Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The 18th night of the first month, Bunka 9 (Year of the Monkey). That night too, shortly past eleven o'clock (11 PM), two girls hurriedly approached from Mejirozaka slope toward Sekiguchi Komaichō, keeping Edo-Koishikawa's Mejiro Fudōdō temple to their right.

If they passed through Komai-cho, they would come out onto Otowa’s main street. Behind the seventh and eighth blocks of that area lay the residential quarters of Edo Castle’s Okanemochi-gumi. Though their status was low, they all seemed quite comfortably well-off. The two girls who had just arrived here were Okita, daughter of Uriu Chōhachi of the Okanemochi-gumi, and Okatsu, daughter of Kuronuma Denbee—both newly eighteen and of the same age.

Tonight, there was a karuta gathering at the Suzuki residence in Sekiguchi Daichō, so the two had been invited there from early evening and attended. It was ever customary for karuta gatherings to stretch late into the night, and though the men still showed no sign of stopping easily, the young women took the four strikes of Mejiro Fudōdō’s bell as their signal to begin preparing for departure. After partaking of assorted sushi prepared at the residence, they had now returned. When they left the residence, there had been four or five other women with them, but as they went along, the group gradually dwindled until, by the time they reached Komaichō, only Okita and Okatsu remained.

Though it was late at night, it was a path they were accustomed to walking. Since their residential quarters were now only two or three blocks away, the two felt no particular unease as they came along, each holding a paper lantern in one hand, pressing a sleeve against their chests, slightly bowing their heads and quickening their pace. When they descended the slope, the right side was lined with two or three estates and townhouses, among which stood a temple. The left side was almost entirely temples. Of course, the estates—and even the townhouses—had closed their front doors past the fourth hour, so this main street, which could be called a temple district, was especially desolate. Though it was called spring, it was a dark night in mid-first month, and a bitterly cold wind that promised snow howled through the air. As the two hurried along with their heads increasingly bowed, Okita suddenly came to an abrupt halt, having spotted something.

“Oh my, what could that be?”

When Okatsu also raised her lantern to peer through, a white shadow was dancing ahead of them. Upon looking closer, it was a white butterfly. Slightly larger than ordinary ones, it was unmistakably a butterfly. The butterfly fluttered its white wings and danced low through the cold wind. The two exchanged glances.

“It’s a butterfly,” Okatsu whispered.

“That’s exactly why I think it’s strange,” Okita whispered. “Why would a butterfly be flying around at this time of year?” It being the first month—and given they’d glimpsed a white butterfly’s form in this dark late hour—the girls’ suspicion was only natural. As they stood silently tracking its path, the butterfly—perhaps weighed down by the frigid wind—kept low. Rather than ascend, it skimmed the ground as if grazing it, veering leftward from the street’s center until nearing a temple fence on the left. This was a low cedar hedge through which stray dogs daily wriggled—so much so that its base had grown sparse—allowing clear views of the graveyard from the road. The butterfly slipped through one such gap and vanished into the graveyard’s shadows.

As they watched it curiously, the sound of geta echoed from behind them, and a man around fifty years old approached, holding a paper lantern. He made as if to pass by but then turned to look back. “Might you be the young ladies from the Okanemochi-gumi quarters?”

When called out to, the two turned around to see that the man was a craftsman from the mizuhiki shop called Ichikawa-ya in Otowa. This area was the granted land of a lady-in-waiting named Otowa who served at Edo Castle, and it is said that the place name Otowa originated from this. Due to this connection, it was said that in the past, paper, motoyui cords, mizuhiki decorations, and such items used in Edo Castle’s Ōoku had been produced exclusively in this Otowa town, and even after the Meiji era, many paper shops and mizuhiki craftsmen remained here. This man was also one of those mizuhiki craftsmen, a man named Genzō. Because he had lived in the neighborhood for many years, both Okita and Okatsu had known him since childhood.

“Where are you returning from at this late hour?” Genzō asked again.

“We went to Mr. Suzuki’s to get the karuta cards…” Okita replied. “Ah, so that’s how it was,” said Genzō, nodding. “And did you see something here?” “Because there was a white butterfly flying…” “White butterfly… Did you see it?”

“Why is a butterfly flying on such a cold night?” Okatsu asked.

“I’ve seen it three times myself now…” Genzō said with a puzzled look. “It’s truly mysterious.” “They say people have spotted it occasionally since around last year’s end.” “There’s no way a butterfly could survive this cold season—and what’s stranger still, it only flies on dark nights.” Though samurai-born, the young girls grew vaguely uneasy, feeling the night wind pierce them all the more keenly.

“Which direction did the butterfly fly off to?” Genzō asked again. “Into the temple…” “Hmm,” Genzō peered warily toward the cemetery, but there was only the sound of dead leaves rustling in the wind—both new graves and old lay utterly still in the depths of darkness.

Another paper lantern light appeared. The sound of wooden clappers could also be heard. The night watchman named Tōsuke came around here. Seeing the three people standing here, Tōsuke also approached.

“Did you happen to drop something?” He recognized the three of them as well. When Genzō told him about the white butterfly, Tōsuke furrowed his brows. “That butterfly—I’ve seen it a few times myself.” “It gives me a bad feeling.” “Did it fly into this temple’s graveyard tonight?”

“I wonder if someone’s soul has turned into a butterfly and crawled out from the grave,” Genzō said.

“Nah, it doesn’t come from the grave—it flies in from somewhere else. Seems tonight’s the first time it’s entered the graveyard,” Tōsuke said. “But no one’s seen where that butterfly comes from or where it goes. First off, that butterfly doesn’t seem real at all,” Genzō countered. “Isn’t it alive?” Tōsuke pressed.

“When you see it flying, it does seem alive, but…” “In my view, that butterfly appears to be crafted from paper.” “I tell you, it just doesn’t seem real.”

The three listeners exchanged glances once again.

“I hadn’t noticed that much either, but…” Genzō said, sounding increasingly puzzled. “I wonder if it’s made of paper. But you see, it doesn’t seem like the kind those butterfly vendors come to sell.”

“The butterfly vendors come to sell children’s toys.” “Of course, it’s not some cheap trinket like that—but I can’t bring myself to think it’s a living butterfly.” “White paper… or maybe something like white silk… Either way, it seems man-made.” “But how that man-made thing can fly about like it’s alive—that’s what I can’t figure out.” “It’s downright uncanny.” “I don’t want to lay eyes on such a thing.” “See something like that, and you can’t help feeling trouble’s coming. But it’s my duty—making these nightly rounds means I end up glimpsing ill-omened things now and then.” “Might be my fancy, but come morning after seeing that butterfly… I just felt out of sorts.”

Having been told such a story, the three of them grew increasingly chilly. Okatsu gently tugged Okita’s sleeve.

“Let’s go now.”

“Yes, let’s go,” Okita promptly agreed.

“That’s right.”

The night was gradually deepening.

“I’ll escort you young ladies to your estate,” Genzō said.

After parting with Tōsuke, the three set off again at a brisk pace, but by the time they reached Otowa Street, the butterfly had not shown its white form again. As the girls’ samurai residence block was located at the rear of Otowa Seventh District, Genzō escorted them there before returning home.

Okita’s father, Uriu Chōhachi, 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, Okita; 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. As Okita’s return was running slightly late, just when they were considering sending Chōsaburō to meet her, Okita came home together with her neighbor Okatsu. She said 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 in greeting, the daughter’s face was pale. “What’s wrong with you?” Mother Oyū inquired suspiciously. “No, it’s nothing…” “Your face looks pale.” “Does it?”

There was no doubt that the white butterfly had unsettled the young girls, but Okita herself had not been frightened enough to change color. She, on the contrary, found it almost suspicious that her mother had grown suspicious of her. However, as she wasn’t entirely without some recollection of the incident, Okita found herself wanting to confide in her mother and sister about the white butterfly, yet for some reason felt hesitant to speak of it and ultimately remained silent.

“They say colds are spreading this spring—do take care,” her completely unaware mother said.

The night had grown late, so her younger sister Otoshi had gone to sleep in the four-and-a-half-mat room next door without waiting for her sister’s return; but now she suddenly let out a scream as though seized by a nightmare. Thinking she must have had a frightening dream, Oyū slid open the sliding door and went into the next room.

When she roused the moaning Otoshi and tended to her, beads of sweat sprang out and streamed down the girl’s forehead.

Otoshi’s dream had been thus: As she walked with her older sister across a wide grassland, her sister’s form gradually transformed into a white butterfly and flew away. Startled, she tried to pursue it but could not catch up at all. Frantic and restless—just as she attempted to call out and stop it—she was shaken awake by her mother.

Upon being told of the dream, Okita was startled. This time, her face truly paled. Moreover, now that things had come to this, she found it all the more difficult to speak of the white butterfly incident and thus remained silent. Mother also did not seem to pay any particular attention to the girl’s dream.

“Children have all sorts of dreams when they’re young. Since your sister is here, rest assured and go to sleep.”

Otoshi drifted back to sleep. The others also each retired to their beds, and with no further incidents occurring thereafter, the Uriu family passed a tranquil night. Exhausted from the evening’s events, Okita too fell into an untroubled sleep.

The wind had died down during the night, but the following morning was cold. Unlike today, the Otowa area at that time was on the outskirts of Edo, so deep spring frost lay upon both gardens and streets. In the Uriu household, where early rising was customary, they left their beds while it was still dim, and Oyū was busily working in the kitchen, directing the maid. When Okita went out front to sweep the entrance, it seemed the neighboring Kuronuma household was already up as well, for Okatsu too came out to the front gate holding a broom. After the two girls finished exchanging their evening greetings, Okatsu drew closer and spoke in a whisper.

“Did you tell anyone about last night?”

“No.” “I haven’t told anyone yet…”

“I told my Mother,” Okatsu said, lowering her voice further. “Then my Mother already knows about the white butterfly.” “Did your Mother see it too?”

“Although she hasn’t seen it herself, she’s heard the stories about it.” “When she told Father, he scolded her, saying, ‘Don’t speak such nonsense,’ so she hasn’t told anyone since then.” Those in the Okanemochi-gumi, given the nature of their duties, generally tended to have little samurai spirit; however, Okatsu’s father, Kuronuma Denbee, was a man of strong innate samurai disposition, revered throughout the group as someone unyielding in duty and stubborn in resolve. If Okatsu’s mother were to tell Denbee something resembling a ghost story, it was clear she would be rebuked outright.

According to Okatsu’s mother’s account, these days when night grew late, a mysterious butterfly would flutter about. It was a white butterfly—slightly larger than normal, just as Okatsu and the others had seen—and any house it drifted into would inevitably suffer calamity. They said it often brought death in its wake.

“How does Mother know such a thing?” Okita asked again. “Well, you see…” Okatsu explained further. “Four or five days ago, when the uncle from Shirauo-gashi came for New Year’s greetings, he told Mother about it…” “Apparently, they’re even conducting secret investigations in Hatchōbori.”

The uncle from Shirauo-gashi was a relative of the Kuronuma family, whose surname was Yoshida, and who worked at the whitefish storehouse. Yoshida, due to his close geographical connections, had many acquaintances among the Hatchōbori magistrates, and it seemed he had overheard the secret of the white butterfly from one of them. Given this, it could not be dismissed as entirely groundless rumors, but Denbee persistently denied it. He even said such things. “Is Shirauo-gashi spreading such nonsense? Otherwise, since these days the shogunate’s domain is at peace and those Hatchōbori bastards have too much time on their hands, they’re spreading such trivial nonsense to put on a show of being busy. Ridiculous!”

With that single remark, the matter was settled for him—but the uncle from Shirauo-gashi was not one to tell lies. Even if the Hatchōbori men had time on their hands, they wouldn’t stir up baseless rumors—so Okatsu’s mother thought to herself; though scolded by her husband, she secretly believed it all the same. Now, on top of that, since Okatsu herself had witnessed the white butterfly in flight, her mother could no longer help but believe it.

“That’s why Mother says it’s better not to walk around at night for the time being,” Okatsu added.

II

Having finished sweeping the entrance, Okita entered her house, but Okatsu’s story now weighed on her mind, and she grew somber.

No matter how much Okatsu’s father denied it, the strangeness of the white butterfly did not seem entirely baseless. Above all, the story of her younger sister Otoshi being tormented by last night’s dream—in which her elder sister tried to transform into a white butterfly and fly away—now resurfaced in her mind with renewed vividness, and Okita could not help but feel a certain terror. She even feared that some sinister bond might have been formed between herself and the white butterfly. Moreover, hesitant to confide in her mother and younger brother about it, she once again remained silent and sat down to the breakfast table.

“You’ve looked pale since last night—could it be you’ve caught a cold?” Mother Oyū asked again.

“No, not really…” Okita replied as she had the night before, but she had begun to feel a slight chill coming over her. Perhaps it was her imagination, but her temples too started throbbing dully. Her younger brother Chōsaburō set down his breakfast chopsticks and immediately left for swordsmanship practice. Around the Hour of the Serpent—ten in the morning—her father Chōhachi returned from his shift rotation, but he too knit his brows when he saw his daughter’s face.

“Okita, your complexion doesn’t look good,” Uriu Chōhachi said. “Have you caught a cold?” Both her father and mother had concluded she had caught a cold. Okita was finally made to take to her bed. The maid Oaki went out to Otowa Street to buy cold medicine. Okita did indeed seem to have a slight fever—as soon as she lay down, she dozed off—but when she awoke again, she could hear Oaki talking about something in the tea room. Though Oaki was speaking in a low voice with Mother, being only a single sliding door away meant even Okita, lying in bed, could hear most of what was said.

“When I went to the pharmacy, I happened to meet our neighbor Oan-san, who had also come to buy medicine, and I heard that Okatsu-san next door was also bedridden…”

“So both of them stayed up late and caught colds, then,” said Oyū. “No, that’s the strange part…” Oaki lowered her voice even further, but from what could be heard in fragmented snatches, she seemed to be recounting the incident of the white butterfly. In any case, Okatsu too had taken to bed. “Oh my, so such a thing happened?” “Since Okita didn’t say anything, I had no idea at all…” Mother Oyū said uneasily. “So then, could it be that Miss Okatsu and Okita don’t just have ordinary colds?”

Afterward, their voices dropped again, but soon Oaki withdrew to the kitchen, and Oyū appeared to rise and head to her husband’s quarters. Before long, Okita dozed off again, so she didn’t know what happened afterward, but when she awoke once more, the sun had already set. As had become its habit of late, a cold wind had once again begun blowing from evening onward, and the night wind seeping through some unseen crack occasionally made the flame of the paper lantern by her pillow waver.

When Okita raised her face from the pillow, beneath the paper lantern sat Mother Oyū, her eyes still filled with unease as if peering at her daughter’s sleeping face.

“How are you feeling, hmm…?” Mother Oyū asked immediately. “Have you managed to sweat a little, hmm?”

When she realized this, Okita’s nightgown was drenched with sweat. Mother helped her change into fresh nightclothes and settled her back onto the pillow. Perhaps because she had sweated out enough, Okita’s head felt lighter. Hearing this, Oyū nodded as if somewhat relieved, but soon began to speak in a whisper. “Well, that’s a relief.” “Actually, I had been secretly worried myself.” “It seems it’s not just a regular cold after all.” “While you were asleep, Mr. Kuronuma from next door came…”

“Miss Okatsu is unwell too, I hear,” Okita said in a low voice. “She had been fine until this morning, but around noon she took a turn for the worse—just like you—and seemed to have caught a cold and taken to bed. But since there appears to be more to it than that, Mr. Kuronuma came to our house to inquire.” “They say someone saw a white butterfly in front of Mejiro Fudōdō temple on their way back from last night’s *karuta* gathering—and he wanted to confirm if it was true. But since you were ill in bed, I told him I’d ask you properly about it later.” “So Mr. Kuronuma said he’d return another time and left—but then immediately went out to Otowa Street. He visited that mizuhiki craftsman’s shop... Ichikawa-ya’s store, met with the craftsman Genzō, questioned him thoroughly, and then had Genzō guide him all the way to the temple grounds.”

Kuronuma Denbee had learned of the white butterfly incident from his daughter’s illness, but being someone who inherently disbelieved such ghost stories, he had gone to question Ichikawa-ya’s Genzō—who had reportedly accompanied them at the time—in order to verify its truth. Because she wanted to know the outcome quickly, Okita hurriedly asked. “And then what happened…?” “Well, that’s just like Mr. Kuronuma,” Mother Oyū said with a slight smile. “He apparently chased Genzō around, berating him, and strictly investigated where exactly the butterfly had been seen. Since the butterfly was said to have flown through the hedge to the temple graveyard, he entered the temple this time and inspected each grave one by one, but apparently found no particular clues or anything resembling the butterfly’s remains. Still seeming unsatisfied, Mr. Kuronuma went around to the temple entrance, met with the priest, and inquired if they had any leads about the white butterfly—but since the temple said they knew nothing, he finally resolved to withdraw… After all, strange things do happen.” She paused. “Did you really see that butterfly too?”

No longer able to keep it hidden, when Okita confessed the previous night’s incident to her mother, Oyū’s face clouded over again. The young girls had stayed up late and walked the night roads, and both had caught colds.—Such an occurrence was not at all unusual in itself, but with the suspicious butterfly incident now entangled in it, one couldn’t help but feel there was some fateful connection between their illnesses. “As for your father,” Mother Oyū said again. “Since he’s that sort of person, he won’t say whether this matter is a lie or the truth—but I can’t help feeling uneasy…” “I was secretly worried that you might take a turn for the worse, but given how you are now, it seems there’s nothing to worry about.” “Even so, under the pretense of visiting Okatsu-san next door, I must go and tell Mr. Kuronuma that you also definitely saw that butterfly.” “I’ll just go and come right back.”

Oyū took whatever box of sweets was on hand and immediately went out to the house next door.

In her absence, Okita called her younger sister Otoshi to her bedside and pressed her further about the previous night’s dream, to which Otoshi replied that she had indeed dreamed of her older sister turning into a white butterfly. Children’s dreams were ordinarily hardly worth considering, but to Okita now, this one seemed laden with some ominous significance. She felt an inexplicable unease and, while lying in bed, scanned every corner of the room, wondering if somewhere within it the pale shadow of a butterfly might be lingering.

After about an hour, Oyū returned and whispered the following at her daughter’s bedside. “Unlike you, Okatsu-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 Mr. Kuronuma seemed terribly worried.” “What does Mr. Kuronuma say?” “It seems he hasn’t fully accepted it as truth yet...” “Still, with his own daughter worsening and you having seen that butterfly too, he appeared to be turning it over in his mind...” “According to Mr. Kuronuma’s account, it’s reached the town authorities’ ears—they’re investigating discreetly, so the truth should come out naturally...” “For now, you mustn’t go out after dark.” “Not just you—Otoshi must take care too.”

After admonishing the girls, they went to bed early that night, but only the sound of wind could be heard outside, and nothing happened in this house.

The following morning, Okita’s condition had improved considerably, but out of caution, she decided to remain in bed for another day. Her younger brother Chōsaburō went out to sweep the front entrance in her stead, and since the neighboring Kuronuma household had no sons, their maid O-Yasu was sweeping their own front entrance. Here, Chōsaburō was told even more strange things by O-Yasu. Last night in the dead of night, the ill Okatsu let out a pained groan, so her father Denbee rose to check on her. When he did, he found the lamps in Okatsu’s room had been extinguished, and in the pitch darkness, a small white shadow appeared to float. It was a white butterfly. The butterfly, resting its wings, was perched on Okatsu’s quilt. Denbee took the sword from the alcove and turned back, first attempting to drive away the butterfly, but it still did not move. Denbee swung the sword sideways still in its scabbard, and the butterfly fluttered into the chest of his nightclothes.

