Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Okamoto Kidō

I The ninth year of Bunka—the night of the eighteenth day of the first month in the Year of the Monkey. Around the time when Yotsuhan (11 PM) had passed that night, two young women—with Edo Koishikawa's Mejiro Fudō Hall visible to their right—hurriedly approached from Mejiro Slope toward Sekiguchi Komaichō. Passing through Komaichō would bring them to Otowa Ōdōri. Behind the seventh and eighth districts lay the residential quarters of Edo Castle's supply group. Though their social standing was lowly, they all appeared quite prosperous. The two young women who had just arrived were Okiwa, daughter of Uriu Chōhachi from the supply group, and Oatsu, daughter of Kuronuma Denbei—both newly eighteen years old and of the same age.

Tonight there was a karuta gathering at a Suzuki residence in Sekiguchi Daichō, so the two had been invited from early evening and attended. It was always customary for karuta games to stretch late into the night—while the men showed no signs of stopping—but when Mejiro Fudō’s bell struck four times signaling midnight, the young women began preparing to leave. After enjoying homemade assorted sushi at the residence, they now made their return. Though four or five other women had left with them from the residence, they gradually parted ways along the route until only Okiwa and Oatsu remained by Komaichō.

Though it was late at night, this was a path they were accustomed to walking. Their group residence being now only two or three blocks away, the two felt no particular unease as they walked—paper lanterns in one hand, sleeves pressed to their chests, heads slightly bowed, quickening their pace. When they descended the slope, the right side held two or three residences and townhouses interspersed with a temple. The left side was almost entirely temples. Since both residences and townhouses had closed their front doors well past midnight, this main thoroughfare—truly a temple district—stood especially desolate. Though nominally spring, it was a dark mid-January night, and an icy wind that threatened snow whistled through the air. As the two hurried along with heads increasingly lowered, Okiwa abruptly stopped short at something she saw.

“Oh my, what could that be?” When Oatsu also raised her lantern and peered through it, a white form was fluttering ahead of the two. Upon looking closer, it was a white butterfly. It was slightly larger than ordinary ones, but there was no mistaking it—it was indeed a butterfly. The butterfly fluttered its white wings and danced low through the cold wind. The two exchanged glances. “It’s a butterfly,” Oatsu whispered. “That’s exactly why it’s strange,” Okiwa also whispered softly. “Why would a butterfly be flying around this time of year?”

Given that it was New Year's—and especially given that they had seen the white form of a butterfly in this dark late hour—the girls had every reason to be suspicious. As they silently watched the butterfly's path—perhaps pressed by the cold wind—it did not fly very high. Rather, it fluttered low as if skimming the ground, wandering leftward from the center of the path until approaching a temple fence on the left side. This was a low cedar hedge through which not only could one clearly see the graveyard from the road, but stray dogs crawled daily, leaving its base sparse. The butterfly slipped through a gap in this hedge and vanished into the graveyard's shadows.

As they watched it curiously, the sound of straw sandals came from behind them, and a man around fifty appeared carrying a paper lantern. He tried to pass them by but looked back. “Aren’t you the young ladies from the group residence?” When they were called out to and turned around, the man was a decorative cord craftsman from Ichikawa-ya in Otowa. This area was the fief of a lady-in-waiting named Otowa who served at Edo Castle, and it was said that the place name Otowa originated from this. Due to this connection, tradition held that paper, hair-tie cords, ornamental cords, and similar items used in Edo Castle’s inner chambers had been produced exclusively in this town of Otowa, with many paper and cord shops remaining here even after the Meiji era. This man too was a cord craftsman from that shop—a man named Genzō. Having lived in the neighborhood for many years, both Okiwa and Oatsu had known him since childhood.

“Where are you returning from at this hour?” Genzō asked again. “We went to the Suzukis’ to get the karuta cards…” Okiwa replied.

“Ah, so that was it,” Genzō nodded. “And then, did you happen to see something there?” “Because a white butterfly was flying…” “White butterfly….” “Did you see it?” “Why would a butterfly be flying on such a cold night?” asked Oatsu. “I’ve already seen it three times myself, but…” Genzō said curiously. “It’s truly mysterious.” “They say people have spotted it occasionally since around year’s end.” “There’s no way butterflies could survive this cold season—and what’s more, they only appear on dark nights. It’s most peculiar.”

Though they were children of samurai families, the young women couldn’t help but feel an eerie unease, the night wind cutting all the more keenly through them.

“Which direction did the butterfly fly off to?” Genzō asked again. “Into the temple…”

“Hmm,” Genzō peered toward the cemetery as if searching for something, but there was only the sound of dead leaves rustling in the wind—both new graves and old lay still in the depths of darkness.

The light of another paper lantern appeared. The sound of a wooden clapper was heard. The night watchman Fujisuke came around to this spot. Seeing the three of them standing there, Fujisuke approached.

“Did you drop something here?” He also recognized the three of them.

Having been told about the white butterfly by Genzō, Fujisuke furrowed his brows. “That butterfly—I’ve seen it myself now and then.” “Somehow it feels unsettling.” “Did it fly into this temple graveyard tonight?”

“Could it be that someone’s soul has turned into a butterfly and emerged from a grave?” Genzō said. “Nah, it’s not coming from the grave—it’s flying in from somewhere else,” Fujisuke countered. “Seems tonight’s the first time it’s entered the graveyard.” “But no one’s actually seen where that butterfly comes from or where it goes,” Genzō persisted. “First off, that butterfly doesn’t seem to be real at all.” “Isn’t it alive?”

“When you see it flying, it does appear alive, but...” “In my view, that butterfly seems to be fashioned from paper.” “It truly doesn’t strike me as genuine.” The three listeners exchanged glances once more. “I hadn’t noticed such details myself...” Genzō said with growing curiosity. “Could it be crafted from paper? “But this seems different from what those butterfly vendors sell.”

“The things butterfly vendors sell are children’s toys.” “Of course, it’s not some cheap trinket like that—but I don’t think it’s a living butterfly either.” “White paper… or maybe something like white silk… Either way, it seems to be a crafted object.” “But how that crafted thing flies around like it’s alive—I can’t figure that out.” “It’s downright strange.” “I don’t want to see that thing.” “When you see something like that, you just know something bad’s coming. But since it’s my job patrolling every night, I end up spotting it now and then—even during mourning periods.” “Maybe it’s all in my head, but the day after I see that butterfly… I always feel queasy somehow…”

Having heard such talk, the three grew increasingly chilled to the bone. Oatsu gently tugged at Okiwa’s sleeve. “Let us go now.” “Yes, let us go,” Okiwa promptly agreed.

“That’s right. The night was deepening. ‘I will escort you young ladies to the front of your residence,’ Genzō said.”

After parting with Fujisuke, the three set off again at a brisk pace, but by the time they reached Otowa Street, the butterfly had not shown its white shadow again. Since the girls' group residence was located at the rear of Otowa 7-chōme, Genzō escorted them there and then returned home.

Uriu Chōhachi, Okiwa’s father, was on night watch duty at the castle, so he was not at home that night.

The Uriu household consisted of six members: Chōhachi; his wife, Oyū; their eldest daughter, Okiwa; their second daughter, Otoshi; their eldest son, Chōsaburō; and their maid, Oaki. They did not employ any male servants. Chōsaburō was fifteen years old, and Otoshi was thirteen.

Because Okiwa was returning somewhat late, just as they were considering sending Chōsaburō to meet her, she came home together with Oatsu from the neighboring house. They explained that the mizuhiki craftsman had escorted them. “I’m home...” “I’m terribly sorry for being so late.”

Having come to the tea room and placed her hands before her mother, the daughter’s face was pale.

“What’s wrong with you?” Oyū, her mother, asked suspiciously. “No, it’s nothing…” “Your complexion looks bad.” “Is that so?” There was no doubt that the white butterfly had unsettled the young girls, but Okiwa herself had not been frightened enough to change her complexion. She rather found it strange that her mother had grown suspicious of her. However, since she wasn’t entirely without recollection—even as she thought of confiding the white butterfly incident to her mother and sister—for some reason she felt hesitant to bring it up, and Okiwa ultimately remained silent.

“They say colds are prevalent this spring, so take care,” her completely unaware mother said.

As the night had grown late, her younger sister Otoshi had gone to sleep in the four-and-a-half-mat room of the next chamber without waiting for her sister’s return, but at this moment, she suddenly let out a scream as if she were being haunted. Thinking that she must have had a scary dream, Oyū slid open the fusuma and went into the next room. When they roused the moaning Otoshi and tended to her, beads of sweat were streaming down the girl’s forehead as if flung there.

Otoshi’s dream was as follows. As she was walking with her sister across a vast grassland, her sister’s figure eventually transformed into a white butterfly and flew away. She tried to chase after it in surprise, but couldn’t catch up at all. Anxious and frantic, just as she tried to call out to stop it, her mother shook her awake.

Upon hearing about the dream, Okiwa was startled. This time, she truly changed her complexion. Moreover, now that this had happened, she felt revealing the white butterfly incident grew increasingly taboo, and so she kept silent as before. The mother too seemed to pay no particular heed to the girl's dream-telling. "Children see all manner of dreams when they're young." "Your sister is right here, so rest easy and go to sleep."

Otoshi fell asleep again. The others also each retired to their beds, and after that, with no further incidents, the Uriu family spent the night peacefully. Due to exhaustion from the evening, Okiwa also fell into a carefree sleep.

The wind had died down during the night, but the following morning was cold. Unlike today, the area around Otowa at that time was on the outskirts of Edo, so spring frost lay thick in both gardens and streets. In the Uriu household, which made a habit of rising early, they left their beds while it was still dimly lit, and Oyū was working busily in the kitchen after directing the maid. When Okiwa went out front and was sweeping the entrance, it seemed that the neighboring Kuronuma household was already up, and Oatsu also came out to the entrance holding a broom. After the two girls finished their evening greetings, Oatsu moved closer and whispered.

“Did you tell anyone about last night’s events?”

“No.” “I haven’t told anyone yet……”

“I told Mother,” Oatsu said, lowering her voice even further. “Then Mother already knows about the white butterfly.” “Did Mother see it too?” “She hasn’t seen it herself, but she has heard the story.” “When she told Father, he scolded her, saying ‘Don’t speak such nonsense,’ so apparently she hasn’t told anyone since then.” Members of the Edo Castle supply group tended by duty’s nature toward lesser samurai spirit; however Kuronuma Denbei—Oatsu’s father—was innately steeped in samurai temperament and revered throughout their unit as one unyielding in duty and resolve. Were Oatsu’s mother ever to recount ghostly tales before Denbei—this much stood plain—she would face immediate rebuke.

According to Oatsu’s mother’s account，recently，when night deepened，a mysterious butterfly would fly about. It was a white butterfly，slightly larger than ordinary ones，just as Oatsu and the others had seen，and any house it entered was sure to suffer some misfortune. It was said that in many cases，it resulted in deaths. “How does your mother know such a thing?” Okiwa asked again. “Well，” Oatsu explained further. “Four or five days ago，when the uncle from Shirauo Riverbank came for New Year’s greetings，he told my Mother，so…” “They say they’re secretly investigating it in Hatchōbori as well.”

The uncle from Shirauo Riverbank was a relative of the Kuronumas whose surname was Yoshida and who worked at the esteemed whitefish storehouse. Due to his local connections, Yoshida had many acquaintances among the Hatchōbori dōshin constables and seemed to have overheard the secret of the white butterfly from one of them. While this suggested the rumors weren’t entirely groundless, Denbei stubbornly denied them all. He went so far as to declare:

“Is Shirauo Riverbank spouting such nonsense? Otherwise, with things being so peaceful around the shogunate’s seat these days, those Hatchōbori scoundrels must be so idle they’re desperate—that’s why they’re spreading such trivial nonsense and making a show of being busy. Ridiculous!”

To dismiss it all in one breath was one thing, but the uncle from Shirauo Riverbank was not the sort to tell lies. Even if the Hatchōbori people were idle, it was unthinkable that they would stir up a commotion over something baseless—so Oatsu’s mother, though scolded by her husband, secretly held onto that belief. And now that Oatsu herself had witnessed the white butterfly in flight, her mother could no longer help but believe it.

“That’s why Mother has been saying it’s best not to walk around at night for now,” Oatsu added.

Two

After finishing sweeping the entrance, Okiwa entered her house, but Oatsu’s recent story somehow weighed on her mind, leaving her with a somber mood. No matter how much Oatsu’s father denied it, the white butterfly’s supernatural occurrence did not seem entirely baseless. What made it worse was that her younger sister Otoshi had been tormented by a dream the previous night—a story about her older sister transforming into a white butterfly and trying to fly away—which now resurfaced vividly in her mind, and Okiwa could not help but feel a kind of terror. She began to fear that some fateful connection had been formed between herself and the white butterfly. Moreover, reluctant to confide this to her mother and younger brother, she remained silent as she went to the breakfast table.

"You've looked pale since last night—could you have caught a cold after all?" Oyū, her mother, asked again. "No, not really..." Okiwa gave the same reply as the night before, but she had begun to feel a slight chill herself. Perhaps it was imagination—her temples too were gradually beginning to ache. Her younger brother Chōsaburō put down his chopsticks after breakfast and immediately left for swordsmanship practice. Around ten in the morning—the Hour of the Snake—Father Chōhachi returned home after his shift, but he too furrowed his brows upon seeing his daughter's face.

“Okiwa, you don’t look well. Did you catch a cold?”

Okiwa had been declared to have caught a cold by both her father and mother. Okiwa finally had to go to bed. The maid Oaki went out to Otowa Street to buy cold medicine. Okiwa indeed seemed to have a slight fever; she went to bed and immediately dozed off, but when she awoke again, she could hear Oaki talking about something in the tea room. Oaki was speaking in a low voice with her mother; however, as it was only separated by a thin sliding door, even to Okiwa lying in bed, most of their conversation leaked through and reached her ears.

“When I went to the pharmacy, the neighbor Ms. Oan had also come to buy medicine, and I heard that the neighbor Ms. Oatsu was also bedridden…”

“So both caught colds from staying up late, then,” Oyū said. “No, that’s what’s odd…” Oaki lowered her voice further, but from the fragmented speech that could be heard, she seemed to be recounting the matter of that white butterfly. In any case, Oatsu had also taken to her bed.

“Oh, so that’s what happened…” “Since Okiwa didn’t say a word, I hadn’t known anything about it…” Oyū said with unease. “Then does this mean neither Oatsu-san nor Okiwa simply have colds?”

After that, their voices lowered once more, but soon Oaki went down to the kitchen, and Oyū seemed to rise and head to her husband’s room. Before long, Okiwa dozed off again and thus did not know what happened afterward, but when she awoke once more, the sun had already set. Lately, as had become customary, a cold wind seemed to have begun blowing again from evening onward, and the night air seeping through some unseen gap occasionally made the lantern flame by the bedside flicker.

When Okiwa raised her face from the pillow, beneath the paper lantern sat her mother Oyū with uneasy eyes, as though peering at her daughter’s sleeping face. “How do you feel…?” Oyū asked at once. “Has your sweating improved at all?”

When she was told and noticed, Okiwa’s sleepwear was thoroughly soaked with sweat. Mother helped her change into fresh sleepwear and had her daughter lie back on the pillow, but perhaps because she had sweated sufficiently, Okiwa’s head seemed to feel lighter. Hearing this, Oyū nodded with some relief, but soon began to speak in a whisper.

“Well, that’s good.” “Actually, I’ve been privately worried too.” “It doesn’t seem to be just a cold after all.” “While you were sleeping, Mr. Kuronuma from next door came…” “Oatsu-san is also unwell, it seems,” Okiwa said in a low voice. “Until this morning, there was nothing wrong, but around noon she took a turn for the worse—and just like you, she ended up bedridden as if she’d caught a cold. But since there seems to be more to it, Mr. Kuronuma came to our house to inquire.” “He said that on your way back from the karuta gathering last night, you saw a white butterfly in front of the temple at Mejiro slope—and asked if it was true—but since you were also ill and in bed, I replied that I would inquire properly later.” “Then Mr. Kuronuma said he’d come again later and left, but right after that he went out to Otowa Street—visited that mizuhiki shop Ichikawa-ya—met the craftsman Genzō—conducted some sort of investigation—and then had Genzō guide him all the way to the temple.”

Kuronuma Denbei had learned of the white butterfly incident through his daughter’s illness, but being someone who never believed in such ghost stories, he visited Genzō of Ichikawa-ya—who had reportedly accompanied them at the time—to verify the truth of the matter. Wanting to know the outcome quickly, Okiwa pressed urgently.

“And then what happened…?” “Well, that’s just like him,” Oyū said with a faint smile. “He apparently chased Genzō around as if scolding him and thoroughly checked where exactly they’d seen the butterfly.” “Since they said the butterfly slipped through the hedge into the temple graveyard, he went into the temple this time and inspected every grave one by one—but apparently found no particular clues or anything resembling its remains.” “Even so, still seeming unsatisfied, Mr. Kuronuma went around to the temple’s main entrance and asked the priests if they knew anything about the white butterfly—but since they claimed no knowledge of it, he finally made up his mind to withdraw...” “After all, strange things do happen.” “Did you really see that butterfly too?”

No longer able to keep it hidden, Okiwa confessed the previous night’s incident to her mother, and Oyū’s face darkened again. The young women had stayed up late walking night streets, both catching colds—though such occurrences were hardly unusual, the entanglement with that suspicious butterfly incident made it impossible not to sense some fateful connection between their illnesses. “When it comes to Father,” Oyū said again, “being who he is, he won’t declare this matter false or true—yet I can’t shake this unease...” “I’ve been privately fearing disaster if your condition worsened, but judging by appearances now, there seems no particular cause for concern.” “Still, I must visit next door under pretense of calling on Oatsu-san and inform Uncle that you too definitely saw that butterfly.” “I’ll go out briefly now.”

Oyū took a box of sweets or something that was on hand and immediately went out to the house next door. In her absence, Okiwa called her younger sister to her bedside and pressed further about last night’s dream, whereupon Otoshi confirmed that she had indeed dreamed of her elder sister turning into a white butterfly. Children’s dream stories were hardly ever considered significant under normal circumstances, but to Okiwa now, this one couldn’t help but seem to hold some meaning. She felt uneasy for some reason and, while lying in bed, scanned every corner of the room as if the pale white form of a butterfly might be lingering somewhere within.

After a short while, Oyū returned and whispered such things again at her daughter’s bedside. “Unlike you, Oatsu-san’s condition doesn’t seem to be improving—they’ve just called for a doctor.” “The doctor said it was a nasty cold, but Uncle Kuronuma seemed terribly worried.” “What is Uncle saying?” “It seems Uncle Kuronuma hasn’t yet taken it seriously, but…” “Even so, since his own daughter had taken a turn for the worse and you had definitely seen that butterfly, he seemed to be considering it with some puzzlement, but…” “According to Uncle Kuronuma, since it has already reached the ears of the townspeople and they are conducting a private investigation, whether it’s true or false will naturally become clear, but…” “Well, for the time being, it’s best not to go outside after sunset.” “It’s not just you—Otoshi must also take care.”

After being admonished, the girls went to bed early that night; however, only the sound of wind could be heard outside, and nothing occurred at the house.

The following morning, Okiwa’s condition had finally improved, but as a precaution, she decided to stay in bed for another day. Her younger brother Chōsaburō went out to sweep the front entrance in her stead, and since there were no boys in the neighboring Kuronuma household, their maid Oan was sweeping their front entrance.

There, Chōsaburō was told something even more strange by Oan. Late last night, when the ailing Oatsu groaned in pain, her father Denbei rose to check on her, only to find her room's lamps extinguished, a small white shadow floating dimly in the darkness. It was a white butterfly. The butterfly was resting its wings on Oatsu's quilt. Denbei took the sword from the alcove and turned back, first attempting to drive away the butterfly, but it still did not move. When Denbei swiped sideways with his sword still in its scabbard, the butterfly fluttered and flew into the chest of his own sleepwear.

Denbei woke his wife Ofumi and had her light a hand candle, then removed his sleepwear to inspect it, but there was no trace of the butterfly anywhere. "It must be your eyes playing tricks," he said, though Ofumi couldn't help feeling a certain unease. He shook Oatsu awake and questioned her, but she said she hadn't been tormented by any frightening dream and had simply been sleeping soundly, knowing nothing. The matter ended up being dismissed as Denbei's eyes playing tricks, but given the peculiar circumstances, an unshakable doubt lingered in everyone's minds.

The timid Oan pulled the quilt over her head and could not sleep peacefully until dawn.

"Uncle Kuronuma’s really getting old," Chōsaburō laughed inwardly as he listened to the story. Though Denbei would normally dismiss such ghost stories outright, when pressed, his mind would falter and he would catch sight of something eerie. Even if one said he had aged, he was just past forty—could a person become so weak? Chōsaburō wondered.

“It’s better not to tell anyone about such things.” “I’ll keep quiet too,” Chōsaburō cautioned Oan.

“Yes.” “Madam told me not to tell anyone either,” Oan said. Despite being sworn to secrecy, she had immediately blabbed it to others. Resenting the young maid’s loose lips yet handling her dismissively, Chōsaburō entered the house. Then, after finishing his breakfast, he visited the neighboring house with feigned innocence—only to find Oatsu’s condition showed no improvement.

“Your sister…” Ofumi asked. “My sister has already improved. If she rests all day today, she should be able to get up.” “That was fortunate.” “My daughter remains like this…” “How worrying.”

While such greetings were being exchanged, Kuronuma Denbei emerged from the inner rooms. “Chō-san. Come here.” Summoning Chōsaburō into his study, Denbei began speaking quietly. “Though it shames me to admit this before a young man like yourself, I committed a slight misstep last night.” “What sort of misstep?” Maintaining his innocent expression, Chōsaburō listened as Denbei himself began recounting the white butterfly incident—the very same event Oan had disclosed to him earlier. After candidly confessing his blunder from the previous night, Denbei gave a self-mocking grimace.

