illness fatigue had somewhat subsided.――

His shoulders stiffened.
His head throbbed.
Even the reading he customarily enjoyed could no longer hold his focus.
The mere sound of footsteps in the corridor or voices from household members sufficed to shatter his concentration.
As this condition worsened, even trifling stimuli now left him perpetually appearing nerve-wracked.

First came the tobacco tray's maki-e—those golden arabesques creeping across black lacquer—their slender vines and leaves growing intolerably distracting.
Then other pointed objects—ivory chopsticks, bronze fire tongs—began equally unsettling him.
At last, even the intersecting corners of tatami edges and the ceiling's four angles induced that blade-staring tension—an agonizing tautness of nerves.

Shuri, left with no choice, sat huddled in the sitting room every day, his face perpetually gloomy.
Everything he did—no matter what or how—was agony.
There were frequent moments when he wished he could simply erase his very awareness of existence.
But his frayed nerves would not permit it.
With a heart as frantic as ants trapped in an antlion's pit, he scanned his surroundings.
Moreover, all that surrounded him were hereditary retainers who had no understanding of his state of mind—men who merely feared the worst.
"I am suffering.
But no one understands my suffering."—The very act of thinking this became twice as agonizing for him.

Shuri’s nervous breakdown appeared to intensify more rapidly due to this complete lack of understanding from those around him. He became agitated at every little thing. There were multiple occasions when he shouted loud enough to be heard in neighboring estates. There were also frequent instances when he reached for the swords on the rack. At such times, he appeared almost unrecognizable to everyone. His normally sallow, gaunt face would convulse without discernible cause while his eyes took on a strangely murderous gleam. When the seizures worsened, he would invariably begin tearing at both sideburns with trembling hands. The close attendants took this hair-tearing as a sign of his frenzy. At such times, they would warn one another, and none dared approach him.

Madness—this fear also took root in Shuri himself.
It went without saying that those around him felt this fear.
Shuri naturally harbored antipathy toward the fear held by his surroundings.
Yet against the fear he himself felt, there had been no possibility of resistance from the very beginning.
When his seizures subsided and an even gloomier spirit pressed heavily upon his head, he would sometimes become aware of this fear striking him like lightning.
And simultaneously, harboring such fears itself assaulted him with an ominous anxiety—as if it were already a premonition of madness.
"What will happen if I go mad?"

―When he thought this, he felt as if his vision suddenly darkened.

Of course, this fear was constantly drowned out—on one hand—by the irritation arising from external stimuli. But that very irritation, on the other hand, would all too readily rouse this fear anew.—So to speak, Shuri’s mind spun ceaselessly from one anxiety to another, like a cat chasing its own tail.

―――――――――――――――――――――――――

Shuri’s frenzies had become a source of considerable anxiety for the entire household.
Among them, the one most troubled by this was the chief retainer, Maeshima Rinoemon.

Though addressed as chief retainer, Rinoemon had in fact been dispatched as an attendant from the main Itakura Shikibu family—a circumstance that had long compelled Shuri to regard him with particular deference.
This was a ruddy-faced giant of a man who had scarcely known bodily ailment; in mastery of both letters and martial arts, few among the clan’s retainers could claim superiority.
By virtue of this standing, he had unfailingly served as Shuri’s counsel.
His epithet—“Ōkubo Hikozaemon of the Itakura House”—derived wholly from this steadfast practice of offering loyal admonishments.

Ever since Shuri’s frenzies had become visibly worse and Rinoemon had stepped forward, the chief retainer had been so consumed with anxiety for the main household that he scarcely slept a wink.――Now that his lord’s illness had fully abated, Shuri was expected to attend Edo Castle in the coming days for a formal visit of gratitude for his convalescence.
However, with this frenzy, there was no telling what discourtesies he might commit during his attendance at Edo Castle—whether toward the various daimyō he encountered or his fellow hatamoto seated alongside him.
If by some chance this led to a blade violence incident, the Itakura house’s 7,000-koku domain would be summarily abolished (*o-toritsubushi*).
A cautionary example lay close at hand—the clash between Hotta and Inaba.