Denbee called his wife O-Tomi to wake her and had her light a hand candle; he took off his nightclothes and checked them, but nowhere could the shadow of the butterfly be seen. Although he said it must be your eyes playing tricks on you, O-Tomi couldn’t help feeling a certain unease. They shook Okatsu awake and questioned her, but she said she hadn’t been tormented by any frightening dreams and had simply been sleeping soundly, unaware of anything. The matter ended up being dismissed as Denbee’s eyes playing tricks on him. However, given the circumstances, an unshakeable suspicion lingered in everyone’s hearts.

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

“Mr. Kuronuma’s getting old,” Chōsaburō laughed inwardly as he listened to the story. Though Denbee normally dismissed such ghost stories outright, when pressed, his mind would falter, leading him to perceive such eerie visions. Even if one said he was getting on in years—he had only just passed forty—could a man really grow so feeble? Chōsaburō wondered.

“It’s better not to tell anyone about that.” “Since I’ll keep quiet too,” Chōsaburō cautioned O-Yasu.

“Yes. I’ve also been told by Madam not to tell anyone about it,” said O-Yasu. Even while being ordered to secrecy, she immediately went and told others. Chōsaburō resented the young maid’s loose tongue but brushed her off and went into the house. Then, after finishing his breakfast, he went to the neighboring house with an innocent face to pay a visit, only to find that Okatsu’s condition still seemed poor.

“Your sister…” Mother O-Tomi inquired. “Sister has already improved, and if she rests today as well, she should be able to get up.”

“That was fortunate,” “though our daughter remains like this…” “You must be terribly worried.” While these courtesies were being exchanged, Kuronuma Denbee, master of the household, emerged from the inner chambers.

“Chōsan. “Come here.” Denbee invited Chōsaburō into his study and began to speak quietly. “In front of a young man like you, it’s truly shameful, but last night I made a bit of a blunder.” “What kind of thing was it?” As Chōsaburō continued to feign ignorance, Denbee began to speak of the white butterfly himself. It was the same incident that O-Yasu had just divulged to Chōsaburō. After honestly confessing to last night’s blunder, Denbee gave a wry, self-mocking smile.

“Though I’m but a low-ranking samurai, I remain one of the warrior caste.” “I don’t believe in such things as mysteries or monsters existing in this world.” “‘Not to speak of strange forces or chaotic spirits’—Confucius himself taught this.” “As for that white butterfly business—relatives from Shirauo-gashi came recently and told my wife some tale about it, but I paid it no heed.” “No—I’d thought it utter nonsense.” “Yet two nights past, our Okatsu saw it.” “They say your sister saw it too.” “Not only that—they claim Genzō, the craftsman from that mizuhiki shop... saw it as well.” “Genzō’s an honest man—not given to idle lies.” “Given this... there must be some substance to it.” “In which case—proof lies in testing.” “I mean to go investigate whether that white butterfly truly flies near Mejirozaka tonight. What say you—join me?”

Among young samurai of that era, adventurous acts were often performed under the banner of “tests of courage”—gatherings to tell one hundred ghost stories, midnight ventures into graveyards, or visits to places where the heads of executed criminals were displayed. Denbee’s invitation to Chōsaburō fell into this category. At the swordsmanship dojo Chōsaburō attended, such events had often been held in the past; yet being still a youth with his forelock at fifteen, he had always regretted how his peers tended to exclude him from their company. Presented with this proposal at such an opportune moment, Chōsaburō gladly agreed at once. When he eagerly replied that he absolutely wished to accompany him, Denbee nodded as if to say, “Just as I thought.”

“Hmm. I thought you would surely agree.” “Then, let’s set out around the Hour of the Dog—eight in the evening—tonight.” “But I wonder if your father and mother will agree.” “I’ll say I’m going to night school and leave.” Since Chōsaburō attended night school for Chinese classics at Gokoku-ji Temple’s gate, he would use that pretext with his parents to investigate the suspicious butterfly. With their plan settled, he returned home in high spirits.

“You might be fine on your own, but if you drag someone as young as Chōsan into this and something goes wrong, it’ll be trouble,” said his wife O-Tomi anxiously. “What? Even though he’s young, he’s quite steady—it’ll be fine.” Denbee was laughing.

Three

The day known as Hatachi Shōgatsu—the 20th day of New Year celebrations—had drawn to a close, and in the dim evening sky, the faint light of two or three stars floated. Tonight as well, a cold wind began blowing as usual, rolling sand that swirled through Otowa’s main street.

“It’s cold, so cold.” “This New Year’s wind’s blowing harsh as hell.” “It’s really enough to make a man cry.”

Battling against the north wind, pressing their bodies together as they walked from the direction of Edo River Bridge were two manservants. Both seemed slightly drunk, their footsteps unsteady. “No matter how cold it gets, if your pocket’s warm, there ain’t nothin’ to fret about—but this weather’s freezin’.” “Our pockets are cold.” “Being pressured from both inside and out—it’s just too much,” one of them said.

“It’s just too much,” the other chimed in. “It can’t be helped. Knowing full well we’ll get scolded, are we gonna try sweet-talking the steward again?” “No way, no way. When it comes to our steward, there’s no way to talk sense into him. Rather than that, it’s better to ask Okika. I can’t handle big sums, but you could manage a shu or two.” “Okika… Hey, you—you ever borrowed from that woman before?” “I don’t know about others, but she’ll lend to me.”

“You ain’t sayin’ you’ve become her lover, are ya?” “If she’d become my mistress, that’d be fine—but things ain’t got that far yet.” “Even so, it’s strange. That woman lending you money…. Why would she lend it to you?” “Hah, that’s not for me to say. Anyway, she’ll lend to me. If I sweet-talk her, Okika-san’ll lend it to me.” “Well then, maybe I’ll try askin’ her too.”

“Don’t talk nonsense! Even if someone like you asked, they ain’t gonna lend you four coppers. Hahahaha!”

As they talked of such things and pressed against each other while walking, another black shadow trailed behind the two. If one turned west from Otowa’s seventh district, there lay a small stretch of farmland. As they were about to reach it, the clack of wooden clappers approached from ahead, and the lantern of Tōsuke, the night watchman, came into view.

“Good evening,” Tōsuke called out first. “Oh, you’ve got it rough, ain’t ya?” replied one of the manservants. “Damn, ain’t it freezin’?” “It’s rather cold tonight.”

“No matter how much you patrol, honestly making rounds in a place like this? There’s some tricky foxes around here,” said the other with a laugh. “Oh, I’m well acquainted with the foxes here too, so there’s no need to worry,” Tōsuke replied with a laugh. “You folks seem in fine spirits again tonight.”

“Ain’t exactly in fine spirits. Drank a bit o’ sake with what little coin we got, then get an earful from the gatekeeper when headin’ back, get chewed out by the steward—ain’t nothin’ goin’ right at all.” “Even if you say that, this guy here’s got himself a fine middle-aged woman called Okika-san—he’s lucky.” “Ah, quit your blabberin’.”

“Okika-san…” Tōsuke’s eyes glowed like an owl’s in the darkness.

“When you say ‘Okika-san,’ d’you mean the Okika-san from the estate?”

“Hmm, that’s right.” The manservant gave a vague reply and started walking. The other one followed along. Tōsuke still seemed to want to ask something; he took about two steps forward but then appeared to reconsider. After merely seeing off the retreating figures of the manservants, he turned back to head toward the main road. Just then, as if startled by something, he suddenly glanced back toward the field—and there, crouched small, was a figure. It was not a fox. It appeared to be a person.

No sooner had the figure—crouched low as if crawling—slipped from the field onto the road than they muffled their sandals' sound and began pursuing those manservants. At the same moment, whether blown out by the wind or snuffed out deliberately, Tōsuke's lantern flame suddenly went dark. He too followed stealthily after that black shadow.

While such events were unfolding on one side, on the other, two dark shadows wandered before the dark temple gate at the foot of Mejiro Slope. They were Kuronuma Denbee and Uriu Chōsaburō; as per their daytime agreement, they had come to ascertain the true nature of the white butterfly. Chōsaburō said in a low voice: “Uncle.” “It’s around here, isn’t it?” “It’s around here,” Denbee replied. “I had Genzō guide me yesterday and thoroughly investigated beforehand. They say the butterfly slipped through that living hedge and fluttered into the graveyard.” He pointed into the darkness.

“Does it come out around here every night?”

“That’s unclear.” “But, well, there’s nothing for it but to stake out this area.” “To avoid the wind, get under this gate.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” “Shall I go take a look around there?” “Hmm, they say even a dog that wanders may find a stick.” “Rather than just standing here, I might as well take a little walk.”

“Uncle, please wait here for me.” “I will go patrol the area.”

No sooner had he spoken than Chōsaburō started walking briskly toward the top of the slope. The wind showed no sign of abating, and as it howled 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 when a lantern’s light began to flicker from a side street of a certain mansion. It was unclear by what path he had come, but Tōsuke the night watchman arrived here. He was not clapping the wooden clappers, but by the light of that lantern, Chōsaburō recognized him.

“Hey, night watchman. Didn’t you see any butterflies flying around here tonight?” Chōsaburō called out as he approached. “Oh, young master of the Uriu household?” Tōsuke slightly raised his lantern and peered through at Chōsaburō’s figure. “Are you searching for the butterfly?” “The night before last, my older sister said she saw a white butterfly around here, so I came to search for it tonight as well.” “So I hear you’ve seen it too.”

Tōsuke did not answer and asked again. "What do you mean to accomplish by catching that butterfly?" "There’s no particular reason—it just seems strange. I intend to catch it." "And once caught... what then?" "I’ll simply catch it," said Chōsaburō, divulging nothing further. "You ought to stop this," Tōsuke admonished. "White butterflies do fly at times. "Butterflies in winter... Strange when you consider it—there must be some reason behind it. "You samurai would do well not to meddle in such matters."

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

Tōsuke shook his head.

“That butterfly isn’t limited to flying around here.” “Since it doesn’t come out here every single night without fail, searching for it would be futile.” “Are you alone tonight?” “Or do you have someone with you?”

Chōsaburō hesitated slightly, wondering how to respond, but soon answered honestly. “Actually, I came with Uncle Kuronuma.” “Master Kuronuma…” Tōsuke said coldly. “Where is that Master now?” “He’s waiting at the gate below the slope.” “Ah. Is that so?”

Not only did Tōsuke’s voice sound increasingly cold, but the lantern light illuminated his face, on which even a cold smile surfaced.

“As I said before, even if you search around here, the white butterfly rarely shows itself.” “Before you catch a chill, it would be wisest to withdraw promptly.” With these brusque words and a curt nod, he departed, yet Chōsaburō remained rooted to the spot. Listening to the wooden clappers’ sound traversing the slope and fading into the distant alleyway, Chōsaburō considered Tōsuke’s claim—that the white butterfly didn’t necessarily appear here nightly. He had steeled himself for this possibility, but hearing it confirmed by the very night watchman who patrolled these streets made his prolonged wandering through the icy wind seem downright foolish.

“Might as well go consult Uncle and come back.”

He tried to turn back but hesitated again. Having gone to the trouble of venturing this far, to turn back now without even conducting a proper search might make it seem as though he were losing his nerve. It would also be regrettable if Uncle Kuronuma were to laugh at Chōsaburō for being a coward. In any case, deciding it would be best to walk a little further, Chōsaburō set out again—but in the darkness, nothing blocked his view.

It seemed not yet past five-and-a-half *toki* (9 PM), yet the mansion district around here lay as hushed as if entirely asleep. The only sound that reached the ear was the wind's whisper.

Chōsaburō wandered aimlessly around the area and returned to the top of the slope, where the deepening cold of the night seeped into his bones.

“Uncle must be waiting.” Deciding it was about time to turn back, Chōsaburō descended the slope. As he neared the temple gate where they had started, he suddenly stopped and involuntarily stifled a cry. He saw a large white butterfly fluttering off into the darkness. He fixed his gaze, trying to ascertain its path, but in that moment, the figure of the mysterious butterfly vanished as if snuffed out.

Hastening to report this to Uncle，he hurried toward the gate，but Denbee’s figure was nowhere to be found． As I had taken too long to return，and Uncle had likely grown tired of waiting and gone out somewhere—Chōsaburō thought while surveying the dark gatefront—he tripped over something． Thinking it might 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 gasped and hurriedly lifted the person up.

“Is that you, Uncle?” “Uncle Kuronuma.” “…Uncle.” The man did not answer. Moreover, even in the darkness, it was mostly possible to infer that it was Denbee, so Chōsaburō frantically continued calling out.

“Uncle… Uncle….” “Uncle Kuronuma.”

As if having heard his voice, a lantern light appeared from somewhere. It was Tōsuke, the night watchman. He raised his lantern and approached. “What’s happened here?”

“Let me see the light,” Chōsaburō said hurriedly.

The person illuminated by the light was indeed Kuronuma Denbee. He had passed away with his hand still gripping the hilt of his sword. Despite his panic, he was indeed the son of a samurai. Chōsaburō immediately pulled up the corpse and examined the body, but he found no wounds resembling cuts or blows anywhere.

“Get me some water, quick!” Chōsaburō turned back to Tōsuke.

Tōsuke remained holding up the lantern, just standing there in silence, so Chōsaburō spoke again impatiently.

“Hey! Go to this temple and get some water—quick!”

“The temple has already gone to sleep,” Tōsuke said quietly.

“Then draw water from the well.” “Do you think he’ll come back to life just by making him drink water?” “Anything’s fine—just draw it quickly!” Chōsaburō barked.

Tōsuke wordlessly entered the temple grounds. The lantern had departed with him, so the gatefront returned to its former darkness. In that darkness, Chōsaburō knelt on the frozen ground, cradling Uncle Kuronuma’s corpse, half in a dreamlike state.

Even in that dreamlike state, he thought. That Uncle had not collapsed from a sudden illness was clear from seeing his hand on the hilt of his sword. Uncle must have encountered something and been struck down without even time to draw his sword. Chōsaburō recalled that white butterfly. I had just seen the shadow of a mysterious butterfly here. Could it be that Uncle was struck down by that butterfly? Chōsaburō felt a kind of terror, and at the same time, an uncontrollable fury welled up in his chest.

“Damn it... You’ll pay for this!” As he glared into the surrounding darkness while shouting internally, Tōsuke’s lantern flame reappeared like a will-o’-the-wisp. He was holding a small bucket in one hand. Whether from poor circulation or sheer obstinacy, even in such circumstances he showed no particular urgency, approaching with his usual measured pace—which once again stoked Chōsaburō’s impatience.

“Hey... Hurry… hurry…”

Even when shouted at, he still did not make a fuss. Silently emerging through the gate, Chōsaburō snatched the bucket from him as if tearing it away. Since the bucket came with a ladle, Chōsaburō used it to scoop water from the bucket and poured it into Denbee’s mouth.

“Uncle… Uncle….” “Stay with me!”

Denbee did not answer. The water from the ladle did not seem to pass down his throat. As if he thought it was only natural, Tōsuke silently watched.

“It can’t be helped. Let’s take him into the temple and call a doctor,” Chōsaburō said while throwing down the ladle.

Tōsuke remained standing in silence. The hoot of an owl could be heard somewhere.

Four

Kuronuma Denbee’s corpse was carried into the temple grounds. Urging on Tōsuke the night watchman—calm-faced as ever—Chōsaburō sent him to fetch a nearby doctor. Though considered nearby, it was four or five blocks away, so Tōsuke would not return quickly. In the meantime, even with the temple priests assisting and striving to tend to him in every way, Denbee’s corpse only grew colder and colder, as if turning to ice.

“What a tragic turn of events,” the head priest said resignedly. Chōsaburō sighed wordlessly. He felt he now regretted tonight’s plan—it had all gone disastrously wrong. But this was no time for such self-reproach. Having accepted there was no hope of revival, there was no point waiting for the doctor. He needed to rush to the Kuronuma house at once to report what had happened. Entrusting the corpse to the temple priests, he stepped outside.

The temple had lent him a paper lantern, so Chōsaburō swung it to light his way as he left—but between the strong wind and his own frantic haste, the lantern’s flame abruptly went out before he had even gone three or four ken past the temple gate. Since turning back would be troublesome, Chōsaburō—eager to press forward—hurried along through the darkness when, as if about to collide with him, a man who had emerged from nowhere called out in a low voice.

“Oh, excuse me…” Startled by the sudden call, Chōsaburō froze in his tracks, but the figure of the man remained shrouded in darkness. “Has that samurai gentleman passed away?” the man asked. As Chōsaburō hesitated, unsure how to respond, the man pressed further.

“What did he say?”

Chōsaburō couldn’t answer this either. If word were to leak that Kuronuma Denbee had met an unnatural death under unclear circumstances in the middle of the street, it could potentially lead to grave consequences such as the disbandment of his house. Especially since his mind was racing and being entangled with such a man was a nuisance, he answered brusquely. “I don’t know about that.”

“Is it a young person?” “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

Having said that, Chōsaburō started walking briskly again, and the man persistently followed.

“And then… um…”

It seemed the man was still trying to ask something, which made Chōsaburō grow irritated. Along with that came an indescribable unease, and he silently broke into a run as though fleeing. As he ran through the darkness and reached the corner of Ōtani Avenue, he collided with someone else.

“Are you Mr. Uriu’s young master?” the man called out.

That was Tōsuke. The paper lantern he carried also appeared to have gone out.

“The doctor…” Chōsaburō immediately asked. “I had to rouse him from his sleep.” “He will be along shortly.” “Alright. I’m counting on you.”

Chōsaburō kept running straight back to his group residence. Now that matters had reached this point, he could no longer keep it concealed from his parents. Though he knew he’d face scolding later, he resolved to report everything truthfully first—when he stopped by his house, both his father and mother were stunned by the unexpected news. Chōhachi frantically readied himself and bolted out the front gate with his son. When the two knocked at the neighboring Kuronumas’ gate, Ofuku the wife and Okatsu the daughter emerged at the entrance. They too, shaken by the unforeseen report, immediately rushed to the scene. With no men in the household besides the master, Ofuku and Okatsu had come out.

Two men and two women—the flames of their four paper lanterns flickering in the night wind—hurried along the frozen road to arrive at the foot of Mejirozaka, only to find the doctor had come before them. The doctor said there was no longer any hope of revival. However, Denbee’s cause of death remained unknown. No wounds of any kind could be found on his body, nor did it seem to be a sudden illness. The doctor tilted his head in puzzlement at this truly mysterious end. Seeing he had his hand on his sword, the doctor hesitantly diagnosed that he must have encountered something suspicious and suffered a ruptured heart due to extreme shock or terror. The temple’s head priest also said that this was likely the case. Chōhachi and his son sighed as though at a loss. Ofuku began to cry.

“Now, the real work begins.” Chōhachi placed his hands on his knees and darkened his thick eyebrows. As Chōsaburō had vaguely feared, if this became public knowledge, disgrace might well befall the Kuronuma household. The dead could not be helped, but it would be disastrous if the house’s succession went unsecured. Chōhachi had to devise immediate measures to manage the aftermath. By this era’s customs, such situations required concealing the death and hastily adopting an heir for the daughter. They would first submit the adoption papers, then later file notice of his sudden demise. Though transparently contrived, group heads typically permitted such successions out of sympathy. For this incident too, securing the Kuronuma household’s stability left no alternative but that method.

“As there are various matters yet to come, I must ask that tonight’s affair be kept strictly confidential…”

With that, Chōhachi made his request to the head priest and the doctor. They, grasping the circumstances, gave their consent without protest. The doctor had agreed, and with the temple’s head priest also consenting, there was no reason for the other monks to speak of it. What remained was Tōsuke the night watchman. Since he too needed silencing, Chōhachi ordered his son to search for him—but Tōsuke was nowhere to be found.

According to the temple’s account, he had gone to fetch the doctor and had not returned. They knew he had knocked on the doctor’s gate to report the emergency and had encountered Chōsaburō on his return path, but people grew slightly suspicious when he failed to return to the temple afterward. However, in this situation, there was no time to spare for such inquiries. After consulting with the head priest, Chōhachi had a nearby palanquin summoned and decided to transport Denbee’s corpse under the guise of an emergency patient. To carry out such secret measures, the dark late night proved a fortunate coincidence.