“Though I may be a low-ranking samurai,” Kuronuma Denbei began, “I don’t believe in such things as mysteries or supernatural beings. Even Confucius taught us not to speak of strange forces and chaotic spirits. As for that white butterfly business—though I heard a relative from Shirauo riverside came recently and told my wife some story about it—I paid no particular heed. In truth, I considered it utter nonsense.” He leaned forward slightly. “Yet two nights ago, our Oatsu saw it too. Your elder sister as well. And not just them—that mizuhiki craftsman Genzō claims to have witnessed it too. Genzō’s an honest man, not given to idle lies.” Denbei’s fingers tightened on his knee. “This suggests there’s more to the matter. The time has come to test it.” His voice dropped lower. “Tonight I mean to investigate whether that white butterfly truly haunts Mejiro slope. What say you join me?”

At that time among young samurai, adventurous acts—proclaimed as “testing one’s courage”—were often conducted: they would either hold Hyakumonogatari gatherings, venture into graveyards late at night, or visit places where the heads of executed criminals were displayed. Denbei’s invitation to Chōsaburō carried precisely this intent. At the swordsmanship dojo Chōsaburō attended, there had often been such events until now; however, being still a fifteen-year-old with his forelock intact, he was frequently excluded from the group—a fact he had always found regrettable. Thus when presented with this proposal at such an opportune moment, Chōsaburō gladly agreed immediately. When he declared he absolutely wished to accompany them, Denbei nodded as if this response met his expectations.

“Hmm. I thought you would surely agree,” said Kuronuma Denbei. “Then let’s set out around the Hour of the Boar—eight o’clock tonight.” “But I wonder if your father and mother will consent.” “I’ll tell them I’m going to night school and leave,” replied Chōsaburō. Since Chōsaburō attended a night school for Chinese classics near Gokoku-ji Temple’s gatefront, he proposed using this pretense to investigate the mysterious butterfly instead. Once their plan was settled, he returned home with vigorous determination.

“You may be one thing, but if you take someone as young as Chō-san along and something goes wrong, it will be a problem,” said his wife Ofumi anxiously. “Oh, even though he’s young, he’s quite reliable, so it’ll be fine.”

Denbei was laughing.

Three

The day known as the 20th Day of New Year had darkened, and in the dusk-dimmed sky, two or three faint stars drifted aimlessly. Tonight too, a bitterly cold wind began blowing as usual, tumbling the sand that swirled along Otowa Avenue.

“Cold, cold.” “This New Year’s wind ain’t lettin’ up at all.” “It’s downright cruel!”

Battling this north wind, from the direction of Edogawabashi came two middle servants, pressing close together as they walked. Both seemed slightly drunk, and their footsteps were unsteady. "No matter how cold it gets, if your pockets are warm, you can manage—but this weather's freezing." "Pockets are cold." "Pressured from inside and out—it's unbearable," one of them said. "Completely unbearable," the other man chimed in.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be done. Knowing I’ll get an earful, maybe I’ll try sweet-talking the steward again.” “That won’t do, that won’t do. When it comes to our steward, it’s downright impossible to talk to him. Instead of that, you should ask Okika. I can’t handle big sums, but I can manage something like one or two shu.” “Okika… You—you’ve borrowed from that woman before?” “Don’t know about others, but she’ll lend to me.”

“You ain’t gone and become her lover, have ya?”

“If she’d become my mistress, that’d be fine—but things ain’t gone that far yet.” “Even so, it’s strange, I must say.” “The fact that that woman would lend you money…” “Why’s she lendin’ ya money?” “Hah, can’t say that.” “Anyway, she’ll lend to me.” “If I sweet-talk her, Okika-san’ll lend it to me.” “Well then, maybe I’ll try asking too.” “Don’t talk nonsense.” “Even if someone like you asked, she wouldn’t lend you four coppers.” “Hahahaha.”

As they talked and jostled along like this, another black shadow trailed behind the two men. When one turned west from the seventh district of Otowa, there lay a small field. As they were about to arrive there, the sound of wooden clappers approached from ahead, and the lantern of Fujisuke, the night watchman, came into view.

“Good evening,” Fujisuke was the first to greet them.

“Evening. Tough night, eh?” responded one of the middle servants. “Ain’t this cold just absurd?” “It’s quite cold tonight,” Fujisuke replied. “Even if it’s your patrol route, no way you’d patrol this place proper-like. There’s wicked foxes ’round here,” said the other man with a laugh. “Well, I’m acquainted with the foxes too—no trouble at all,” Fujisuke answered, chuckling. “You lot seem cheerful again tonight.” “Not exactly cheerful. Drank a bit of sake with what little I had, then when headin’ back got nagged by the gatekeeper and chewed out by the steward—nothin’ goin’ right at all.”

“Even if you say that, this guy’s got a fine woman like Okika-san looking out for him—he’s lucky.” “Yeah, don’t talk nonsense.”

“Okika-san…” Fujisuke’s eyes gleamed like an owl’s in the darkness. “When you say ‘Okika-san,’ isn’t that Okika-san from the estate?”

“Hmm, that’s right.”

The middle servants gave vague replies and started walking. The other one also followed. Fujisuke still seemed to want to ask something, taking a couple of steps forward as if to follow, but then appeared to reconsider. After merely watching the middle servants' retreating figures, he turned back toward the main road—but just as he did so, as if startled by something, he suddenly whirled around toward the field. There, crouching small in the darkness, was *something*. It was not a fox. It seemed to be a person.

The person crouched low as if crawling and slipped out from the field onto the road; then, muffling the sound of their straw sandals, they seemed to follow after those middle servants. At the same moment—whether the wind had blown out Fujisuke’s lantern flame or whether someone had deliberately extinguished it—the light vanished into darkness. He too moved stealthily and followed after that black shadow.

While these events were unfolding in one place, two dark shadows wandered before the dark temple gate at the foot of Mejiro slope in another.

They were Kuronuma Denbei and Uriu Chōsaburō, who had come as promised during the day to witness the true nature of the white butterfly. Chōsaburō said in a low voice. “Uncle.” “This is the spot, isn’t it?”

“This is the area.” “Yesterday I had Genzō guide me and thoroughly investigated it.” “They say the butterfly slipped through that hedge into the graveyard,” Denbei said, pointing into the darkness. “Does it appear around here every night?”

“That’s unclear.” “But well, there’s naught else but to set nets around here.” “Get under this gate to shelter from the wind.”

“No need to worry. Shall I go take a look around there?” “Hmm—they say even a wandering dog may meet a stick. Better to walk about than stand idle.” “Uncle, please wait here. I’ll patrol the area and return.”

No sooner had he spoken than Chōsaburō started walking briskly up the slope. The wind showed no sign of abating; as it whistled through the large zelkova tree’s branches within the temple grounds, the torn paper kite caught on a high branch let out an eerie rustling sound.

Shielding himself from the fierce wind and scanning the darkness, Chōsaburō reached the top of the slope—whereupon the flame of a paper lantern came flickering from a side street near a mansion. It was unclear how or from where he had come, but the night watchman Fujisuke emerged there. He was not clapping the wooden clappers, but by the light of that lantern, Chōsaburō already recognized him.

“Hey, night watchman. Didn’t you see the butterfly flying around here tonight?” Chōsaburō approached and called out. “Oh, the young master of the Uriu house?” Fujisuke slightly raised his lantern and peered through its light at Chōsaburō’s figure. “Are you searching for the butterfly?” “The night before last, my elder sister saw a white butterfly around here, so I also came to search for it tonight.” “I heard you’ve seen it too.”

Fujisuke did not answer that and asked again. “What do you intend to do by searching for that butterfly?” “There’s no particular reason, but that butterfly seems strange somehow, so I think I’ll try to catch it.” “Catch it… what will you do?” “Just catching it, that’s all,” Chōsaburō said, revealing nothing further. “In that case, you should stop,” Fujisuke advised. “There are times when white butterflies fly. “A butterfly flies in the cold. …When one thinks about it, it’s strange—but there must be some reason behind it.” “It would be best if you samurai did not involve yourselves in such matters.”

“No—there’s a reason I’m involved.” “So did you see it again tonight?”

Fujisuke shook his head. “That butterfly doesn’t only fly around here.” “Since it’s not certain to appear here every night, you’re just wasting your time searching for it.” “Are you alone tonight?” “Or do you have someone with you?” Wondering how to answer, Chōsaburō hesitated slightly but soon replied honestly. “Actually, I came with Uncle Kuronuma.”

“Master Kuronuma…” Fujisuke said coldly. “Where is that master now?” “He’s waiting at the gate at the foot of the slope.” “Ah, I see.” Not only did Fujisuke’s voice grow colder still, but his face—lit by the paper lantern’s flame—now bore a frigid smile. “As I told you earlier, even if you search here, that white butterfly rarely shows itself. “You’d do well to withdraw before catching a chill.”

He tossed these words aside and left with a slight nod, but Chōsaburō remained standing there.

As he listened to the sound of wooden clappers crossing the slope and growing fainter toward the opposite alleyway, Chōsaburō thought. According to Fujisuke’s account, the white butterfly did not necessarily appear around here every night. He had prepared himself for that possibility, but now that the night watchman who patrolled this area nightly had stated as much, lingering in the cold wind to search for a butterfly that rarely showed itself began to feel rather foolish.

“Perhaps I should go consult Uncle.”

He tried to turn back but hesitated again. Having come this far with such effort, if he were to turn back without having conducted a proper search, it might make him appear as though he had lost his nerve. Chōsaburō would hate to be laughed at by Uncle Kuronuma for being a coward. At any rate, deciding it was a matter of walking a little further, Chōsaburō changed his mind and started walking again, but there was nothing in the darkness to block his view.

Even though it likely hadn’t yet passed five and a half marks (around 9 PM), the mansion district there lay as quiet as if everyone had fallen asleep. The only sound was that of the wind.

When Chōsaburō, having aimlessly circled the area, returned to the top of the slope, the deepening cold of the night seeped into his body.

“Uncle must be waiting.” Thinking it would be alright to turn back at this point, Chōsaburō descended the slope. As he neared the temple gatefront again, he suddenly stopped and uttered a muffled cry. He saw a large white butterfly fluttering away into the darkness. He fixed his eyes, trying to track its path, but in that moment, the suspicious butterfly’s shadow vanished as if melting away.

Intending to quickly report it to Uncle, he hurried toward the gatefront, but Denbei’s figure was nowhere to be found. As my return was delayed and Uncle could no longer wait—perhaps he had gone out somewhere—Chōsaburō was looking around the dark gatefront when his foot caught on something. Because it also seemed to be a person, he knelt down to investigate and found that it was indeed a human being. Moreover, he was wearing a pair of swords.

Chōsaburō, startled, hurriedly propped up that person. “Uncle? Is that you?” “Uncle Kuronuma.” “...Uncle.” The man gave no answer. Moreover, that it was likely Denbei could mostly be inferred even in the darkness, so Chōsaburō frantically continued calling out. “Uncle… Uncle….” “Uncle Kuronuma.” As if in response to the voice, a paper lantern’s light appeared from somewhere. It was Fujisuke the night watchman. He approached, holding up the lantern.

“What happened?”

“Show me the light!” Chōsaburō said hurriedly. The person illuminated by the light was indeed Kuronuma Denbei. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword and had stopped breathing. Though flustered, he was indeed a child of a samurai family. Chōsaburō immediately lifted the corpse and examined the body, but no traces of cuts or blows resembling wounds could be found. “Fetch some water quickly!” Chōsaburō said, turning to look at Fujisuke.

Fujisuke remained standing there in silence, still holding up the lantern, so Chōsaburō spoke again impatiently. “Hey—go to this temple and fetch some water! Quickly!” “The temple had already gone to sleep,” Fujisuke said quietly. “Then draw water from the well and bring it here.” “Do you think he’d come back to life just by giving him water?” “Just bring any water you can get! Hurry!” Chōsaburō shouted in a scolding manner.

Fujisuke silently entered the temple gate. Since the lantern had left with him, the gatefront returned to its original darkness. In that darkness, Chōsaburō, cradling Uncle Kuronuma’s corpse in a half-dreamlike state, knelt on the frozen earth with his knees slightly bent. Even in that dreamlike state, he thought. The fact that Uncle hadn’t collapsed from a sudden illness was evident from seeing his hand still gripping the sword hilt. Uncle must have encountered some entity and collapsed without even having time to draw his sword. Chōsaburō recalled that white butterfly. I had just seen the shadow of a suspicious butterfly here. Could it be that Uncle was struck down by that butterfly? Chōsaburō was gripped by a kind of terror while an uncontrollable fury welled up in his chest.

"Damn you... Just you wait."

As he glared into the surrounding darkness while seething inwardly, Fujisuke’s lantern light reappeared like a will-o’-the-wisp. He carried a small bucket in one hand. Whether from poor circulation or sheer spite, he showed no urgency even now, walking over with his usual sluggish gait—a sight that stoked Chōsaburō’s impatience anew.

“Hey. “Hurry… Hurry…”

Even when shouted at, he remained unperturbed and silently emerged from the gate, whereupon Chōsaburō snatched the bucket from him. Since a ladle was attached to the bucket, Chōsaburō drew water with the ladle and poured it into Denbei’s mouth. “Uncle… Uncle….” “Stay with us!” Denbei did not answer. The water from the ladle did not seem to pass through his throat. As if he thought it was only natural, Fujisuke silently watched.

“There’s nothing we can do. Let’s take him to the temple and call a doctor,” said Chōsaburō as he threw the ladle aside.

Fujisuke remained standing there in silence. Somewhere, the cry of an owl could be heard.

四

Kuronuma Denbei’s corpse was carried into the temple grounds. Urgently directing Fujisuke the night watchman—who maintained his usual composure—Chōsaburō sent him to fetch a doctor from the neighborhood. Though termed “neighborhood,” it lay four or five blocks away, meaning Fujisuke would not return quickly. During that interval, temple priests joined efforts to tend to him, but Denbei’s corpse only grew colder still, like ice.

“How dreadful,” said the head priest, as if he had given up.

Chōsaburō let out a silent sigh. He felt as though everything had gone awry and now regretted tonight’s plan. Moreover, this was no time to dwell on such futile complaints. Having resigned himself to the hopelessness of revival, he saw no reason to wait for the doctor—he had to rush to the Kuronuma house at once to report this incident. After entrusting the corpse to the temple priests, he stepped outside.

The temple had lent him a lantern, so Chōsaburō set out swinging it to light his way, but due to the strong wind and his overly hurried rush, the lantern’s flame abruptly went out before he had even gone three or four paces past the temple gate. Finding it troublesome to turn back, Chōsaburō—hurrying forward—pressed on through the darkness when, from somewhere ahead, a man called out in a low voice as though about to collide with him.

“Ah, excuse me…”

Suddenly being called out to, Chōsaburō jolted to a halt, but the figure of his interlocutor remained unseen, swallowed by the darkness.

“Did that samurai die?” asked the man. As Chōsaburō hesitated, unsure how to respond, the man pressed further. “What did that gentleman say?” Chōsaburō couldn’t answer this either. If word were to leak out that Kuronuma Denbei had met an inexplicable, unnatural death in the middle of the street, it could lead to something as grave as the ruin of his family—therefore, he couldn’t give a careless reply. Especially as his mind was racing, dealing with such a man was a nuisance, so he answered curtly.

“I don’t know anything about that.” “Are you the young master?” “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

After dismissing him, Chōsaburō started walking briskly again, but the man persistently followed. “And then, um…” Since the man seemed intent on asking more questions, Chōsaburō grew increasingly irritated. With this came an indescribable sense of unease, and without a word, he broke into a run as if fleeing. Dashing through the darkness, when he reached the corner of Otowa’s main street, he collided with someone once again. “Are you Mr. Uriu’s young master?” called out the other person.

It was Fujisuke. The lantern he carried also seemed to have gone out. “The doctor…” Chōsaburō asked immediately. “I roused him even though he was already asleep.” “He’ll arrive shortly.”

“Well then. I leave it to you.” Chōsaburō kept running until he reached his family’s compound. Now that matters had reached this point, hiding them from his parents was no longer possible. Though he knew he would face harsh reprimands later, he resolved to report everything truthfully first. When he stopped by his house, both his father and mother were stunned by the unforeseen news. His father, Chōhachi, hastily readied himself and bolted out the entrance with his son.

When the two knocked on the neighboring Kuronuma’s gate, Ofuku, the wife, and Oatsu, the daughter, both came out to the entrance. They too were shocked by the unexpected report and immediately resolved to rush to the scene. As it was a household with no men besides the master, Ofuku and Oatsu emerged. Two men and two women, their four lantern flames swaying in the night wind, hurried along the frozen road and arrived at the foot of Mejiro slope—only to find the doctor had come before them. The doctor declared there was no longer any hope of revival.

However, Denbei’s cause of death was unknown. No wounds were found on his body, nor did it appear to be a sudden illness—the doctor tilted his head in puzzlement at this truly mysterious demise. Upon seeing he had his hand on his sword, the doctor tentatively concluded he must have encountered something suspicious and that his heart had ruptured from extreme shock or terror. The head priest of the temple agreed this was likely. Chōhachi and his son sighed as if at their wits’ end. Ofuku burst into tears.

“Well, now it begins.”

Chōhachi placed his hands on his knees and darkened his thick eyebrows. As Chōsaburō had vaguely feared, if this were to become public, it might leave a stain on the Kuronuma household. Even if the dead had to be accepted, it would be disastrous if the household’s succession were to collapse. Chōhachi had to consider remedial measures for the time being.

As a custom of this era, in such cases, they would conceal the deceased’s death and hastily adopt a son for the daughter. Then, they would first submit the adoption registration and subsequently file the notification of his sudden death. From one perspective, it was indeed a transparently obvious scheme, but the group leader, understanding the circumstances, would generally permit that adopted son to inherit the position. For this incident as well, there was no choice but to ensure the Kuronuma household’s safety through that method.

“Due to various matters that will arise hereafter, I must humbly request tonight’s affairs be kept strictly confidential…”

With that, Chōhachi requested the head priest and doctor. They, understanding the circumstances, agreed without objection. The doctor had agreed, and since the temple’s head priest had consented, the other monks were unlikely to speak of it.

The remaining concern was the night watchman Fujisuke. Since it was necessary to secure Fujisuke’s silence as well, Chōhachi ordered his son to search for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. According to the temple’s account, he had gone to fetch the doctor and had not returned. It was confirmed that Fujisuke had knocked on the doctor’s door to inform him of the emergency patient and had encountered Chōsaburō on his return path, but people grew slightly suspicious when he then vanished without returning to the temple. However, as there was no time to spare for such inquiries under these circumstances, Chōhachi consulted with the head priest and decided to have a nearby palanquin summoned to transport Denbei’s corpse under the guise of an emergency patient. To carry out such secretive measures, the darkness of late night proved fortuitous.

With this, the disposal of the corpse was settled for now; however, since Chōhachi could not manage everything by his own decision alone, he confided in four or five particularly close members of the group about the circumstances and decided to proceed with the urgent adoption process for the time being. As mentioned earlier, Kuronuma’s relative Yoshida Kōemon lived in Kyōbashi’s Shirauo-gashi (Whitebait Wharf) and worked at the honorable whitebait storehouse. His second son, Kōnosuke, was twenty years old this year, and since there had already been a private understanding that he would eventually become the husband of Kuronuma’s daughter Oatsu, they decided to promptly formalize the marriage arrangement at this juncture. Of course, Ofuku and Oatsu had no objections regarding this. The Yoshida household, while shocked by the unforeseen incident, graciously consented to Kōnosuke’s adoption as a natural course of action.

All procedures were carried out without a hitch, and with Kōnosuke inheriting the Kuronuma household’s succession without any complications, all involved parties finally breathed a sigh of relief. Since Denbei’s death had been officially reported as sudden, there was no autopsy conducted, and the corpse was sent directly to the family temple.

Thus, this bizarre incident was buried from darkness into deeper darkness, but a cloud of unresolved suspicions continued to weigh on the hearts of those involved.

Chōsaburō had been severely scolded by his parents for becoming involved in such an unexpected incident, but it was now beyond remedy. What concerned them more was Fujisuke’s situation—should the secret of that night be spread to the world through his mouth, it would cause great trouble. The next morning, Chōhachi sent Chōsaburō to check whether Fujisuke was present, but since he had not returned since the previous evening, [Chōsaburō] came back empty-handed.

“There’s something truly strange about this.” Chōhachi voiced the suspicion again today.

It was the morning after Denbei’s funeral had been held.

Since that incident, a cold wind had been blowing spitefully every day, but this morning it ceased, and the sky suddenly took on a springlike quality. The nightingale that Chōhachi proudly kept had also been singing in its cage since morning.

“Shall I go check again?” said Chōsaburō, gauging his father’s expression. “Hmm.” “The fact that Fujisuke’s whereabouts have been unknown since that night is strange no matter how you think about it.” “I wonder if he was killed too.”

“Well,” Chōsaburō thought. “Was he killed?” “He might’ve been killed.”

“If that’s the case, then a body should have turned up somewhere by now…”

“That’s true too…” “But there’s no reason he’d disappear without cause.” “Could he have feared being implicated?” Regarding Kuronuma Denbei’s violent death, it was possible that Fujisuke had fled fearing involvement due to having been present at the scene—but since Chōsaburō had also witnessed it alongside him, they ought to have been able to clear their own names through testimony. He was no woman or child but a forty-year-old man in his prime; such a person wouldn’t normally vanish over such matters. Yet perhaps he’d proven an unexpected coward, gripped by singular terror. In any case, Chōhachi concluded another investigation was necessary.

“Then go and check. “If he still hasn’t returned，go and ask the neighbors as well. “But be careful not to let our secret be discovered.”

“Understood.”