When Rinoemon thought this, he felt a restlessness that left him unable to sit still or stand still. However, if he were to say, the frenzy was not a “physical illness.” It was entirely a “mental illness”—and so he resolved to admonish Shuri’s nervous breakdown with the same boldness he would employ in censuring extravagance or curbing luxury.

Therefore, from that time onward, whenever an opportunity arose, Maeshima Rinoemon pressed Shuri with stern admonishments. But Shuri’s frenzies showed not the slightest sign of abating. Rather, the more he was admonished and grew agitated—the more visibly his frenzy advanced. In fact, on one occasion, he nearly tried to cut down Rinoemon with his own hands. “A wretch who fails to recognize his lord! If not for the main family’s standing, I’d cut you down and be done with it.”——What dwelled in Shuri’s eyes as he spoke these words was no longer mere anger. Rinoemon read there, too, an indelible hue of hatred.

Amidst this turmoil, the lingering bond between lord and retainer had gradually deteriorated under Rinoemon’s repeated bitter admonishments.
This was not merely Shuri coming to despise Rinoemon.
Rather, unbeknownst even to himself, a seed of hatred toward Shuri had begun to sprout in Rinoemon’s heart.
Of course, he remained unaware of this hatred.
At least—until that final moment—he believed his loyalty to Shuri had remained unshaken throughout.
“If the ruler does not act as a ruler should, the subjects will not act as subjects should”—this was not merely Mencius’s teaching.
Beyond it lay humanity’s natural Way.
Yet Rinoemon refused to acknowledge this—

He was determined to fulfill his duty as a retainer to the utmost. But he had already tasted the bitter experience of his stern admonishments proving ineffective. Thereupon, he resolved to resort to the final measure he had kept secret in his heart until now. The final measure he spoke of was none other than this: to confine Shuri and force him into retirement, then adopt an heir from among the Itakura clan—that was what it meant.— Above all else, it was the household. (Rinoemon thought.) The lord must be sacrificed before the "household." Above all, the Itakura main family was an esteemed house that had never been tarnished by scandal since its founding ancestor, Itakura Shirozaemon Katsushige. That the second Matazaemon Shigemune, succeeding his father’s position as Shoshidai, had enjoyed an illustrious reputation went without saying. His younger brother Mondo Shigemasa had first discharged the weighty responsibility of witnessing the peace agreement’s ratification when harmony was restored during the Osaka Winter Campaign of Keichō 19, and later, during the Shimabara Rebellion of Kanei 14, served as commander of the western armies and hoisted the shogunate’s official banner amid the Amakusa suppression campaign. If something were to occur that brought disgrace upon that esteemed house—what would become of it? As a retainer’s duty demands, beneath the Nine Springs, there is no face I could show to the successive ancestors of the Itakura house.

Having thought this, Rinoemon searched within the clan. Then, fortunately, Itakura Sadoshu—who was then serving as wakadoshiyori—had three dependent sons. If they made one of those sons the heir and submitted an adoption request, the matter with the authorities should resolve itself. Of course, given the nature of the incident, this had to be carried out in strict secrecy from Shuri and his wife. When he had devised his plans to this point, for the first time, he felt as though he had emerged into clarity. And at the same time, there was felt a certain sadness he had never before experienced—a sadness that sought of its own accord to cloud that clarity of mind. “It’s all for the household.”——Within this resolve of his lingered an effort to defend something he himself only dimly perceived—a presence as subtle as the halo around the moon.

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The sickly Shuri first hated Rinoemon’s robust physique. Then he hated the covert authority Rinoemon wielded as an agent of the main family. Finally, he hated the loyalty fixated on “household” above all else. “A wretch who fails to recognize his lord as his lord!”—Within these words of Shuri’s smoldered these hatreds, like banked flames harboring dark fire.

At that moment came sudden word from the inner chamber about an unforeseen scheme—Rinoemon meant to confine Shuri into retirement and adopt a son of Itakura Sadoshu as heir. This had chanced to reach those private quarters' ears.—Small wonder Shuri raged till his eyes seemed near splitting when he heard it.