With this, the disposal of the corpse had been settled for the time being. However, since Chōhachi could not manage everything by his sole discretion alone, he confided in four or five particularly close associates within the group and decided to proceed with the emergency adoption procedures as an interim measure.

As mentioned before, Kuronuma’s relative Yoshida Kōnemon lived in Kyōbashi’s Shirauo Riverbank and worked at the Shirauo fish warehouse. Their second son Kōnosuke was twenty years old this year, and since there had already been a private arrangement for him to eventually become the husband of Kuronuma’s daughter Okatsu, they decided to promptly formalize the marriage alliance on this occasion. Naturally, neither Ofuku nor Okatsu had any objections to this. The Yoshida household, while shocked by the unforeseen event, also readily consented to Kōnosuke’s adoption as a natural course of action.

All procedures were carried out without a hitch, and with no complications for the Kuronuma household, Kōnosuke came to succeed to its headship, so all parties involved could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Since Denbee’s death had officially been reported as a sudden passing, the corpse was sent directly to the family temple without undergoing an autopsy.

Thus, this strange incident was consigned to oblivion, yet an unrelenting cloud of suspicion continued to weigh upon the hearts of those involved.

Chousaburou was severely scolded by his parents for getting involved in such an unexpected affair—of course—but it was now beyond remedy. What weighed heavier on their minds was Tosuke’s situation; should his lips spill that night’s secret into society’s ears，trouble would surely follow. The next morning，Chouhachi dispatched Chousaburou to ascertain Tosuke’s presence，but upon learning he had not returned since evening prior，the young man came back empty-handed.

“This is really strange.” Today as well, Chōhachi brought it up.

It was the morning after Denbee’s funeral had been completed.

Since that incident, a cold wind had blown maliciously every day, but this morning it had ceased, and the sky had abruptly turned spring-like. The warbler Chōhachi prided himself on keeping was singing in its cage since dawn. “Shall we go again?” said Chōsaburō while gauging his father’s expression.

“Hmm.” “The fact that Tōsuke’s whereabouts have been unknown since that night is strange no matter how you think about it.” “I wonder if he was killed too.”

“Hmm,” Chōsaburō also pondered. “Was he killed?” “He might have been killed.”

“In that case, a corpse should have turned up somewhere by now...” “That’s true… I suppose.” “But there’s no reason he would disappear without cause.” “Perhaps he feared being implicated?”

Regarding Kuronuma Denbee’s unnatural death, it seemed plausible that Tōsuke, having been present at the scene himself, had fled out of fear of becoming implicated. Yet since Chōsaburō had also been there as a witness, Tōsuke should have been able to clear his name without difficulty. He was no woman or child—a man of forty in his prime would hardly vanish over such a trifle—but perhaps he had proven an unexpected coward, overwhelmed by sheer terror. In any case, Chōhachi resolved that another investigation was necessary.

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

Chōsaburō promptly stepped outside, and the sky at the end of the first month was increasingly clear and bright, with the treetops of Gokoku-ji Temple’s forest tinged with a faint pink haze. When he came out onto Otowa Street, he met Genzō, the craftsman from Ichikawa-ya.

“Master Kuronuma’s demise was quite an unexpected affair,” Genzō greeted. “Perfect timing meeting you here. How has Tōsuke the night watchman been lately?” Chōsaburō asked casually. “No, that’s what’s strange—he’s been missing since the evening of the twentieth day of the New Year. The whole neighborhood’s concerned too, but we still haven’t found a trace.”

The night watchman—what was called a *bantarō*—typically lived next to the guard post and ran a hardware store or similar business, but in this town’s case, the night watchman resided within an alley. Tōsuke had previously owned a small shop on the main street, but three years ago, after being widowed, there had been no one left to manage the business. With the townspeople’s consent, he transferred the shop to another person and withdrew deep into the alley, where he continued to perform miscellaneous tasks for the neighborhood.

“Tōsuke had a daughter, didn’t he?” Chōsaburō asked again. “There is a daughter named Ofuyu,” Genzō nodded. “Now fifteen years old, she’s a quiet girl and not unattractive in appearance, but sadly, when she was a child, smallpox got into her eye, causing her to lose sight in her right eye.” “That daughter must be worried too, huh?” “She’s been worried, of course—drawing oracle slips and consulting fortune-tellers—but nothing clear seems to have come of it.”

Having heard all this, it seemed there was no further way to investigate, but in any case, after reconsidering that he should at least confirm the state of Tōsuke’s house before returning, Chōsaburō asked Genzō to guide him. Genzō then took the lead and entered the alley near the guard post. Chōsaburō followed behind, treading along the gutter planks of the alley that remained dim even at midday. The alley’s entrance was narrow, but in its depths lay a fairly spacious open area where a paper-making workshop typical of the area could be seen. Tōsuke’s house also had a small garden, with a single peach tree standing in it.

“Ofuyu, are you there?”

Genzō called out from the front, but there was no response from inside. As he called three times in succession, Ofuyu—having heard the voice—emerged from the wellside at the back, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

Ofuyu was large for her age of fifteen and, just as Genzō had said, her appearance was that of a fair-skinned girl who was at least above average in looks. Whether there was any impairment in her right eye was not clear to Chōsaburō. “Still no word about your father?” Genzō asked, sitting down on the edge of the veranda.

Ofuyu nodded silently with a sorrowful expression, but when she caught a glimpse of the forelocked samurai standing behind Genzō, she hurriedly averted her eyes. "This young master is called Mr. Uriu and resides next to the late Mr. Kuronuma’s estate," Genzō formally introduced Chōsaburō. "He said he wanted to meet your father and ask something, so I brought him here—but if your father still hasn’t come back, there’s nothing we can do."

Ofuyu remained silent, her gaze still lowered. Whether a bush warbler or a caged nightingale, here too a distant song could be heard. Even though it was Edo, spring here was tranquil. In the vacant lot of the paper-making workshop, a single small child’s kite was flying. While looking back at it, Genzō began to speak again. “But well, it’ll probably come to light soon enough.” “Even if he’d been spirited away, he’d usually return within ten days or half a month.” “Don’t fret over it too much.”

It remained unclear whether these cursory reassurances brought her any comfort, but Ofuyu stayed silent as ever. And then, what seemed to be her occasionally stealing glances at the young samurai’s face caught Genzō’s attention.

“Fuu-chan. Do you have a light for my tobacco?” Ofuyu stood up as if noticing, brought the embers’ glow to the tobacco basin, whereupon Genzō took out a cylindrical tobacco case from his waistband and began to smoke.

Five Having confirmed the state of Tōsuke’s household and concluded there was nothing more to investigate, Chōsaburō signaled Genzō with a glance and began to leave, at which point Genzō promptly stowed his tobacco pouch and stood up. “Well then, Fuu-chan, I’ll come again.” Ofuyu once again silently bowed in acknowledgment. Though she wasn’t mute, why had she remained silent the entire time? Chōsaburō found it slightly suspicious, but without giving it much thought, he stepped outside—whereupon Genzō followed him out.

“That poor girl really is pitiable.” “I suppose so,” Chōsaburō said sympathetically. “Is there anything else you require…?” Genzō asked. “No, I’ll be going back now.” “I’m sorry to have troubled you during your busy time.” “Oh, it’s nothing…” “Our shop has been slow lately, so we’ve been idling around every day.” “We’re only busy around year-end—once New Year comes, there’s no work at all.” “That must be how it is.”

He started to say something but, abruptly turning around, caught sight of Ofuyu standing at the entrance of the alley.

She seemed to be intently watching them, her one eye holding some meaning as she clamped the edge of her wet apron between her teeth. Genzō also noticed and looked back, but he said nothing further. Ofuyu watched for a while as the two parted ways in the middle of the road, then turned briskly back and disappeared into the alley. Chōsaburō returned home and reported everything exactly as it had happened, whereupon his father, Chōhachi, merely nodded silently. Now there was nothing to do but wait for news to come naturally—whether Tōsuke had indeed been killed by someone or would safely reappear from somewhere. Chōhachi cautioned his son and instructed him to continue investigating Tōsuke’s whereabouts without negligence.

At fifteen years old this year and still a dependent living at home, Chōsaburō kept his desk in a narrow three-tatami room near the entrance. After leaving his father’s presence and returning to his room, he once again pondered Tōsuke’s circumstances.

Was Tōsuke alive or had he died? What came to mind regarding this was his behavior that night. Though he had witnessed the suspicious death of an Okanemochi-gumi samurai living nearby—a night watchman like himself who should have been startled and alarmed—he remained unexpectedly composed. Rather than composed, he seemed almost indifferent. Pressed by Chōsaburō’s impatient directions, he appeared to work with visible reluctance. There must be some deeper reason behind this, Chōsaburō thought.

He had been pressed by Chōsaburō and reluctantly went to summon the doctor. It was on his way back that he vanished. Additionally, there was a man who collided with Chōsaburō in the darkness and called out to him. Who could he be? In his haste, he had parted without properly replying—but could this man too be someone connected to the incident? Perhaps he had captured Tōsuke and taken him away, or perhaps he had killed Tōsuke and hidden the corpse somewhere—Chōsaburō considered these possibilities once more. Moreover, as it had occurred in the dark, he couldn’t make out the man’s facial features or clothing at all.

The death of Kuronuma Denbee—the disappearance of Tōsuke—the suspicious man in the dark—he had tried connecting these three elements in various ways, but with his inexperienced mind lacking in worldly knowledge, Chōsaburō could find no starting point to unravel the mystery.

In the afternoon, Kuronuma Kōnosuke from the neighboring residence came. “We have caused you such extraordinary trouble this time that I scarcely know how to express my gratitude,” he said with a formal bow to Chōhachi. There were several others in the same group, but given that the Uriu family were next-door neighbors and had maintained a particularly close relationship over many years, it was indeed a fact that Chōhachi had exerted himself the most in this recent matter. “No, you must have been exhausted as well,” Chōhachi said with a bow.

In any household, funerals were troublesome affairs. Moreover, as a sudden adoptee who neither understood household affairs nor even properly knew the faces of people in the group, Kōnosuke must have endured double the usual strain—a fact easily inferred—and Chōhachi sympathized with him on that point. The words "You must have been exhausted" were not merely a perfunctory courtesy.

“Thank you very much. Thanks to you, everything has been settled without any complications,” Kōnosuke said with another bow. “Now then, regarding Madam...” “She is still bedridden.”

Despite being ill, Okatsu had been shocked by her father’s sudden turn and not only rushed to the scene with her mother but forced herself to get up the following day, causing her illness to grow increasingly severe. She was being nursed by her mother Ofuku and the new son-in-law Kōnosuke, remaining bedridden ever since. She could not even attend her father’s funeral. With the funeral arrangements and the sick patient, the commotion at the Kuronuma household was unimaginable, and Chōhachi found it increasingly hard to contain his sympathy.

“In relation to this matter, as tomorrow corresponds to the seventh-night vigil, I wish to hold a modest Buddhist service. Though it may be an imposition, I would like to request the attendance of your esteemed couple and son…” “Oh, that’s most considerate of you—I’m deeply obliged. We will certainly attend to offer incense,” answered Chōhachi.

Just as the formal greetings had concluded，his daughter Okita came in carrying tea. Although their acquaintance was still new，the guest and host began to converse somewhat more openly. “Are you aware...” “...of the incident at Gokoku-ji temple？” said Kōnosuke，his voice slightly lowered as he watched Okita’s retreating figure. “In front of Gokoku-ji...” “I have no idea what that could be，” said Chōhachi while sipping his tea. “Has the white butterfly appeared again？” “That is correct，” Kōnosuke nodded with a bow.

“What? The white butterfly really appeared…” “In front of Gokoku-ji Temple… In Higashi-Aoyagi-chō, there is said to be a hatamoto named Nogami Sadayū…” “Having only recently arrived here myself, I am not fully acquainted with the details, but I understand it to be a residence with a three-hundred-koku stipend.” “Last night past ten o’clock, two townsfolk from Ōtsuka Nakachō were passing by its gate when they came upon that white butterfly again…”

“Hmm.”

Chōhachi let out a low, rumbling sigh as he gazed at the other man’s face, and Kōnosuke continued his explanation. The pair were the wife and apprentice of a rice merchant called Echigoya in Ōtsuka Nakachō. As they were about to pass by the gate of that Nogami residence, a single butterfly flew out from the darkness. Fluttering up to the wife’s very eyes, it caused her to collapse on the spot without uttering a sound. The apprentice, wandering about in confusion, was fortunately met by a passerby. Together they tended to her and took her to the nearby street guard post, where the wife regained consciousness—though she herself had no clear understanding of what had happened. The moment a large white butterfly flew before her eyes, she had been instantly overcome by a dreamlike sensation and afterward claimed to remember nothing of what occurred.

All this was merely rumors Kōnosuke had heard from others, and he himself did not know the detailed facts; but in any case, the talk of a strange white butterfly appearing in the dark night and terrifying passersby had caught his attention. After finishing that story, he spoke again.

“I had heard rumors of the white butterfly back when I was at my family home in Kyōbashi,” said Kōnosuke with a bow, “and it was said that the Hatchōbori officials were conducting their own discreet investigations—but seeing things as they are now, it does seem to be true after all.” “It must be true,” Chōhachi nodded. “Indeed, my daughter has seen it herself.” “On the night your father passed away, my son Chōsaburō reportedly glimpsed something similar.” “The Ichikawa-ya craftsmen claim to have witnessed it too.” “With multiple witnesses beyond counting, we can hardly dismiss it as baseless.”

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

Based on this opinion, he had admonished his son Chōsaburō; now, by hinting at the same view to Kōnosuke and implicitly cautioning against the young samurai’s adventurous actions, he found Kōnosuke listening meekly. After Kōnosuke had left, Okita whispered to her father. “I heard the white butterfly has appeared again in Higashi-Aoyagi-chō.”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Chōhachi’s mood soured slightly. “Eavesdropping isn’t proper behavior.” Okita reddened and said nothing.

The following night was Kuronuma’s seventh-night vigil, and Chōhachi and his wife along with Chōsaburō attended. There were also fifteen or sixteen other guests, but most had already heard the rumors about Higashi-Aoyagi-chō. Some even suggested it might be Kirishitan sorcery. The deceased’s death that night seemed connected to the strange butterfly, so though they hesitated to discuss such rumors before the bereaved family, their human fondness for the uncanny led them to repeat the tale in hushed tones. Having been sternly reprimanded by his father and constrained by youthful propriety, Chōsaburō remained silent throughout; yet he strained his ears intently, determined not to miss a single word of the gossip.

Then, a little over half a month passed without incident. With February’s arrival, the days grew steadily warmer, until the weather turned so mild it seemed real butterflies would soon take flight.

On the afternoon of the twelfth, Chōsaburō went to Ushigome on his father’s errand, but after lingering a while at his destination, by the time he started back, the spring day was already nearing dusk. As he approached the foot of Edogawa Bridge, he stepped on and snapped his sandal thong.

Though his home was not particularly far away, walking in that state would be inconvenient. As Chōsaburō leaned against the bridge railing, twisting tissue paper to replace his sandal thong, a voice caught the edge of his hearing. As it somehow struck him as familiar, Chōsaburō raised his bowed face and saw two men passing by—talking about something as they headed toward Otowa. One was an estate retainer. The other was a lean-built man dressed like a townsman. From having only glimpsed their backs, he couldn’t tell who they were. In that instant, Chōsaburō suddenly remembered.

“Ah, that’s the voice from before.” Recalling that this was unmistakably the voice of the man—the mysterious figure he had collided with while rushing through the darkness to report Kuronuma Denbee’s death—Chōsaburō’s heart gave an odd leap. The two had already passed by, so he couldn’t tell whether it was the manservant’s voice or the townsman’s—but he felt certain one of them was that man from that night. To make matters worse, he was in the middle of fixing his sandal thong and couldn’t immediately give chase. As Chōsaburō clicked his tongue in frustration, the two crossed the bridge without so much as a backward glance.

By the time he had hurriedly fixed his sandal thong, the two figures were already a quarter of a block away. Keeping his eyes on them so as not to lose sight, Chōsaburō quickened his pace and gave chase. When he emerged onto Otowa’s main street and approached the corner of the ninth block, a woman stood waiting with an expectant air. She seemed to have been waiting for Chōsaburō, for upon seeing him, she hurried over in quick steps—prompting him to halt involuntarily. The woman was none other than Ofuyu, the night watchman’s daughter.

“I must apologize for my rudeness the other day,” Ofuyu whispered in greeting. And then, without a word, she pointed to the back alley. Not understanding her meaning, Chōsaburō silently gazed in the direction she indicated—there, at the temple gate in the side street, he saw the figures of a man and woman. Though twilight still lingered enough to recognize them from a distance, when he realized the man was Kuronuma Kōnosuke and the woman his elder sister Okita, Chōsaburō felt an uneasy stirring and unconsciously took two or three steps forward while peering intently at the pair through the dimming light.

What could Kōnosuke and his sister be doing lingering around there at this hour? Had they merely met by chance along the way and paused to exchange words? Or had they arranged to rendezvous there by prior agreement? If it were the former, there would be nothing of particular note—but if it were the latter, this would be no trifling matter. Kōnosuke had become the Kuronuma family’s adopted son-in-law and had yet to hold even the wedding ceremony, yet he was a man bound to Okatsu as his lawful wife. That Kōnosuke and his own sister were conducting clandestine meetings—if this proved true and rumors spread through society, what fate would await them both? One way or another, a scandal seemed inevitable.

As he pondered this while watching from a distance for some time, Ofuyu whispered again imploringly. “Those two have been meeting frequently lately…”

“It’s not just today, is it?” Chōsaburō asked with increasing unease.

Ofuyu nodded. As the evening chill pierced him to the bone, Chōsaburō shuddered. He had been following the manservant and townsman, but now he gazed at the side street as though he had already forgotten such matters entirely. A stray lock of hair at his temple, loosened by the evening breeze, fluttered lightly across his brooding face—a sight Ofuyu watched with knowing intent. When the dusk sixth-hour bell began tolling at Mejiro Fudōdō temple, as if startled by it, the figures of Kōnosuke and Okita separated. Leaving the man behind, Okita alone seemed to be hurrying back, so as if fearing his sister would spot him, Chōsaburō likewise left the place in haste.

Six When he thought about it, there were certainly suspicious aspects.

Chōsaburō thought again after returning home. Kuronuma’s daughter Okatsu had not yet fully recovered and continued to remain bedridden. Under the guise of visiting her, his sister Okita went to see her almost every day. Of course, being neighbors who had always been particularly close, neither Father, Mother, nor Chōsaburō had thought it especially strange at first. But now that matters had reached this point, it was not impossible to infer that Okita’s daily visits might hold some other meaning.

Though he had come as a son-in-law, due to Okatsu’s illness, Kōnosuke had yet to hold the wedding ceremony. Into this situation his sister inserted herself daily, growing close with Kōnosuke. Moreover, according to Ofuyu’s account, it was said the two occasionally met at the temple gate below Mejiro Hill. When piecing together these circumstances, a particular suspicion grew increasingly pronounced. Even while dismissing it as impossible where his sister was concerned—*There’s no way she’d do such a thing*—Chōsaburō found himself unable to outright deny it any longer.

However, he couldn’t recklessly reveal that to his father or mother. In any case, he thought it necessary to further ascertain the truth, so Chōsaburō resolved to keep entirely silent about today’s discovery. Okita, too, returned soon after. According to her account, she had gone shopping as far as Otowa’s main street. There was no reason for someone who had gone shopping to Otowa’s main street to make a detour to the temple gate in the side alley. Given that she had told such a lie, his sister’s actions seemed all the more suspicious, Chōsaburō thought.