Chōsaburō promptly stepped outside, and the late January sky had grown ever more brilliantly clear, with the treetops of Gokoku-ji’s forest hazed faintly pink. When he came out onto Otowa Street, he encountered the craftsman Genzō from Ichikawa-ya.

“Master Kuronuma met an abrupt end, didn’t he?” Genzō offered as greeting. “Perfect timing bumping into you here.” “How’s the night watchman Fujisuke been lately?” Chōsaburō inquired casually.

“Well, that’s the strange thing—he’s been missing since the evening of the twentieth day of the New Year.” “The neighborhood is worried too, but there’s still no word.” The night watchman—commonly called a *bantaro*—typically resided next to the *jishinban* guard post and operated a hardware store or similar business; however, in this town, the night watchman lived within an alley. Fujisuke had once operated a small shop on the main street; however, three years prior, after his wife passed away and there was no one left to manage the shop, he obtained the townspeople’s understanding, transferred the business to another person, retreated deep into an alley, and continued performing miscellaneous tasks for the neighborhood as before.

“Fujisuke had a daughter, didn’t he?” Chōsaburō asked again. “There is a daughter named Ofuyu,” Genzō nodded. “She turned fifteen this year—a quiet girl with passable looks—but sadly lost sight in her right eye after smallpox struck it when she was a child.” “That daughter must be worried too.” “Of course she’s worried—she’s drawn oracle slips and consulted fortune-tellers—but nothing concrete seems to have come of it.”

Having heard this much, it seemed there was no further way to investigate the matter, but in any case, after reconsidering and deciding to at least confirm the state of Fujisuke’s house before returning, Chōsaburō requested guidance—whereupon Genzō took the lead and entered an alley near the guard post. Chōsaburō followed behind, stepping along the gutter boards of an alley so dim it might as well have been dusk even at noon.

The alley’s entrance was narrow, but deeper within lay a considerably spacious open area where paper-making workshops characteristic of the area could be seen. Fujisuke’s house also had a small garden with a single peach tree standing there. “Fuu-chan, are you there?” Genzō called out from the front, but there was no response from within. After he called three times in succession, Ofuyu—having heard the voice—emerged from the well at the back, wiping her wet hands on her apron. Ofuyu was sturdily built for fifteen and, as Genzō had described, her appearance was that of a fair-skinned girl decidedly above average. Whether there was any impairment in her right eye remained unclear to Chōsaburō.

“Still no word about your father, huh?” Genzō asked, sitting on the edge of the veranda.

Ofuyu nodded silently with a sorrowful look, but when she caught a glimpse of the young samurai with a forelock standing behind Genzō, she hurriedly lowered her eyes. "This young master is called Uriu-san and resides next to the late Mr. Kuronuma’s estate," Genzō formally introduced Chōsaburō. "I came to guide him here because he said he wanted to meet your father and ask something, but if your father still has not come back, there’s nothing to be done."

Ofuyu remained silent, her gaze still lowered. Whether it was a bush warbler in the thicket or one in a cage, even here, the sound of distant singing could be heard. Even in Edo, spring here was peaceful. In the vacant lot of the paper-making workshop, a single child’s small kite was flying. While looking back at it, Genzō began to speak again.

“But well, something’ll come to light soon enough.” “Even those spirited away usually return within ten days or half a month.” “No need to fret over it.” It remained unclear whether these half-hearted comforts satisfied her, but Ofuyu stayed silent. What caught Genzō’s notice was how she seemed to steal occasional glances at the young samurai’s face. “Fuu-chan.” “Got a light for my pipe?” Ofuyu stood up as if remembering something, brought smoldering embers to the tobacco tray, whereupon Genzō pulled a cylindrical tobacco case from his waistband and began smoking.

V Having confirmed the state of Fujisuke’s household and resolved there was no further way to investigate, Chōsaburō signaled Genzō with his eyes to depart—whereupon Genzō promptly stowed his tobacco pouch and stood up.

“Well then, Fuu-chan, I’ll come again.”

Ofuyu once again silently bowed in acknowledgment.

Chōsaburō felt slightly suspicious about why she remained completely silent despite not being mute, but without dwelling on it deeply, he stepped outside—whereupon Genzō also followed him out.

“That girl is truly pitiable.”

“Yeah,” said Chōsaburō sympathetically. “Is there anything else you require…?” Genzō asked. “No, I’ll be heading back now.” “I’m sorry to have troubled you during your busy time.”

“Oh, it’s nothing….” “Our shop has been idle lately, so we spend every day idling around.” “The busy time is during the year-end season—once New Year comes, there’s no work at all.”

“That’s probably right.”

He started to say something but suddenly turned around to find Ofuyu standing at the alley entrance. She seemed to be intently watching them, the edge of her wet apron held between her teeth, her single eye as if imbued with hidden meaning. Genzō too noticed and looked back, but said nothing. Ofuyu kept watching until the two parted ways in the middle of the road, then turned briskly on her heel and disappeared into the alley.

Chōsaburō returned home and truthfully reported everything, whereupon his father Chōhachi simply nodded in silence. Now they could only wait for news to emerge naturally about whether Fujisuke had indeed been killed by someone or would safely reappear from somewhere. Chōhachi cautioned his son and instructed him to continue investigating Fujisuke’s safety without negligence.

At fifteen years old this year, Chōsaburō, still living in his family’s quarters, kept a desk in a narrow three-tatami room near the entrance. After leaving his father’s presence and returning to his room, he once again began to ponder Fujisuke’s circumstances.

Is Fujisuke alive, or has he died? In connection with that, what came to mind was his actions that night. Upon seeing a samurai from the Edo Castle supply group—who lived nearby—meet a suspicious unnatural death, he as the night watchman should have naturally been startled and raised an alarm, yet unexpectedly he had remained calm. Rather than composed, he had appeared almost indifferent. Because Chōsaburō had been impatiently giving instructions, he seemed to be working with visible reluctance. There must be some underlying reason for this, Chōsaburō thought.

He was driven by Chōsaburō and reluctantly went to fetch a doctor. On his way back, he disappeared. There had also been someone who collided with Chōsaburō in the darkness and spoken to him. Who could that man be? His mind had been racing so much that he parted without properly replying—could that man too be connected to this incident? Chōsaburō wondered again: had he captured Fujisuke and taken him away, or had he killed Fujisuke and hidden the corpse somewhere? Moreover, as it had happened in darkness, he couldn’t make out the person’s face or attire at all.

The death of Kuronuma Denbei—the disappearance of Fujisuke—the suspicious man in the darkness—Chōsaburō tried connecting these three elements in various ways, but with his mind still inexperienced in worldly matters, he could not find any clue to unravel the mystery.

When afternoon had passed, Kuronuma Kōnosuke came from the neighboring residence. “We have caused you extraordinary trouble on this occasion, and I am utterly at a loss to express my gratitude,” he said politely to Chōhachi. Though there were several others in the same group, it remained true that Chōhachi had exerted himself most regarding this matter—both because they were immediate neighbors with the Uriu household and due to their relationship of specially maintained closeness over many years.

“Not at all—you yourself must have been through so much,” Chōhachi also bowed in acknowledgment. Funerals are troublesome affairs for any household. Given that Kōnosuke, as a sudden adoptee unfamiliar with household affairs and barely acquainted with even the faces of people in the group, had endured double the mental strain, Chōhachi sympathized deeply on that point. The words “You must have been through so much” were not a perfunctory greeting. “Thank you very much. Thanks to you, everything has been settled without issue,” Kōnosuke offered another greeting.

“So then… how is Madam…?” “She is still bedridden.” Despite being ill, Oatsu—startled by her father’s sudden crisis—had not only rushed to the scene with her mother but also forced herself to stay up the following day, causing her condition to grow increasingly severe. She had remained bedridden ever since, being nursed by her mother O-tomi and the new son-in-law Kōnosuke. She could not even attend her father’s funeral. With funerals to manage and ailing family members, one could imagine the commotion in the Kuronuma household—Chōhachi found himself increasingly unable to contain his sympathy.

“In relation to this matter, as tomorrow corresponds to the eve of the seventh-day memorial service, I intend to conduct a humble Buddhist ceremony. Though it may prove burdensome, I would like to request the attendance of yourself and your wife, as well as your son...” “Not at all—your consideration leaves us deeply grateful,” Chōhachi replied. “Our household shall certainly attend to offer incense.” Just as the formal exchange concluded, his daughter Okiwa brought in tea. Though their acquaintance remained recent, guest and host gradually relaxed into conversation.

“Are you aware…? The Gokoku-ji incident…” said Kōnosuke, his voice slightly lowered as he watched Okiwa’s retreating figure. “In front of Gokoku-ji… I know nothing about that matter at all,” said Chōhachi while drinking tea. “Has the white butterfly appeared again?”

“That is correct,” Kōnosuke nodded.

“What? The white butterfly has truly appeared…?” “In front of Gokoku-ji... in Higashi-Aoyagi-chō, there is said to be a hatamoto samurai named Nogami Sadayu...” “As I have only recently come here, I am not well acquainted with the details—but I was informed it is a 300-koku residence.” “Last night, past the Hour of the Boar, two townsfolk from Ōtsuka Nakachō happened to pass by that gatefront together... and they say they encountered that white butterfly…”

“Hmm.”

Chōhachi groaned and sighed while gazing at his companion’s face, whereupon Kōnosuke continued his explanation. The pair consisted of the wife and apprentice from Echigoya, a rice shop in Ōtsuka Nakachō. As they were about to pass by the gate of the Nogami residence, a single butterfly emerged from the darkness. It fluttered up to the wife’s eyes, and she collapsed silently on the spot. As the apprentice stood bewildered, someone fortunately came upon them. Together they tended to her and took her to a nearby guard post. There she regained consciousness, yet remained unable to comprehend what had occurred. She claimed that the moment a large white butterfly appeared before her eyes, she was overcome by a dreamlike trance and remembered nothing thereafter.

All of this was merely hearsay that Kōnosuke had picked up, and he did not know the detailed facts; regardless, the rumor of a strange white butterfly appearing in the dark night and frightening passersby had caught his attention. After finishing that story, he spoke again. “I had heard rumors of the white butterfly since my time at my family home in Kyōbashi, and though it was said the Hatchōbori officials had been conducting discreet investigations, seeing it now makes me think it must indeed be true.”

“That must be true,” Chōhachi nodded. “In fact, my daughter has reportedly seen it.” “On the night your father passed away, my son Chōsaburō apparently witnessed something similar.” “The craftsman from Ichikawa-ya has also had sightings, they say.” “With multiple witnesses beyond just one person, it can hardly be dismissed as groundless.”

Though he had said that, even Chōhachi could not explain what exactly it was. Even Kōnosuke did not understand. As people of this era who believed in so-called principles beyond reason—that such mysteries could indeed exist in the vast world—they made no attempt to force an explanation. If one were to rashly try to ascertain its true nature, they might invite a strange calamity like what befell Kuronuma Denbei. It was Chōhachi’s opinion that one should let sleeping gods lie—there was no need to meddle willingly in such affairs.

He had admonished his son Chōsaburō based on that opinion, and now by hinting at the same view to Kōnosuke, he implicitly cautioned the young samurai against adventurous behavior—to which Kōnosuke listened obediently.

After Kōnosuke left, Okiwa whispered to her father.

“I hear the white butterfly has appeared again in Higashi-Aoyagi-chō.” “Were you eavesdropping?” said Chōhachi, his tone tinged with displeasure. “Eavesdropping is improper behavior.”

Okiwa’s face turned red, and she fell silent.

The following night marked Kuronuma’s memorial vigil, which Chōhachi and his wife attended with Chōsaburō. Fifteen or sixteen other guests had also gathered, most already privy to the rumors from Higashi-Aoyagi-chō. Some even ventured that it might be Christian sorcery at work. Though mindful of the bereaved family’s presence, the guests found themselves compelled by morbid curiosity to revisit whispers of how that night’s death might connect to the uncanny butterfly—their restraint warring with fascination. Having been sternly admonished by his father and constrained by youthful decorum, Chōsaburō maintained silence throughout, yet strained to catch every murmured word of their speculations.

Over half a month passed without incident. With February’s arrival, warm days continued one after another, and the weather grew so mild that real butterflies might soon emerge. On the afternoon of the twelfth day, Chōsaburō went out to Ushigome on his father’s errand, but after spending some time there, by the time he began his return, the spring day was already nearing dusk. As he approached the foot of Edogawa Bridge, he stepped on and broke his sandal thong. His home was not particularly far away, but walking in that state was inconvenient. As Chōsaburō leaned against the bridge railing and began twisting a piece of tissue paper to replace the broken sandal thong, he caught the faint sound of voices at the edge of his hearing. Since it seemed somehow familiar to him, Chōsaburō raised his face from where he had been looking down, and when he did, two men were passing by, talking about something as they headed toward Otowa. One was a chūgen retainer of the estate. The other was a slender man who appeared to be a townsman. From just their retreating figures, he could not discern who they were. In that instant, Chōsaburō suddenly remembered.

Ah! That voice from before!

While rushing through the darkness to report Kuronuma Denbei’s death, he had collided with a man—recalling that the voice of this mysterious man was indeed the same one, Chōsaburō’s chest throbbed strangely. Since the two had already passed by, he could not determine whether it had been the voice of the chūgen retainer or the townsman, but he was certain that one of them was the man from that night. Moreover, he was unfortunately in the middle of rethreading his sandal’s thong, so he couldn’t immediately follow their trail. While Chōsaburō clicked his tongue in frustration, the two crossed the bridge without looking back.

By the time he hurriedly finished rethreading the sandal thong, the two figures were already a quarter block ahead. Keeping his eyes fixed to avoid losing them, Chōsaburō quickened his pace and pursued them. When he emerged onto Otowa’s main street and neared the ninth-block corner, a woman stood waiting as if anticipating someone. She appeared to have been waiting for Chōsaburō—upon seeing him, she hurried over, making him stop short. The woman was Ofuyu, the night watchman’s daughter.

“I must apologize for my rudeness the other day,” Ofuyu greeted in a small voice. And then, she silently pointed to the alley behind them. Not understanding what she meant, Chōsaburō silently gazed in the direction she pointed and saw the figures of a man and woman standing at the temple gate in the side street. Since twilight had not yet fully fallen, the figures of the two could be roughly discerned even from a distance, but when Chōsaburō realized the man was none other than Kuronuma Kōnosuke and the woman was his elder sister Okiwa, he felt a surge of unease and unconsciously took a few steps forward, peering intently at the pair in the side street.

Why were Kōnosuke and his elder sister lingering around there at this hour? Had they met by chance along the way and stopped to talk? Or had they arranged to meet there beforehand? If it were the former, there would be no particular issue—but if the latter, it would be no trivial matter. Kōnosuke had become the Kuronuma family's adopted son-in-law and had not yet performed the wedding ceremony, yet he was formally betrothed to Oatsu. If Kōnosuke and his own sister were secretly meeting—if by some chance this were true and rumors spread—what would become of them? In any case, a scandal would be unavoidable.

As he pondered this, Chōsaburō kept watching from a distance when Ofuyu whispered again imploringly. “Those two… they’ve been meeting like this lately…” “Not just today?” Chōsaburō pressed with mounting unease. Ofuyu nodded.

As the evening cold seeped into his bones, Chōsaburō shuddered. Though he had been following the chūgen retainer and townsman, Chōsaburō now kept gazing at the side street as if he had forgotten all about them entirely. Ofuyu watched him with knowing intensity—his pensive face framed by a stray lock of hair that trembled faintly in the dusk wind.

At Mejiro’s Fudō Hall, the six bells of dusk rang out, and as if startled by the sound, Kōnosuke and Okiwa’s figures drew apart. As Okiwa alone seemed to hurry back, leaving the man behind, Chōsaburō likewise left quickly, as if fearing his sister would spot him.

Six When I think about it，there are indeed suspicious aspects.

After returning home, Chōsaburō thought again. Kuronuma’s daughter Oatsu had not yet fully recovered and remained bedridden even after that. Under the pretext of these visits, his elder sister Okiwa went there nearly every day. Of course, being neighbors and having always been on close terms, Father, Mother, and Chōsaburō had not found it particularly strange—but now, one could not help speculating that Okiwa’s daily visits might conceal some other purpose.

Though he had come as a son-in-law, due to Oatsu’s illness, Kōnosuke had not yet held the wedding ceremony. Into this situation, his sister barged in every day and grew closer to Kōnosuke. Moreover, according to Ofuyu’s account, the two were said to meet occasionally at the temple gatefront below Mejiro slope. When considering all these circumstances together, a certain suspicion grew increasingly strong. Even as he dismissed it as unthinkable for his sister to do such a thing, Chōsaburō could no longer deny it entirely.

However, he couldn't recklessly disclose that to his father or mother. In any case, believing it necessary to further ascertain the truth, Chōsaburō resolved to keep utterly silent about today's discovery. Okiwa returned home not long after. According to her account, she had gone shopping to Otowa's main street.

There was no reason for someone who had gone shopping to Otowa’s main street to deliberately detour to the temple gatefront in the side alley. If she was lying about that, then his sister’s actions grew even more suspicious, Chōsaburō thought.

Two or three days later. After finishing his evening meal and leaving for night school as usual, Chōsaburō recognized by the pale moonlight the retreating figure of a man walking four or five *ken* ahead as his neighbor Kuronuma Kōnosuke. Where could he be going? The thought that Kōnosuke might be luring his elder sister out again for a secret meeting at that temple gatefront occurred to him, and Chōsaburō felt compelled to follow. Muffling his sandals’ sound, he stealthily pursued Kōnosuke’s figure—but instead of heading toward the side street, it turned into a narrow alley along the road.

In the depths of the alley lay the house of Fujisuke the night watchman. Was he visiting that house, or was he heading to another? Driven by new interest, Chōsaburō stepped further into the alley. Since he had visited once before, Chōsaburō first stealthily approached the front of Fujisuke’s house and peered inside—but whether by intent or chance, the lantern’s flame was extinguished, leaving everything in darkness. In that darkness, a woman’s voice was heard.

When he realized it wasn’t Ofuyu’s voice, Chōsaburō grew puzzled anew. Though low, the woman’s voice carried such intensity that even to the listener outside, it reached in fragmented bursts. “There’s no one as heartless as you. Mark my words.” Kōnosuke seemed to be placating her, but his voice remained too faint to discern. After a pause, her voice resurfaced. “It’s abhorrent. Unbearable… I won’t be deceived any longer.” “No—I refuse.” “Someone like you…” “No—it’s abhorrent.” “I won’t abandon Yui—so steel yourself!” “…I don’t care if I die… I’ll kill you too—I swear it…”

Chōsaburō was startled. Who on earth was that woman, and what grudge did she hold against Kōnosuke? As he listened with bated breath, the woman spoke again in a threatening tone. “You should have known long ago that a single word from me could end your life.” “Even if becoming the Kuronumas’ adopted son was unavoidable… getting cozy with the girl next door too…” “No, I know.” Kōnosuke seemed to be making excuses again, but still, none of it reached beyond the threshold. As Chōsaburō, growing slightly impatient, tried to take a step or two closer to the veranda, someone from the dim shadows tugged at his sleeve. Startled, he turned to look and saw that it appeared to be Ofuyu.

“Stop,” the woman said in a low voice.

That was indeed Ofuyu. As Chōsaburō, having been suddenly addressed, hesitated slightly, a sound like someone moving could be heard from within the dark house. Ofuyu once again grabbed Chōsaburō’s sleeve and led him into the shadow of the peach tree as if forcibly pulling him back when someone emerged onto the veranda. Though it was dark, she seemed to know her way, and when Chōsaburō glimpsed through the pale moonlight the figure quickly slipping into geta and stepping outside, he saw she was a slender woman with a graceful build. As he wondered whether this woman resented Kōnosuke and had been threatening him, her figure vanished like a ghost beyond the alley.

While Chōsaburō and Ofuyu silently watched her depart, someone soon came quietly down from the veranda again. It was Kōnosuke, walking out to the street with a pensive gait that seemed drained of vigor. As Chōsaburō nearly unconsciously moved to follow him, Ofuyu stopped him once more. “Stop.”

Chōsaburō did not understand why she was stopping him. As if admonishing him, Ofuyu whispered.

“They’re frightening people.”

Chōsaburō still couldn’t understand why they were frightening. However, when he considered that woman’s words—"A single word from me could end your life"—he could imagine that some dreadful secret lay hidden within them.

“Why are they frightening?” Chōsaburō asked. “They’re somehow frightening people.” “My father might have been killed by them too,” Ofuyu whispered in a hushed voice, clinging to the young samurai. In that instant, once again, a shadow suddenly appeared. Though it was hard to make out clearly in the darkness, a townsman-like man with a cloth covering his cheeks—who seemed to have crawled out from under the floorboards like a cat—quickly slipped out to the street. He was as nimble as a cat.

Chōsaburō was taken aback, and Ofuyu also seemed surprised, cowering and clinging to him. The inside of the house was pitch black, but outside, a pale moon was shining. The figure of the man illuminated by that light appeared to be the townsman he had encountered recently at Edogawabashi Bridge, so Chōsaburō felt unexpectedly surprised once again. At the same time, he almost unconsciously pushed Ofuyu aside and dashed out after the man.

When he peered by the pale moonlight, the woman was heading north along the main street. Kōnosuke followed after her. The townsman-like man also seemed to be following after them. As it was still early evening, the townhouses on both sides had their shops open and there were sparse passersby. Because of that, Kōnosuke did not immediately try to catch up to the woman. Since the man was following at a considerable distance, Chōsaburō decided to imitate him, keeping an equally considerable distance as he trailed them.

The woman turned left midway into an unlit alleyway flanked by farmers' fields on both sides. When they reached that point, Kōnosuke abruptly quickened his pace and closed in behind her. Though she must have heard his footsteps, the woman showed no intention of fleeing—instead turning calmly as if to converse with her pursuer. Seeing this, the townsman flattened himself against the earth in mimicry of concealment. Chōsaburō followed suit, pressing into the soil until the woman suddenly shoved Kōnosuke aside and staggered two paces forward. Kōnosuke lunged after her, seizing her collar. Without a word exchanged, they wrestled—whether he meant to throttle her or drag her down remained unclear—locked in silent struggle.