Indeed, Rinoemon might care deeply for the Itakura house.
But should loyalty demand that one despise their current master to serve the "household"?
Moreover, Rinoemon’s anxiety over the “household” was, if one were to call it a groundless fear, precisely that.
Because of that groundless fear, he tried to confine and retire me.
Or perhaps behind that ostentatious show of loyalty lay an ambition to usurp the household if given the chance.
As he thought this, Shuri felt that even the harshest punishment would be too lenient for this act of disloyalty.

When he heard this account from the inner chamber, he immediately summoned Tanaka Uzaemon—an elderly man who had once served as his wet nurse—and spoke thus:

“Hang that wretch Rinoemon!”

Uzaemon tilted his half-white head.
His face, more aged than his years, grew even more wrinkled from recent anxieties.
As for Rinoemon’s scheme, he too did not view it favorably.
But after all, his opponent was an attendant from the main family.

“Execution by hanging is hardly a discreet measure.”
“If you were to order seppuku instead—in a manner befitting a samurai—that would be an exception.”

When Shuri heard this, he looked at Uzaemon with mocking eyes.
Then he shook his head violently two or three times.

“No—there’s no justification to grant seppuku to that inhuman creature.”
“Hang him!”
“Hang him.”

But even as he said this—for some reason—he let tears stream down his bloodless cheeks.
And then—after that—he began tearing at his sideburns with both hands as usual.

―――――――――――――――――――――――――

The order to hang him was immediately conveyed to Rinoemon by his trusted retainers.

“Very well.”
“In that case，Rinoemon too will stand his ground.”
“I won’t fold my hands and be hanged.”

He declared proudly.
And then，he became aware that the indescribable anxiety that had clung to him until now vanished without a trace the moment he heard this judgment.
What now filled his heart was open hatred toward Shuri.
Shuri was no longer his lord.
In hating Shuri，what reason could there be to hesitate?
The reason his mind had cleared was because，albeit unconsciously，he had in an instant acknowledged this logic.

Thereupon, he took his wife, children, and retainers and departed Shuri’s residence in broad daylight.
In accordance with protocol, the notice of relocation was posted on the zashiki wall.
Rinoemon himself carried his spear underarm and took the lead.
Even when including the young retainers shouldering weapons and sandal-bearers assisting the infirm, the party numbered no more than ten.
They exited the gate together without showing any signs of disarray.

It was late March in the fourth year of Enkyō.
Outside the gate, a lukewarm wind blew cherry blossoms and sand dust together against the warrior windows.
Rinoemon stood in that wind and once more surveyed both sides of the road.
Then, with his spear, he signaled everyone to turn left.

Two: Tanaka Uzaemon

After Rinoemon’s departure, Tanaka Uzaemon succeeded him as chief retainer.
Due to having served as his wet nurse, his eyes when regarding Shuri naturally differed from those of the other retainers.
He tended to Shuri’s frenzies with parental concern.
Shuri too seems to have behaved relatively obediently toward him alone.
Thus, the relationship between lord and vassal had grown far smoother compared to when Rinoemon had been present.

Uzaemon was pleased that Shuri’s seizures had finally begun to subside with the arrival of summer.
He too could not entirely dismiss the fear that Shuri might commit some impropriety within the castle.
But Rinoemon had feared it as a grave matter concerning the “household.”
However, he feared it as a grave matter concerning the “lord.”

Of course, the "household" was also on his mind. However, even should an incident occur, its gravity did not lie solely in destroying the household itself. Because having their lord bring ruin upon them—having him bear infamy for unfiliality—was what made it grave indeed. Then how might one prevent such calamity beforehand? When matters reached this point, Uzaemon seemed not to possess as clear a stance as Rinoemon had. He likely could do nothing but pray—through divine favor and his own unwavering devotion—for Shuri’s violent fits to abate.

On August 1st of that year—the day the Tokugawa shogunate conducted the so-called Hassaku ceremony—Shuri attended his official duties for the first time since falling ill.
And then, on that occasion, he visited Itakura Sadoshu—the senior councilor then stationed at Nishinomaru—and returned home.
However, it seemed he had caused no particular misconduct within the castle.
Uzaemon felt, for the first time, as though he could ease his furrowed brow.