Two or three days later. After finishing his evening meal, Chōsaburō headed out for his usual night studies when, in the pale moonlight, he recognized the retreating figure of a man four or five paces ahead as his neighbor Kuronuma Kōnosuke. Where was he going? The thought that he might have lured his sister out once more for a secret meeting at that temple gate crossed his mind, and Chōsaburō resolved to follow him. He muffled the sound of his straw sandals and stealthily followed Kōnosuke’s figure, but instead of heading toward that side street, it turned into a narrow alley along the roadside.

At the end of the alley stood the house of Tōsuke, the night watchman. Was he visiting that house or another? Driven by renewed curiosity, Chōsaburō stepped into the alleyway. Having visited once before several days prior, he first crept up to Tōsuke’s house and peered inside—only to find darkness shrouding everything, whether by chance or design, with the lantern’s light extinguished. From within that gloom came a woman’s voice. When he realized it wasn’t Ofuyu speaking, Chōsaburō grew puzzled anew. Though low in pitch, the woman’s voice carried such intensity that even to his ears outside, it pierced through in fragmented bursts.

“There’s no one as heartless as you—mark my words.”

Kōnosuke seemed to be trying to placate her somehow, but his voice was too hushed to catch. After a moment, the woman’s voice rose again.

“It’s vile. I hate it... I won’t be deceived any longer.” “No, you mustn’t.” “Someone like you…” “No, it’s vile.” “I won’t let Yui go, so prepare yourself.” “...I don’t care if I die... I’ll kill you for sure...”

Chōsaburō was startled. Who on earth was that woman, and what grudge was she voicing against Kōnosuke? As he listened with bated breath, the woman spoke again threateningly. “You should have known by now that a single word from me could end your life.” “Well, I suppose there was no helping your becoming the Kuronumas’ adopted son… But to grow so close with the girl next door…” “No, I know.”

Kōnosuke seemed to be making excuses once more, but his words still didn’t carry beyond the threshold. Chōsaburō grew slightly impatient and was about to take a step or two toward the veranda’s edge when someone from the shadowy dimness tugged at his sleeve. Startled, he turned—it seemed to be Ofuyu.

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

It was indeed Ofuyu. When suddenly addressed, Chōsaburō hesitated slightly—and within the dark house came a sound like movement. Ofuyu grabbed Chōsaburō’s sleeve once more, pulling him forcibly into the shadow of a peach tree as someone emerged onto the veranda’s edge. Even in darkness she seemed to know her bearings; slipping into geta and stepping outside, her figure silhouetted against the pale moonlight revealed a slender woman with a neat frame. As he wondered whether this was the woman who resented Kōnosuke and had been threatening him, her form vanished beyond the alley like a ghost.

While Chōsaburō and Ofuyu watched on in silence, someone else soon came quietly down from the veranda. It was Kōnosuke, walking out to the street with a gait that seemed lost in thought, his movements listless. As Chōsaburō began to follow him almost unconsciously, Ofuyu stopped him again. “Stop.”

Why she was stopping him, Chōsaburō did not understand. As if to explain, Ofuyu whispered.

“Those people are scary.” Why they were scary was still unclear to Chōsaburō. Yet when he recalled how the woman had uttered phrases like “A single word from me could end your life,” he sensed some dreadful secret lurking beneath those words. “Why are they scary?” Chōsaburō asked.

“They’re just... scary people.” “My father might have been killed by those people too,” Ofuyu whispered in a hushed voice, clinging to the young samurai.

In that instant, yet another shadow suddenly appeared. They couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but it seemed a man with a cloth covering his cheeks—resembling a townsman—had crawled out from under the veranda like a cat and swiftly slipped out to the street. He was every bit as swift as a cat.

Chōsaburō was taken aback, but Ofuyu also seemed startled, shrinking back and clinging to him.

Inside the house was darkness, but outside shone a pale moon. The man’s back illuminated by it seemed to belong to the townsman they had encountered at Edogawa Bridge some days earlier, so Chōsaburō felt startled once more. At the same time, he almost unconsciously pushed Ofuyu aside and chased after the man.

Peering by the pale moonlight, he saw the woman heading north along the main street. Kōnosuke followed her. The man dressed like a townsman also appeared to be trailing them. As it was still early evening, the townhouses lining both sides kept their shops open with sparse passersby. Mindful of this exposure, Kōnosuke made no immediate move to close in on the woman. Since the man maintained a considerable following distance, Chōsaburō resolved to mimic him, keeping an equally measured gap as he trailed behind.

The woman turned left midway and entered an unlit side street flanked by farmhouse fields on both sides. When they reached that point, Kōnosuke abruptly quickened his pace and caught up to her from behind. She must have recognized his footsteps, yet showed no sign of fleeing—instead turning calmly as if conversing with him. Seeing this, the townsman threw himself face-down into the field to hide. Chōsaburō mimicked him, pressing flat against the soil until the woman suddenly shoved Kōnosuke away and staggered forward two or three steps. Kōnosuke lunged after her, seizing her collar. Was he trying to drag her down or throttle her? Wordlessly, the man and woman grappled.

The townsman who had been prostrate in the field sprang out and rushed toward them like a bird in flight; startled by this, the two shadows instantly separated. As the woman tried to flee in panic and the townsman rushed over to restrain her, Kōnosuke once again stood blocking their path as if to intercept them. While the two men were struggling with each other, the woman fled at full speed.

Regardless of the woman, Chōsaburō found himself perplexed about how to handle the two men grappling before his eyes. Under normal circumstances, assisting Kōnosuke would have been natural, but in this situation—whether to help Kōnosuke or the townsman—Chōsaburō could not discern the right course. He had begun rising to his feet but, pointlessly holding his breath while watching events unfold, saw the townsman lose footing in his sandals and collapse onto one knee. Kōnosuke shoved him down and bolted. The man instantly leapt up in pursuit, whereupon Kōnosuke plunged into the fields and fled heedless of paths. Pursuer and pursued—their forms disappeared into the zelkova grove's shadows.

What had happened and how—Chōsaburō hadn't the slightest idea. He no longer had the energy to follow those tracks and just stood there dazedly, but judging by his actions up to now, that townsman was no ordinary person. It was surmised he might be some sort of informant working under the Hatchōbori constables. That there was some secret between that woman and Kōnosuke had also been vaguely guessed from their earlier exchange. When he connected these pieces, it seemed they might have committed some grave crime and were now being targeted by an informant.

He didn’t know who the woman was, but Kōnosuke lived next door and they exchanged glances morning and night. Not only was it unexpected that he might be a felon, but when Chōsaburō considered that his own sister seemed to be on intimate terms with that felon, he felt as though the surroundings had abruptly darkened. He could no longer bring himself to go to night school and turned back home just like that. He did not speak of tonight’s events to his father or mother. He had wanted to speak privately with his father about it, but given how small their house was, he feared that if his older sister were to overhear, it would cause trouble; thus, he remained silent and went to bed that night.

Impatiently waiting for dawn to break, he inquired of O-An, the maid sweeping before the Kuronuma gate, and learned that Kōnosuke had not returned home the previous evening. Had he finally been captured by the informant’s men, or had he managed to escape and gone into hiding somewhere? Either way, it seemed things would not end as they were. His father, Chōhachi, had gone to the castle for his duty shift. After attending his usual swordsmanship practice and returning around noon, Chōsaburō found Mother O-Yu speaking while eating her lunch.

“I hear our neighbor Mr. Kōnosuke hasn’t returned since last night.” “What could have happened?” Chōsaburō asked, feigning ignorance.

"He might've gone out with friends or something," O-Yu said with a laugh. "He's only just recently come here, but it seems he has quite a few friends over in Kyōbashi. After all, they say the people at the warehouse are quite the pleasure-seekers." "He came as a son-in-law 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-Yu nodded. "But even though he's a son-in-law, Okatsu-san is in that state." "He must have been invited by some friends and gone off somewhere, I suppose."

Since his sister Okita and his younger sister Otoshi were also sitting nearby holding their chopsticks, Chōsaburō stole a glance at his sister’s face during this exchange—whether it was just his imagination or not, Okita’s complexion appeared somewhat pale.

On the evening of that day, Okita too vanished without a trace.

Seven

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

“Hmm.” “Both Hatsuuma and Ni-no-uma were big hits.” “I stopped by on my way back from the morning bath too—Inari’s been packed since dawn,” answered the husband, a man of thirty-two or thirty-three. “Then I’ll go pay my respects quickly and make the offerings.” His wife tightened her obi and began preparing to leave. This couple was Yoshigorō, an okappiki living in Mikawachō, Kanda, and his wife Okuni. After having the maid carry the sacred sake and offerings, Okuni went out the front—and in that same moment, a man peered out from the back door.

“Boss. You in?”

Since the relaying subordinate was not present, Yoshigorō called out from before the long brazier. “Ain’t that you, Tome? Well, come on in.”

“Good morning, sir.”

Tomekichi, the underling, came up. “Since there ain’t nobody else here, can’t get the brazier out. Come over here,” said Yoshigorō, having the other man sit across the long brazier before immediately beginning to speak in a low voice. “How’s it… How’s that matter…”

“I’m deeply ashamed—I made a blunder the other night…” Tomekichi brushed his sideburns. “But Boss, I’ve pretty much got most of it figured out. The wanted criminal Okame has changed her name to Okika and taken up residence in the hatamoto estate of Satō Magoshirō in Otowa.” “Satō Magoshirō…” “A minor hatamoto, I suppose.” “Even so, he’s a four hundred koku hatamoto… He was on official duty in Nagasaki for about three years and returned last autumn. It’s said that Okika followed after him and slipped into the estate.”

“Who did you hear that from?”

“I pressured the estate’s manservants and found out.” “He probably has some shady dealings of his own,” Tomekichi said with a brief laugh, then suddenly furrowed his brow. “But since he apparently gives the manservants occasional pocket money, their opinion of him doesn’t seem too bad.” “I’ve figured out that much, but beyond that, I still can’t make sense of it.” “Okika has a man in secret.” “That man seems to be a young fellow named Kōnosuke who recently came as a son-in-law to the Kuronuma household at the Okanemochi-gumi estate in Otowa.”

“Where is Kōnosuke’s family home?”

“He’s the second son of the Yoshida family’s Otona-ya warehouse in Shirauo-gashi.” “So you’re saying Okika and Kōnosuke have some connection to that butterfly?” Yoshigorō pressed again. “Well, that’s the snag,” Tomekichi said, brushing his sideburns once more. “My main job’s the butterfly case—Okika and Kōnosuke are just side branches. But when you dig up something juicy like this, you get pulled in…” “Right now, those two seem both tied to the butterfly business and not tied at all…” “What’s your read on it, Boss?”

“I can’t make a judgment yet either,” Yoshigorō said quietly, smoking his tobacco. “And what about the night watchman Tōsuke? Hasn’t he come back either?” “He hasn’t come back,” Tomekichi replied. “I’m certain he’s connected to the butterfly… After all, he’s gone into hiding over this ominous business.” “Since our target’s clearly gone underground, we’ve just got to calmly think this through.”

Yoshigorō continued to smoke tobacco. Tomekichi also took out his tobacco pipe. The boss and his subordinate glared at each other in silence for a while when, as if to interrupt their thoughts, the lively sound of the midday festival’s drums echoed through the town.

“Has Kōnosuke not returned to his own home since that night?” Yoshigorō asked while tapping his pipe.

“It seems he hasn’t come back either,” Tomekichi answered. “Since he was about to get caught by me, seems he’s gone into hiding somewhere.” “But Kōnosuke’s a samurai when all’s said and done.” “He’s not some night watchman’s old man—status-wise—so he can’t keep hiding forever.” “Do that and his house gets dissolved.” “The Kuronumas sure landed themselves a reckless son-in-law.” “Might he be holed up at his family home in Shirauo-gashi?”

“Since I thought the same thing myself, I even snuck a peek on my way out this morning—but there weren’t any signs of that…” “Still—let’s keep our eyes open.”

“Do this right.” “Understood.” “If you’re short on hands, I can lend you someone.” “Hmm,” Tomekichi thought. “Having too many people might actually backfire.” “Let me try handling this solo a bit longer.”

In a tone that suggested he didn’t want others stealing his glory, Tomekichi left promptly. Yoshigorō once again picked up his pipe and quietly blew smoke, but before long—as if struck by a thought—he busily tapped out the ashes and stood up. Just then, the sound of the lattice door opening echoed through the front entrance, and Okuni returned with the maid.

“Hey.” “Bring out my kimono.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Okuni asked. “Hmm.” “Tome came just now—can’t leave this matter to him alone.” “I’ll head out for a bit too.” Yoshigorō hurriedly changed into his kimono and went out front. Since he’d said it was business, his wife didn’t try asking where he was headed.

It was the afternoon of that day.

The spring sky in mid-second month of the old lunar calendar was hazy with pale purple, and even from Surugachō, the figure of Mount Fuji could not be seen. From the Nihonbashi Fish Market, a young man wearing a headband came out briskly and energetically. The man appeared to be a young worker from a wholesaler’s shop; he had placed a large sea bream into a blue basket and was carrying it atop his head. He made his way through the crowd and hurried south across Nihonbashi Bridge, but just as he seemed to have reached the middle of the long bridge, he abruptly came to a halt. In the next instant, he tucked the fish basket under his arm and leapt over the railing into the river with a splash, startling the passersby.

Why did the vigorous young man from the fish market suddenly throw himself off Nihonbashi Bridge? The people who didn’t know the details were clamoring in confusion, but among them, the only one who mostly surmised those details was Yoshigorō of Kanda Mikawachō. He had no idea where or how he had been walking, but he had just arrived here and witnessed this extraordinary incident. Yoshigorō thought that the young man had jumped into the river because he was carrying the sea bream. The Tokugawa family had officials called o-naya. It was an official role responsible for handling fish and vegetables to be served at the shogun’s table, and even within fish alone, there were specialists such as the Tai no O-naya (Sea Bream Office), Shirauo no O-naya (Whitebait Office), and Ayu no O-naya (Sweetfish Office), each with their own designated expertise. The privilege of this o-naya was that whenever they deemed a fish to be good, they were permitted to requisition it at will. Once an o-naya official pointed to a fish and declared, “This is for official use,” they had to submit that fish whether they liked it or not. It was unclear whether they would even pay for it or not. In some cases, they were simply confiscated without any payment at all. For this reason, the people of the riverbank were greatly wary and on high alert against the o-naya officials.

The young man, while carrying out a large sea bream order from someone, had unfortunately encountered the Tai no O-naya in the middle of Nihonbashi. Whether he thought it disastrous to have it confiscated or resented having it forcibly taken by those abusing their authority, in any case, the hot-blooded youth must have leapt into the river with his fish basket rather than surrender even one bream to the o-naya. Having grown up along the riverbank, he surely knew how to swim. Since it was broad daylight, Yoshigorō assumed there was little risk of drowning and remained unperturbed.

He turned his attention not to the young man who had thrown himself into the river but to the one who had driven him to it—a samurai of good character around forty years old. This man, too, seemed to have mostly guessed the circumstances of the suicide attempt and walked past with a faint smile, not even glancing back.

Yoshigorō turned back and pursued the samurai. When he had crossed the bridge and reached the vicinity of Muromachi, he called out in a low voice. “Excuse me, excuse me… Mr. Imai…” Before the samurai, who had stopped when called, Yoshigorō slightly bent his waist and bowed politely. “Master. It’s been a while.” “Yoshigorō of Mikawachō,” the samurai said with another smile. “Did you see that just now? We always end up being the bad guys.”

The samurai was Imai Riemon of the Sea Bream Office. Though he himself had done nothing overtly wrong, Imai seemed somewhat disconcerted at realizing that Yoshigorō—the Edo detective—might have connected him to the young man’s desperate leap into the river. But Yoshigorō brushed aside his self-deprecating remarks about being “the villain” and swiftly turned to the main subject. “I apologize for asking this so abruptly,” he said, “but you were acquainted with Mr. Yoshida, were you not?”

“Yoshida…” “Shirauo-gashi?” “That is correct.” “Therefore, I would like to ask—might you know whether this Mr. Yoshida is acquainted with a hatamoto called Mr. Satō of Otowa?” “Satō of Otowa…” “The gentleman who returned from Nagasaki around last autumn…”

“Hmm.” “Satō Magoshirō?” “I know him slightly myself, but Yoshida seems rather close with him.” “I hear Yoshida’s wife is somehow related to Satō…” “Ah, so they’re related?” “Then they must be well acquainted…”

“What? Do you have some business with that Satō?” Riemon asked while studying the other man’s face. Precisely because he knew Yoshigorō was no ordinary man, he himself seemed somewhat stirred by curiosity. “No, it’s nothing as formal as business…” Yoshigorō answered evasively. “The other day, when I passed by that mansion, I happened to see Mr. Yoshida’s son, so…”

“It must be the second son.” “I hear he was hastily adopted into the Kuronuma household of the Okanemochi-gumi…”

“I have also heard such rumors.” “Oh, I must apologize for detaining you when you’re in such a hurry.” “Well then, I’ll take my leave here.” Riemon watched Yoshigorō’s retreating figure with a suspicious gaze as the detective bowed politely once more and took his leave. He must have thought it somewhat strange that Yoshigorō had stopped someone 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 was one 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 the Yoshida and Satō families were related, there was nothing unusual about Yoshida’s second son Kōnosuke frequenting the mansion. And so, it stood to reason that he would grow close to a woman named Okine residing in that mansion—a common enough occurrence in this world. Yoshigorō thought that he needed to investigate where exactly Kōnosuke had hidden himself without falling into Tomekichi’s custody. He then headed toward Kyōbashi and visited the Yoshida residence in Shirauo-gashi. Of course, he couldn’t very well request to be escorted through the main entrance, so he patiently loitered around the area, lying in wait for any attendants or maids emerging from the house and probing them with various approaches to investigate—but Kōnosuke did not appear to be hiding at his family home.

“It’s darkest under the lighthouse—he might be hiding in Satō’s mansion after all.”

Yoshigorō returned to his home in Kanda once to eat his evening meal and was about to head out again when Tomekichi came bustling in. “Boss, are ya headin’ out?”

“Hmm.” “Tonight I’ll go stake out Otowa myself.”

“Well then, it’s good we didn’t miss each other.” “Actually, another incident has occurred,” Tomekichi said with a furrowed brow.

“I heard that Kuronuma’s daughter has died…” “A daughter from a propertied family, huh?” “That’s correct.” “Her name was Okatsu, and she was eighteen this year.” “After her father died, they hastily adopted Kōnosuke as a foster son, but since Okatsu was bedridden with illness, the wedding kept being postponed—and during that time, Kōnosuke ran away from home and hasn’t returned.” “Because of that, Okatsu died by suicide, they say.”

“She died by suicide?” Yoshigorō asked with mild surprise. “Don’t know if it was a tantō or kaiken,” Tomekichi replied, lowering his voice, “but they say she sat up in bed and stabbed her throat.” “And stranger still—the Uriu house next to Kuronuma’s had their daughter Okita run off too.” “Kōnosuke flees his home. “Okatsu—meant to be his bride—kills herself. “Now the neighbor’s girl disappears. “One calamity after another. “So why’d these women kill themselves? Why flee? “You got no leads?”

“After all, it’s a disturbance that occurred within a samurai residential compound—details are near impossible to uncover.” “Even finding this much wasn’t easy.” “I imagine not,” Yoshigorō nodded. “Hearing that makes it all the more urgent.” “You’ve done well—go back one more time.” By the time they left Kanda, what had been the gradually lengthening daylight hours of late had already faded into dusk. Moreover, since evening the sky had suddenly clouded over, a damp and unseasonably warm south wind beginning to blow.

“It’s an ill-omened evening.” “An ill-omened sky.” “We might get rained on.”

While looking up at the dark sky, the two hurried toward Otowa, and from midway, the wind grew increasingly stronger. “Where exactly is it that they say the samurai Kuronuma Denbee died?”

“In front of that temple over there.” Spotting something in the direction Tomekichi pointed, Yoshigorō let out a silent cry.

“Ah, a butterfly!” “Hmm.” “It’s the butterfly.” The two hurriedly broke into a run as if chasing the white shadow.