The townsman who had been lying prostrate in the field sprang out and rushed toward them like a bird in flight, startling them into instant separation. As the woman scrambled to escape and the townsman lunged to seize her, Kōnosuke stepped forward to block his path. While the two men grappled with each other, the woman fled headlong into the night.

Be that as it may with the woman, Chōsaburō found himself perplexed about how to handle the two men struggling before his eyes. Under normal circumstances, assisting Kōnosuke would have been the obvious course of action, but in this situation, Chōsaburō couldn’t determine which was correct—to help Kōnosuke or the townsman. He had risen to his feet but could only hold his breath and watch the unfolding scene when the townsman slipped in his sandals and fell to his knees. Kōnosuke pushed him down and fled. The man immediately jumped up and gave chase, whereupon Kōnosuke plunged into the fields and fled without choosing a path. The pursuer and the pursued disappeared into the shadows of the zelkova grove.

What had happened and how—Chōsaburō had no idea at all. He no longer had the energy to follow their trail and just stood there in a daze, but judging by his earlier actions, that townsman was no ordinary man. He surmised he was likely some kind of okappiki working under the Hatchōbori dōshin. That there was some secret between the woman and Kōnosuke could also be dimly inferred from their earlier exchange. When he connected these thoughts, it seemed they had committed some grave crime and were now being pursued by an okappiki.

He did not know who the woman was, but Kōnosuke lived next door and was someone he exchanged glances with daily. Not only was it unexpected that he could be a serious criminal, but when Chōsaburō considered that his own sister seemed to be on intimate terms with that criminal, he felt as though his surroundings had abruptly darkened. He could no longer bring himself to attend his evening classes and simply returned home as he was. He did not speak of that night’s events to his father or mother. He had wanted to confide privately in his father beforehand, but given their house’s cramped quarters, he feared his sister might overhear them if he did so. Thus, he remained silent and went to bed that night.

Impatiently waiting for dawn to break, he questioned O-An, the maid sweeping in front of the Kuronuma residence’s gate, and learned that Kōnosuke had not returned home the previous evening. Had he finally been captured by the constable’s assistant, or had he escaped and hidden himself somewhere? Either way, it seemed matters would not rest as they were.

His father, Chōhachi, attended Edo Castle on duty. Chōsaburō went to his usual swordsmanship practice and returned around noon, whereupon his mother O-Yoshi spoke while eating lunch.

“I heard Mr. Kōnosuke next door hasn’t returned since last night.”

"What could have happened?" Chōsaburō asked innocently. "He might have gone out with friends or something," O-Yoshi said with a laugh. "He hasn't been here long yet, but it seems he has many friends around Kyōbashi. After all, they say those O-Naya people have plenty of pleasure-seekers among them."

"He came as a groom and hasn't even been here a month yet—it's bad for him to go out carousing at night, don't you think?"

“It certainly is…” O-Yoshi nodded. “But even though he’s a groom, given how Oatsu-san is…” “He must’ve been invited by friends or something and gone off somewhere.” Since his elder sister Okiwa and younger sister Otoshi were also nearby, taking their meals together, Chōsaburō stole a glance at his sister’s face during this exchange—and whether it was his imagination or not, Okiwa’s complexion appeared somewhat pale.

That evening, Okiwa also went missing.

Seven

“It’s been lovely weather today,” said the stylish wife in her mid-twenties.

“Hmm.” “The First Horse Day and the Second Horse Day are both huge successes.” “I also took a look on my way back from the morning bath—Inari shrine’s been packed since dawn,” answered the thirty-two- or thirty-three-year-old husband.

“Well then, I’ll go pay a visit quickly, offer the sacred sake and offerings, and come back.”

The wife tightened her obi and began preparing to go out. This couple was Yoshigorō, an Edo-period detective living in Mikawachō, Kanda, and his wife Okuni. Having the maid carry the sacred sake and offerings, Okuni went out the front, and just as she did, a man showed his face from the back door.

“Boss.” “You in?” With no subordinate present to receive visitors, Yoshigorō called out from before the long hibachi. “That you, Tome?” “Well, get in here.” “Mornin’ to you.” Tomekichi entered through the back door. “Ain’t nobody here to set up the hibachi.” “Come right over here,” Yoshigorō said, seating him across the long hibachi before dropping his voice low. “So?” “About that business...”

“I’ve disgraced myself—I bungled things the other night…” Tomekichi scratched his temple. “But Boss, I’ve pretty much figured out most of it. The wanted woman Okame has changed her name to Okika and made her nest in the hatamoto mansion of Satō Magoshirō in Otowa.” “Satō Magoshirō… He must be a minor hatamoto.” “But even so, he holds a 400-koku stipend. He was assigned to Nagasaki for about three years and returned last autumn. It’s said Okame no Okika followed after that and slipped into the mansion.”

“Who did you hear it from?” “I pressed one of the mansion’s servants and got it out of him.” “Probably because he has some shady dealings himself—but seems he occasionally gives those servants pocket money,” said Tomekichi with a brief laugh before suddenly furrowing his brows. “I’ve got that much figured out, but what comes next still doesn’t add up.” “Okika’s got a secret lover.” “Turns out it’s some young pup named Kōnosuke who recently married into the Kuronuma household at the provisions office mansion in Otowa.”

“Where is Kōnosuke’s family home?”

“He is the second son of the Yoshida family’s O-Naya at Shirauo-gashi.” “So you’re saying Okika and Kōnosuke have some connection with that butterfly?” Yoshigorō pressed again. “That’s where it gets thorny,” Tomekichi scratched his temple. “My real job’s the butterfly case—Okika and Kōnosuke are just side branches. But when I dig up something like this by accident, I can’t help getting drawn in… Right now, it feels like those two are tied to the butterfly business… yet not quite…” “How’d you judge this, Boss?”

“I can’t make a judgment yet either,” Yoshigorō said quietly, puffing on his tobacco. “And what about Fujisuke the night watchman? Hasn’t this one come back either?”

"He hasn't come back. I'm certain this guy's connected to the butterfly case, but... After all, he's dodging because of the taboo." "Since the target's definitely dodging, we'll have to calmly think it through."

Yoshigorō continued smoking his tobacco. Tomekichi also took out his pipe case. The boss and his subordinate glared at each other in silence for a while until the lively sound of drums from the neighborhood’s midday festival resounded, as if to disrupt their train of thought. “Has Kōnosuke not returned to his own home since that night?” Yoshigorō asked while tapping out his pipe. “It seems this one hasn’t returned either,” Tomekichi answered. “He must’ve hidden himself somewhere when he nearly got caught by me.”

“But Kōnosuke is still a samurai, after all.” “He’s of different standing from that night watchman geezer—he can’t keep hiding forever.” “Do that and his house gets dissolved.” “The Kuronumas really bagged themselves a runaway groom, eh?” “Might be holed up at his family’s place in Shirauo-gashi, you think?” “That’s what I figured too—snuck over there at dawn to peek, but no signs of him…” “Either way, we’ll keep our eyes peeled.”

“I’m counting on you.” “Understood.”

“If you need more hands, want me to lend someone?” “Hmm,” Tomekichi pondered. “A big group might just stir trouble.” “Better try solo a bit longer.” With a tone guarding against rivals stealing credit, Tomekichi hurried out. Yoshigorō took up his pipe again, quietly blowing smoke—then suddenly tapped it out and rose just as lattice doors rattled open, Okuni and the maid returning home.

“Hey.” “Get me my kimono.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Okuni asked. “Hmm.” “Tome was just here, but I can’t leave this matter in his hands alone.” “I’ll step out for a bit myself.”

Yoshigorō also promptly changed into his kimono and went out. Since he had stated he was leaving for work, his wife no longer attempted to ask where he was headed.

It was the afternoon of that day.

The spring sky of mid-lunar February hung hazy with a pale purple hue, obscuring even Mount Fuji from view across Suruga-cho. From Nihonbashi Fish Market emerged a young man wearing a headband tied at the front, walking briskly with vigor. He appeared to be a wholesaler's apprentice, having placed a large sea bream in a blue basket that he carried balanced atop his head. Weaving through the crowd, he hurried south across Nihonbashi Bridge until reaching roughly its midpoint when he abruptly halted. Without pause, he tucked the fish basket under his arm and vaulted over the railing into the river below with a tremendous splash, leaving passersby gasping in astonishment.

Why did that vigorous young man from the Fish Market suddenly throw himself off Nihonbashi Bridge? Bystanders unaware of the details could only clamor in confusion, but among them, Yoshigorō of Kanda Mikawachō was the sole person who’d mostly pieced together what had happened. He wasn’t sure where he’d been walking or how he’d gotten there, but he arrived just in time to witness this shocking incident unfold. Yoshigorō thought the young man had leapt into the river because of the sea bream he carried.

The Tokugawa family had officials known as Okuraya. They were responsible for handling fish and vegetables to be served at the shogun’s table—even for fish alone, there were specialized divisions like the Sea Bream Okuraya, Icefish Okuraya, and Ayu Okuraya. Their privilege lay in being permitted to requisition any fish they deemed of suitable quality at will. An Okuraya official had only to point at a fish and declare, “This is for official use,” and from that moment, it had to be surrendered regardless of protest. It remained unclear whether payment would even be made. There were often cases where the fish were simply taken away. For this reason, the people of the riverbank feared the Okuraya and remained perpetually on guard.

The young worker, in the midst of delivering a large sea bream for an order, had unfortunately encountered the Sea Bream Okuraya in the middle of Nihonbashi Bridge. Whether he feared the dire consequences of having it confiscated or resented having it seized by those wielding authority, in any case, the impetuous young worker—unwilling to surrender the single sea bream to the Okuraya—leapt into the river with his fish basket. Since he was raised by the riverbank, he likely knew how to swim. Especially since it was broad daylight, Yoshigorō assumed there was no worry of drowning and showed little surprise.

He focused not on the young man who had thrown himself into the river but on the one who had driven him to it—a samurai around forty with a pleasant demeanor, who seemed to have largely discerned the circumstances behind the leap and walked past without looking back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Yoshigorō turned back and chased after that samurai. When he had crossed the bridge and reached the Muromachi area, he called out in a low voice. “Excuse me, Mr. Imai...” Before the samurai who had stopped at the call, Yoshigorō slightly bent his waist and politely bowed.

“Sir,” Yoshigorō said with a bow. “It has been some time since I last paid my respects.” “Yoshigorō of Mikawa-cho?” The samurai smiled faintly once more. “You saw what happened just now? We’re cursed to play the villains these days.” The samurai was Imai Riemon of the Sea Bream Okuraya. Though he had done nothing overtly wrong, Yoshigorō’s presence—having witnessed how his mere authority drove a young man to leap into the river—clearly unsettled him. As Imai offered this self-deprecating remark about their roles, Yoshigorō dismissed it with a wave and pressed onward.

“It may be rude to ask such a thing in passing,” said Yoshigorō with a bow, “but you were acquainted with Mr. Yoshida of the Icefish Okuraya, were you not?” “Yoshida…” Riemon tilted his head slightly. “The Icefish Okuraya?” “Precisely.” Yoshigorō maintained his deferential posture. “Might I inquire further—does this Mr. Yoshida know a hatamoto named Satō residing in Otowa?” “Satō of Otowa…” “A gentleman who returned from Nagasaki around last autumn…” “Hmm.” Riemon’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “You mean Satō Magoshirō? I’ve had some dealings with him myself, but Yoshida appears far closer. His wife is said to be related to the Satō family, you see…”

“Ah, so they’re relatives?” “Then they must be close…” “What’s this?” “Do you have business with that Satō?” Riemon inquired while scrutinizing his face. Knowing full well Yoshigorō was no ordinary man, he seemed partly swayed by curiosity. “No, nothing worth calling business…” Yoshigorō evaded. “When I passed that mansion recently, I happened to see Mr. Yoshida’s son…”

“The second son, I presume. That one was hastily adopted into the Kuronuma household of the Okuwa Group, I hear…” “I have also heard such rumors. Oh, I’m terribly sorry for detaining you while you’re in such a hurry. Well then, I’ll take my leave here.” Riemon watched Yoshigorō’s retreating figure—once again bowing politely before leaving—with a suspicious gaze. He must have thought it slightly odd that someone would stop a person in the middle of the street only to ask such a simple question and then leave. Moreover, for Yoshigorō, even just uncovering the relationship between the Yoshida household and the Satō mansion had been a valuable clue. The claim that he had seen Yoshida’s son in front of the Satō mansion was, of course, nothing more than a spur-of-the-moment fabrication.

Given that Yoshida and Satō were relatives, it was no surprise that Yoshida’s second son Kōnosuke came and went from that mansion. And the fact that he had grown close to a woman named Ochika who lived in that mansion was something that could easily happen. However, Yoshigorō thought he needed to investigate where Kōnosuke had hidden himself without being captured by Tomekichi.

He then headed to Kyōbashi and visited the Yoshida residence at Icefish Riverbank. Of course, since he couldn’t very well request to be received formally through the main entrance, he patiently loitered around the area, lying in wait for male servants or maids emerging from the house and approaching them under various pretexts to investigate—but Kōnosuke did not appear to be hiding at his family home.

"It’s darkest under the lantern—he might still be hiding in Satō’s mansion after all."

Yoshigorō had temporarily returned to his home in Kanda and was about to eat dinner and set out again when Tomekichi came rushing in, looking flustered.

“Boss, are you heading out?” “Hmm. Tonight I’ll go stake out Otowa.” “Then it’s good we didn’t miss each other. There’s been another incident,” Tomekichi said, furrowing his brow.

“I hear the daughter of the Kuronuma household has died…” “She was a daughter from a respectable household.” “That’s correct.” “Her name is Oatsu, and she is eighteen this year.” “After her father died, they hastily adopted Kōnosuke as a son-in-law, but since Oatsu was bedridden with illness, the wedding kept being postponed—and then Kōnosuke ran away from home and hasn’t returned.” “Because of that, Oatsu apparently committed suicide.” “She committed suicide?” asked Tomekichi. “I don’t know if it was a dagger or a short sword,” began Tomekichi before lowering his voice. “But they say she sat up in bed and stabbed her throat.” “And another strange thing—they say that in the Uriu household next to Kuronuma, a daughter named Okiwa has run away from home.”

“Kōnosuke runs away from home. The woman named Oatsu, who was supposed to become a wife, commits suicide. And the daughter next door runs away from home. Things keep getting tangled up worse and worse. So why did those women commit suicide? Why did they run away from home? Don’t you understand the reason for all that?” “After all, it’s a disturbance that occurred within a samurai group compound—details are impossible to ascertain. Even uncovering this much was no easy task.”

“I suppose so,” Yoshigorō nodded. “Hearing that makes it even harder to leave things be.” “I know it’s rough work, but go back out there.”

By the time the two left Kanda, the days—which had finally grown longer around this time—were already dark. Moreover, from evening onward, the sky suddenly clouded over, and a lukewarm, rain-laden south wind began to blow.

“An ill-omened night.” “An ominous sky.” “We might get rained on.”

As they looked up at the dark sky and hurried toward Otowa, the wind grew steadily stronger along the way.

“Where exactly was it that the samurai Kuronuma Denbei was found dead?”

“It’s right in front of that temple.” Spotting something in the direction Tomekichi indicated, Yoshigorō cried out under his breath. “Ah—a butterfly!”

“Hmm.” “It’s a butterfly!” The two hurriedly ran off as if chasing a white shadow.

Eight Chasing the flickering shadow of the butterfly in the darkness, Yoshigorō and Tomekichi raced ahead, but Yoshigorō proved a step quicker. He took out a four-fold tissue from his pocket and struck at the butterfly with a snap, whereupon the white shadow vanished without a trace.

“There was definitely a hit...” Yoshigorō peered through the darkness around him, but without a lantern, he could make out nothing on the dark ground. “I’ll go buy candles around here,” said Tomekichi, who seemed familiar with the area, and immediately dashed off again.

In front of the temple gate, five or six small merchant shops were lined up. The front shutters had already been closed, but since light was leaking through the gaps between them, Tomekichi knocked on the door of one of the hardware stores and bought candles. Since a bare candle risked being blown out by the wind, he borrowed a small lantern.

Relying on the lantern’s light, the two illuminated the ground around them, but nowhere could they find a white shadow resembling a butterfly. Yoshigorō clicked his tongue. “No use.” “The wind’s strong—maybe it got blown away.” “It can’t have just vanished into thin air.”

At that moment, Tomekichi cried out.

“Oh—it’s flying! Over there…” The white butterfly was flying three or four ken away. Seeing that, Yoshigorō clicked his tongue again. “Damn it! They’re toying with us!” When the two immediately rushed over, the butterfly’s shadow seemed to vanish. Tomekichi swung the lantern around, frantically illuminating the area, but finding no trace of anything resembling it, he began darting about in agitation. Yoshigorō also widened his eyes like an owl, peering into the darkness as he walked, but that too proved futile.

In the darkness before the deserted temple gate, two grown men desperately darting about chasing a butterfly looked for all the world like men bewitched by a fox. Moreover, at that moment, they had no leisure to think of such things.

“They’re really making fools of us! What a damnable bastard,” said Tomekichi, catching his breath. Yoshigorō also stopped and heaved a deep sigh. No matter how impatiently they fretted or how frantically they searched, the suspicious butterfly no longer showed its shadow. The two gave up and exchanged glances. “Boss. What should we do?” “No helping it. It’ll probably turn up somewhere again.”

“What do we do now?” “Hmm. According to my plan…” Yoshigorō began, then suddenly turned around. “Tome! Catch that!” When they looked, there was a small shadow crouching like a dog or cat under the temple hedge behind them. Tomekichi handed the lantern he was holding to his boss and immediately went to catch that shadow. The shadow sprang up and tried to flee up the dark slope, but Tomekichi lunged and pinned it down. Peering under the light of Yoshigorō’s extended lantern, Tomekichi nodded.

“Hmm.” “So it’s you.” “I’ve had my eye on you being a suspicious one all along.”

“Do you know that woman?” “This one’s Fujisuke the night watchman’s daughter—name’s Ofuyu.” “The night watchman’s daughter?” Tomekichi said. Yoshigorō nodded. “I’d been meaning to look into her myself.” “Should I take her to the police box?”

“Nah—if we take her to the police box or such, it’ll attract too much attention. I’ll question her here. You take the lantern and keep watch over the street.” Yoshigorō grabbed Ofuyu’s arm and dragged her toward the temple gatefront, but since the front was exposed to the wind, he squatted down with the side hedge at his back.

“What are you doing sneaking around here at this hour?”

Ofuyu remained silent.

“We’re men who carry jitte,” Yoshigorō warned threateningly. “Hiding things from us won’t do you any good. So what’s become of your father? Hasn’t he come home yet?” “No,” Ofuyu answered faintly. “Hasn’t he truly returned? Isn’t he being hidden over there at that Satō retainer’s mansion?” Ofuyu remained silent as before. “You must know this. Your father has reasons to hide at the Satō mansion for now—you’ve been told not to worry by that woman called Okiku, haven’t you? Still clinging to this stubborn act? And that Okiku woman—she’s been sneaking into your house to meet with Kuronuma’s son-in-law Kōnosuke, hasn’t she? Still keeping up this pretense?”

Because Ofuyu still said nothing, Yoshigorō smiled and lightly tapped her shoulder. “You’re quite composed for your age. But I can’t just keep praising you.” “If you keep being this stubborn, I’ll have to scare you a bit.” “Why on earth did you come here?” “Or do you have some lover too, and came here tonight to meet him?”

Ofuyu remained stubbornly silent. “Or were you following us to eavesdrop on something? Hey, you! Why won’t you speak?” Yoshigorō demanded, tapping her shoulder again. As previously described, with the strong south wind blowing against the gate’s front, Yoshigorō had positioned himself with the side hedge at his back. At that moment, a hand emerged from between the cedar branches of that hedge and—in the darkness—grabbed Yoshigorō by the collar before yanking him backward with violent force. Caught off guard by both the sudden attack and its considerable strength, Yoshigorō fell flat on his back. Seizing this opportunity, Ofuyu instantly sprang up and dashed away with the speed of a fleeing hare.

Noticing this, Tomekichi rushed over, but Ofuyu swiftly knocked down the lantern. She avoided heading out onto the main street where lights were visible and instead raced up the dark Mejirozaka slope. Rather than chasing after her, Tomekichi decided he had to rescue his boss first. He rushed straight to the gatefront, where Yoshigorō, even as he fell, had grabbed the assailant’s arm. “Tome, hurry up and grab that guy!” Tomekichi, understanding, tried to grab the opponent’s arm over the hedge and pull them out, but as the opponent resisted staying hidden, two or three thin cedars in the hedge snapped apart, and the person inside tumbled out into the open. He struggled desperately, but the two officers pinned him down, tied him with a restraining rope, and dragged him to the gatefront.

“It’s just too damn dark—can’t see his face.”

This time, they decided to knock on the temple gate and borrow the lantern's light. Peering at the man's face illuminated by the fire, Tomekichi nodded.

“I thought it might not be like that either. Boss! This guy’s Fujisuke the night watchman!” “I see,” Yoshigorō nodded. “If we keep poking around here, there’s no telling what kinda interference might show up again. Let’s haul him to the police box.” Before he’d even finished speaking, interference struck—just as predicted. The masked man had likely been lying low inside the gate all along. He burst out suddenly and sliced through Tomekichi’s lantern with one clean stroke.

“He’s got something glowing.” “Watch out!” While warning Tomekichi, Yoshigorō drew a jitte from his breast pocket. Tomekichi likewise gripped his jitte and braced himself. The masked man lunged forward in silent slashes. Recognizing their opponent as a samurai, neither investigator dared lower their guard. Leaving Fujisuke bound where he lay, they ducked and weaved beneath the furious blade strokes—until abruptly, without warning, the man sheathed his sword and bolted toward the shadowed slope.