However, his joy did not last even for that single day.
For no sooner had night fallen than an urgent messenger arrived from Itakura Sadoshu with a summons demanding his immediate presence—a portent that loomed over him like an ill omen.
With nightfall came a sudden summons—such a thing had not been heard of since Rinoemon’s time.
Moreover, today was the first day Shuri had attended Edo Castle.
—Uzaemon, assailed by an ill omen, hurriedly proceeded to Sadoshu’s residence.

Then came the account of Shuri’s discourteous conduct toward Sadoshu—after completing his duties that day, Shuri had visited Sadoshu at Nishinomaru still wearing his white katabira and formal kamishimo attire.
Noting Shuri’s pallid complexion, he thought perhaps recovery remained incomplete—yet upon speaking found no particular signs of illness.
Reassured, they conversed casually until Sadoshu inquired after Rinoemon’s welfare as was his custom.
Shuri’s brow darkened abruptly: “That Rinoemon recently absconded from my residence.”
What manner of man Rinoemon was—this too Sadoshu knew well.
No trivial matter would drive such a man to desert his lord’s household.
Thus Sadoshu pressed for details while admonishing: “To neither consult kin nor send word—even should mishaps befall the attendant from the main family—shows poor judgment.”
At this Shuri’s eyes flashed as he gripped his sword-hilt: “Lord Sadoshu seems unduly partial to that wretch. Yet my retainers’ discipline remains mine alone to administer—unworthy though I am.”
“However eminent a senior councilor attending court—refrain from meddling where unwelcome.” Such his pronouncement.
Thereupon even Sadoshu—dumbstruck by this extremity—pleaded pressing duties and withdrew at once.—

“Is that understood?”
Having spoken thus far, Lord Sadoshu contorted his face bitterly—as though tasting gall anew.

—First: Uzaemon’s transgression lay in failing to report Rinoemon’s withdrawal to clan elders.
Second: Permitting Shuri—still prone to frenzies—to attend Edo Castle remained an inexcusable dereliction.
That this occurred before Sadoshu alone proved fortunate—had [Shuri] uttered such improprieties before assembled lords, seven thousand koku of Itakura lands would have faced instant confiscation.—

“Therefore,”
“Henceforth ensure he does not go out unnecessarily—and above all, you must strictly prohibit him from attending Edo Castle.”

Lord Sadoshu said this and glared at Uzaemon.

“My only concern is that following the lord’s lead, you too seem liable to fall into frenzy.”
“Is that clear?”
“I made sure to command it.”

Uzaemon answered in a resolute voice, brows furrowed.

“Understood. Henceforth I shall exercise utmost caution.”

“Ah—committing no further errors is what matters most.”

Lord Sadoshu spat out these words.

“Regarding that matter, Uzaemon—I pledge my very life to comply.”

He looked at Lord Sadoshu with tears in his eyes, as if pleading.
But within those eyes, alongside an entreaty for compassion, floated an unshakable resolve—not a resolve to absolutely prohibit Shuri from venturing out.
A resolve of what to do—if he could not enforce the prohibition.

When Sadoshu saw this, he frowned again and turned away with an air of irritation.

———————————————————————

"If one obeys the 'lord's' will, the 'household' is imperiled.
If one seeks to preserve the 'household,' it will contravene the 'lord's' will.
Once, Rinoemon too had fallen into this predicament.
But he had the courage to abandon the 'lord' for the sake of the 'household.'
Or rather—he had never truly valued the 'lord' from the beginning.
Therefore, he had easily sacrificed the 'lord' for the sake of the 'household.'"

However, I cannot do that.
I am too familiar with the "lord" to calculate only the interests of the "household."
"For the sake of the 'household'—merely for the name of 'household'—how could they force the current 'lord' into retirement?"
In my eyes, the present Shuri—though he lacked the ritual bow—was no different from the Shuri of his youth.
The picture books I had explained to him, the Naniwazu poem I taught by guiding his hand, and the paper kites I had attached tails to—all these things remained vividly in my memory.…

Yet if I left the "lord" as he was, it would not be only the "household" that perished.
A calamity was likely to befall the "lord" himself.
If one weighs matters through calculations of profit and loss, there could be no doubt that the strategy Rinoemon adopted was the sole—and indeed the most prudent—course of action.
I too acknowledged this.
Yet despite that, I simply could not bring myself to carry it out.