8 While chasing the butterfly's shadow fluttering through the darkness, Yoshigorō and Tomekichi raced ahead of each other, though Yoshigorō proved slightly faster. He pulled out a four-fold handkerchief from his breast and swung at the butterfly with a sharp snap—the white shadow vanished instantly. "I definitely felt contact..." Yoshigorō peered through the gloom around him, but without a lantern, he could discern nothing on the shadowed ground.

“I’ll go buy some candles around here,” said Tomekichi, who appeared familiar with the area, and immediately ran off again.

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

Relying on the paper 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.

“There’s nothing to be done. The wind’s strong—maybe it got blown off course. But it couldn’t have just vanished into thin air.”

At that moment, Tomekichi cried out. “Ah! 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!” The moment the two rushed over, the shadow of the butterfly vanished from sight.

Tomekichi swung his lantern about, frantically illuminating the area, but finding no trace of anything resembling it, he grew agitated and began running around recklessly. 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 temple gate where the street lay deserted, the sight of two grown men desperately running about chasing a butterfly undeniably resembled a scene of men bewitched by a fox. Moreover, at that moment, they had no time to dwell on such thoughts. “They’re damn well making fools of us. What a damnable bastard,” Tomekichi said, catching his breath.

Yoshigorō also stopped and let out a deep sigh. No matter how impatient they grew, no matter how restless they became, the eerie butterfly no longer showed its shadow. The two gave up and exchanged a look.

“Boss. What should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do.” “We’ll find it again somewhere else.” “What should we do now?”

“Hmm. According to my thinking—” Yoshigorō began to say, then suddenly looked back. “Tome.” “Catch that!”

When they looked, there was a small shadow crouching like a dog or cat under the temple’s hedge behind them. Tomekichi handed the lantern he was holding to his boss and immediately went to catch that shadow. The shadow leapt up and tried to flee up the dark slope, but Tomekichi lunged and pinned it down. Under the light of the lantern that Yoshigorō held out, Tomekichi peered in and nodded.

“Hmm… You. I’ve had my eye on you for a while now—always thought there was something off about you.”

“Do you know her?” “This here’s Tōsuke the night watchman’s daughter—name’s Ofuyu.”

“The night watchman’s daughter, eh?” Yoshigorō nodded. “I’d been meaning to look into her myself.” “Shall I take her to the guard post?” “No—if we take her to a guard post like that, it’ll draw too much attention.” “I’ll handle things here. You take the lantern and keep watch on the street.”

Yoshigorō grabbed Ofuyu’s arm and dragged her to the temple gate, but since the front was exposed to the wind, he crouched down with the side hedge at his back.

“Why were you hiding in a place like this at this hour?”

Ofuyu remained silent. “We’re men who carry jitte. “Hiding things in front of us won’t do you any good,” Yoshigorō spoke threateningly. “So what happened to your father there? “Still hasn’t come back?” “Yes,” Ofuyu answered faintly. “He really ain’t comin’ back?” “Isn’t he hiding over there at that Satō hatamoto’s estate?”

Ofuyu remained silent once more. “You should know this.” “Your father has his reasons—he’s hiding at the Satō estate for now. That woman Ochika must’ve told you not to worry…” “Still pretending ignorance?” “And that same Ochika’s been sneaking into your place to meet Kuronuma’s son-in-law Kōnosuke…” “You’ll keep playing stubborn?” When Ofuyu still refused to speak, Yoshigorō smiled and lightly tapped her shoulder.

“You’re quite steadfast for your age. But I can’t just keep giving you praise.” “If you stay this stubborn, I’ll have to start making threats.” “Why did you come here?” “Or did you come tonight to meet some sweetheart?” Ofuyu kept her lips sealed tight. “Or were you tailing us to eavesdrop?” “Huh? Hey.” “Why won’t you speak?” Yoshigorō demanded, tapping her shoulder again.

As mentioned earlier, since the south wind was blowing strongly against the front of the gate, 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, seized Yoshigorō by the collar and yanked with all its strength. Caught off guard by the sudden grab and the considerable force of the pull, Yoshigorō fell backward onto his rear. Seizing this opportunity, Ofuyu instantly sprang up and dashed away like 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 first had to rescue his boss. He rushed straight to the temple gate, where Yoshigorō, even while falling, grabbed the opponent’s arm. “Tome, quickly catch that guy!” Tomekichi complied. As he too grabbed the opponent’s arm through the hedge and tried to yank them out, the opponent struggled to resist—until two or three thin cedar branches snapped and splintered, sending the person inside tumbling out into the open. He desperately struggled but was pinned down by the two constables, bound with a restraining rope, and dragged to sit before the gate.

“It’s just too damn dark—can’t see his face.” This time they decided to knock on the temple gate and borrow a lantern’s light. Peering at the man’s face illuminated by the flame, Tomekichi nodded. “I figured it might be something like that. “Boss. “This guy’s Tōsuke, the night watchman!” “I see,” Yoshigorō nodded. “If we keep poking around here, there’s no telling what interference might turn up. “Let’s take him to the guard post after all.”

Before he could finish speaking, sure enough, interference came. He had likely been hiding inside the gate. A masked man suddenly leaped out and swiftly slashed down Tomekichi’s lantern.

“They have something glowing!” “Watch out!” While cautioning Tomekichi, Yoshigorō drew a jitte from his breast pocket, and Tomekichi likewise gripped his jitte and braced himself. The masked man wordlessly launched into a slashing assault. Realizing he was a samurai, neither could afford carelessness. Leaving Tōsuke bound where he lay, they ducked and weaved beneath their opponent’s furious blade strikes—until abruptly, for reasons unfathomable, the man sheathed his sword and fled headlong into the dark slope’s shadows.

The two tried to continue their pursuit, but realizing that ensuring their already captured target didn’t escape was more crucial than chasing the one who had fled, they halted as if by prior agreement. When they returned once more to the gate, Tōsuke’s figure appeared to be missing in the darkness. When Tomekichi rushed into the temple compound to borrow another lantern and returned, sure enough, there was no sign of Tōsuke anywhere around.

The masked man must have charged out slashing to rescue Tōsuke. He must have hidden himself during that struggle. Moreover, since Tōsuke was bound, he shouldn’t have been able to run far freely. Thinking he might be hiding in the graveyard, Tomekichi took the lead and wove through the stone monuments—when suddenly the white butterfly fluttered past before their eyes. “There it comes again!”

As the two were chasing after the suspicious butterfly, Tomekichi tripped over a fallen stone monument at his feet and collapsed heavily onto his side.

“That’s dangerous!” Yoshigorō called out, but Tomekichi did not respond immediately. As Tomekichi fell, he apparently struck his spleen on the base of a stone monument. He hadn’t quite lost consciousness, but as he was only breathing shallowly and seemed unlikely to get up easily, Yoshigorō lent a hand to help him up—only for Tomekichi to go limp.

“Tome. “What’s wrong?” “Get a grip!” With this turn of events, Yoshigorō had to prioritize tending to his subordinate over the butterfly investigation, so he carried Tomekichi out of the graveyard. When he went around to the temple entrance and requested assistance, the steward came out from the rear. Since Tomekichi had gone to borrow a lantern earlier, the steward also recognized his face. “What happened to that person?” “It seems he tripped and got injured there. “I’m sorry, but I’d like to borrow a lantern…”

After laying Tomekichi down at the entrance and examining him under the light brought by the steward, they saw that besides having injured his side, he also seemed to have hurt his left hand. Yoshigorō revealed his identity and requested that a doctor be summoned immediately. The steward consented without objection and sent a temple laborer out front. Because they had learned Yoshigorō and his group’s identities, the temple did not treat them carelessly. The head priest also soon emerged from the rear. He instructed the steward and others to carry the injured man into a study-like room.

“I apologize for disturbing you so late at night,” Yoshigorō said, bowing once more to the Head Priest. “Oh, not at all…” The Head Priest glanced back at Tomekichi and bowed courteously as well. “Even so, why did you enter this cemetery in the middle of the night? Do you have some business here?” The Head Priest’s words were calm, but Yoshigorō did not overlook the strange gleam in his eyes.

The head priest they were meeting for the first time was probably forty-five or forty-six years old. He was a pale, slender man who exuded a certain dignity. Was he truly unaware of everything, or did he harbor some secret? Since he couldn’t confirm this, Yoshigorō answered cautiously. "In truth, we had been searching for the night watchman Tōsuke’s whereabouts. Tonight we spotted him at your temple gate and managed to apprehend him—even bound him once—but he escaped again somewhere. While heading to the cemetery to search for him... well, the darkness being what it was, we tripped over a fallen stone monument at our feet..."

“Is that so?” “I know the night watchman Tōsuke as well, but for him to escape your custody—he must be bolder than he appears.” “Do you have particular grounds for investigating him?” “Tōsuke has been missing since last month.” “I had heard as much…” “Then I suppose Tōsuke has some unsavory business compelling him to hide.”

Was he feigning ignorance with such remarks, or did he truly know nothing at all? Tormented by this judgment, Yoshigorō gave an evasive answer. "Whether there's anything shady or not—we must investigate to know for certain—but regardless, a runaway must undergo proper questioning as procedure dictates..." "Moreover, someone pretending to elope publicly while lurking near my household hardly seems like innocent behavior. When we tried apprehending him regardless, he unexpectedly resisted—leaving us no choice but to bind him."

“Quite right…” “So, are you saying that Tōsuke fled and hid in this temple’s cemetery?” the Head Priest asked again.

“As I mentioned earlier, it was too dark to be certain, but I thought perhaps…” “So then, you have no definite basis for believing he fled into these temple grounds?”

At that moment, the steward brought tea and sweets, and seizing this opportunity, the Head Priest bowed once more. “I must apologize for my presumption, but as I have been confined with a cold these past two or three days, I shall now take my leave.” “Please rest at your leisure…” “I deeply apologize for troubling you during your illness. Please rest without hesitation.” Exchanging greetings, the Head Priest stood up together with the steward. As Yoshigorō watched their retreating figures, deep in thought, Tomekichi—who had been lying silently until now—managed to slightly lift his unresponsive body and whispered.

“Boss, that head priest seems mighty suspicious, don’t he?” “You saw it too?” “I’ve been lyin’ here watchin’ that guy’s face since earlier—swear that priest’s got some kinda score to settle.”

“They’re falling right into the jar I prepared,” Yoshigorō smiled. “That head priest’s no common rat.”

Hearing footsteps, the two abruptly fell silent as the steward led the doctor in.

Nine

Yoshigorō, the Edo detective, and his subordinate Tomekichi suffered successive failures: first losing sight of their target—the white butterfly; next letting Ofuyu slip away; then allowing Tōsuke, the night watchman, to escape; further losing track of a masked ruffian; and finally Tomekichi falling in the graveyard and injuring himself. For them, that so many failures had accumulated in a single night could only be termed an ill-starred day of the direst sort.

Moreover, misfortune did not befall them alone; various calamities continued to strike those of the Okanemochi-gumi who held significant connections to this incident. No sooner had Kuronuma's son-in-law Kōnosuke gone missing than Uriu's daughter Okita vanished from her household as well. Both families had endeavored to keep secret Kōnosuke's disappearance and Okita's disappearance, but it appeared the news had leaked through the maids' chatter and swiftly spread throughout the entire group.

What particularly shocked people was the death of Kuronuma’s daughter Okatsu. As mentioned before, Okatsu had been bedridden since last month and was in a marriage in name only with Kōnosuke, the hastily adopted son-in-law. When she learned that Kōnosuke had run away and that Okita from the neighboring house had also run away as if following his trail, she clutched her pillow and wept. *How humiliating!* Her mother Ofuyu could well discern the profound meaning behind those words—but having yet to obtain concrete evidence—she could not openly confront the Uriu household. After temporarily placating her daughter as best she could during this interlude—Okatsu seized a moment when her mother and maids were distracted—sat upright on her futon—and slit her throat with a razor. By the time Ofuyu discovered this—her daughter was no longer among the living. Though no suicide note remained—there was no doubt that *How humiliating!* encapsulated her reason for self-destruction—and Ofuyu too trembled with bitter frustration.

Even though the formal wedding ceremony had not yet taken place, the entire group recognized Kōnosuke as Okatsu’s husband. Society at large also recognized this. If Okita had eloped with Kōnosuke, then she was clearly guilty of an illicit affair. Once she obtained solid evidence, Ofuyu resolved that she would confront the Uriu parents, appeal to the group head, and avenge her daughter. Even without Ofuyu resolving to do so, the Uriu household also had to steel themselves considerably for what was to come. Chōhachi gathered his wife Oyū and son Chōsaburō in his private room and whispered.

“This has truly turned into a disaster. Kōnosuke’s elopement and Okita’s elopement—if those were all, there might still be a way to settle it privately. But with Okatsu having committed suicide because of it, the matter becomes complicated. I don’t know what measures the Kuronuma side will take, but I doubt it will end peacefully. We must prepare ourselves for that eventuality as well, I suppose.”

“What do you mean by ‘preparation’…?” Oyū asked uneasily.

“I am a samurai myself.” “Since it’s come to this, there’s no help for it—we must find Okita’s whereabouts as soon as possible and execute her…” “…and take her head to the Kuronuma household to apologize…” “Otherwise, on the charge of failing to control my household, it will affect my status as well,” Chōhachi said with a sigh. Even while affiliated with the Okanemochi-gumi—a group known for its relatively weak samurai ethos—Uriu Chōhachi, bearing the daishō swords all the same, had no choice but to steel himself with resolve befitting a warrior in such circumstances.

“So, what will become of the Kuronuma household?” Oyū asked again.

“This time their lineage will surely be severed,” Chōhachi sighed again. “Even last month, making it public would’ve been untenable—that’s why we claimed Denbee fell suddenly ill to buy time.” “The group head knows this too.” “Now this new incident strikes like an arrow loosed.” “The adopted son flees; the household daughter takes her own life.” “With that, there’s no salvaging things.” “If only last month they’d let the neighboring house collapse entirely,” Oyū muttered bitterly, “none of this would’ve happened…”

“It is no use saying that now. After all, it is our daughter who is at fault.” “Kōnosuke may be to blame, but Okita is equally responsible.” “In short, there remains no choice but to settle this through mutual punitive resolution.” “I have already resolved myself to this course.” “You must maintain that same resolve.”

Oyū silently wiped her eyes. As Chōsaburō listened in silence, his father soon turned to face him.

"As I've just instructed, I have official duties," Chōhachi declared. "I can't go wandering Edo searching for my daughter's whereabouts. You're still a dependent in this household. From today onward, you'll comb through every district of Edo daily until you find where your sister hides. Should you encounter her along the way, drag her back by force if necessary." Even by the standards of that era, burdening a fifteen-year-old youth with such responsibility seemed unduly harsh. Yet given the scandal's sensitivity—too delicate to entrust to outsiders—Chōhachi found himself compelled to impose this duty upon his own flesh and blood. Understanding the gravity better than most his age, Chōsaburō offered no protest.

“Understood.” “But you…” Oyū cautioned her son. “Our sister’s disappearance might involve other circumstances—it may have nothing to do with Kōnosuke next door.” “Keep that in mind and don’t act rashly.”

“No, that’s clinging to false attachments!” Chōhachi rebuked. “Okita has been seen conversing with Kōnosuke at the back entrance—her own sister witnessed this two or three times.” “Oaki had kept silent until now, but she too admits to occasionally seeing their clandestine talks.” “This makes the evidence conclusive.” “Chōsaburō—show no quarter.” “Your swordsmanship has progressed well for your years.” “If Kōnosuke should interfere and brandish his blade to intimidate you—draw yours and cut him down without hesitation.”

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

Chōhachi further instructed his son about four or five potential leads for the search. Once Chōsaburō had fully grasped every detail, he withdrew from his father’s presence. As he hurriedly prepared to depart, his mother handed him some pocket money and whispered once more at the threshold: “Father speaks harshly, but she remains your eldest sister.” “To you too… she’s still your sister…”

Chōsaburō nodded silently and left, but he thought sadly of the troublesome duty he had been assigned. He well understood his mother’s desire to protect his sister, but in this situation, if he did not locate his sister as quickly as possible and somehow resolve the matter, it would jeopardize not only his father’s status but also the family’s honor. Even if Mother resented him, he could not let Sister escape. If Kōnosuke was with her and tried to interfere in some way, he had to follow Father’s instructions. Regarding the search for the white butterfly, he had once held a certain interest, but this search was far from being of any interest—it was nothing more than a painful, arduous duty.

Even so, he steeled himself and set out. Of course, he had no definite destination in mind, but for the time being, he decided to visit the four or five places his father had indicated. These were the homes of relatives on his mother’s side and merchants who had frequented their household for years, located in places such as Aoyama, Takanawa, and even Honjo-Fukagawa; thus, no matter how recklessly he rushed about with youthful vigor, moving from one place to another in search was no easy task.

Moreover, as he could not uncover any clues at the places he visited, he became disheartened. There was no sign that his sister had gone anywhere.

Exhausted and with daylight fading, Chōsaburō resolved to conclude that day’s search in Honjo. The Honjo residence belonged to his maternal aunt, where he partook of an evening meal before departing a little past six and a half (7 PM). Yet traveling from inner Honjo to Otowa consumed considerable time. Unversed in Edo’s urban geography, he straightforwardly crossed Ryōgoku Bridge, traced the Kanda River to Iidabashi, then followed the Edo River embankment from Ōmagari until reaching Edogawa Bridge—by which time the fifth hour (8 PM) had already passed.

The rain-threatened sky hung low as a tepid wind blew. Guided by the lantern borrowed in Honjo, Chōsaburō hastened along the dark night path and had just reached the bridge’s midpoint when he suddenly stopped dead—a white butterfly seemed to flutter ahead of him. When he snapped his gaze back to confirm it, the pale shape had already disappeared.

“A trick of the mind,” Chōsaburō laughed to himself. The butterfly’s shadow might have been a delusion of his, but then another black shadow appeared before his eyes. When he peered through the water’s reflection, it was indeed a human shadow that had staggered unsteadily from the direction of Otowa. Chōsaburō warily held up his lantern to peer closer and saw it was Ofuyu, the night watchman’s daughter, dragging her sandal as she walked toward him with utter exhaustion.

“Ofuyu?” When Chōsaburō reflexively called out, Ofuyu fixed him with a sharp stare but immediately whirled around and tried to flee back the way she had come. Because her behavior seemed suspicious, Chōsaburō immediately gave chase. He had no idea what he would do if he caught her, but her panicked attempt to flee upon seeing him struck him as deeply suspicious. Ofuyu, who seemed exhausted, had no time to flee far before Chōsaburō, in pursuit, grabbed her by the edge of her obi and pulled her back. Due to the momentum, she staggered and collapsed.

"Why are you running away? Why did you run when you saw me?" Chōsaburō demanded sharply. Ofuyu remained silent.

“Where are you going now?”

As Chōsaburō pressed his interrogation and held up the paper lantern to inspect her, he saw that Ofuyu wore a sandal on her right foot while her left was bare. The one-eyed girl and the single sandal—as if bound by some fate—caught Chōsaburō’s attention.

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

Ofuyu remained silent.

The other day when he had visited Tōsuke’s house with the mizuhiki craftsman, Ofuyu had stayed silent throughout—and tonight she persisted in that silence until Chōsaburō grew somewhat impatient. “Hey, why won’t you answer? Did you do something wrong?” When Chōsaburō grabbed her arm and gave it a light shake, Ofuyu—still sitting on the ground—clamped down tightly on the man’s hand. Though still wearing his forelocks marking boyhood, Chōsaburō was fifteen. People of that era matured early compared to modern times. Having his hand gripped so firmly by this young woman made his cheeks burn of their own accord.

He hesitated for a while without shaking off her hand, and Ofuyu scooted closer to whisper. "Young Master... And where were you headed?"

This time, it was Chōsaburō who fell silent. "Aren't you out searching for someone?"