The two tried to continue pursuing, but thinking that ensuring the one they had already captured didn’t escape was more crucial than chasing the one who had fled, they stopped in unison. When they returned to the gatefront again, they found Fujisuke nowhere to be seen in the darkness. When Tomekichi rushed into the temple grounds to borrow another lantern, Fujisuke’s figure was indeed nowhere to be found around there. The masked man had likely charged out slashing to rescue Fujisuke. During that struggle, he must have hidden himself. Moreover, since Fujisuke was bound with ropes, he shouldn’t have been able to run far freely. Thinking he might be hiding in the graveyard, Tomekichi took the lead and began weaving between the stone monuments when a white butterfly fluttered past their eyes once more.

“It’s back again!”

As the two were chasing after the suspicious butterfly, Tomekichi tripped over a fallen stone monument at his feet and tumbled sideways with a heavy thud. "That's dangerous!" Yoshigorō called out, but Tomekichi didn't respond right away. When he fell, Tomekichi had apparently struck his side against the monument's base stone. Though not fully unconscious, he lay there breathing shallowly, clearly unable to rise on his own. When Yoshigorō reached down to help him up, Tomekichi's body went completely limp.

“Tome.” “What’s wrong?” “Pull yourself together.”

In this situation, Yoshigorō had to prioritize tending to his subordinate over investigating the butterfly, so he carried Tomekichi out of the graveyard. When they circled around to the temple entrance and requested assistance, a temple officer emerged from within. Since Tomekichi had gone earlier to borrow a lantern, the temple officer recognized his face. "What happened to that person?" "It seems he fell and got injured there. I apologize for troubling you, but might we borrow some light..." After laying Tomekichi down at the entrance and examining him by the lantern light brought by the temple officer, it appeared he had struck his side and likely injured his left hand too. Yoshigorō revealed his official status and asked them to summon a doctor immediately; without objection, the temple officer consented and sent a servant out front.

Because the temple had learned of Yoshigorō and his men's identities, they did not treat them negligently. The chief priest also soon emerged from the inner quarters. He instructed the temple officers to carry the injured man into a study-like chamber.

“I apologize for disturbing you so late at night,” Yoshigorō greeted the Chief Priest again. “Oh, not at all…” The Chief Priest bowed politely while glancing back at Tomekichi. “Even so, why would you enter this cemetery in the middle of the night?” “What business might you have?” The Chief Priest’s tone was calm, but Yoshigorō did not overlook the strange gleam in his eyes. The Chief Priest, whom he was meeting for the first time, was likely already forty-five or six years old. He was a pale-complexioned, slender man who seemed to possess a certain dignity. Was he unaware of everything, or was he privy to some secret? Since he couldn’t confirm that, Yoshigorō answered cautiously while keeping his guard up.

“To be frank, while searching for the whereabouts of the night watchman here named Fujisuke, we spotted him tonight at this temple gatefront and managed to restrain him with rope once. However, he escaped somewhere again, so while heading to the graveyard to search for him—given how pitch-dark it was—my subordinate tripped over a stone monument lying at his feet…” “Ah, I see.” “I am acquainted with the night watchman Fujisuke, but for him to slip free from your custody and escape—he’s a bolder man than he appears, I must say.” “And is there some reason for investigating Fujisuke?”

“Fujisuke has been missing since last month.” “I have heard of that as well… Then, does Fujisuke have some ulterior motive compelling him to hide?” Was he feigning ignorance by saying such a thing, or was he truly unaware? Yoshigorō answered vaguely while wrestling with this assessment. “We won’t know whether he harbors secrets until we investigate, but regardless, we must conduct a preliminary inquiry into a runaway… Moreover, publicly feigning elopement while skulking near our residence hardly seems the act of an innocent man. When we tried apprehending him, he resisted unexpectedly—leaving us no choice but to bind him.”

“That is most reasonable…” “So, are you saying Fujisuke fled and hid in this temple’s cemetery?” inquired the chief priest once more. “As I mentioned earlier, given how dark it was, I couldn’t be certain—but I thought there might be a chance…” “Then you have no firm estimation that he has indeed fled into these temple grounds?” At that moment, the temple officer brought tea and sweets. Seizing the opportunity, the chief priest bowed once more.

“This is quite presumptuous of me, but as I have been confined with a cold these past two or three days, I must beg my leave now. Please rest at your leisure…” “I deeply apologize for disturbing you during your illness; pray do not hesitate to retire.”

Exchanging farewells, the chief priest stood up together with the temple officer. As Yoshigorō watched his retreating figure while pondering something, Tomekichi—who had been lying silent until now—slightly raised his stiffened body and spoke in a hushed voice. “Boss, that priest sure is suspicious, isn’t he?” “You saw it too?” “I’ve been lying here watching that guy’s face the whole time, Boss. That priest seems to have some sort of connection to this, I tell ya.”

“Things are gradually falling into place,” Yoshigorō said with a smile. “That priest is no ordinary rat.” Hearing footsteps, the two abruptly fell silent as the temple officer entered leading the doctor.

Nine

The Edo-period detective Yoshigorō and his subordinate Tomekichi met with successive failures—first failing to locate their target white butterfly, then letting Ofuyu escape, next allowing the night watchman Fujisuke to slip away, further losing track of a masked ruffian, until finally Tomekichi fell in the graveyard and sustained injuries. That so many failures had accumulated in a single night was nothing short of a truly ill-fated day for them.

Moreover, misfortune was not limited to them alone; various misfortunes continued to befall those in the supply group who held significant connections to this case. No sooner had Kuronuma’s son-in-law Kōnosuke vanished than Uriu’s daughter Okiwa disappeared from her household. Kōnosuke’s flight from home, Okiwa’s flight from home—though both families had labored to keep these matters secret—appeared to have leaked through the maids’ tongues, swiftly spreading throughout the entire association.

What particularly shocked everyone was the death of Kuronuma’s daughter Oatsu. As mentioned before, Oatsu had been confined to her sickbed since last month, her marriage to the hastily adopted son-in-law Kōnosuke being one in name only. When she learned that Kōnosuke had run away and that Okiwa from the neighboring house had followed in his footsteps by disappearing as well, Oatsu clutched her pillow and wept. It’s unbearable! Though Ofumi, her mother, keenly perceived the profound meaning behind those words, she had yet to secure concrete evidence and thus could not openly confront the Uriu household. Temporarily placating her daughter with vague assurances, she left Oatsu unattended—whereupon Oatsu seized a moment when her mother and maids were distracted to sit up in bed and slit her throat with a razor. By the time Ofumi discovered it, her daughter was no longer of this world. She had left no note that resembled a farewell letter, but there was no doubt that the cause of her suicide lay entirely in the single phrase “It’s unbearable!” Ofumi herself trembled with bitter frustration.

Even though the formal wedding ceremony had not yet been held, the entire group recognized Kōnosuke as Oatsu’s husband. Society at large also recognized this.

If Okiwa had eloped with Kōnosuke, then she was clearly guilty of adultery. Once she secured concrete evidence, Ofumi resolved that she must confront Uriu’s parents, appeal to the group head, and avenge her daughter. Even before Ofumi made her resolution, the Uriu household had to prepare themselves accordingly. Chōhachi gathered his wife Oyuu and their son Chōsaburō in his living room and whispered.

“This has turned into a real mess. Kōnosuke’s elopement and Okiwa’s elopement—if those were all, there might still be a way to settle it privately. But with Oatsu having gone so far as to take her own life because of them, things will become complicated. I don’t know what measures the Kuronuma side will take, but it seems unlikely this will end peacefully. We must also prepare ourselves for that eventuality.”

“And by ‘preparedness,’ you mean…?” asked Oyuu uneasily. “I am a samurai, however lowly,” he said. “Since it’s come to this, there’s no choice—we must locate Okiwa as soon as possible and strike her down… I must take that head and go apologize to the Kuronuma household… Otherwise, I’ll be charged with household mismanagement, which could affect my status,” Chōhachi added with a sigh. Even though Uriu Chōhachi belonged to the supply group—relatively lacking in samurai ethos—as one who carried swords, he still had to resolve himself in a manner befitting a samurai under such circumstances.

“So, what will become of the Kuronuma household?” asked Oyuu once more.

“This time, their lineage will surely be discontinued,” Chōhachi sighed again. “Last month too, it would’ve been difficult to address openly, but we used Denbei’s sudden illness as a pretext to temporarily hold matters together.” “The group head knows this.” “Now this incident strikes right on its heels.” “The adopted son flees; the household daughter takes her own life.” “With that, there’s no way to salvage it.”

“If only the neighboring house had been abolished last month… then none of this would have happened,” Oyuu grumbled. “It’s no use saying that now. The daughter is at fault.” “Kōnosuke is at fault, but Okiwa is also at fault.” “In short, there’s no choice but to settle this through mutual punishment.” “I have already resolved myself.” “You all must be prepared for that as well.”

Oyuu silently wiped her eyes. As Chōsaburō listened in silence, his father turned to face his son.

“As I’ve just told you, I am a man bound by official duties.” “I cannot set aside my obligations to go searching for my daughter.” “You remain a dependent.” “From this day forth, comb through every corner of Edo daily until you find your sister’s hiding place.” “Should you meet her along the way, drag her back by force.” Even in those times, entrusting such a task to a fifteen-year-old boy struck most as unreasonable. Yet this was no matter to entrust carelessly to outsiders—Chōhachi had no choice but to burden his own son. Understanding this harsh reality, Chōsaburō found himself unable to refuse.

“I understand.” “But you…” Oyuu cautioned her child. “Your sister’s elopement might have other circumstances—she may have no connection to Kōnosuke next door.” “With that in mind, you mustn’t act rashly or do anything reckless.” “No—that’s weakness!” Chōhachi reproached. “Even your younger sister saw Okiwa conversing with Kōnosuke at the back door two or three times.” “Oaki had kept quiet until now too—she says she often witnessed their clandestine talks.” “Given this, the evidence leaves no doubt.” “Chōsaburō—show no mercy.” “Your swordsmanship has progressed well for your age.” “If Kōnosuke interferes and threatens you by drawing his blade—draw yours and cut him down.”

Though his true feelings were unknown, as a father he must have had no choice but to issue such a command.

Chōhachi then instructed his son about four or five places to investigate, and after Chōsaburō had fully understood the details, he withdrew from his father’s presence. As he was preparing to go out immediately, his mother gave him some pocket money and whispered once more as he was about to leave.

“Father says that, but she *is* your eldest sister after all.” “After all, she’s your elder sister too…” Chōsaburō nodded silently and left, but he thought sadly of the burdensome task he had been given. He understood his mother’s desire to protect his sister, but in this situation, unless he found her quickly and dealt with the matter somehow, it would impact his father’s standing—it would tarnish the family name. Even if Mother resented him, he could not spare Sister. If Kōnosuke were with her and tried to interfere, he would have to follow Father’s instructions. As for searching for the white butterfly—something that had once held a certain fascination for him—this current mission bore no trace of interest, being nothing but a painful, grueling duty.

Even so, he mustered his resolve and set out. Of course, he had no definite target in mind, but for the time being, he decided to visit the four or five places his father had told him about. These were homes of relatives on his mother’s side and merchants who had frequented their household for years—scattered across Aoyama, Takanawa, and even Honjo-Fukagawa—so no matter how vigorously he recklessly rushed around in his youthful energy, moving from one place to the next was no easy task.

Moreover, since he could not find any clues at each place he went, he was disappointed. There were no signs that his elder sister had gone anywhere. Exhausted and with the day growing dark, Chōsaburō decided to end today’s search in Honjo. The house in Honjo belonged to his maternal aunt, so after being treated to a late meal there, he left around seven o’clock in the evening—but traveling from the depths of Honjo up to Otowa required a considerable amount of time. Unfamiliar with the geography of Edo City, he straightforwardly crossed Ryōgoku Bridge, followed the Kanda River to Iidabashi, then traced the Edogawa embankment from Ōmagari and arrived at Edogawa Bridge—by which time it was already past eight o’clock (Edo timekeeping).

The sky hung low with the threat of rain, and a raw, warm wind blew. Relying on the lantern he had borrowed in Honjo, Chōsaburō made his way swiftly along the dark night path and had just crossed to the middle of the bridge when he abruptly came to a halt. Because he thought he saw a white butterfly flying ahead of him. When he snapped to attention and tried to get a better look, the white shadow had already vanished.

"A trick of the mind," Chōsaburō laughed to himself. The butterfly’s shadow might have been his delusion, but then another black shadow appeared before his eyes. When viewed against the water’s gleam, it was unmistakably a human figure, wavering unsteadily as it approached from the direction of Otowa. Chōsaburō cautiously held up his lantern to look, and there was Ofuyu, the night watchman’s daughter, walking toward him as if exhausted, dragging straw sandals.

“Ofuyu?”

When Chōsaburō called out involuntarily, Ofuyu stared sharply in his direction but immediately spun around and tried to flee back the way she had come. Because her behavior seemed suspicious, Chōsaburō immediately gave chase. He had no plan for what to do if he caught her, but her panicked attempt to flee upon seeing him struck him as deeply suspicious. Seeming exhausted, Ofuyu had no time to flee far before the pursuing Chōsaburō grabbed her by the edge of her obi and pulled her back. From the force of it, she staggered and fell.

“Why are you running away? When you see me, why do you run away?” Chōsaburō asked sharply. Ofuyu remained silent. “Where are you going now?” As Chōsaburō pressed his questioning while holding the lantern up to her, he saw Ofuyu wore a straw sandal on her right foot while her left remained bare. The one-eyed woman and the single sandal—as if bound by some fate—caught Chōsaburō’s attention.

“You’re barefoot on one leg. What happened to your sandal?”

Ofuyu remained silent.

When he had visited Fujisuke’s house the other day with the mizuhiki craftsman, Ofuyu had remained silent throughout—and tonight she continued her silence still, so Chōsaburō grew somewhat impatient. “Hey, why aren’t you answering? Did you do something wrong?”

Chōsaburō grabbed her arm and shook it lightly, whereupon Ofuyu, still sitting on the ground, tightly grasped the man’s hand. Though still wearing his forelock hairstyle, Chōsaburō was fifteen years old. Unlike people today, everyone in that era was precocious. Chōsaburō felt his cheeks grow hot of their own accord as the young woman tightly grasped his hand. As he hesitated without shaking off her hand, Ofuyu edged closer and whispered.

“Young master…” “And where have you been coming from?”

This time, it was Chōsaburō who fell silent. “Aren’t you walking around searching for someone?” With the stars bearing down on him, Chōsaburō felt an eerie unease. How did this woman know about his secret mission? And another thing—why was she wandering around here in such a disheveled state at this hour? He remained silent, his hand still held by the enigmatic woman, and stayed quiet for a while.

一〇 Ofuyu, still gripping Chōsaburō’s hand tightly, whispered again. “Have you found the person you’re searching for?”

Chōsaburō hesitated again over how to answer but ultimately resolved to speak honestly.

“I haven’t found them.” “Shall I tell you?” “Do you know?” “I know.”

“Do you really know…?” “Tell me,” Chōsaburō asked suspiciously. “The person you’re searching for…” “They are hiding nearby.” “Nearby… Where?” “At Mr. Satō’s residence…” Ofuyu lowered her voice while glancing left and right. “Satō… Magoshirō-dono?” Chōsaburō asked back, sounding surprised. “How do you know?” To this, Ofuyu did not answer either, so Chōsaburō edged closer and asked again.

“At that place, Kōnosuke and… Are there still others hiding there?” “Are there still others hiding there?”

Hesitating to voice his sister’s name outright, Chōsaburō probed like this, and Ofuyu shook her head. “No, only the Kuronuma son-in-law.”

Chōsaburō was disappointed. Of course, investigating Kōnosuke was also necessary, but for now, locating his sister’s whereabouts was his duty. When he heard that his sister was not at the Satō residence, he felt as though he had lost a hard-won clue. Even so, he pressed again. “Kuronuma Kōnosuke is definitely hiding at the Satō residence, right?” “Yes.”

Chōsaburō, growing impatient, finally spoke his sister’s name. “Isn’t my sister Okiwa together?”

“Your sister isn’t with him.” “Do you know where my sister is?” Ofuyu fell silent again. Feeling persistently strung along, the young Chōsaburō grew irritated. “Hey, tell me honestly. I’m begging you.” “Are you begging me?” “I’m begging you, I’m begging you,” Chōsaburō said hurriedly.

“I too have a request to make…” whispered Ofuyu pleadingly, pressing her face against the man’s cheek.

Now that things had come to this, there was no time to consider the consequences, so Chōsaburō answered honestly. “What you’re asking… I’ll agree to anything. Hurry up and tell me.”

“Then, come with me,” said Ofuyu, standing up.

She still did not let go of the man's hand. With no choice but to be led by her will, Chōsaburō began walking in silence when—suddenly—the unseasonably warm wind that had persisted since nightfall swept through, scattering sand from the road in a fierce gust. The sand struck their faces, and both man and woman hurriedly covered themselves with their sleeves, causing their joined hands to separate naturally. The flame in Chōsaburō’s lantern nearly went out. Amidst that wind—whether Ofuyu had heard something—she suddenly glanced back, then swiftly left Chōsaburō’s side and dashed across the bridge southward like a bird taking flight. Left behind, Chōsaburō stood dumbfounded, lacking even the will to give chase again. As he vacantly watched her retreating figure, sandal footsteps soon approached from the north—a hooded man called out to him from behind.

“Are you acquainted with that woman?” Uncertain of the man’s identity, Chōsaburō stood glaring at him when the man removed his hooded cloth and bowed courteously.

“I reside in Mikawachō, Kanda, and am called Yoshigorō, serving in the employ of the authorities.” “Pardon my asking, but you are…?”

Chōsaburō could no longer remain silent. “I am Uriu Chōsaburō, residing at the Otowa supply residence…” “Ah, so you are Mr. Uriu’s son?” As if he had met just the right person, Yoshigorō familiarly sidled up. “Isn’t that woman the daughter of Otowa’s night watchman?”

Chōsaburō nodded.

“Since you’re neighbors, you must have known her from before, right?” Yoshigorō asked again.

“I know.” “Now then, I must press you—what conversation were you having here? Forgive my impertinence, but I beg your understanding as this concerns official duties. We had detained that woman and were interrogating her when unexpected interference—” As he spoke, a fierce southern wind gusted again, forcing them to turn away—but Yoshigorō spotted something in the wind and dashed forward two steps. A white butterfly, swept upward from the ground, fluttered skyward. Chōsaburō saw it too and cried out involuntarily.

“Young Master. Please catch it!” Yoshigorō immediately chased the butterfly. Chōsaburō also joined in pursuit. Moreover, as an ill-timed strong wind blew again, the butterfly flew diagonally from the bridge and was blown over the river. “Did it fall into the water?” Chōsaburō said regretfully, holding up his lantern.

“That’s likely. If it’s blown toward the river, there’s nothing to be done,” Yoshigorō said regretfully, peering at the water’s surface. “However, Young Master. Did you notice anything?” “What are you saying you saw?” “When that butterfly flew away, did you notice anything?”

“No, nothing in particular…”

“Is that so?” Yoshigorō nodded with a smile. In that instant, Chōsaburō suddenly realized. The suspicious butterfly hadn’t come flying from elsewhere—it seemed to have been swept up from the ground there. Since this had happened abruptly in the darkness, he couldn’t be certain, but perhaps a butterfly that had fallen to the earth had been lifted into the air by the fierce wind. Was it alive or dead? Or maybe Ofuyu had concealed a dubious butterfly in her sleeve and dropped it intentionally or by accident as she fled. To dispel these doubts, he pressed further.

“Did you see something?” “Nah, not really…” Yoshigorō laughed. Chōsaburō found the detective’s attitude—parroting his own response and laughing coldly—so infuriating that even the man’s smug face seemed detestable. He must have found something. And then, he was spitefully concealing it. It was human nature to desire all the more to know something the more it was concealed, and especially in this case, Chōsaburō was determined to uncover that secret, so biting back his frustration, he politely inquired.

“You seem to have seen something.” “If you saw it, say you saw it and tell me honestly.” “I’m also investigating that butterfly, so…” “I see,” Yoshigorō answered after a moment’s thought. “I appreciate your insistence, but I cannot disclose that.” “If you have also seen it, that’s a different matter—I will not speak of it myself.” “If I say this, you may think me a spiteful wretch, but those of us performing official duties are all like that.” “So, for what reason are you investigating that butterfly?”

“There’s nothing particularly significant about it, but lately it’s been getting a lot of attention…”

“Is that all there is to it?” Yoshigorō said while observing the other man’s expression. “Might there not be something else—some other detail involved?”

“There are no other details,” declared Chōsaburō firmly. “If there are no other details, then that’s well enough…” Yoshigorō said with renewed implication. “By the way—has your elder sister already returned to the mansion?”

Chōsaburō was startled. As expected of his profession, the detective had already learned of his sister’s disappearance. Now, as he was at a loss for how to respond, Yoshigorō spoke in a lecturing tone.

“Young Master. “I know most things.” “I’ve mostly ascertained the matter of the butterfly as well.” “As expected, my judgment was correct.” “I will certainly resolve this conclusively and present it to you shortly.” “Your elder sister’s well-being will also soon become clear.” “As you are siblings, searching for your elder sister’s whereabouts is entirely at your discretion, but regarding the butterfly matter—please refrain from interfering and leave it to us.” “If amateurs meddle with it, it’ll only make the job more troublesome…” “Please be sure to tell Father the same.”

At this point, it was utterly clear that a veteran Edo-period detective with years of accumulated experience and a young samurai still wearing his forelock were no match at all—so Chōsaburō could no longer persist in his stubbornness. "Do you know my sister's whereabouts?" "I don't know that." "But if we follow the thread of investigation, I believe it will naturally become clear." "If I learn anything, I'll inform you promptly." "True skill isn't just about pursuing personal glory." "I'll handle it carefully to avoid causing trouble for your mansion, so rest assured." "The night grows later by the moment." "I'll take my leave for tonight."