Beneath a sky flashing with distant lightning, Uzaemon walked back to Shuri’s residence with his arms folded dejectedly, recounting these thoughts again and again in his heart.

—————————————————————————

The next day, when Shuri heard from Uzaemon the full account of what Sadoshu had conveyed, his face immediately darkened.
Yet after that, he showed no particular sign of raising the matter as he usually would.
While remaining concerned, Uzaemon felt somewhat relieved and returned as he was that day.

After that, for about ten days, Shuri shut himself in the living room, spending each day absorbed in vague contemplation.
Even when seeing Uzaemon’s face, he did not speak.
No—on a single occasion, during a day of light rain when he heard a cuckoo’s cry, he muttered: “They say that steals bush warblers’ nests.”
Even then, when Uzaemon took the opportunity to speak to him, he once again fell silent and turned his gaze to the dimming sky.
At all other times, he of course remained mute, staring fixedly at the fusuma doors.
His face showed no emotion.

However, one night—when the general castle attendance on the fifteenth was but two or three days away—it happened.
Shuri suddenly summoned Uzaemon and, after clearing the room, said with a gloomy face:

“As Lord Sadoshu stated earlier, with this illness, I can no longer fulfill my official duties.”
“In that case, I might as well retire.”

Uzaemon hesitated.
If this were his true intent, nothing could be more ideal—but how could Shuri have so readily resolved to relinquish the family headship?—

“That is most reasonable.
“Since Lord Sadoshu himself has stated it thus, regrettably, there remains no alternative but to proceed accordingly.”
“But first, we must at least inform the main family members…”

“No, no. Unlike Rinoemon’s execution, if it’s a matter of retirement, the main family should consent without needing consultation.”

Shuri smiled bitterly as he said this.

"That may not be the case."

Uzaemon looked at Shuri with a pained expression.
But the other man showed no sign of heeding him.

"Now, if I retire, even should I wish to attend court, I shall be unable to do so.
"Therefore,"
Shuri stared fixedly at Uzaemon’s face and spoke as though measuring the weight of each phrase: "Before that—I wish to attend court one last time and have an audience with His Highness Yoshimune of the Western Enceinte."
"What do you say?"
"Would you allow me to attend court on the 15th?"

Uzaemon fell silent and furrowed his brows.

“Even so, it’s only once.”

“With all due respect—that matter alone…”

“You won’t go?”

The two exchanged looks and fell silent.
In the hushed room, there was no sound to be heard save that of the oil being drawn up by the lamp wick.
Uzaemon felt this brief span of time stretch as long as a year.
Having already made his declaration to Lord Sadoshu, he could not grant Shuri’s request without his samurai honor being compromised.

“This request comes with full awareness of what Lord Sadoshu has said.”

After some time had passed, Shuri spoke.

“If you permit me to attend court, I am well aware that you will incur the main family’s displeasure—but consider this.”
“I am a madman abandoned even by the main family members—let alone my retainers.”

As he spoke these words, his voice gradually took on a tremor of emotion.
His eyes too were welling with tears.

“I will face the world’s scorn.”
“I will pass the family headship into another’s hands.”
“Even the light of heaven may not reach someone like me—such is my lot.”
“Surely Uzaemon would not be one to refuse my plea—this single wish in my present life—to attend court just once.”
“If you are Uzaemon—surely you would pity me; you could not possibly hold hatred for me.”
“I consider you a parent.”
“I also consider you a sibling.”
“I find you even dearer than parents or siblings.”
“In all the wide world, the one I rely upon is you alone.”
“That is precisely why I make this unreasonable request.”
“But I will never ask this again in my lifetime.”
“Just this once.”
“Uzaemon, please understand this heart.”
“Please allow me this one unreasonable request.”

“Here—it’s exactly as I say.”