Having had his attention drawn to the stars above, Chōsaburō felt an inexplicable creepiness wash over him. How did this woman know about his secret task? And why would she be wandering here in such disarray at this hour? He stayed silent for a time, his hand still clasped by this mysterious woman.

10

Ofuyu kept her tight grip on Chōsaburō’s hand and whispered once more.

“Have you found the person you’re looking for?”

Chōsaburō hesitated again over how to answer, but in the end, he 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 doubtfully. “The person you’re looking for… is hiding nearby.” “Nearby…? Where?”

“At Lord Satō’s estate…” Ofuyu lowered her voice while glancing around. “Lord Satō… Magoshirō?” Chōsaburō asked back in surprise. “How do you know?”

When Ofuyu did not answer this either, Chōsaburō edged closer and asked again.

“At that place—Kōnosuke and... Are there others hiding there too?” Hesitating to voice his sister’s name outright, Chōsaburō probed with this question. Ofuyu shook her head. “No—only the Kuronuma son-in-law.”

Chōsaburō was disappointed. Of course, Kōnosuke’s investigation was necessary, but for now, finding his sister’s whereabouts was his duty. When he heard that his sister was not at the Satō estate, he felt as though he had lost a valuable lead. Nevertheless, he pressed again.

“At least Kuronuma Kōnosuke is definitely hiding at the Satō estate.”

“Yes.”

Chōsaburō, growing impatient, finally spoke his sister’s name. “Isn’t my sister Okita with him?” “Your sister isn’t with him.” “Don’t you know where my sister is?”

Ofuyu fell silent again. It seemed as though he was being deliberately strung along, and the young Chōsaburō grew irritated. “Tell me honestly. I’m begging you.” “Are you pleading with me?” “Please, please,” Chōsaburō said hurriedly. “I too have a request…” Ofuyu whispered imploringly, pressing her face against his cheek as though pleading.

With no time left to reconsider past or future, Chōsaburō answered truthfully. “What you’re asking…” “I’ll agree to anything.” “Just tell me quickly.”

“Then come with me,” Ofuyu said, standing up. She still did not let go of the man’s hand. With no choice but to be dragged along by her will, Chōsaburō began walking in silence—just then, an unseasonably warm wind that had risen at dusk scattered sand across the street and gusted fiercely. When the sand struck their faces, both the man and the woman hurriedly covered their faces with their sleeves, so the hands that had been joined naturally came apart. The flame of the lantern Chōsaburō held was nearly blown out.

In the midst of that wind—whether Ofuyu had heard some sound—she suddenly glanced back, then swiftly left Chōsaburō’s side and dashed south across the bridge like a bird in flight. Left behind, Chōsaburō stood dumbfounded, lacking even the strength to pursue her again. As he vacantly watched her retreating figure, the sound of straw sandals soon approached from the north, and a man with a cloth covering his cheeks called out to him from behind. “Do you know that woman?”

Uncertain of the man’s identity, Chōsaburō stood rooted in place glaring when the man removed the cloth covering his cheeks and bowed politely. “I reside in Mikawachō, Kanda, and am Yoshigorō who serves the authorities.” “Excuse me for asking, but you are…”

Chōsaburō could no longer remain silent.

“I am Uriu Chōsaburō of the Okanemochi-gumi residence in Otowa…” “Ah, so you are the son of Mr. Uriu.” As if he had met exactly the right person, Yoshigorō sidled up with unseemly familiarity.

“Isn’t that woman the daughter of the night watchman in Otowa?” Chōsaburō nodded.

“Since you’re neighbors, I suppose you’ve known her for some time,” Yoshigorō asked again. “I know.”

“Now, I must ask persistently—what conversation were you having here just now? I must apologize for such rudeness, but I beg your understanding as this concerns official duties. In fact, we had just apprehended that woman and were interrogating her when an unforeseen interruption occurred…” As he began speaking, another fierce southern wind suddenly gusted in, forcing both men to avert their faces—but Yoshigorō, having spotted something in that wind, hastily rushed forward several steps. A white butterfly fluttered upward as though lifted by the gale, detaching from the ground to dance lightly through the sky. Chōsaburō also caught sight of it and involuntarily cried out, “Ah!”

“Young master.” “Please catch it!”

Yoshigorō immediately chased after the butterfly. Chōsaburō also joined in the chase. Moreover, as an ill-timed strong wind blew once more, the butterfly flew diagonally from the bridge and was carried away over the river. “Did it fall into the water?” Chōsaburō said regretfully while holding up his lantern. “Probably.” “Once it’s blown into the river, there’s nothing to be done,” Yoshigorō said regretfully, peering at the water’s surface. “But young master, did you notice anything?”

“What do you mean by ‘what I saw’?” “When that butterfly flew away, did you notice anything particular?” “No, nothing at all…” “Is that so,” Yoshigorō nodded with a smile.

In that instant, Chōsaburō suddenly realized. The suspicious butterfly had not flown in from elsewhere—it seemed to have been swept up from the ground there. Since this had happened abruptly in the darkness, nothing could be known for certain, but might it not have been that a butterfly lying on the ground had been blown into the air by the strong wind? Was it a living butterfly or a dead one? Or perhaps Ofuyu had concealed the suspicious butterfly in her sleeve and either intentionally or accidentally dropped it as she fled? Seeking to resolve this suspicion, he pressed his questions further.

“Did you see something?”

“No, nothing really…,” Yoshigorō said with a laugh. Chōsaburō found the detective’s attitude—parroting back his own response while laughing coldly—and his detestable expression utterly irritating. He must have found something. And he was spitefully keeping it secret. The more something was concealed, the more human nature yearned to uncover it—and in this case, Chōsaburō was determined to ferret out that secret at all costs. Suppressing his irritation, he meekly inquired.

“You seem to have seen something.” “If you saw something, then 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 concern, but I cannot disclose that. If you had seen it yourself, that would be different—but I cannot be the one to speak of it. You might think me a spiteful fellow for saying this, but all who serve in official capacities are alike. Now—for what reason are you investigating that butterfly?” “It’s nothing significant… Just that it’s been causing quite a stir lately…”

“Is that all there is to it?” Yoshigorō said, studying his face. “Is there not some other detail involved here?” “There are no other details,” Chōsaburō declared firmly. “If there are no further details, then that’s well and good…” Yoshigorō said once again with implied significance. “Might I inquire if your elder sister has already returned to the residence?” Chōsaburō was startled. As expected of his profession, the Edo detective had already learned of his elder sister’s disappearance. As he, too, found himself perplexed over how to respond to this, Yoshigorō spoke in a lecturing tone.

“Young master,” “I am aware of most matters.” “I have largely ascertained the truth about the butterfly as well.” “My initial assessment proved correct.” “I will conclusively resolve this matter and present my findings to you shortly.” “Your elder sister’s condition will likewise become clear in time.” “As siblings, searching for her whereabouts remains your prerogative—but regarding the butterfly case, I must insist you cease your involvement and entrust it entirely to us.” “Amateur interference would only hinder our work...” “Kindly convey this message faithfully to your father.”

In this situation, it was perfectly clear that a seasoned okappiki with years of experience and a young samurai still wearing his forelock were no match for each other, so Chōsaburō could no longer persist in his stubbornness. “Do you know where my sister is?” “I am not aware of that. However, if we follow the thread of investigation, I believe it will naturally become clear. If we do find out anything, I will notify you immediately. Merely pursuing one’s own achievements isn’t what makes one capable. I will ensure it is handled to avoid causing any trouble to your household, so please rest assured. The night is steadily growing late. Let us part ways for tonight.”

Yoshigorō started to leave but turned back again. "As I have just stated, you must under no circumstances involve yourselves in the butterfly matter. If matters worsen, there’s no guarantee some misfortune won’t befall you…"

Chōsaburō wordlessly watched Yoshigorō’s receding figure as he departed, having delivered his warning in a threatening tone.

Yoshigorō’s final words were not mere threats—Kuronuma Denbee had indeed met a suspicious and unnatural death before Mejiro Temple’s gate. At this realization, Chōsaburō felt an unease as if awakening belatedly to danger, abruptly growing vigilant against unseen assailants who might be stalking him through the shadows. Keeping his senses sharp against every rustle of wind, he walked home along the lantern-lit night path, his mind churning with unanswered questions.

Tonight’s events were all a mystery. What Ofuyu had said and what Yoshigorō had said—half seemed understood yet half remained unclear. Where had Ofuyu meant to lead him? What had Yoshigorō uncovered? Chōsaburō could not grasp it. He felt as though he were being tormented by that suspicious girl and the okappiki.

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

“You unfilial wretch!” “You’re such a nuisance.” “Since tomorrow is my day off, I’ll go out to search as well.” “There are still other leads.” When Chōsaburō reported his encounter with Ofuyu, Nagahachi’s brows furrowed again. “So then—does that woman Ofuyu know where Okita has gone?” “I’ve been concerned about the night watchman from the start—it does seem he’s involved in this somehow.” “Even so, discovering that Yoshida Kōnosuke is hiding in Lord Satō Magoshirō’s estate was quite a find.” “I don’t know what their reasoning is, but once they’ve gone to the trouble of hiding him, they won’t simply hand him over after a mere negotiation.” “They’ll undoubtedly feign ignorance, so we must devise some scheme to safely retrieve Kōnosuke.” “Until then, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, you hear?”

After hearing the report concerning Yoshigorō, Nagahachi spoke again.

“I’ve heard of Yoshigorō from Mikawa-chō too.” “They say he’s one of the most capable among okappiki.” “If he’s already mostly pieced it together, the butterfly business should get sorted out soon enough.” “In that case, forget the damned butterfly—we need to find Okita and Kōnosuke at once and settle our own affairs.”

Chōsaburō thought this was only natural for a father to say. The butterfly investigation was ultimately just a peculiar fascination. Considering his sister's whereabouts more crucial, he discussed tomorrow's search plans with his father and went to bed. Yet his mind remained alert, sleep eluding him. Though he told himself it didn't matter, the butterfly's mystery weighed on him relentlessly. Connecting Ofuyu with the white butterfly, he tried every way to solve the riddle, but his efforts ended in vain.

During the time Chōsaburō couldn’t sleep, there was another person who similarly couldn’t sleep. That person was Yoshigorō’s subordinate Tomekichi, who, covered with a quilt in one of the temple’s rooms, pretended to sleep while keeping watch on the temple’s interior.

—— According to the doctor’s examination, Tomekichi’s injury was fortunately not serious. However, Yoshigorō requested the temple administrators to let him stay there just for that night, saying he would send a palanquin to fetch him the next morning. The temple seemed somewhat inconvenienced, but given who was making the request, they could not coldly refuse and ultimately acquiesced, seeing Yoshigorō off. Having already spent considerable time, Yoshigorō abandoned any thought of searching the graveyard now as futile and headed straight out through the front gate. Afterward, on his way back to Kanda, he spotted Ofuyu at Edogawa Bridge and later encountered Chōsaburō as well—events already recorded earlier. As for what discoveries Yoshigorō had made there, Tomekichi naturally knew nothing, but he fully grasped his boss’s intent in leaving him behind alone.

“That doctor made it sound simple, but it’s not going so smoothly after all,” he said. “My arms and legs are throbbing down to the bone—I can’t even move freely. Tomorrow I’ll have to take a palanquin to the bone-setter doctor and get properly examined.” Loud enough for the temple administrators to hear, he spoke these words while deliberately grimacing in feigned agony. They laid out a bed for him there, and he pulled the quilt completely over his head. Knowing he had an important mission, he steeled himself not to sleep tonight and quietly waited for the night to deepen. When he heard the four bells* of Mejiro Fudōdō—marking ten o’clock—the temple grounds fell into hushed silence. *Translator’s note: Edo-period timekeeping divided night into nine intervals marked by temple bells. “Four bells” corresponded to approximately 10 PM.

Tomekichi had been prowling around this area for some time and scouting the vicinity, so he knew the temple was considerably large. The buildings were old but meticulously maintained, and within the temple grounds resided five people besides the head priest: two administrator monks, one young acolyte, and one young temple laborer. When he asked the young acolyte that had come to lay out his bedding, he learned that the head priest was named Yūdō, the administrators were Zentatsu and Shinnen, and the temple laborer was called Yaichi. "The other monks are one thing, but I just can't stand the head priest's face," Tomekichi thought as he lay there.

The sound of the wind outside still hadn’t stopped, and the rain shutters by the pillow occasionally rattled as if shaking. From the garden ahead came a noise resembling people struggling. It wasn’t cats or dogs going wild. It was unmistakable—people were indeed locked in a struggle. Tomekichi crawled out of his bedding and continued straining his ears; outside, people were panting and struggling. He quietly slid open the shoji screen, crawled out to the engawa, and peered through the rain shutters. Outside, there seemed to be two people—one man and one woman—their identities mostly discernible from their labored breathing. They were not fighting with weapons but seemed to be grappling bare-handed.

In the temple garden late at night, a man and a woman panted while grappling and wrestling with each other. Even that alone was no ordinary matter. Tomekichi attempted to peer through a gap in the rain shutters, but with them being tightly secured and the long engawa’s shutter compartment situated far away, crawling over to slide them open was no easy task. Compelled by necessity, he pressed his ear against a gap in the rain shutters, straining with all his might to listen for sounds outside—when abruptly, as if blown out, the noises ceased, leaving nothing audible but the howling wind.

Tomekichi found it strange. He also felt an eerie unease. Had the sounds he’d been hearing until now been a figment of his imagination? A struggle of that intensity shouldn’t have fallen silent so abruptly. If one of them had fallen, there should have been even more noise—yet everything fell silent without a trace, which was deeply suspicious. Moreover, what his ears had heard was neither the sound of wind nor the rustling of leaves—it was unmistakably the sound of people clashing.

“Something’s off...” Crouching on the *engawa* for a while, Tomekichi kept watch on the outside, but no suspicious sounds reached him again. Finally giving up, he returned to his bed, but he was now wide awake and unable to sleep. Since he had already steeled himself to stay awake until dawn, his inability to sleep didn’t bother him—but the night’s events gave him much to ponder. _Who was the man? Who was the woman? And why were they grappling in the garden late at night?_ Since he had only heard the sounds and hadn’t witnessed their true nature firsthand, even Tomekichi, who was accustomed to such matters, couldn’t make sense of it.

The tension that had kept him on edge finally eased, and from daybreak onward he drifted into a fitful sleep without meaning to. When he opened his eyes again, the rain shutters had been thrown open without his noticing, and morning light flowed into the engawa. Enduring the lingering pain in his limbs, Tomekichi sat up in bed and saw fresh embers glowing in the tobacco tray by his pillow. While I was asleep, the young acolyte must have come to check on me. Regretting his carelessness, he took a draw from his pipe with his stiff hand.

"At least I wasn’t killed in my sleep," he muttered with a bitter smile to himself.

The temple had offered to lend him a nightgown, but he had refused, and since he had been sleeping in his clothes since the previous night, he simply crawled up and layered on his haori. Concerned about the earlier noise, he quietly stepped out onto the engawa and saw that the garden ahead had already been swept clean, with no traces left of what had seemed like a struggle there. Even so, he slipped on his garden clogs and descended into the garden with unsteady steps. Last night’s wind had died down at some point, and this morning was radiantly clear. The large cherry tree in the center of the garden was already tinged red, as if one more rain would make it burst into bloom, and the lively voices of small birds rejoicing in spring could be heard. Upon closer inspection, footprints that had trampled the old moss remained beneath the tree. Confirming that the suspicious sounds had not been a figment of his imagination, Tomekichi once again laughed to himself as he bent down to look around the area, but nothing particularly noteworthy could be found.

Enduring his aching body and about to head further toward the graveyard, Tomekichi suddenly turned to look and found Head Priest Yūdō standing right behind him in priestly robes. Flustered, Tomekichi greeted him hurriedly, whereupon Yūdō—his pallid face tinged with a smile—spoke. “How is your injury?” “Thanks to you, I’ve improved considerably.” “That is splendid.” “Now, do take care of yourself.” “As I mentioned last night, I too have been confined with a cold, but due to unavoidable temple duties, I must now take my leave.” “If Mr. Yoshigorō should come by, please kindly inform him.”

“Take care,” Tomekichi also said with a polite bow.

“Well then, I must take my leave.” Yūdō departed just like that. As Tomekichi watched his retreating figure disappear into the shade of the large Fatsia leaves in the shrubbery, he 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 seized them in the heat of the moment. As he continued inspecting the area with this thought, he spotted a white thread fragment caught on the underside of one half-broken leaf. Even those who had cleaned at dawn seemed to have overlooked this detail. Tomekichi plucked the thread and held it up to the morning light—it measured four or five sun in length, an ultra-fine type commonly called sedge thread.

In a temple where no women resided, it could not be said that monks never possessed needles or scissors. Though the thread fragments lying scattered in the front garden might not have warranted particular suspicion on their own, Tomekichi—recalling the previous night's incident—suspected these threads held some significance too. While surveying his surroundings, he stealthily tucked them into his sleeve. Having lingered too long in the garden and fearing suspicion from the other monks might hinder his efforts, Tomekichi climbed back onto the engawa and resumed sitting atop his bedding. Presently a young acolyte brought his morning meal and asked if he could rise today. Though Tomekichi replied that he could manage somewhat, his limbs still lacked full mobility, so he requested to remain as he was until the arrival of the palanquin meant to fetch him. The young acolyte readily agreed, answering "Please take your time," before departing.

Around noon, Yoshigorō had a palanquin brought, expressed his thanks to the temple administrators and laborers, and took Tomekichi to depart. When exiting, Yoshigorō wrapped some silver and gave it to Yaichi, the temple laborer. “Boss,” Tomekichi whispered in a low voice. “Please have the palanquin go to the grounds of Mejiro Fudōdō temple.” The palanquin did not head out to Otowa’s main street but instead climbed Mejiro Slope in the opposite direction. Having the palanquin set down before Fudō’s gate and leaving the palanquin bearers waiting there, Tomekichi entered the precincts supported by his boss. But wary of prying eyes, they cast glances at the tea house calling to customers and stood in the shadow of the bell tower’s stone wall.

“Well, Tome. Let’s get straight to it—any leads?” Yoshigorō asked, leaning in with his muffled face close. “There wasn’t anything particularly notable…” “But there were one or two things…”

Tomekichi first recounted the incident of the midnight struggle. Then, when he showed him the thread fragments, Yoshigorō burst into laughter at first glance.

“Haha, this is it, this is it,” said Yoshigorō. “Actually, I saw this sedge thread too.” “Where did you see it?” asked Tomekichi. “On Edogawa Bridge…” Yoshigorō leaned closer. “After parting with you last night, I was heading back through the wind when I spotted the night watchman’s daughter there.” “Was Ofuyu wandering around such a place?” “She must’ve fled here first and taken some roundabout path—I don’t know how she reached the bridge. She was talking to a young samurai there, but the moment she heard my footsteps, off she ran again.”

“Who is that samurai?” “That samurai is Uriu Chōsaburō of the Okanemochi-gumi… He’s the brother of a girl named Okita who recently ran away from home. But let’s save that for later. While I was talking to him, a white butterfly fluttered up.” “Hmm. The white butterfly appeared again?” Tomekichi widened his eyes. “By my reckoning, it fell from Ofuyu’s sleeve to the ground first, then got blown up by a strong wind… Well, no other explanation makes sense,” Yoshigorō explained. “When I held it against the samurai’s lantern light, there was a thin thread attached… So fine and glinting—this sedge thread here. Looked like it snapped midway, only seven or eight sun left clinging. But no mistaking it—sedge thread through and through.”

“What became of that butterfly?” “While I was trying to catch it, the swirling winds blew it into the river. But that butterfly isn’t alive—I think it’s skillfully made from thin paper or something like silk.” “The reason it glows in the dark—they’ve coated its wings with some kind of chemical.” “To put it simply, it’s essentially a phantom-like trick.”