Having started to leave, Yoshigorō turned back again. “As I just said, you must not involve yourselves in the butterfly matter.” “If things take a bad turn, there’s no telling if something might happen to you all…” Chōsaburō silently watched Yoshigorō’s departing figure as he left, having issued his threatening warning.

Yoshigorō’s final warning was not merely an empty threat—Kuronuma Denbei had indeed met a suspicious end at the Mejiro Temple gatefront. When he thought about that, Chōsaburō felt a fresh wave of unease—as though some unknown assailant might be lying in wait for him—and suddenly found himself on high alert. And so, while keeping his ears and eyes alert to the sound of the wind, he walked home along the dark night path illuminated by his lantern, thinking about many things.

Everything about tonight was a mystery. What Ofuyu had said and what Yoshigorō had said both seemed half-understood and half-unclear. Where had Ofuyu intended to lead him? What had Yoshigorō discovered? Chōsaburō did not fully understand. He felt as though he was being tormented by the suspicious girl and the detective.

Since his return was later than expected, both Uriu’s father and mother had been somewhat worried, but upon seeing their child’s face return safely, they were first relieved. Chōsaburō reported the results of today’s search and explained that there were no signs of his sister having been anywhere around, whereupon his father’s expression darkened.

“Ungrateful wretch!” “What a troublesome wretch.” “Since tomorrow’s my day off, I’ll go out searching too.” “I’ve still got other leads.” When Chōsaburō reported encountering Ofuyu, Chōhachi’s brows furrowed again.

“So, does Ofuyu know Okiwa’s whereabouts?” “I’ve been concerned about the night watchman from the start—it seems there’s some connection after all.” “Still, discovering Kuronuma Kōnosuke is hiding in Lord Satō Magoshirō’s mansion was valuable information.” “I don’t know his reasons, but once a man goes into hiding, he won’t readily hand himself over through ordinary negotiations.” “Since he’ll certainly feign ignorance, we must devise some means to safely retrieve Kōnosuke.” “Until then, do not breathe a word of this to anyone.”

After hearing the report concerning Yoshigorō, Chōhachi spoke again. “I’ve heard of Yoshigorō of Mikawa-chō.” “Even among Edo-period detectives, they say he’s quite skilled.” “Since he says he’s mostly figured it out, the butterfly matter should somehow be resolved.” “In that case, the butterfly doesn’t matter at all. We must find Okiwa and Kōnosuke as soon as possible and resolve our own predicament.” Chōsaburō also thought that this was only natural for his father to say. The investigation into the butterfly was ultimately nothing more than a hobby for the curious. Rather than that, since he thought that investigating his sister’s whereabouts was more important, he discussed the next day’s search with his father and went to bed. Moreover, his eyes were wide awake, and he could not sleep. Although he told himself it didn’t matter, he still couldn’t stop worrying about the butterfly. Linking Ofuyu and the white butterfly, he attempted to somehow solve that mystery, but in the end, it proved a futile effort.

While Chōsaburō lay awake, there was another who did not sleep. That person was Yoshigorō’s subordinate Tomekichi, who lay covered by a quilt in one of the temple’s chambers, feigning slumber while keeping watch over the temple’s interior.

——

According to the doctor’s examination, Tomekichi’s injury fortunately wasn’t anything serious. However, Yoshigorō requested the temple’s administrative staff, saying he would send a palanquin to pick him up tomorrow morning, and asked them to let him stay there just for tonight. The temple seemed somewhat inconvenienced, but given who they were dealing with, they couldn’t heartlessly refuse, and in the end agreed and sent Yoshigorō back. Having already spent a considerable amount of time, Yoshigorō resigned himself to the futility of searching the graveyard now and simply headed out. Afterward, on his way back to Kanda, Yoshigorō caught sight of Ofuyu at Edogawa Bridge and further encountered Chōsaburō, as previously recorded. As for what discoveries Yoshigorō had made there, Tomekichi naturally did not know, but he fully understood the Boss’s reasoning for leaving him there alone.

“That doctor made it sound simple, but it’s not going so easily after all.” “My arms and legs are throbbing with bone-deep pain, and I can’t move a muscle.” “Tomorrow I’ve gotta ride a palanquin to the bonesetter and have ’em take a good look at me.” To the temple administrative staff, he said such things loudly enough for them to hear and deliberately made a pained face. After having a bed laid out there, he pulled the quilt completely over his head, but being aware of his crucial mission, he resolved not to sleep tonight. As he waited quietly for the night to deepen, he heard the fourth hour bell (10 PM) from Mejiro Fudo Temple, and the temple grounds fell into hushed stillness.

Tomekichi had been prowling this area and investigating the surroundings for some time, so he knew this temple was quite large. The buildings were old but well-maintained, and within the temple grounds resided five people besides the chief priest: two administrative monks, one novice monk, and one young temple worker. When he asked the novice monk who had come to lay out his bedding, he learned that the chief priest was named Yūdō, the administrative monks were Zendatsu and Shinnen, and the temple worker was Yashichi. "I don't care about the other monks, but there's something about that chief priest's face I just can't stand," Tomekichi thought as he lay there.

The sound of the wind outside still did not cease, and the rain shutters near the pillow occasionally rattled with a creak. From the garden came a sound like people struggling. This wasn’t cats or dogs gone mad. It was unmistakable—people were locked in fierce combat.

Tomekichi crawled out of his bed and listened intently—the people outside were panting and struggling in conflict. Then, quietly sliding open the shoji screens, he crawled out to the engawa and peered through the rain shutters. From their labored breathing, he could surmise there were two people outside—one a man and one a woman. They were not fighting with weapons but appeared to be grappling with their bare hands.

In the temple garden late at night, a man and a woman were panting heavily as they grappled and tore at each other. Even that alone was no small matter. Tomekichi attempted to peer through a gap in the storm shutters, but with the shutters tightly secured and the long engawa’s shutter box being far away, crawling over to slide them open proved no easy task. Having no choice but to press his ear against a gap in the storm shutters and listen intently to the sounds outside, the noises abruptly ceased as if snuffed out, leaving nothing audible but the howling wind.

Tomekichi thought it strange. He couldn't help feeling uneasy. Had the sounds he'd heard until now been imaginary? A struggle that intense shouldn't fall completely silent so abruptly. If one had fallen, there ought to have been more noise—yet everything went quiet without a trace. How suspicious. Moreover, what his ears had caught was neither wind nor rustling leaves, but unmistakably the sound of people grappling.

"This is strange." For a while, Tomekichi crouched on the engawa peering outside, but no further suspicious sounds returned. Having given up, he returned to his bedding though his alertness only intensified, leaving him sleepless. Since he had steeled himself to stay awake through the night anyway, the insomnia didn't trouble him—yet the evening's events demanded contemplation. Who was that man? What woman would grapple with him in temple grounds after dark? Though accustomed to strange happenings, even Tomekichi found no answers having only heard their struggle without witnessing its nature.

His tension finally eased, and he unintentionally dozed off from dawn. When he opened his eyes again, the storm shutters had been opened without him noticing, and morning light was streaming into the engawa. Enduring the lingering pain in his limbs, Tomekichi sat up in bed and noticed that a freshly lit fire had been placed in the tobacco tray by his pillow. It seemed that while he was asleep, the novice monk had come to check on him. While regretting his carelessness, he smoked a pipe with his injured hand.

“It’s a blessing I wasn’t killed in my sleep,” he muttered with a wry smile to himself. The temple had offered to lend him a nightgown, but he had refused; having slept in his daytime clothes since the previous evening, he simply crawled up and pulled on his haori over them. Still troubled by last night’s noise, he quietly stepped out onto the engawa to find the garden already neatly swept, with no traces remaining of what had seemed like a struggle there. Even so, he slipped into garden clogs and stepped down into the garden with unsteady steps.

The wind from last night had died down at some point, and this morning dawned serenely clear. The great cherry tree at the garden's center stood tinged with crimson buds ready to burst after one more rain, while birds celebrating spring filled the air with lively song. Upon closer inspection, footprints that had crushed the ancient moss remained beneath the tree. Having confirmed the suspicious sounds weren't imagined, Tomekichi smirked to himself again as he crouched to examine the area, yet found nothing conclusive.

Enduring the pain in his body as he headed toward the cemetery, Tomekichi suddenly turned and found Chief Priest Yūdō standing right behind him in ceremonial robes. Flustered, Tomekichi quickly offered a greeting, to which Yūdō responded with a smile on his pallid face. "How is your injury?" "Thanks to your care, it's much improved." "That is excellent news." "Please continue to rest well." "As I mentioned last night, I too have been confined by illness—but unavoidable temple duties now require me to depart." "When Mr. Yoshigorō arrives, kindly relay my regards."

“Take care,” Tomekichi said with a polite bow. “Well then, I must take my leave.” Yūdō departed without another word. As he watched the retreating figure disappear into the shade of the large yatsude leaves in the shrubbery, Tomekichi noticed two or three leaves that appeared freshly broken. When he approached for a closer look, the lower leaves were indeed snapped. Moreover, they seemed to have been forcibly grabbed and torn off. Likely during last night’s struggle, one of the combatants had grabbed them in some violent motion. As he considered this and scanned the area further, a white thread fragment clung to the underside of a broken leaf. Even the morning cleaner had apparently overlooked this detail. Tomekichi plucked the thread and held it up to the morning light—four or five sun in length, it was what people called sedge thread: an exceptionally fine material.

In a temple without female residents, it could not be said that monks did not possess needles or scissors. Even if one might not find the thread fragments scattered about the garden particularly suspicious, Tomekichi—recalling the previous night's incident—suspected there was some significance to these threads and quietly hid them in his sleeve while glancing around. Thinking that lingering too long in the garden might arouse suspicion among the other monks and hinder his investigation, Tomekichi climbed back onto the veranda and returned to sit on his bed. Before long, a young monk brought his breakfast and asked if he could rise today. Though Tomekichi replied he could manage to get up, he explained that his limbs still weren't moving freely and requested to remain as he was until the palanquin arrived. The young monk readily agreed, replying "Please take your time," before leaving.

Around noon, Yoshigorō had a palanquin brought, thanked the administrative monk and temple workers, and took Tomekichi to depart. As they were leaving, Yoshigorō wrapped some silver and gave it to the temple worker Yaichichi.

“Boss.” “Please have the palanquin go to Fudō-sama’s precincts,” Tomekichi said in a hushed voice.

The palanquin did not head out onto Otowa’s main street but instead ascended Mejirozaka in the opposite direction. Having had the palanquin set down at Fudō’s gatefront and left the bearers waiting there, Tomekichi—supported by his boss—entered the grounds. Avoiding prying eyes, they disregarded the teahouses soliciting customers and stood in the shadow of the bell tower’s stone wall. “Well, Tome. Let’s cut to it—have you found any leads?” Yoshigorō asked, leaning in closely with his scarf-muffled face.

“There wasn’t anything particularly notable… but…” “But, a thing or two…” Tomekichi first recounted the incident of the midnight struggle. Then, when he showed his thread fragments, Yoshigorō burst out laughing the moment he saw them.

“Haha, this is it, this is it. The truth is, I saw this sedge thread too.” “Where did you see it?” “On Edogawa Bridge… Last night after parting with you, as I was heading back through the blowing wind, I spotted the night watchman’s daughter on the bridge.” “Was Ofuyu loitering around such a place?” “Once she fled from there, I don’t know where or how she must’ve taken some roundabout path, but she was talking to a young samurai on the bridge. The moment she heard my footsteps, she took off again.”

“Who is that samurai?” “That samurai is Uriu Chōsaburō of the supply group… He’s the younger brother of Okiwa—the girl who recently ran away from home.” “Well, let’s save that for later. While I was talking with him, a white butterfly came fluttering up.” “Hmm.” “The white butterfly appeared again?” Tomekichi widened his eyes. “By my analysis, it fell from Ofuyu’s sleeve to the ground first, then got blown upward by a strong wind… That’s the only explanation that makes sense,” Yoshigorō said. “When I held it up to the samurai’s lantern light, there was a thin thread attached… So fine and glowing—this had to be sedge thread.” “The thread must’ve snapped halfway through. Only seven or eight sun remained attached, but I’d stake my eyes on it being sedge thread.”

“What happened to that butterfly?”

“While I was trying to catch it, the swirling wind blew it into the river—but that butterfly wasn’t a living creature. It must’ve been skillfully crafted from thin paper or something like silk.” “The reason it glows in the dark is that its wings must have been coated with some sort of chemical.” “To put it simply, it’s a phantom-like contraption.” In this era, there were children’s toys called “phantom-like contraptions.” They used phosphorus-based substances, dissolving them in water to paint figures of ghosts or giant monk specters on the wooden fences of houses or the white walls of storehouses. During the day, these figures remained indistinct, but on dark nights, their forms would appear to float and glow. Of course, these were nothing more than childish pranks, so few were startled by them, but timid women and children still feared and detested these “phantom-like contraptions.” Yoshigorō had secretly imagined that the mysterious butterfly glowing in the dark night must have employed similar means.

“That might be the case,” Tomekichi nodded. “Otherwise, there’d be no reason for a butterfly to appear in this cold season.” “So, how does that butterfly fly….” “Since it’s a crafted contraption that can fly, there must be someone pulling the strings.” “As I investigated step by step, it seems those butterflies only emerge on windy nights.” “Then it becomes even more suspicious.” “So, to make a small butterfly fly—what kind of thread would they use? Or is there some sort of mechanical contraption involved?” “I had considered the crow kites of Ueno and determined that they were probably using this sedge thread.” “You know about this too, don’t you?” “When it’s flower season, they sell sedge thread kites in Ueno.” “They’re called crow kites because of their dusky color.” “That kite has thin paper, and since the thread is ultra-fine sedge thread, it flies well even on windless days.” “They’ve attached sedge thread to this butterfly too and make it fly on windy nights, I suppose.” “By targeting dark nights, their figures remain unseen—only the butterfly glows…” “Well, I had thought it was this sort of trick.” “But just as I suspected, last night’s butterfly had sedge thread attached to it.” “You picked up sedge thread in the temple garden too.” “Since everything matches up, there can’t be any mistake now.” “It can be said that we’ve mostly figured out the true nature of the butterfly.”

“Yes, yes,” Tomekichi nodded again. “Indeed, just as you said, Boss—with the phantom-like contraption and crow kites—we’ve completely figured out the trick’s workings.” “Now then, the one using that…” “It must be Ofuyu.” “Why would she do such a thing?” “It can’t just be a prank…”

“It’s definitely not just a prank.” “There’s no doubt someone’s using Ofuyu to carry out some scheme.” “Since they’re pulling Ofuyu’s strings, and she’s pulling the butterfly’s strings in turn, we’ll have to track them down step by step to uncover the mastermind.” “Even so, having come this far, we’ve mostly got the big picture now,” Yoshigorō said with a laugh. “So does that mean Ofuyu returned to that temple again last night?” Tomekichi pressed.

“That seems possible.” “Then again, maybe not.” “I’ve been weighing that myself, but…”

“But that sedge thread was there!” “This case isn’t just about Ofuyu. Since it seems a crowd’s involved, we can’t pin it solely on her based on thread remnants,” Yoshigorō kept pondering.

“But, well, let’s leave it at that for now.” “I can’t just say we came here idly—let’s pay our respects to Fudō-sama before parting ways.”

The two turned their steps toward the main hall.

12

Boss and subordinate parted ways at the gate of Fudō Hall, and the palanquin carrying Tomekichi returned to Kanda. Yoshigorō covered his cheeks and emerged onto Otowa’s main street, where his subordinate Kanematsu sat waiting at the front of the Ichikawa-ya Mizuhiki Shop. He spotted his boss and hurried over.

“Hey, it looks like there’s something interesting going on.” “Hmm, what’s this about?” Kanematsu turned around and beckoned with a small gesture, whereupon Genzō the craftsman emerged from the shop. Brought face-to-face with Yoshigorō, he bowed politely. “I am Genzō, a craftsman at Ichikawa-ya.” “I humbly ask for your kind understanding…” “I, too, look forward to your continued support.” “Now then, Kanematsu.” “Is there something you need Mr. Genzō here to help with?” Yoshigorō asked.

“Well, actually,” Kanematsu said, lowering his voice. “Genzō here says he saw something strange last night.” “What did he see?”

Yoshigorō turned to face the craftsman, and Genzō began speaking in a hushed voice. “Last night, I went to Shikemachi in Takada, and on my way back when I reached the foot of Mejirozaka, there were a man and woman conversing by the temple hedge. But when they saw my lantern light, both hurriedly hid inside the temple grounds.” “In the dark and at a distance, I can’t swear to it, but I believe the man was Fujisuke the night watchman and the woman his daughter Ofuyu.” “Regardless of Ofuyu, I found it strange that Fujisuke—missing these many days—would be loitering here talking with a girl in the street, but I thought no more of it at the time and returned home.” “So this morning, just to be certain, I went to Ofuyu’s house.” “Naturally, Fujisuke wasn’t there either—the place stood wide open.”

“Was that in the evening?” “Indeed it was.” “It was still before ‘Five’ (8 PM).” “Go on and tell them the other thing too,” Kanematsu urged. “Hmm,” Genzō showed a slightly perplexed expression but eventually began speaking again with resolve. “I am fifty now, and perhaps due to my age, I simply cannot sleep as soundly as young people do.” “Last night as well, the sound of the wind kept me awake, and before I knew it, it was already midnight.” “The sound of dogs barking incessantly outside could be heard.”

“Hmm,” Yoshigorō murmured, staring at the man’s face as if urging him to continue. “It’s not unusual for dogs to bark in the middle of the night, but since they were barking so fiercely, I began to feel uneasy. Quietly getting up and going out to the shop, I peered through a knothole in the shutters. Outside was pitch black, and I couldn’t see anything, but the dogs were barking in front of the neighboring shop, and amidst their barks, human voices could be heard.” “Since the voices were low, I couldn’t make them out well, but it seemed like two people were talking…”

“Was it a man’s voice? A woman’s?” “They both seemed like men’s voices…”

“What was that man talking about?” “I couldn’t make it out clearly…” “It seemed like one of them was saying, ‘Why not bury it at the temple?’” “Didn’t you recognize that voice?” “I couldn’t make it out clearly…” “And then what happened to those two?” “It seemed they soon went off somewhere, and the dogs’ barks gradually grew more distant.” “In which direction did they grow distant?”

“Toward the bridge…” “Is there anything else you can tell me?” “No.” “Well, thank you for your efforts.” “If you notice anything else after this, let me know.”

“Understood.” Genzō left as if relieved. After seeing him off, Yoshigorō whispered to his subordinate.

“He seems like an honest sort.” “He might dabble in petty gambling, but he’s an honest man,” Kanematsu answered. “Now then, Boss. From what we just heard, it sounds like someone was moving a human corpse around here last night.”

“Hmm.” “It’s not like I’m entirely without leads.” “I just heard from that Tome bastard myself...” “Hey—lend your ear.”

Yoshigorō whispered again, and Kanematsu nodded several times while frowning.

“Oh, so that’s what happened? In the middle of the night, a man and a woman were struggling in front of the temple garden… So that woman must’ve been strangled then.” “Well, that’s probably right.” “Who’s the woman? Could it be Ofuyu?” “Can’t say for sure. This case seems tangled up with Ofuyu, a woman named Okiwa who ran off from the supply official’s residence, and another called Okon hiding in Satō’s mansion—three women total. Don’t know which exactly, but likely one of them. They’re all women marked for killing.”

“Even so, well, who could it be?” “Don’t pester me with questions. Isn’t digging into that sort of thing your job?” Yoshigorō laughed. “But, well, according to my assessment, it’s probably that woman called Okon. After all, considering she struggled without making a sound even when someone was trying to kill her, she must be an exceptionally resolute person. I don’t know what kind of woman Okiwa is, but even a samurai’s daughter should make some noise in a situation like that. Ofuyu seems reliable, but when all’s said and done, she’s just a young girl. She couldn’t keep struggling fiercely against a grown man forever. In that case, it’s probably Okon.”

“I see, that’s how the reasoning goes.” “So what should we do now?” “Storming Satō’s mansion or squeezing that priest Yūdō would be quickest—but one’s a hatamoto residence and the other’s temple jurisdiction. We can’t go barging in recklessly.” “No choice but to unravel this slow and steady. First thing we gotta pin down is how they disposed of the corpse. Killed someone at the temple but didn’t bury it in their graveyard—probably scared it’d become evidence later.” “Dumped it in the river? Or buried it somewhere nobody’d find?” “Genzō said two men headed toward the bridge. Might’ve tied some weight and sunk it deep in the Edogawa.” “Even if it surfaces later, once the corpse rots, you won’t recognize the face anyway.”

“That’s true. Who’s the one who killed her?” “Don’t just blame me. You should use your head a bit too,” Yoshigorō laughed again. “There are three women who are likely to be killed, but there are also three men who are likely to kill. Fujisuke the night watchman, Kuronuma’s son-in-law Kōnosuke, and… The third one is the temple’s chief priest… So those three are our suspects.” “Well, standing around talkin’ in the middle of the street ain’t good. Let’s grab some lunch around here and discuss while we eat. Given Tomekichi’s current state, he won’t be able to work properly for a while yet. You’ll have to step in as his replacement and put in some real effort. I’m counting on you.”

“Understood.” The two went together to a small eatery nearby. As the hour had already passed noon, the narrow second floor held no other patrons. The cat that had been sprawled on the veranda fled at the sight of their shadows. “This ain’t exactly cozy,” Kanematsu muttered. “Can’t be helped.” “Places that don’t do much business suit our needs better these days.” Since both boss and subordinate drank occasionally, they started by ordering sake and appetizers, clinking their cups together.