He placed both hands on the floor before the chief retainer and, shedding tears, tried to press his forehead to the tatami mats. Uzaemon was moved.

“Please raise your hands.”
“Please raise your hands.”
“This is too great an honor.”

He took Shuri’s hand and forcibly pulled him away from the tatami mats.
And then he wept.
Then, as he wept, a certain relief gradually began to well up in his heart—overflowing almost imperceptibly.
Amidst tears, he vividly recalled the words he had declared before Lord Sadoshu.

“Very well.”
“No matter what Lord Sadoshu may say, should the worst come to pass, it will be settled by this Uzaemon committing seppuku.”
“Through my own carelessness alone, I shall most certainly have you attend court.”

When he heard this, Shuri’s face suddenly shone with joy as though he had become a different person. The transformation displayed the practiced skill of an actor. Yet there was also a naturalness no actor could possess—he suddenly let out a discordant laugh.

“Oh, you’ll permit me?
“Most obliged.”
“Most obliged—indeed.”

Having said that, he looked around cheerfully to both sides.

“Listen well, all of you! Uzaemon has granted me leave to attend court!”

In the parlor that had been cleared of people, there was no one else besides him and Uzaemon.
“All of you—” Uzaemon—as if concerned—edged his knees forward and fearfully peered into Shuri’s eyes within the lamplight’s glow.

Three: Blade Violence

On the morning of August 15th in the fourth year of Enkyō (1747), a little past the hour of the Dragon, Shuri was within the castle precincts without any enmity or grudge.
He killed Hosokawa Etchū-no-kami Norisada, Lord of Kumamoto Castle in Higo Province.

The full account of this incident was as follows.

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The Hosokawa house was, even among feudal lords, an exceptionally well-armed daimyo. Even Norisada’s wife, known as Princess Motohime, was well-versed in the martial arts. Norisada himself could not possibly have been lacking in such martial pursuits. That he met such a death—mocked by the saying, ‘Only because he descends from Sansai does Hosokawa get cut down at two and perish by five’—was wholly the caprice of fate’s timing.

Now that you mention it, when thought of afterward, there had been several omens preceding this calamitous incident within the Hosokawa household.—First, in mid-March of that year, Shinagawa Isarago’s upper residence burned down in a fire. This was a residence that had never burned down before, for within its grounds stood Myoken Daibosatsu, before whose altar lay a water-spouting stone said to emit water whenever fires occurred. Second, in early May, when inspecting the protective talisman presented by Aizen-in of Gyoran for the gate, they found that where the inscription should have read "May your martial fortunes endure and calamities be averted," the character for "calamity" was missing. After inquiring with the temple administrator at Ueno Shukubō, they promptly had Aizen-in rewrite it. Third, in early August, large mysterious fireballs were said to emerge nightly from around the mansion’s great hall and fly toward Shiba.

Furthermore, on the afternoon of August 14th, a retainer versed in astronomy named Saiki Moemon came to the inspector and said, “There may be a grave incident involving your lordship’s person on the morrow, the fifteenth.”
“When I observed the heavens last night, the general’s star appeared about to fall.”
“Above all, I beg you to exercise utmost caution and refrain from any outings.”
The inspector had never placed much stock in astronomy to begin with.
Though he placed little stock in such matters ordinarily, since his lord held this man’s predictions in high regard, he first informed his close retainers and then relayed the message to Etchū-no-kami.
As a result, events such as the Noh performances scheduled for the fifteenth and visits to guests after attending castle duties were postponed; however, on the grounds that attending official duties was one of their obligations, they did not halt their court attendance.

Then, the next day, another ominous omen was added.
On the fifteenth, it had become customary for Etchū-no-kami himself to change into hemp ceremonial robes and offer ritual sake to Hachiman Daibosatsu.
However, on that day, when he received two bottles of sacred sake from the page’s hands still resting on the ritual tray and tried to arrange them before the altar, by some mischance both bottles toppled over, spilling the sake outside.
At that moment, even the entire group reportedly turned pale without thinking.