In this era, there existed children’s toys called “phantom-like tricks.” They used phosphorus-based substances dissolved in water to paint images of ghosts or giant demonic monks on household plank fences or storehouse white walls. These remained invisible in daylight but glowed eerily in dark nights as though floating. Of course, these amounted to mere childish pranks that startled few—yet timid women and children still feared and detested these “phantom-like tricks.” The mysterious butterfly’s glow in the moonless night—Yoshigorō had privately conjectured its maker employed methods akin to those illusions.

“That might be the case,” Tomekichi nodded. “Otherwise, there’s no reason a butterfly would appear in this cold season.” “So—how does that butterfly fly…” “If it’s a crafted object that flies, someone must be pulling its strings.” “Through gradual investigation, I found that butterfly only emerges on windy nights.” “That makes it all the more suspicious.” “But to make a small butterfly fly—what thread do they use? Or some mechanical device?” “Starting from Ueno’s crow kites, I deduced they likely use this sedge thread.” “You know about them too.” “When flowers bloom, they sell kites with sedge thread in Ueno.” “They’re called crow kites for their dusky color.” “Those kites have thin paper and ultra-fine sedge thread—they rise even without wind.” “They’ve probably attached sedge thread to this butterfly too, flying it on windy nights.” “Then by choosing dark nights—their figures stay hidden while the butterfly glows…” “Well, I thought it was some trickery.” “But just as expected—last night’s butterfly had sedge thread attached.” “You found sedge thread in the temple garden too.” “With everything matching up, there’s no doubt left.” “We’ve mostly uncovered the butterfly’s true nature.”

“Yes, yes,” Tomekichi nodded again. “Just as you said, Boss—with those phantom tricks and crow kites, we’ve figured out the trick behind it all. But who’s actually using them…” “It must be Ofuyu.” “Why would she do such a thing? It can’t just be a simple prank…” “It’s definitely more than a prank. Someone’s using Ofuyu to scheme something through this. Since there’s someone pulling Ofuyu’s strings, and she’s pulling the butterfly’s threads in turn, we need to follow the line step by step to find the mastermind. Still, once you’ve come this far, you can usually see the peak ahead,” Yoshigorō laughed.

“So does that mean Ofuyu came fluttering back to that temple again last night?” Tomekichi asked once more. “It does seem that way.” “Then again, maybe not.” “I’ve been turning that over myself, but…” “But that sedge thread was there.” “This ain’t just Ofuyu’s doing.” “With so many hands likely in this stew, we can’t hang it all on her based on some thread scraps,” Yoshigorō mused aloud. “Anyway, let’s leave it there for now.” “Can’t say we came all this way for nothing—let’s pay our respects to Fudō-sama and be off.”

The two headed toward the main hall.

12

The boss and his subordinate parted ways at the gate of Fudōdō 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 Ichikawaya, the mizuhiki shop. He spotted his boss and hurried over. “Boss—there might be something interesting.”

“Hmm, what is it?”

Kanematsu turned around and beckoned with a small wave, whereupon Genzō the craftsman emerged from the shop. Having been brought before Yoshigorō, he bowed politely. “I am Genzō, a craftsman at Ichikawaya.” “I humbly ask for your kind consideration…” “I look forward to working with you as well. So, Kanematsu—is there something you need Mr. Genzō here to assist with, hmm?” Yoshigorō asked.

“Well, actually,” Kanematsu said, lowering his voice. “This Genzō says he saw something strange last night.” “What did he see?” Yoshigorō turned toward the craftsman, and Genzō began speaking in a hushed tone. “Last night I went to Yonkechō in Takada. On my way back down Mejirozaka hill, I saw a man and woman conversing by the temple hedge. When they noticed my lantern’s light, both hurried into the temple grounds.” “Though it was dark and distant, I believe the man was Tōsuke the night watchman—and the woman his daughter Ofuyu.” “Regardless of Ofuyu’s presence, it struck me as odd that Tōsuke—missing these many days—would linger here chatting with a girl in the roadway. But I thought little of it at the time and continued home.” “This morning I visited Ofuyu’s house to verify matters. She was absent.” “Naturally, Tōsuke remained missing too—the house stood wide open.”

“Did that happen in the evening?”

“That is correct.” “It was still before five bells (8 PM).” “And there’s another thing you haven’t told us yet,” Kanematsu pressed.

“Well,” Genzō showed a slightly troubled expression but soon resolutely continued. “I’m already fifty—must be my age—but I just can’t sleep as soundly as young folks do. Last night too, the wind kept me awake so badly I couldn’t get a wink of sleep until midnight. Then I could hear dogs barking nonstop outside.” “Hmm,” Yoshigorō leaned in, staring at the man’s face as if urging him onward.

"It's not unusual for dogs to bark at night, but they were making such a violent racket that I started feeling uneasy. I quietly got up and went to the shop, peering through a knothole in the wooden shutters. Though it was pitch-black outside and I couldn't see anything, the dogs were barking right in front of the neighboring shop—and mixed with their noise, I could hear people's voices." "Since the voices were hushed, I couldn't make them out clearly, but it seemed like two people were talking..."

“Was it a man’s voice? A woman’s?”

“They both sounded like men’s voices…” “What was that man talking about?” “I couldn’t quite make it out clearly, but…” “It seemed like one of them was saying, ‘Why not bury it at the temple?’” “Didn’t you recognize that voice?” “I couldn’t quite make it out clearly…”

“What happened to those two after that?” “Eventually, they seemed to go somewhere, and the sound of the dogs gradually grew more distant.”

“In which direction did they grow more distant, hmm?”

“Toward the bridge…” “Is there anything else you can tell me?” “Ah…” “No, you’ve done enough.” “If you notice anything else after this, let me know, ya?” “Understood.”

Genzō left with a look of relief. After seeing him off, Yoshigorō whispered to his subordinate. “Seems like an honest guy.” “He might play a little gambling now and then, but he’s an honest man,” Kanematsu replied. “So, Boss. Judging from how that story went, seems there was someone moving a human corpse around here last night.” “Hmm.” “Not like I’m completely without leads.” “I just heard from that Tome bastard myself…” “Hey—listen up.”

Yoshigorō whispered once more, and Kanematsu nodded several times while furrowing his brow.

“Huh, so that’s what happened? In the middle of the night, a man and a woman were grappling with each other in the temple garden… So that woman had her breath stopped, then?”

“Well, that’s probably right.” “Who’s the woman? Could it be Ofuyu?” “Can’t say for sure. This case involves three women—Ofuyu, Okita who ran off from the Okanemochi residence, and Okon hiding at Satō’s estate. Don’t know which one exactly yet, but it’s gotta be one of ’em.” “They’re all women marked for killing.”

“Even so… who could it be?” “Quit hounding me with questions.” “Digging into that’s your line of work, ain’t it?” Yoshigorō laughed. “But my reckoning says it’s that Okon woman.” “Seein’ as she fought like hell without makin’ a peep even when near gutted—gotta be one tough broad.” “Don’t know squat ’bout this Okita, but any samurai’s daughter’d scream her head off in a fix like that.” “Ofuyu’s got grit, sure, but she’s just a slip of a girl.” “No way she’d last scrappin’ with some full-grown man.” “So yeah—gotta be Okon first.”

“I see—that’s the logic behind it, then.” “So, what should we do now?” “Either we raid Satō’s estate or squeeze that priest Yūdō—that’d be the quickest approach. Problem is, one’s a hatamoto estate and the other’s temple property. We can’t just barge in recklessly—it’s a damn headache.” “We’ll just have to reel it in patiently—ain’t no other way. First thing we gotta track down is what they did with the corpse. Killed ’em at the temple but didn’t bury ’em in the graveyard—must’ve been scared it’d become evidence later.” “Did they dump it in the river, or bury it somewhere no one’d find?” “According to Genzō’s account, it seems two men went toward the bridge, so they might’ve attached some weights and sunk it into the deep part of the Edogawa River.” “Even if days passed and it surfaced, once the corpse rotted away, you wouldn’t be able to recognize the face after all.”

“That’s true.” “Who’s the killer?” “Don’t go puttin’ all the blame on me. You should use your head a bit more,” Yoshigorō laughed again. “There’s three women who might get killed—and three men who might do the killin’. Tōsuke the night watchman, Kuronuma’s son-in-law Kōnosuke… and third, the temple’s head priest… Those three’re our likely ones.” “Nah, ain’t good to keep standin’ here yappin’ in the middle o’ the street. Let’s hash this out over lunch somewhere ’round here. Given how things look, Tome won’t be workin’ proper for a while yet. You’ll step in as his replacement and put your back into it. Countin’ on you.”

“Got it.”

The two of them went together up to a small eatery nearby, and since the time was already past noon, there were no other customers in the narrow second floor. The cat that had been sprawled on the veranda saw human figures and promptly fled away.

“This ain’t exactly a cozy place,” Kanematsu muttered. “Well, it can’t be helped. In times like these, a place that ain’t busy is more convenient.”

Since both the boss and his subordinate drank a bit, they first ordered sake and appetizers and exchanged cups. "This case is Tome’s responsibility, and since I jumped in midway, I don’t have all the details straight..." Kanematsu set down his sake cup and began. "Exactly who is this woman named Okon hiding in Satō’s estate?" "They say she goes by Okon now, but she used to be called Okame and worked as a haori weaver in Fukagawa."

“Hmm. A former geisha, huh?” “With her good looks and generous nature—or so they say—she became quite popular during her peak. Eventually, she caught the favor of a retired Kaneda—a hatamoto with a thousand-koku stipend—and was finally taken in to reside at his lower villa in Yanagishima,” Yoshigorō explained, setting down his sake cup. “They lived peacefully for about two years. Then came autumn four years ago.” “On the Thirteenth Night moon viewing, she drank amicably with the retiree until late into the night… The household knew of this much, but what followed remains unclear.” When morning came, the retiree lay dead in his bed. Drunk and insensible in his sleep, his throat had been slit with what appeared to be a razor. “Thirty ryō of gold stored in the handbox were gone.” “Okame had vanished.”

“Did she kill the retiree and flee?” “She’s one hell of a woman.” “Even if he was a retiree, having it spread through society that he was killed by his mistress would damage the household’s reputation. So they officially announced it as a sudden death from illness—that part was settled without incident. But for the current head, having his parent murdered like this isn’t something he can let go.” “So he discreetly requested the officials from Hatchōbori to search for Okame’s whereabouts.” “We also received the officials’ private instructions and tried all sorts of methods for a while, but we didn’t find out Okame’s whereabouts.” “Since she’s quite a clever woman, she must’ve slipped on her traveling sandals quick and isn’t eating Edo rice anymore.”

“Why did she kill the retiree?” “The retiree had doted on her plenty, and she had bright prospects—so it’s plain as day she wouldn’t murder her master over thirty ryō.” “She just snatched those coins on her way out—there’s gotta be more to it.” “The lower villa was short-staffed, but from what the maids say, the retiree and his mistress had some spat five-six days back.” “They say he was raging mad then, and Okame turned white as a sheet—looks like that fight sparked this mess. But nobody knows what they argued about.” “With no leads at all, we’d near given up—till we heard ’bout a woman matching Okame’s looks spotted ’round Otowa.” “So I put Tome on it—had him comb Otowa to Zōshigaya. That lad’s no fool—he followed every thread till he tracked her holed up in Satō’s estate. But like I said—hatamoto property means we can’t storm in blind.” “Still—now she’s a fish in shallow water.” “Sooner or later, she’ll bite!”

Yoshigorō drained his chilled sake cup and smiled with confidence, whereupon Kanematsu likewise laughed triumphantly. “Now that it’s come to this, she’s a fish in the shallows—that Okame… Okon, whatever she’s called—where’s she been hidin’ all this time? Was she holed up in Satō’s estate from the start?”

“Not a chance,” Yoshigorō shook his head. “If that were true, she couldn’t have stayed hidden for nearly four years. The woman definitely put on her traveling sandals. I’ll need to dig deeper myself, but that hatamoto Satō might’ve known Okon since her Fukagawa days. According to Tome’s info, Satō was stationed in Nagasaki for three years on official business. When he came back to Edo last autumn, Okon trailed after him. So that means she went to Nagasaki too and returned with him. Even if we’d turned Edo upside down searching, we’d never have found her—they’d flown clear to Nagasaki’s edge.”

Yoshigorō began to speak but suddenly cocked his ear toward the street. "Sounds like quite a ruckus out there. Could be a fire?" Kanematsu promptly stood and threw open the elbow-rest window facing the thoroughfare. Below, figures scrambled through the radiant spring town—a disordered panorama of rushing bodies. "The gawkers are bolting out," he observed. "What's happened? I'll go check." With this brusque declaration, Kanematsu descended the stairs. Moments later he returned, whispering urgently with news to share.

“A corpse has floated up under Edogawa Bridge, I heard.” “A corpse…” Yoshigorō’s eyes gleamed. “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 come after you.”

Having sent Kanematsu off, Yoshigorō hurriedly clapped his hands, and the maid came up the stairs.

“I deeply apologize for the delay.” “Your meal will be ready right away…” “No, this isn’t about the meal,” Yoshigorō said while putting away his tobacco pouch. “Miss. I hear a corpse floated up in that river over there.” “That’s what they say…” The maid lowered her voice. “I did not go to see it myself, but they say she was still a young woman.” “They say she’s eighteen or nineteen, don’t they?” “Yes.” “They say she’s apparently from around here…”

“Someone from around here….” “A samurai? Or a townsfolk?” “They say she appears to be a samurai…” “I see…” “We’ve got urgent business—no need for sake or food.” “Just settle the bill now.” “Yes, yes.”

After the maid hurriedly went downstairs, Yoshigorō took out his tobacco pouch—which he had started to put away—and slowly smoked a pipe.

The corpse discovered in Edogawa was that of a young woman of eighteen or nineteen, bearing the appearance of a samurai. Uriu's daughter Okita—that immediately rose in Yoshigorō's mind. "Was my assessment off?"

The woman killed at the temple and dumped in the river—wasn't that Okon? Okita or Okon—he was still half-convinced.

“At times like this, staying calm is best.” He smoked a second pipeful of tobacco. The sound of footsteps rushing through the front grew increasingly noisy.

13

After settling the bill at the restaurant, Yoshigorō stepped out to the front, where a crowd of onlookers were rushing toward Edogawa. He wrapped a cloth around his face to avoid standing out and blended into the throng. As he did so, he found people jostling one another along the riverbank stretching from Edogawa Bridge to Sakuragi-chō. Since the inquest officials had not yet arrived, the corpse remained pulled up under a cherry tree on the bank and covered with a coarse straw mat. Yoshigorō quietly cast his eyes around and spotted Kanematsu’s figure within the crowd. Genzō of Ichikawa-ya was also among them.

“They say she’s the daughter from the Okanemochi-gumi residence, don’t they?”

“They say she’s Mr. Uriu’s daughter.”

“They say she’d run away from home two or three days back.”

“Did she drown herself, or was she killed?” While listening to the rumors exchanged among the gawking crowd, Yoshigorō continued surveying his surroundings when a samurai girl of thirteen or fourteen and a maid of eighteen or nineteen arrived breathlessly. “Excuse us.” As they pushed through the crowd and approached the corpse, the surrounding people abruptly made way. Seeing this, Yoshigorō immediately understood—one was Uriu’s younger daughter, and the other a household servant. Her parents, unable to appear publicly for propriety’s sake, had undoubtedly sent them to confirm the truth. The onlookers, recognizing their faces, must have cleared a path at once. While watching to see what would follow, Yoshigorō observed the maid bowing to the guard post man stationed beside the corpse.

“Might I ask you to show us this corpse?” “Yes, of course…” replied the man sympathetically, lifting a corner of the straw mat near the face. The two women peered down, exchanged glances, then remained wordless for a long moment. After bowing once more to the man, they turned and left without uttering a sound.

“They must’ve been sent from home—truly samurai women through and through.” “Not a shred of panic in them.” As their retreating figures grew distant, the crowd murmured among themselves. Yoshigorō kept standing there awaiting the coroner’s arrival, but the officials proved slow to come. Basking in the midday spring sun amid the jostling crowd, he grew increasingly flushed until finally retreating to a riverside teahouse—Kanematsu trailing behind him through the reed screen.

“The corpse is undoubtedly Mr. Uriu’s daughter, they say,” he whispered in a low voice.

“Hmm. I could tell from those women’s demeanor,” Yoshigorō nodded. “But my assessment wasn’t entirely off the mark. That corpse wasn’t killed at the temple. When the guard post guy lifted the straw mat, I took a quiet look too—no wound-like marks on the face or around the neck. First off, that’s not the face of someone who was murdered.” “So just a drowning suicide then?”

“Probably not. There must be another woman killed at the temple,” Yoshigorō began, then peered outside the reed screen. “Hey. Kan—that retainer over there talking with Genzō—go ask Genzō quietly which estate he’s from.” “Right away.”

Kanematsu ran out but soon returned.

"That’s a retainer from the Satō estate named Tetsuzō, they say." "I see. If only Tome were here..." Yoshigorō clicked his tongue. "Well, never mind. I’ll handle it directly. You stay here and keep watch until the inquest arrives." Yoshigorō exited the teahouse and found that retainer still lingering there, scrutinizing the faces of onlookers who’d gradually begun gathering. Sidling up beside him, Yoshigorō called out in an overly familiar tone.

“Hey, bro, sorry to bother ya, but mind sparin’ me a moment?” “Who’re you?” Tetsuzō glared back at the man’s face. “You know Tome from Mikawa-chō, that guy, don’tcha?” “Mikawa-chō’s… Tome…” The retainer’s eyes narrowed even sharper. “What’s that Tome got to do with this?” “Tome got himself a bit banged up, so I’m here in his stead.” “Quit your yappin’ and come along quiet-like.”

“Hmm.” The retainer seemed to have mostly guessed Yoshigorō’s identity and followed surprisingly meekly as Yoshigorō led him back to the small restaurant. The extra gratuity paid off—the waitress flattered them profusely while guiding them upstairs. “You’re Yoshigorō of Mikawa-chō.” Tetsuzō glared with restless eyes. “Why drag me here?”

“Hold on,” “We’ll talk it through step by step.”

After ordering drinks and food and sending the waitress away, Yoshigorō began speaking in a relaxed manner. “I hear our Tome’s been causing you all sorts of trouble lately…” “Nah, ain’t nothin’ special…” Tetsuzō kept his eyes sharp, wary of letting his guard down.

“The corpse that washed up in the river is Mr. Uriu of the Okanemochi-gumi’s daughter, isn’t it?” “Hmm.”

“Why did she die?” “I don’t know nothin’.” “So you don’t know,” Yoshigorō thought. “Let’s say you don’t know about that for now—where did you go last night at midnight?” Tetsuzō remained silent. “Where did you two go in that windy night, with dogs barking at you?” Yoshigorō pressed again.

“I don’t remember nothin’ like that,” Tetsuzō snapped.

“Then maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity? Wasn’t it you guys who carried away Okatsu-san’s corpse?” Seeing the change in the other man’s complexion, Yoshigorō pressed on. “You guys have been getting looked after by Okatsu-san all along, and pocketing a fair bit of spending money too, haven’t you? Even if you say you were forced into it, taking on dumping that corpse ain’t gonna do your afterlife any good.” “No matter what ya say, I ain’t got no memory of that,” Tetsuzō snapped again.

“There’s no need to get so defensive.” “I thought we could have a friendly drink together and talk things over.” Just as the waitress brought in the tray, their conversation was interrupted for a time. After having the waitress pour them each a drink, the two men faced each other again.

“Is the temple at the foot of Mejiro Hill your family’s ancestral temple?” Yoshigorō asked, gesturing with his sake cup.

“That ain’t it.” “Then isn’t it the temple Okatsu-san knows?” “I don’t know nothin’.”

“If you keep sayin’ ‘don’t know’ no matter what I ask, you’re not showin’ much charm,” Yoshigorō laughed. “Can’t you give me a more enticin’ answer?” “Charm or no charm, there’s nothin’ else to say but ‘I don’t know’,” Tetsuzō retorted. “Even if you’re packin’ that wooden sword, I’m a man who serves the household. I ain’t answerin’ your lot’s questions just ’cause you say so.”