“This case was Tomekichi’s responsibility, and since I jumped in midway, I don’t have all the details straight yet…” Kanematsu set down his sake cup and began. “Just who is this woman called Okon sneaking into Satō’s mansion?” “Now she goes by Okon, but she used to be called Okame and wove haori in Fukagawa.”

“Hmm.” “Was she a former geisha?” “With her good looks and generous nature—or so they say—she became quite popular,” Yoshigorō explained, setting down his sake cup. “While at her peak, a retired thousand-koku hatamoto named Kaneda took her under his wing. She ended up moving into his lower villa at Yanagishima.” “They lived peacefully for about two years. Then came an autumn evening four years back.” “On the Thirteenth Night moon viewing, she’d been drinking with the retired man till late… The household knew about that much, but what happened after remains unclear.” “Come morning, they found him dead in bed.” “Seems someone stabbed his throat with a razor-like blade while he lay drunk and senseless.” “About thirty ryō from his lacquer box went missing.” “Okame had vanished.”

“Did she kill the retired man and flee?” “She’s a formidable woman.” “Even if he was a retired man, if word got out he’d been killed by his mistress, it’d tarnish the mansion’s reputation—so they announced it publicly as a sudden illness and death. That settled things for appearances. But for the current head, having his parent murdered like that wasn’t something he could let slide.” “So they made a private request to the Hatchōbori official to track down Okame’s whereabouts.” “We followed their discreet orders and tried every angle for a while, but we couldn’t pin down where she was.” “Seems she’s a sharp one—slipped into her traveling sandals quick. Doubt she’s tasted Edo rice in years.”

“Why did she kill the retired man?” “Given how much the retired man doted on her and how her future was looking bright, it’s obvious she wouldn’t kill her master just for thirty ryō or so. The thirty ryō was just something she took along as an extra while leaving—there must be another reason behind it. The lower villa had few people, so it’s hard to get a clear picture, but according to the maids, the retired man and his mistress had a quarrel about five or six days ago. At that time, they say the retired man was furious and Okame’s face turned pale—looks like their quarrel led to this mess. But since nobody knows what they fought about, we can’t figure it out.” “With no leads at all, we’d nearly given up—then recently, we heard someone spotted a woman who looks just like Okame around Otowa. So I ordered Tomekichi to comb the area from Otowa to Zōshigaya. Credit where it’s due—the idiot’s not completely useless. He followed the trail and pinned her down hiding in Satō’s mansion. But like I said earlier, since it’s a hatamoto’s nest, we can’t just storm in recklessly.” “But now she’s a fish in the net.” “Sooner or later, she’ll be ours.”

Yoshigorō drained his chilled sake cup and smiled with confidence, whereupon Kanematsu likewise laughed triumphantly. “She’s truly a fish in the net now.” “That Okame… the bastard called Okon—where has she been hiding all this time?” “Has she been hiding in Satō’s mansion from the start?”

“That ain’t it,” Yoshigorō shook his head. “If that were true, there’s no way she could’ve stayed hidden nigh on four years. No doubt the woman laced up her traveling sandals proper. I’d need to dig deeper to say for certain, but that hatamoto Satō might’ve known Okon since her Fukagawa days. From what Tomekichi tells it, Satō did three years’ duty down Nagasaki way—when he came back to Edo last autumn, Okon trailed after him like shadow follows light. Stands to reason she went to Nagasaki too and sailed back with him. Even if we’d combed every alley like hawks on the hunt, how could we’ve known? That mark had flown clear to Nagasaki’s edge.”

Yoshigorō started to speak but suddenly pricked up his ears toward the street. “Sounds like a commotion out there.” “Maybe a fire?”

Kanematsu immediately stood up, opened the hijikake window facing the thoroughfare, and looked down to see figures of people running chaotically through the radiant spring town. “Looks like the onlookers are starting to run,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll go take a quick look.”

Having said this abruptly, Kanematsu went down the stairs—but soon returned and whispered with an air of significance. “A corpse has surfaced under Edogawa Bridge, they say.”

“A corpse…” Yoshigorō’s eyes flashed. “A woman?” “They say it’s a young woman.” “Eighteen or nineteen…” “Eighteen or nineteen?”

“In any case, I’ll go check right away.”

“Hmm. I’ll go later too.”

After sending Kanematsu off, Yoshigorō clapped his hands busily, and the maid came up the stairs. "I deeply apologize for the delay." "The meal will be ready right away..."

“No—this isn’t about hurrying the meal,” Yoshigorō said while putting away his tobacco pouch. “Miss. A corpse has floated up in that river, I hear.” “Yes, that’s what they say…” The maid lowered her voice. “I did not go to see it myself, but they say she was a young woman.” “So they’re saying she’s eighteen or nineteen?” “Yes. They say she seems to be from around there...” “She was from there…. Was she a samurai or a townsfolk?”

“It seems she was a samurai, they say…” “I see. We’ve got some urgent business, so we don’t need sake or food. Settle the bill right away.” “Yes, yes.” After the maid hurriedly went downstairs, Yoshigorō took out the tobacco pouch he had started to put away and slowly took another puff.

The corpse discovered in Edogawa was that of a young woman of eighteen or nineteen, with the appearance of a samurai. Uriu's daughter Okiwa—that immediately surfaced in Yoshigorō's mind. Was my judgment off? A woman killed at a temple and washed into the river—wasn't that Okon? Was it Okiwa or Okon? He remained half in doubt.

“At times like this, staying calm is the only way.”

He smoked a second pipeful of tobacco. The sound of footsteps running through the street grew increasingly clamorous.

13

After settling the bill at the restaurant, Yoshigorō stepped outside and saw a crowd of onlookers rushing toward Edogawa. Yoshigorō pulled his hood low to avoid standing out and blended into the throng of spectators. From Edogawa Bridge to the Sakuragicho riverbank, masses of people jostled against one another. Since the inquest officials had not yet arrived, the corpse remained hauled up under the cherry trees on the bank, covered with a coarse straw mat. Yoshigorō quietly scanned his surroundings and spotted Kanematsu’s figure in the crowd. Genzō of Ichikawa-ya was also among them.

“They say she’s the daughter from the supply office residence, don’t they?” “They say she’s Uriu-san’s daughter.”

“They say she’d run away from home two or three days ago.” “Did she drown herself, or was she killed?” While listening to the rumors exchanged by the chattering crowd, Yoshigorō continued surveying his surroundings when a samurai’s daughter who appeared to be thirteen or fourteen and a woman who seemed to be a maid around eighteen or nineteen came running up, out of breath. “Excuse me.” When they pushed through the crowd and approached the corpse, the surrounding people suddenly made way. Seeing this, Yoshigorō immediately realized—one was Uriu’s younger sister, and the other was likely a servant. Because her father and mother couldn’t show their faces here due to societal appearances, their daughter and the maid must have come to verify the truth for now. Since the onlookers recognized their faces, they must have immediately opened a path to let them through. As he waited to see what would happen next, the maid bowed to the police box man standing by the corpse.

“May I see this corpse?”

“Yes, please…” The man said sympathetically and lifted the straw mat slightly near the face to show her.

The two women took a quick glance, exchanged looks, but then said nothing for some time. After bowing once more to the man, they departed without a word. “They were likely sent from home—truly, women of samurai families are remarkable.” “Not a trace of panic on them.”

Watching their retreating figures, the people whispered among themselves. Yoshigorō remained standing there waiting for the inquest officials to arrive, but they showed no sign of coming. Bathed in the midday spring sun as he stood in the crowd, he grew increasingly agitated; stepping back into a riverside teahouse, Kanematsu followed him inside through the reed screens. "The corpse is undoubtedly Uriu-san's daughter," he said in a low voice.

“Hmm.” “I could tell from those women’s demeanor,” Yoshigorō nodded. “But my judgment wasn’t entirely off.” “That corpse wasn’t killed at a temple.” “When the police box man lifted the straw mat, I also took a quiet peek, but there were no wound-like marks on the corpse’s face or around its neck.” “For one thing, it doesn’t look like the face of someone who was killed by a person.”

“Then, is it just a suicide by drowning?”

“Probably not, I’d say. There should be another woman who was killed at the temple,” Yoshigorō started to say, then peered outside the reed screen. “Hey. Kanematsu, that manservant over there chatting with Genzō—go ask Genzō quietly which estate he’s from.” “Right away.” Kanematsu ran out but soon returned.

“That’s the manservant from the Satō estate—name’s Tetsuzō.” “Hmm.” Yoshigorō clicked his tongue. “Wish Tomekichi were here… Ah, never mind. I’ll take care of it myself. You stay put and keep watch till the inquest shows up.” Yoshigorō left the teahouse to find the manservant still lingering, his eyes roving over the growing crowd of onlookers. Edging closer, Yoshigorō hailed him with practiced familiarity.

“Hey, brother—’scuse me—mind steppin’ aside for a sec?” “Who’re you?” The manservant glared back at him. “You know that bastard Tome from Mikawa-chō, yeah?” “Mikawa-chō’s... Tome...” The manservant’s eyes sharpened further. “What about ’im?” “Tome took a knock—so I’m here instead.” “Quit playin’ dumb—move your ass over there with me.”

“Hmm, I see.” The manservant seemed to have roughly deduced who he was dealing with and, surprisingly compliant, let himself be led away. Yoshigorō took charge and steered him back to the same small eatery they’d visited before. The extra tip he’d slipped earlier proved its worth—the waitress fawned over them with practiced flattery as she ushered the pair upstairs.

“You’re Yoshigorō from Mikawa-chō, aren’t you? Why’d you bring me to a place like this?” said Tetsuzō, the manservant, with an unsettled look. “Now, hold on,” said Yoshigorō. “I’ll explain everything step by step.”

After ordering sake and appetizers and sending the maid away, Yoshigorō relaxed and began to speak. “For some time now, I hear my man Tome’s been causing you all sorts of trouble…”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anythin’ particular…” Tetsuzō kept his eyes sharp, still on guard.

“The corpse that surfaced in the river is Uriu-san’s daughter from the supply office, right?” “Hmm.”

“Why’d she die?” “Ain’t got a clue.”

“You don’t know, huh?” Yoshigorō thought. “Well, let’s say I don’t know about that—where did you go last night in the middle of the night?” Tetsuzō remained silent. “Where did you go with a companion on that windy night, getting barked at by dogs?” Yoshigorō pressed again. “I don’t remember any of that,” Tetsuzō snapped. “Then maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity. Wasn’t it you all who carried away Okiku’s corpse?”

Noticing the change in the other’s complexion, Yoshigorō pressed on. “You’ve been gettin’ help from Okiku-san all along and pocketin’ plenty of coin from her, ain’t ya? Even if they forced ya into it, draggin’ corpses around won’t earn ya no merits for the next life.” “I keep tellin’ ya—I don’t remember none of that,” Tetsuzō snapped again. “Quit gettin’ yer hackles up. I’m thinkin’ we oughta share a drink and chat this through friendly-like.”

Just then, the maid brought in a dinner tray, pausing their conversation for a time. After making her pour them each a drink, the two men faced each other again. "Is that temple below Mejirozaka your family's parish temple?" Yoshigorō asked, raising his sake cup. "Ain't mine." "Then one Okiku-san knew?" "Dunno."

“If you keep sayin’ ‘I don’t know’ no matter what I ask, you’re bein’ downright ungracious,” Yoshigorō laughed. “How ’bout givin’ me a more engagin’ answer?” “Charmin’ or not—if I don’t know somethin’, I don’t know it. Nothin’ else to say,” Tetsuzō retorted. “Even if you’re packin’ a wooden sword, I’m still a man who eats this estate’s rice. I ain’t answerin’ your lot’s questions for no reason.” Though he’d come here compliantly, his sudden shift to defiance meant he must’ve felt a flicker of fear. Yoshigorō knew from decades of experience—this prickly resistance was proof of guilt.

“You’re absolutely right.” “I didn’t drag you folks serving at the mansion here just to interrogate you without reason,” Yoshigorō said in a lecturing tone. “Tomekichi is my subordinate.” “Since you’re on friendly terms with that Tomekichi, you’re not exactly a complete stranger to me either.” “That’s why I had you come all the way here—to tell me everything you know…” “That Tomekichi’s someone I only just met yesterday or today.” “We’re not exactly on friendly terms.”

“You’re still spoilin’ for a fight no matter how far this goes, huh?” Yoshigorō laughed again. “Then there’s nothin’ left to ask. But since I don’t take you for no stranger on my end, there’s just one thing I gotta say straight.” “You stickin’ around that mansion too long ain’t gonna do you no good.”

“Why?”

“Yoshida Kōnosuke of Shirayurigashi had family ties to your master, and through his regular visits, he grew close to Okiku-san.” “Then by some strange twist of fate, he got adopted into the neighboring supply office mansion.” “The girl Oatsu—the one who was supposed to become his wife—fell ill, and before they could hold the wedding, he ended up getting involved with the girl next door.” “When Okiku-san found out about it, there was a huge jealous fight that caused an uproar.” “Now, things were manageable up to that point, but because of all this—Kōnosuke went into hiding, Oatsu killed herself, Okiwa threw herself into the river, and Okiku got murdered.” “With a mess this big blowin’ up, it ain’t somethin’ that’ll just settle itself.” “Add it all up and it’s plain as day.” “It’s a damn shame, but your master’s mixed up in this too—he won’t escape some kinda trouble.” “You lot keep stayin’ in that mansion much longer, there’s no tellin’ what kinda crossfire you’ll catch.” “Ain’t that right?”

Tetsuzō fell silent as if holding his breath. "That ain't all. We've completely uncovered the source of those white butterflies that've been stirring up trouble lately. There's no doubt Ofuyu—that night watchman's daughter—is making 'em fly using sedge thread."

“Why would you say something like that?” Tetsuzō asked back in a flustered manner. “If you don’t even know that much, you’re not fit for official duties,” Yoshigorō sneered. “There’s no helping it now that things’ve come to this. “People everywhere will get dragged into trouble.” “You better be prepared too.” “Don’t try to scare me.” “I keep telling you I don’t know anything…” Tetsuzō uttered in a slightly feeble voice.

“I ain’t done nothin’ bad enough to need steppin’ up my resolve.” “If you still don’t get it after all this talkin’, I’m done. Let’s cut this dull chatter and take our time drinkin’ instead.”

Yoshigorō clapped his hands and ordered more sake. He also ordered side dishes. Then, pouring a drink in silence for Tetsuzō, who drank it wordlessly. Yoshigorō also drank in silence. The two of them continued to exchange sake cups in silence for some time. From time to time, Yoshigorō glared at the man's face. Tetsuzō also furtively watched the other’s expression.

Needless to say, this was a form of psychological torture. As the silent moments passed in this manner, those with guilty consciences gradually weakened until finally they could endure no more. Those with an inherently bold disposition might even find a way to steel their nerves further during such moments, but most people, unable to endure this torment of silence, would ultimately capitulate. Tetsuzō, too, seemed to have reached his limit in enduring this torture and began recklessly pouring drinks for himself.

Seeing his opponent falling into the trap, Yoshigorō kept up his silence all the more resolutely, while Tetsuzō drank wordlessly. Three or four replacement sake flasks stood lined up. "Ain't gettin' drunk today," Tetsuzō muttered to himself, glancing at Yoshigorō's face. Yoshigorō glowered back but stayed silent. Tetsuzō drank again without a word until finally breaking the stillness once more. "Ain't ya drinkin' no more?"

Yoshigorō did not answer. Tetsuzō also drank in silence once more, but before long, he spoke up again. “Hey, drinkin’ alone like this—I can’t stand how damn lonely it feels. Ain’t you drinkin’ either?”

Yoshigorō still did not answer. Tetsuzō drank again in silence, pouring for himself, but the hand holding the sake bottle and cup gradually began to tremble. He said pleadingly. “Hey.” “Won’t you give me some kinda response already?” “I can’t stand how damn lonely it feels.” Yoshigorō shot another sharp glare but still did not answer. As Tetsuzō himself had said, he was not getting drunk at all today; if anything, his face grew increasingly pale. He pleaded tearfully again.

“Hey. Why’re you keepin’ quiet?” “That’s for my side to decide,” Yoshigorō finally broke his silence. “Why’re you keepin’ quiet?” “I ain’t stayin’ silent. You’re the one keepin’ quiet.”

“Then why aren’t you answering what I ask?” Yoshigorō demanded, glaring piercingly.

“But... I don’t know anything,” Tetsuzō stammered. “You really don’t know anything? If you don’t know, then I won’t ask. Since I’m keeping quiet too, you keep quiet.” “I can’t keep quiet anymore!” “Then will you talk?” “I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” Tetsuzō cried out in a voice nearing a scream.

“Don’t you lie.” “I ain’t lyin’. Everyone says so!”

“Now, wait.”

Yoshigorō stood up, peeked under the stairs, then turned back and faced Tetsuzō again.

“Alright, I ain’t gonna ask every little thing from my side. Spit out everything you know right now.”

In stark contrast to his initial confrontational stance, Tetsuzō had now stripped off his helmet before his foe. Even so, he still spoke with lingering reluctance. “After I’ve blabbed everything, what’re you gonna do with me?” “Don’t worry—I’ll help you out.” “You’ll help me?” Tetsuzō looked relieved. Yoshigorō took the sake bottle and poured him a drink to bolster his courage.

14

When the corpse of his sister Okiwa surfaced in the Edogawa River, her younger brother Uriu Chōsaburō was walking along the embankment at Mukōjima. He had searched for his sister’s whereabouts the previous day as well, reaching as far as Honjo before turning back at dusk when the sun set. After a family discussion that morning, Chōsaburō set out again today toward Komatsugawa, Koame, Ayase, and Senju, while his father Nagahachi—being off duty—headed for the Yamanote area. Unlike modern times, people of that era meticulously upheld their obligations to relatives and kin, maintaining regular contact even with distant relations. This meant numerous leads in such situations, though simply visiting all relatives and kin was no simple matter given the era’s poor transportation.

Chōsaburō first visited relatives in Komatsugawa and Koame, but nowhere was his sister to be seen. On the contrary, the relatives—startled by this bolt-from-the-blue news of a disappearance—proceeded to question Chōsaburō in detail about the circumstances surrounding the incident. Due to all that, he ended up taking more time than expected, and by the time he left Koame, it was already past the seventh hour (4 PM). Since it was mid-February by the old calendar, the spring equinox was drawing near, and the area around Koame—with its many temples—was bustling as if awaiting visitors for the equinox. In front of the flower shop at the temple gate, shikimi branches were piled high. Glancing sideways at them, Chōsaburō hurried along the base of the embankment toward Ayase Village when he encountered a samurai descending a narrow path from the levee. The samurai called out to Chōsaburō.

“Are you not the young master of the Uriu household?” When he turned at the call, it was Imai Riemon from the sea bream procurement office. The Uriu and Imai households had no direct interaction, but since they were both officials in the same procurement office, Imai and Yoshida of Shirauo Riverbank were naturally well acquainted. Since that Yoshida and Kuronuma of the supply mansion were relatives, the Uriu household naturally came to know Yoshida, and through that connection, they also became acquainted with Imai. When Chōsaburō saw the man and nodded in greeting, Riemon asked with a laugh.

“Where are you headed? Visiting family graves, perhaps?” “No. I’m heading to Ayase Village... to visit relatives.” “That must be quite a task. I am going to the Shirahige area for a grave visit—since I left the mansion late, I might return after dark. The temple being so far away is a bit troublesome…” Riemon laughed again.

The one bound for Ayase and the one headed for Shirahige—since they were of course going in the same direction—the two set out walking side by side. "Given last night’s sky, I thought we were in for rain, but against all expectations, it’s turned into a perfectly calm day." "The cherry blossoms on the embankment will bloom before long," Riemon said, looking up at the clear sky. "And what business takes you to your relatives in Ayase…" "Or are you just going there for leisure?" "No," he said, but Chōsaburō found himself at a slight loss for how to respond. "You’re not looking for your sister, are you?" Riemon whispered in a low voice.

Chōsaburō was momentarily startled at how Riemon knew about this matter, but surmising that since Riemon was on good terms with Yoshida of Shirauo Riverbank, he must have learned about Kōnosuke and his sister’s disappearance through that connection, Chōsaburō answered truthfully. “Actually… there’s something I’ve been concerned about.”

“Hmm.” “They seem concerned about that matter at Shirauo Riverbank too,” Riemon nodded. “Yesterday when I was walking through Nihonbashi, Yoshigorō the detective stopped me and asked about the Yoshida household. It appears he’s investigating something related to this case.” “I only hope it doesn’t escalate…” “Forgive my presumption, but Ayase lies quite far from here.” “Even if you make the effort to go searching there, it might prove futile.”

“Is it a waste?” Uriu Nagasaboro asked as he looked up at his face. “Even though they say spring days are long,” said Imai Riemon, “if you go all the way to Ayase and back, you’ll surely return after dark.” “I don’t mind darkness,” Nagasaboro pressed urgently, “but would going there truly be futile?”

“Seems like a waste.” “So you know where my sister is?” “No, I don’t know.” “I don’t know,” Riemon answered with evident discomfort. “But she’s unlikely to have come this far.” “As they say—‘the darkest place lies beneath the lampstand.’ Lost things often lurk closer than you think.” Something in his tone hinted at hidden knowledge, sending Chōsaburō’s heart racing. He pressed Riemon with pleading urgency.

“You must know.” “Please tell me.” “Never mind Kōnosuke—just tell me where my sister is.” “I’m begging you.” “No, I don’t know.” “I truly know nothing at all,” Riemon replied with increasing irritation. “I was only citing the proverb about darkness under the lantern.” “Still, since you’ve come this far, you might as well go to Ayase even if it proves futile.” “The road to Ayase continues straight ahead.” “I’ll be turning right here—let us part ways now.”