―――――――――――――――――――――――――

The following day, when Etchū-no-kami attended his castle duties, the attendant monk Tashiro Sukeyoshi accompanied him, and they first proceeded to the great hall.
However, as he soon felt the urge to defecate, he took the attendant monk Kuroki Kansai with him this time and entered the toilet near the tea-serving area to relieve himself.
Now, after exiting the toilet and washing his hands in the dimly lit washing area, someone suddenly called out from behind and slashed at him.
Startled, when he whirled around, another second strike immediately flashed toward his brow.
Because of this, blood had gotten into his eyes, and Etchū-no-kami could no longer make out his attacker’s face.
The assailant pressed this advantage, raining down blow after relentless blow.
Then, as Etchū-no-kami staggered and finally collapsed onto the veranda of the Fourth Chamber, the attacker discarded the dagger there and frantically vanished from sight.

However, Kuroki Kansai—who had been accompanying—panicked at the sudden calamity, fled toward the great hall, and then hid somewhere himself, so no one remained aware of this blade violence.
Some time later, it was finally discovered by a low-ranking retainer named Honma Jōgorō while he was on his way from the guardhouse to the servants’ quarters.
Thereupon, he immediately informed the inspectors.
From the inspectors came Kuge Zenbee, captain of the inspector group; Tsuchida Han'emon and Komoda Nizaemon, both inspectors; and others rushing to the scene.—Within the castle precincts, a disturbance like a disturbed hornet’s nest erupted instantly.

Then, when they all gathered and lifted the wounded man, his face and body were so drenched in blood that they could no longer tell who he was. But when they pressed their mouths to his ear and called out, he finally answered in a faint voice, "Hosokawa Etchū." They next asked, "Who was your opponent?" but received only the answer "a man in formal attire," after which their voices seemed to no longer reach him. The wounds measured "approximately seven sun at the base of the neck; around six to seven sun on the left shoulder; roughly five sun on the right shoulder; four to five locations on both hands; two or three wounds each on the bridge of the nose, behind the ears, and the head; and a diagonal laceration measuring one shaku five sun running from the back to the right flank." At that point, duty inspectors Tsuchiya Nagatarō and Hashimoto Awa-no-kami—and of course Senior Inspector Kōno Buzen-no-kami—attended to the scene and first carried the wounded man into the Hibachi Room. They surrounded the area with small screens and stationed five attendant monks nearby, after which the various daimyo stationed in the great hall took turns coming to tend to him. Among them, Matsudaira Hyōbu-shōyū had tended most devotedly from the moment they carried him there, so that even from their peripheral vision, the depth of his solicitude was said to be evident.

Meanwhile, after informing the senior councilors and junior councilors of this emergency, they strictly ordered all gates secured from the main entrance to the grand gate as a precaution against any eventuality.
The retainers of the daimyo and their vassals stationed at the grand gate, witnessing this, were startled into an uproar upon hearing of the extraordinary incident within the castle precincts—their commotion defied all order.
Time and again the inspectors emerged to restrain them, but like a tidal surge, they immediately pressed back.
Thereupon, the congestion within the castle precincts too began growing ever more severe.
This was because Inspector Tsuchiya Nagatarō, accompanied by patrol inspectors and fire guards, had persistently searched guardhouse after guardhouse all the way to the kitchens for the perpetrator of the blade violence, yet ultimately failed to locate that “man in formal attire.”

Yet unexpectedly, the perpetrator eluded the notice of all these people and was instead discovered by an attendant monk named Takai Sōga.
Sōga was a bold man who had earlier ventured alone to search places others would never think to look.
When he suddenly peered into the lavatory near the Hibachi Room, there crouched a man with tousled sideburns, shadow-like.
The dim light made it hard to see clearly, but it appeared he had taken scissors from a paper pouch and was trimming those disheveled sideburns.
Thereupon, Sōga approached closer and called out.

“Who might you be?”

“This—having killed a man—I am cutting my hair.”

The man answered in a hoarse voice.

There was no longer any room for doubt.
Sōga immediately called for people and dragged this man out from the lavatory.
And with that, he immediately handed him over to the inspectors.

The inspectors then took him to Sotetsu-no-Ma and, in the presence of the senior inspector and other officials, thoroughly interrogated him about the details of the blade violence.
Yet the man could only stare vacantly at the solemn uproar within the castle precincts and offered no answers worth the name.
When he occasionally opened his mouth, he spoke only of cuckoos.
And in those intervals, with bloodstained hands, he tore at his sideburns again and again.
—Shuri had already gone mad.

―――――――――――――――――――――――――

Hosokawa Etchū-no-kami drew his last breath in the Hibachi Room.
However, having received Shogun Yoshimune’s private orders, they had him transported by palanquin from Nakano-guchi to Hirakawa-guchi while still presenting him as wounded.
The official notice of his death was issued on the 21st.

Shuri was immediately placed in Mizuno Kenmotsu’s custody after Etchū-no-kami had been taken away.
This too departed from Nakano-guchi to Hirakawa-guchi in a palanquin draped with a blue net.
Surrounding the palanquin were fifty foot soldiers of the Mizuno family, all uniformly clad in new persimmon-colored robes, wearing new white hakama trousers, and guarding while carrying new staffs.—This procession was said to have become a praised example at the time, serving as evidence that Kenmotsu’s usual preparations for unexpected events were thorough.

On the 22nd day, seven days later, Senior Inspector Ishiko Tosa-no-kami was appointed as imperial envoy.
The envoy’s proclamation stated: “Though it is acknowledged you were deranged, due to Hosokawa Etchū-no-kami’s wounds proving incurable and resulting in his death, you are hereby ordered to commit seppuku at Mizuno Kenmotsu’s residence.”

Before the envoy, Shuri had the dagger presented before him in accordance with protocol, but he remained blankly still with hands folded on his knees, showing no sign of reaching for it.
Thereupon Yoshida Yazaemon—a Mizuno retainer serving as kaishaku—had no choice but to strike off his head from behind.
Even when called “struck off,” a single layer of skin at the throat remained.
Yazaemon took the head in hand and showed it to the inspector officials from below.
A high-cheekboned, sallow-skinned, pitiful head.
The eyes were of course not closed.

The inspector, upon seeing this, inhaled the scent of blood and called out in a satisfied manner, “Splendid.”

―――――――――――――――――――――――――

On the same day, Tanaka Uzaemon was executed by hanging at the residence of Itakura Shikibu.
This was the charge: “Whereas Itakura Sadoshu had strictly instructed that Lord Shuri—due to his illness—be confined to his residence, [Tanaka Uzaemon] willfully permitted his attendance at Edo Castle through his own discretion, thereby causing this calamitous incident and resulting in the forfeiture of 7,000 koku; [he is] an unpardonable offender.”

It goes without saying that Itakura Shuri no Kami; the same Shikibu; the same Sadoshu; Sakai Saemon no Jo; Matsudaira Ukon no Shogen; and their clan relatives were ordered to show restraint.
In addition, Kuroki Kansai, who had abandoned Hosokawa Etchū-no-kami and fled, had his stipend confiscated and was exiled.

―――――――――――――――――――――――――

Shuri’s blade violence was likely an accident. Due to the resemblance between the Hosokawa family’s Nine Stars crest and the Itakura family’s Nine Tomoe crest on their garments, Shuri, attempting to stab Sadoshu, mistakenly harmed Etchū-no-kami. Previously, when Mizuno Hayato-no-kami slew Mōri Mondonosho, that too had been this same case of mistaken identity. Especially in dimly lit places like the purification font, such mistakes were prone to occur.—This was the prevailing view at the time.

But Itakura Sadoshu alone took no pleasure in this prevailing view. He would always say bitterly whenever this topic arose.

“Sadoshu has not the slightest recollection of ever being attacked with a blade by Shuri.”
“Moreover, it was that madman’s doing.”
“Most likely, he struck down the Lord of Higo without any particular reason.”
“To suggest mistaken identity is nothing but an utterly preposterous speculation.”
“As proof, even when brought before the senior inspector, wasn’t Shuri said to have been babbling about cuckoos?”
“Therefore, he might have slashed at what he thought was a cuckoo.”

(February, Taishō 6)