Riemon abruptly turned right and briskly walked away down the rice field path. Both his fleeing attitude and the tone he had taken earlier aroused a certain suspicion in Chōsaburō’s heart, so he decided to stealthily follow Riemon’s trail. Moreover, if he were to start walking immediately, there was a risk of being noticed by the other man, so after deciding to wait a while first, he came to a stop and looked around the area—there was a small tea stall by the roadside.

Since the cherry blossom season was approaching, it seemed farmers in the area had hastily erected a shop structure—though they had not yet begun operating—leaving it as little more than an empty-shell hut. Intending to hide there, Chōsaburō stepped inside without hesitation, only for a figure to emerge from behind an aged reed screen propped against the wall.

Startled unexpectedly, Chōsaburō froze in his tracks—the figure before him was a young woman, none other than Ofuyu. Given both the unseasonable hour and remote location, encountering Ofuyu here left him startled anew. As he stood glaring in silent accusation, she slid forward with unapologetic boldness. Her single visible eye burned with unnatural intensity. "Young master," she said, her voice carrying through the stillness. "To meet you here again." "Why are you in this place?" he demanded. "I can no longer return home," she replied, her words trailing like mist. "Since last night, I've wandered without rest."

“You said last night you would take me to my sister’s place—is that true?”

Ofuyu fell silent.

“Is that a lie?” Chōsaburō demanded. “Though I lied when I said I’d take you there…” “I know where your sister is.”

“If you know, then tell me.” Ofuyu stared at the man’s face and remained silent.

“Did you come around here without any aim?” Chōsaburō asked. “If I’m in danger, I was told by Father to go to Mukōjima, so…” “To Mukōjima’s… what place are you going?” “It’s the house of a gardener named Gohei.” “Are both my sister and Kōnosuke there?”

Ofuyu did not answer. “So, have you located that Gohei’s house?” “I’ve rarely come to this area, so I got lost and ended up going toward Yotsugi. Around noon, I turned back here, but I was so exhausted and sleepy that I’ve been inside this hut since earlier.”

“So, you couldn’t find the house?” Chōsaburō said disappointedly. “Let’s look for it together now,” said Ofuyu, as though unleashing her feral instinct, and she boldly grasped the man’s hand. Realizing he must not lose sight of Riemon while being entangled with this woman, Chōsaburō shook off her grasp and stepped out of the hut. There, far down a single path through the rice fields, he spotted the samurai’s retreating figure. As he began walking after him, a small stream flowed along the rice fields. At the point where the stream bent to the right, there was a narrow plank laid across it, and a single thatched-roof house came into view. The surroundings were fields, with a distant solitary house standing nearby. A rough makeshift fence encircled the property, and so many trees were planted that there was no open space left—Chōsaburō thought this must be a gardener’s house. At the gate, a single large peach tree bloomed crimson.

Riemon stopped there and once glanced back behind him before crossing the narrow plank and entering inside. Having confirmed this, Chōsaburō began walking briskly with Ofuyu following behind. “Be careful,” she whispered urgently. “That samurai might have seen you.” Chōsaburō paid no heed to such concerns. He shook Ofuyu off again and sprinted toward the solitary house until reaching its gatefront, where he paused briefly. Regardless of Riemon’s presence, I have no ties to this household—I can’t simply barge in uninvited. Carelessly asking for entry might alert them and let our quarry escape. As he stood beneath the peach tree deliberating, a woman in her fifties emerged from within and eyed the young samurai warily. Chōsaburō stayed silent until finally she spoke with suspicion.

“Who might you be?” Wondering how to respond, Chōsaburō hesitated once more, but resolved to ask in return.

“A samurai just entered this house, didn’t he?” “No.” “A young man and woman have been coming here for a while now, haven’t they?” “No.” “Has no one come?”

“No one of that sort has come here,” the woman replied curtly.

“Don’t lie. I have business with those people and came all the way from Otowa to ask.”

Amid this back-and-forth exchange, a man—who seemed to have been peering outside through the bamboo lattice from an armrest window cracked open near the entrance—appeared at the gatefront wearing a *daishō* and slipping into his sandals. When he recognized that it was Kuronuma Kōnosuke, Chōsaburō felt as though he had encountered the very foe he had been seeking. “Chōsaburō, what have you come here for?” Kōnosuke said sharply, his eyes narrowing. “I came to find my sister,” Chōsaburō answered unapologetically.

“Sister isn’t here.”

“Are you absolutely certain she isn’t here?” “She isn’t here. Go away! Go away!” “I won’t leave. Please hand over my sister.” “I told you she isn’t here… You stubborn fool.” “If she isn’t here, then tell me where she is,” said Chōsaburō, taking a step closer. “You… What do you think you’re doing with that look in your eyes?” Kōnosuke’s eyes had changed too. Remembering his father’s long-standing instruction to cut down anyone who forcibly resisted him, Chōsaburō didn’t retreat an inch. He pressed forward and demanded again.

“Is my sister here? If not, you must have hidden her somewhere.” “Please tell me where she is.” “I don’t know, I don’t know!” Kōnosuke snarled. As both voices grew increasingly louder, another samurai emerged from inside. It was Riemon.

“You must not fight. Both of you, wait—wait!” he called out from behind.

Hearing that voice, Kōnosuke abruptly turned around. "So it was you, Mr. Imai, who guided this Chōsaburō here."

“No—that’s not it. Chōsaburō came here of his own accord.” “No—that’s not it! You’ve all conspired to trap me! I won’t fall for your tricks!” Kōnosuke was already so agitated that he no longer seemed to distinguish friend from foe. Without targeting anyone in particular, he swiftly drew the sword at his waist. “What do you think you’re doing?” Riemon restrained him. “You mustn’t lose your temper. Now, calm yourself—calm yourself! What a troublesome madman you are!”

“Grr, I’m the madman?!” roared Kōnosuke even more fiercely. “If it’s come to this, I’ll take on anyone! Come at me!” Since Riemon stood too far to confront directly, he seemed intent on first targeting the nearer Chōsaburō. Suddenly whirling around, he swung his blade at Chōsaburō. Chōsaburō nimbly dodged the strike, but at that same instant, a woman’s shrill scream pierced the air. Two palanquins came hurtling through the night and skidded to a halt before the gate.

Ofuyu had been struck in Chōsaburō’s place. She had followed the man to the gate and had been watching the situation, but when the exchange with Kōnosuke grew tense and the opponent drew the sword at his waist, she—feeling uneasy—stepped forward to shield him, and must have met the blade of Kōnosuke, who had flown into a rage. At the tip of the sword that missed Chōsaburō, she was slashed across the left side of her neck and crumpled at the man’s feet.

Seeing this, before Chōsaburō could even draw his sword and ready himself, Riemon rushed forward and seized Kōnosuke from behind. “Do not cross swords. Wait, wait!” he called out to Chōsaburō.

In his half-maddened state, Kōnosuke roared and thrashed, struggling to break free from the arms restraining him when two men entered. They were Yoshigorō and Kanematsu, Edo-period detectives.

“Mr. Imai,” said Yoshigorō, regripping his jitte, “I must ask you to hand him over to us.” “Yoshigorō,” Riemon whispered into Kōnosuke’s ear while still restraining him, “Prepare yourself, Kōnosuke. There’s no escape left. Resign yourself like a samurai. Do you understand?” Whether chastised by the command to “act like a samurai,” cowed by the two men blocking his path with their jitte, or resigned to his inescapable fate—even Kōnosuke suddenly quieted. He clattered his bloodied sword to the ground and sat there motionless, still held fast by Riemon.

“I came here intending to have Yoshida’s parents resolve all karma by making him commit seppuku, but it was already too late,” Riemon said with a sigh. “There’s no helping it now. Kōnosuke—let yourself be taken away properly and submit to the law.” As Kōnosuke hung his head in exhausted silence, Chōsaburō asked impatiently, “Is my sister here too?” “No,” Riemon shook his head. “As I told you earlier—your sister isn’t here. Only Kōnosuke.”

“If I may, Uriu’s young master—” Yoshigorō interjected. “Your elder sister… turned up as a corpse from the Edogawa River…”

“From the Edogawa River…!” Chōsaburō exclaimed involuntarily. Both Riemon and Kōnosuke, each lost in their own thoughts, let out mournful sighs.

The only one indifferent to this was the one-eyed girl; she had her young life cut short by Kōnosuke’s single stroke of the sword and yet lay there with a satisfied expression. Whether intentional or accidental, her one hand was grasping the hem of Chōsaburō’s hakama.

15

Four days later, Satō Magoshirō, a hatamoto from Otowa, was summoned to the town magistrate’s office. Yūdō, the chief priest of the temple, was likewise summoned in the name of the shrine and temple magistrate. Yūdō appeared as summoned, but a report had been filed stating that Magoshirō had died suddenly of an acute illness the previous night. It was officially reported as an acute illness, but it later became clear that his death was a suicide. The corpse of a woman named Okiku also floated up in the Edogawa River. As Yoshigorō had determined, the woman killed within the temple was indeed this Okiku.

When Tetsuzō, the manservant, fell into Yoshigorō’s trap and blurted out all the secrets he knew—resulting in Kuronuma Kōnosuke’s hideout being exposed—Yoshigorō raced to the foot of Mukōjima’s embankment in a palanquin with his subordinate Kanematsu, as previously described. Kōnosuke too appeared to have resigned himself, confessing every secret within his knowledge without exception.

Yūdō, true to his station as one who had renounced worldly ties, confessed everything without hesitation when matters reached this juncture. As for the others—Okiku, Ofuyu, Okiwa—they were all dead, leaving aspects of the women’s circumstances obscured. Yet when they pieced together testimonies from Kōnosuke and Yūdō to render judgment, the incident’s truth could only be acknowledged thus. Okiku—formerly called O-Kame—had once worked as a geisha in Fukagawa. She had been taken in by Kanda, a retired hatamoto, and lived quietly at his Yanagishima residence. Yet since her Fukagawa days, she had maintained ties with Satō Magoshirō, a hatamoto from Otowa. Satō was an unmarried man of twenty-five or twenty-six whom Okiku favored. But compared to Kanda’s status, Satō ranked lower—a libertine with dwindling fortunes who lacked means to rival his patron. Reluctantly, Okiku entered Kanda’s household. Still their bond endured. Even after moving to Yanagishima, she continued meeting Satō secretly under guise of temple visits and shrine pilgrimages.

When her secret was discovered by the retired Kanda, complicating matters, and Satō was ordered to depart for Nagasaki on official duty in western Japan, Okiku finally killed the retired Kanda, stole thirty ryō from his handbox for travel expenses, and followed after Satō. Of course, since she could not openly enter Satō’s residence, she hid on the outskirts of Nagasaki and lived like a mistress, and before she knew it, three years had passed, and Satō was to return to Edo. Because traveling together on the return journey to the capital would attract attention, Okiku returned a little later and quietly slipped into the Otowa residence.

Had she remained hidden in the so-called extraterritoriality of the hatamoto residence and lived peacefully, she might easily have avoided the notice of the townspeople. However, upon returning to Edo, Okiku soon found yet another new lover. It was Kōnosuke, the second son of Yoshida from Shirauo-gashi. Since the Yoshida and Satō families were connected through their maternal lineage, Okiku naturally grew close to Kōnosuke and began secretly meeting her new lover behind Satō’s back. But as the man was eight years her junior, Okiku’s passion for her young lover blazed like wildfire. To ensure he couldn’t escape her, she confided her secret to Kōnosuke and threatened that should he ever waver, she would take him down with her as a co-conspirator in the retired man’s murder. Unlike today, such threats proved surprisingly potent in this era. Even if his innocence could be proven, having his name exposed in connection with such a woman—and subjected to the magistrate’s interrogations—would doom his entire life to ruin. The young Kōnosuke, regretting his entanglement with this dangerous woman yet cowed by her threats, reluctantly obeyed her will.

Before long came Kuronuma Denbei's violent death. Given their longstanding betrothal arrangement, Kōnosuke had been formally designated as husband to Kuronuma's daughter Oatsu and moved to Otowa's supply compound. Okiku—delighted by her lover's proximity—established the night watchman Fujisuke's house as their meeting place and began summoning Kōnosuke there. Thus did the weak-willed man find himself entangled with three women: Okiku on one side; his officially betrothed Oatsu on another, though their wedding remained unperformed; and now Okiwa, daughter of neighboring samurai Uriu. Though knowing this turmoil could only end disastrously, Kōnosuke found himself powerless to change course.

At this point, we must speak about Chief Priest Yūdō. He was in fact Okiku’s own brother by birth. Yūdō was the eldest of four siblings—a sister and brother followed him, with Okiku being the youngest—but they were separated from their parents in childhood and each endured hardships. The middle brother and sister died young, leaving only Yūdō and Okiku. From an early age, Yūdō became an acolyte at a temple in Fukagawa, and through devoted ascetic training, he eventually rose to become chief priest of a temple of considerable standing in Otowa. His younger sister Okiku, however, was sold into becoming a geisha in Fukagawa, entering what might be called a life of drinking muddy waters. Moreover, in a strange twist of fate, Satō Magoshirō—who lived near this temple—and Okiku formed a sinister bond that led her to commit the grave sin of murdering her master.

Yūdō lamented his sister’s crime and waited for her to return to Edo again, earnestly persuading her to turn herself in honorably, but Okiku, still clinging to this world, refused with tears. He even considered taking her to court, but when he saw his younger sister—who had endured hardships with him since childhood—weeping before his eyes, even Yūdō’s resolve wavered. Though he knew full well it was an offense against Buddha, he chose to let his guilty sister go unpunished; yet even as his heart remained tormented by this guilt, his sister went on to commit a second and third crime.

In response to the shrine and temple magistrate’s interrogation, according to Yūdō’s testimony, it had been Okiku’s doing to release white butterflies on dark nights since last autumn. Why had Okiku plotted such suspicious things? With the dead unable to speak, they had no choice but to rely solely on Yūdō’s account; he stated as follows: “My younger sister, during her time in Nagasaki, was told a certain secret by a Chinese man from the settlement—that releasing white butterflies on dark nights to startle a thousand onlookers would grant any wish.” “From our Buddhist perspective, this was undoubtedly heresy, yet she believed it fervently and had practiced those dark arts since returning to Edo.” “Her desires were to conceal her past crimes, live out her days with Kuronuma Kōnosuke, and shorten the life of Satō Magoshirō who stood in their way… Blinded by love, she resorted to this white butterfly sorcery.” “Though Satō bore his own sins—given their long acquaintance and his sheltering her since Nagasaki—to plot his death for a new lover made her akin to a yasha incarnate.” “But being a woman, she couldn’t release the butterflies herself at night. So she paid Fujisuke the night watchman to do it on windy evenings.” “As Fujisuke’s role required nightly patrols, no one found his movements suspicious.” “Fujisuke had a clever one-eyed daughter, Ofuyu, who handled the actual releasing while he supervised.” “The butterflies… She claimed it was a secret method, but they were made from thin Chinese silk coated with some substance to glow white in darkness.” “To avoid detection around Otowa, they sometimes operated elsewhere.” “Given this, I don’t believe the butterflies were poisonous.” “Those who fell ill likely did so from shock-induced fevers.” “Or perhaps poison was mixed into the coating—I don’t know.” “How did Okiku grow close to Fujisuke?” “I don’t know that either.” “The Satō residence was once impoverished but prospered after the Nagasaki assignment.”

“I have no knowledge whatsoever of who killed Kuronuma Denbei,” Yūdō stated regarding the incident at his temple gate. “However,” he explained, “it was likely Fujisuke and his daughter’s doing—they probably stabbed him with something like a poison-coated needle.” “In any case,” he continued, “using my temple’s cemetery as their base for such disruptive acts became intolerable. Though I repeatedly admonished Okiku and her group, they refused to comply.” As rumors about white butterflies intensified and town authorities appeared to launch their own investigation,Yūdō’s anguish deepened. Whenever he heard reports of Okiku and Kōnosuke being chased by what seemed like constables while returning from Fujisuke’s house—narrowly escaping each time—he felt as though a poisoned needle pierced his chest.

Ever since being pursued by the town authorities, the timid Kōnosuke could no longer return to his own residence and took refuge at Satō’s estate. Seizing this opportunity, Okiku devised another scheme to lure out her romantic rival Okiwa. The task was entrusted to Fujisuke, who informed Okiwa that Kōnosuke was hiding at Satō’s estate and deftly deceived her by claiming Kōnosuke himself wished to meet her, persuading her to come. Once lured out, Okiwa unsuspectingly entered Satō’s estate, where Okiku—lying in wait—guided her to an old storehouse at the rear and confined her there. This was because Okiku believed that by keeping Okiwa imprisoned in her custody, she could put an end to Okiwa and Kōnosuke’s meetings.

As these wicked acts continued one after another, Yūdō finally resolved himself. He captured his sister when she came to his temple and sternly commanded her, "A demon such as yourself has no path to salvation—turn yourself in immediately." "If you remain unconvinced," he warned with tears welling in his furious eyes, "then know this: just as Taishaku destroyed the asura’s kin, I—your brother—will execute you with my own hands." The ferocity of his resolve proved so overwhelming that Okiku momentarily acquiesced, replying she would go to the magistrate’s office the next day under her brother’s escort.

Still uneasy, Yūdō commanded his sister: “Now that you’ve resolved yourself, do not return to Satō’s residence again—stay at this temple tonight.” Though Okiku agreed and remained, she indeed attempted to slip out quietly in the night. Yūdō, who had privately been on guard anticipating such a move, immediately gave chase and tried to apprehend her at the garden front. Since they both feared public scrutiny, they did not exchange a single word; but in that silent struggle, the brother firmly solidified his resolve, becoming Taishaku who destroys the asura. The brother strangled his sister’s throat with both hands.

The one who had been watching this was Fujisuke. He was chased by Yoshigorō and his men into the depths of the cemetery but, seeing they would not pursue him further after Tomekichi collapsed along the way, quietly circled around to the priest’s quarters and had the temple worker untie his bonds. Moreover, since carelessly going out front was dangerous, he decided to have them let him stay within the temple grounds tonight. Not only himself but also his subordinates were to stay here tonight; feeling uneasy about this arrangement, he went to check on things at the front garden late at night—where he happened upon Okiku heading toward her final moments.

Whether out of sympathy for the chief priest or intending to use this as a shackle to extort future drinking money, he requested to be entrusted with disposing of the corpse and summoned the retainer Tetsuzō from Satō’s residence. Okiku’s corpse was carried out in the windy midnight and sunk into the Edogawa River. Since the violent death of Kuronuma Denbei, Fujisuke had realized the danger of remaining in his own home and, making it appear as though he had disappeared, had in fact concealed himself at the Satō estate.

Yūdō’s testimony ended here.

The next question was how Okiwa had come to drown herself. Was it suicide or murder? In any case, Kuronuma Kōnosuke—as the sole person involved—faced rigorous scrutiny, yet he flatly denied knowing anything about it. He did testify, however, that on the evening of Okiku’s killing, Okiwa had slipped out of the storehouse while the maid delivering her dinner was distracted. Further investigation revealed that Genzō, the craftsman from Ichikawa-ya, had initially concealed this fact. According to later testimony, after escaping the Satō residence, Okiwa found herself unable to return home immediately. While wandering aimlessly, she happened to meet Genzō himself and learned from him that her neighbor Oatsu had taken her own life—or so it was claimed. From this, one might surmise that Okiwa—whether consumed by guilt over her own sins or resigned to an inevitable downfall—drifted through the area before waiting for nightfall to drown herself. Though one could attribute it to mere geography, it seemed almost fated that both Okiku and Okiwa—romantic rivals—ended up with their corpses adrift in the same current.

The gardener Gohei of Mukōjima was a craftsman who had frequented the Satō and Yoshida residences since his parent’s generation. Lately, as the town authorities seemed to have taken action, Kōnosuke advised that the white butterfly incident be temporarily halted. However, Okiku would not consent, insisting that stopping midway would ruin their wish; instead, she pressed Kōnosuke to order Ofuyu and the others to remain vigilant. The masked suspicious person who saved Fujisuke at the temple gate was Kōnosuke. Moreover, the weak-willed Kōnosuke could no longer endure being perpetually coerced by Okiku into involvement with these schemes. That very night, he departed Otowa and knocked on the gate of his family home at Shirauo Riverbank late into the night. Upon hearing the full circumstances, his father Kōichiemon instructed him: "You cannot stay in this residence for even a single night more. I have my own considerations—go to Gohei’s house in Mukōjima for now." When he went to Mukōjima as instructed, Imai Riemon arrived the following evening. Next, Uriu Chōsaburō arrived. Edo-period detective Yoshigorō and Kanematsu arrived. With Ofuyu’s death, Kōnosuke’s fate was also decided there.

The mystery of why Satō Magoshirō met his demise was never solved, but regarding this, Kōnosuke let slip the following.

“Okiku said to me, ‘Satō did various bad things during his time in Nagasaki.’ ‘Because I knew all about that,’ I told him, ‘no matter how willfully I acted, Satō wouldn’t be able to say a thing.’” During his official assignment in Nagasaki, Satō had apparently been involved in some corrupt incident related to his duties. The fact that he—a poor hatamoto—had become prosperous spoke to the circumstances of that period. Okiku, having grasped that secret, had apparently behaved as she pleased within Satō’s residence. In connection with this incident, fearing his wrongdoing would be exposed, it was inferred Satō had brought about his own demise.

Fujisuke the night watchman had disappeared once more. Yoshigorō and his men, believing that apprehending him would further clarify the truth of the incident, moved every available resource in their search—but ultimately found no leads. Then, about three months later, they discovered a hanged corpse resembling him in the mountains of Hachiōji, but as the body was already decomposed, its features could not be clearly identified. Hachiōji was Fujisuke’s hometown, but no rumors were heard of anyone having gone there to inquire. Perhaps they had avoided becoming involved and kept their mouths shut wherever they were.

The Edo-period detective Yoshigorō, who primarily worked on investigating this case, was the foster father of the elderly Hanashichi whom I have often introduced in *Hanashichi Torimonochō*.