Though he had come along obediently until now, his sudden shift to a confrontational tone and forceful words must have stemmed from a terror that had abruptly seized him. Yoshigorō, through years of experience, had already discerned this as proof of a guilty conscience.

“You’re exactly right,” Yoshigorō said calmly, adopting a lecturing tone. “It’s not like I dragged you household servants here just to interrogate you recklessly. Tomekichi is my man. Since you’re chummy with him, that makes us more than strangers too. That’s why I had you come all this way—to tell me what you know…” “That Tomekichi’s just someone I met yesterday! We ain’t close at all!”

“You’re still spoiling for a fight, aren’t you?” Yoshigorō laughed again. “In that case, I’ve got nothin’ more to ask. But since I don’t take you for a stranger on my end, there’s just one thing I gotta say. You stayin’ long at that mansion ain’t doin’ ya no good.” “Why’s that?”

“Yoshida Kōnosuke of Shirauo-gashi has family ties with your master. While coming and going regular-like, he got cozy with Okatsu-san.” “Then by some queer twist, he wound up bein’ adopted into the neighborin’ Okanemochi-gumi residence.” “The girl called Okatsu—the one meant to be his wife—took sick, makin’ a quick weddin’ impossible, an’ ’fore long he took up with the girl next door.” “When Okatsu-san found out, all hell broke loose from jealousy.” “Now, maybe that’d be one thing—but ’cause of it, Kōnosuke goes into hidin’; Okatsu kills herself; Okita throws herself in the river; an’ Okatsu-san gets murdered.” “With a ruckus this big brewin’, it ain’t just gonna settle quiet-like.” “Add it all up an’ it’s plain as day.” “Pity of it is, your master’s tangled in this too—he ain’t slippin’ free of trouble, mark my words.” “You keep lodgin’ in that mansion much longer, no tellin’ what kinda blowback you lot’ll catch.” “Ain’t that the truth?”

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.” Yoshigorō leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial growl. “That night watchman’s daughter Ofuyu—she’s gotta be the one flyin’ ’em around with sedge threads attached.” “Why’re you sayin’ that?” Tetsuzō blurted out, his sake cup clattering against the tray. Yoshigorō’s lips twisted in a mocking smile. “If you don’t know somethin’ that basic, you’ll never handle official business proper.” He drained his cup in one gulp, the porcelain clicking sharply against wood. “No helpin’ it now—this mess’ll drag down folks left an’ right.” His eyes hardened like river stones. “You best prepare yourself.”

“Quit tryin’ to scare me. But I’m tellin’ ya I don’t know nothin’…” Tetsuzō’s voice came out weakly. “I ain’t done anythin’ bad enough to need steelin’ myself for.” “If you still don’t get it after all that talk, fine. Let’s drop this crude chatter and just drink slow-like, yeah?”

Yoshigorō clapped his hands and ordered more sake. He also ordered side dishes. Then, pouring a drink in silence, Tetsuzō drank without a word. Yoshigorō also drank wordlessly. The two men continued to exchange sake cups in silence for a time. From time to time, Yoshigorō glared at the other man’s face. Tetsuzō furtively gauged his companion’s expression. Needless to say, this was a kind of psychological torture. As the silent moments stretched on, those with guilty consciences would gradually weaken until they could no longer endure it. Those inherently thick-skinned might find ways to steel their nerves further during such trials, but most people could not withstand this voiceless torment and ultimately broke. Tetsuzō too seemed to have reached his limit in enduring this torture and began drinking recklessly, pouring for himself.

Seeing his opponent seemed to be falling into the intended trap, Yoshigorō persisted all the more in maintaining his silence, whereupon Tetsuzō likewise drank without speaking. Three or four replacement sake bottles stood lined up.

“Somehow, I’m not getting drunk today,” Tetsuzō muttered as if to himself, his eyes fixed on Yoshigorō.

Yoshigorō glared back but remained silent. Tetsuzō drank silently again, then finally spoke up once more. “Ain’t you drinkin’ anymore?”

Yoshigorō did not answer. Tetsuzō also drank in silence again, but eventually spoke up once more. “Hey, if I’m drinkin’ all by myself like this, it’s just too damn lonely.” “Ain’tcha gonna drink?”

Yoshigorō once again did not answer. Tetsuzō also drank again in silence, pouring for himself, but the hands holding the sake bottles and cups gradually began to tremble. He said pleadingly.

“Hey… Can’t you just say somethin’? It’s unbearable like this.”

Yoshigorō glared back at him once more and still did not answer. As Tetsuzō himself had said, today he truly wasn’t getting drunk at all—rather, his face grew increasingly pale instead. He pleaded again in a tearful voice. “Hey. Why ain’t ya sayin’ anythin’?!”

“That’s my line,” Yoshigorō finally broke his silence. “Why’re you keepin’ quiet?!”

“I ain’t keepin’ quiet. You’re the one keepin’ quiet.” “Then why ain’t you answerin’ my questions?!” Yoshigorō glared piercingly.

“But I don’t know nothin’,” 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 too.”

“I can’t stay silent no more.” “Then you’ll talk?” “I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” Tetsuzō cried out in a voice verging on a scream.

“Don’t you lie.” “I ain’t lyin’. I’ll tell you everything.” “Now, hold on.” Yoshigorō stood up, peeked briefly under the stairs, then turned back and faced Tetsuzō once more. “Alright, I won’t ask you every little thing. Spill everything you know—hold nothing back.” In stark contrast to his initially combative demeanor, Tetsuzō now laid down his arms before his enemy. Even so, he still spoke with lingering reluctance. “After I’ve blabbered everything out, what’re you gonna do with me?”

“Don’t you fret—I’ll help you out.”

“Will ya help me?”

Tetsuzō made a relieved face. Yoshigorō took the sake bottle and poured him a drink to bolster his courage.

14

When his sister Okita's corpse was discovered floating in the Edogawa River, her younger brother Uriu Chōsaburō was walking along the embankment below Mukōjima. He had spent the previous day searching for his sister's whereabouts as far as Honjo, but turned back midway when dusk fell. After consulting with his parents, Chōsaburō set out again today from Komatsugawa toward Koame, Ayase, and Senju, while his father Chōhachi—being off-duty—headed toward the Yamanote area. Unlike modern times, people of that era strictly observed obligations to relatives and kin, maintaining regular interactions with even distant relations. This meant numerous potential leads in such situations, though traversing them all proved arduous in an age of poor transportation.

Chōsaburō first visited relatives in Komatsugawa and Koame but found no trace of his sister anywhere. Instead, those households—startled by this sudden news of her disappearance—cross-examined him exhaustively about every detail before and after. All this took far longer than anticipated, so when he finally left Koame, it was already past seven bells—around four o'clock. It being mid-second month by the old calendar meant spring equinox was nearing; around temple-rich Koame, an expectant bustle hung in the air as if awaiting higan pilgrims. Before temple gates, flower shops stacked fragrant shikimi branches high. With only a sidelong glance at these offerings, Chōsaburō hastened along the embankment toward Ayase village—until a samurai descending a narrow levee path intercepted him. The samurai hailed him.

“Are you not the young master of the Uriu household?”

When called, he turned to look, and there stood Imai Riemon of the Sea Bream Procurement Bureau. Though the Uriu and Imai families had no direct ties, being fellow officials in the same Procurement Bureau meant Imai was naturally close with Yoshida of Shirauo-gashi. Since that Yoshida was kin to Kuronuma of the Okanemochi-gumi, the Uriu household had naturally come to know Yoshida, and through him, Imai as well. When Chōsaburō too saw the man and bowed in acknowledgment, Riemon inquired with a laugh.

“Where are you headed? Paying respects at a grave?” “No. To Ayase village... I’m visiting relatives.” “That’s quite an undertaking. I’m making a grave visit to Shirahige myself. Left the estate late—might be returning after dark. Troublesome how far that temple lies...” Riemon chuckled again. Since both were heading the same way—one to Ayase, the other to Shirahige—they fell into step side by side.

“Given last night’s sky, I thought it might rain,” said Riemon, looking up at the clear sky. “But it’s turned out unexpectedly calm. The cherry blossoms on the embankment will bloom soon.” “And what brings you to relatives in Ayase... Are you going there for leisure?” “No,” Chōsaburō replied, though he hesitated slightly. “Could it be you’re searching for your sister?” Riemon asked in a lowered voice. Chōsaburō was startled at how Riemon knew this but reasoned that his acquaintance with Yoshida of Shirauo-gashi must have informed him about Kōnosuke and his sister’s disappearance. He answered truthfully.

“Actually, there’s something I’ve been worried about…” “Hmm.”

“It seems they’re worried about that matter over in Shirauo-gashi as well,” Riemon nodded. “Yesterday too, while I was walking through Nihonbashi, Yoshigorō the okappiki detective stopped me and asked about the Yoshida household—it seems he’s also investigating something related to this incident.” “I just hope it doesn’t turn into something serious…” “I may be overstepping here, but it’s quite a long way to Ayase from here.” “Making a special trip to inquire there might be a waste of time, you know.”

“Would it be in vain?” Chōsaburō looked up at the man’s face. “Though they say spring days are long, making a round trip to Ayase would still mean returning after dark.”

“I don’t mind it getting dark, but would going there be in vain?” pressed Chōsaburō. “Seems like a waste.” “Then, do you know my sister’s whereabouts?” “No, I don’t know.” “I don’t know,” Riemon answered with annoyance. “But she’s unlikely to have come this far out. “As the saying goes, ‘It’s darkest under the candlestick’—the thing you’re searching for is often surprisingly close at hand.” The way he spoke seemed to hint at some secret, making Chōsaburō’s heart pound. He asked Riemon pleadingly.

“You do know, don’t you? Please tell me. Never mind about Kōnosuke—just tell me where my sister is. I beg you.”

“No, I don’t know. “I don’t know anything at all,” Riemon said with growing annoyance. “I merely stated the common saying—‘It’s darkest under the candlestick.’ “Since you’ve come this far anyway, it might be best to go on to Ayase even if you think it’s futile. “To Ayase, it’s straight ahead from here. “I’ll be turning right here, so let’s part ways here.” Riemon abruptly turned right and hurried off down the path through the rice fields.

Both Riemon’s evasive behavior and his earlier remarks gave rise to a suspicion in Chōsaburō’s mind, so he resolved to follow Riemon’s trail while keeping out of sight. Moreover, starting to walk immediately risked being noticed by the man, so he decided to wait a while before acting. After stopping and surveying the area, he spotted a small temporary tea stall by the roadside. With cherry blossom season approaching, local farmers had apparently hastily erected a shop here, though it was not yet open for business—merely a rudimentary hut. Intending to hide there, Chōsaburō stepped inside without hesitation, and from behind an old reed screen leaning against the wall, a figure emerged.

Startled unexpectedly, Chōsaburō froze in place—and there stood a young woman: Ofuyu herself. The timing was inauspicious, the location improbable—to meet Ofuyu here left Chōsaburō startled anew. As he stood wordless, glaring fixedly, Ofuyu slid closer without ceremony. Her single eye glimmered unnaturally.

“Young master.” “We meet again here.” “Why are you in a place like this?” “I can’t return to my own home anymore, so I’ve been wandering about since last night.” “Last night—you said you’d take me to my sister. Was that true?”

Ofuyu remained silent.

“A lie?” Chōsaburō demanded. “It was a lie when I said I’d take you… but I know where your sister is.” “If you know, then tell me.”

Ofuyu stared at the man’s face in silence.

“Did you come here without any plan?” asked Chōsaburō. “If I were ever in danger, Father told me to go to Mukōjima, so…” “To Mukōjima… What place are you going to there?” “It’s the house of a landscaper named Gohei.” “Are both my sister and Kōnosuke there?”

Ofuyu did not answer. “So, did you find Gohei’s house?” “Since I rarely come around here, I got lost and ended up heading toward Yotsugi. I turned back here around noon, but being exhausted and sleepy, I’ve been sleeping in this hut since earlier.” “So, you couldn’t find the house?” Chōsaburō said disappointedly. “Let’s search together now,” Ofuyu said, her wild nature surfacing as she unhesitatingly grasped the man’s hand.

Not wanting to lose sight of Riemon while entangled with this woman, Chōsaburō shook off her grasped hand and stepped out of the hut. In a single path through the rice fields, he spotted the samurai’s retreating figure in the distance. As he set off in pursuit, a small irrigation ditch flowed alongside the rice fields. At the point where the irrigation ditch curved to the right, a narrow plank had been laid across it, and a single thatched-roof house was discovered. The surroundings were fields, and there was a solitary house in the distance next to them. A roughly made fence, erected merely for form, encircled the property, and so many trees were planted that there was no open space left. Chōsaburō wondered if this might be the landscaper’s place. At the gate, a large peach tree bloomed crimson.

Riemon stopped there and glanced back once, but soon crossed the narrow plank and went inside. Having confirmed this, Chōsaburō started walking briskly, and Ofuyu followed from behind.

“Be careful. That samurai might have seen you,” she cautioned in a low voice. Chōsaburō couldn’t afford to be concerned about such things. He shook Ofuyu off once more, dashed toward the solitary house, and soon reached the gate, where he hesitated briefly. Be that as it may with Riemon, he himself had no connection to this house, so he couldn’t just barge in uninvited without an introduction. If he were to carelessly ask for guidance, it couldn’t be said there was no risk of them noticing and letting the target escape. He stood under the peach tree, deliberating what to do, when a woman in her fifties came out from inside and stared uneasily at the young samurai. Chōsaburō remained silent, and before long, the woman addressed him suspiciously.

“Who might you be?” Unsure how to respond, Chōsaburō hesitated again but resolutely countered: “A samurai just entered this house, didn’t he?” “No.” “A young man and woman have been coming here lately, haven’t they?”

“No.” “Has no one come here?”

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

“Don’t hide it. I have business with those people and made the trip here from Otowa to inquire.” Amid this back-and-forth exchange, a man who had been peering out through the bamboo lattice from an armrest window slightly opened toward the entrance appeared at the gate wearing a daisho pair of swords and his zori sandals hastily slipped on. When Chōsaburō recognized this man as Kuronuma Kōnosuke, he felt as though he had encountered the very foe he had been seeking. “Chōsaburō,” Kōnosuke demanded sharply narrowing his eyes, “what brings you here?”

“I came to find my sister,” Chōsaburō answered unapologetically. “Your sister isn’t here.” “Are you certain she isn’t here?” “She isn’t. Leave, leave.” “I won’t leave. Please hand over my sister.” “I’ve already told you she isn’t here… You’re a stubborn one.” “If she isn’t here, then tell me where she is,” Chōsaburō demanded, taking a step forward. “You… What do you intend by changing your eyes?”

As he said this, Kōnosuke’s eyes had also changed. Having long been instructed by his father that anyone forcibly resisting should be cut down, Chōsaburō did not retreat an inch. He pressed forward and demanded once more: “Is my sister here? If not, you must have hidden her somewhere—please tell me.” “I don’t know! I don’t know!” Kōnosuke snarled.

As both voices grew increasingly louder, another samurai emerged from within. It was Riemon.

“You must not fight. “Wait, both of you! Wait!” he called from behind. Upon hearing that voice, Kōnosuke abruptly turned around. “So it was you, Mr. Imai, who brought this Chōsaburō here.” “No, that’s not it. Chōsaburō came here of his own accord.” “No, that’s not it. You all conspired to trap this Kōnosuke. I won’t fall for that trick!”

Yoshida Kōnosuke had grown frenzied, seemingly losing all capacity to discern friend from foe. Without choosing a specific target, he fluidly unsheathed the sword at his waist.

“What are you doing?” Riemon restrained him. “You mustn’t lose your temper. Now calm yourself—calm yourself! What an impossible madman you are.” “Hmph—a madman?” Kōnosuke bellowed with mounting fury. “Then I’ll fight anyone! Come—face me!”

Since Riemon was a bit too far to confront, he apparently intended to first take on Chōsaburō, who was closer at hand. He suddenly turned around and attacked Chōsaburō. Chōsaburō deftly dodged, but at the same moment, a woman’s sharp shriek pierced the air. Two fast palanquins came flying through the air and came to a stop at the gate here. Ofuyu was struck in Chōsaburō’s place. She had followed the man to the gate and been observing the situation, but as the exchange with Kōnosuke grew fraught and he drew the sword at his waist, she—likely driven by a mix of anxiety and protective instinct—stepped forward and was struck by Kōnosuke’s frenzied blade. With the tip of the blade that had missed Chōsaburō, she was slashed on the left side of her neck and collapsed at the man’s feet.

Seeing this, before Chōsaburō could even draw his sword and brace himself, Riemon rushed over and seized Kōnosuke from behind.

“You must not cross blades! Wait! Wait!” he called out to Chōsaburō.

As Kōnosuke, half-mad and frenzied, roared and struggled to shake off the arms restraining him, two men came in. They were Yoshigorō and Kanematsu, the okappiki detectives.

“Mr. Imai. Please hand that over to us,” Yoshigorō called out, regripping his jitte. “Yoshigorō?” Riemon said, still restraining Kōnosuke and bringing his mouth close to his ear. “Kōnosuke, prepare yourself. There’s no way out now. Accept your fate like a samurai. Do you understand?” Whether he was shamed by the admonition to “act like a samurai,” daunted by the two men with jitte blocking his path, or had resigned himself to having no escape route left—even Kōnosuke suddenly grew docile. With a clatter, he threw down the bloodied sword he held and sat upon the ground, still gripped by Riemon.

“I was asked by Yoshida’s parents to make you understand the circumstances and have you commit seppuku,” Riemon said with a sigh. “There’s no helping it now. Kōnosuke, let yourself be taken calmly and submit to the law’s judgment.”

As Kōnosuke hung his head in exhausted silence, Chōsaburō asked impatiently.

“Is my sister also here?” “No,” Riemon shook his head. “As I said earlier, your sister isn’t here. Only Kōnosuke is here.” “Young Master Uriu,” Yoshigorō interjected. “Your sister… has become a corpse… from Edogawa…”

“From Edogawa…!” Chōsaburō shouted involuntarily. Imai Riemon and Yoshida Kōnosuke, each lost in their own thoughts, let out anguished sighs. The only one indifferent was the one-eyed girl—her young life severed by Kōnosuke’s blade—who lay there with an air of contentment. Whether by intent or chance, her remaining hand clutched the hem of Chōsaburō’s hakama.

XV

Four days later, Satō Magoshirō, hatamoto of Otowa, was summoned to the town magistrate’s office. Yūdō, the head priest of the temple, was likewise summoned by order of the Temple and Shrine Magistrate. Yūdō appeared as summoned, but Magoshirō had had a report filed the previous night stating he had died suddenly of an acute illness. While it was officially reported as a sudden illness, it was later revealed that his death had been a suicide.

The corpse of a woman named Okatsu also floated up in the Edogawa River. As Yoshigorō had determined, the woman killed inside the temple was indeed this Okatsu.

As previously recorded, Tetsuzō the retainer fell into Yoshigorō’s trap and blurted out every secret he knew, resulting in the exposure of Kuronuma Kōnosuke’s hideout. As a result, Yoshigorō raced to the base of Mukōjima’s embankment in a fast palanquin alongside his subordinate Kanematsu. Kōnosuke too appeared to have resigned himself and divulged every secret he knew without exception. Yūdō, true to his priestly vows, confessed everything unflinchingly when pressed to this point. With Okatsu, Ofuyu, Okita, and the other women all dead, certain aspects of the female side of the circumstances remained unclear; nevertheless, by combining the testimonies of Kōnosuke, Yūdō, and others to reach a judgment, there remained no alternative but to acknowledge the truth of this incident as follows.

Okatsu, formerly known as Okame, was a woman who had once worked as a geisha in Fukagawa. She had been taken in by a retired hatamoto named Kaneda and lived uneventfully for a time in his lower residence in Yanagishima; however, Okatsu had been involved with Satō Magoshirō, a hatamoto from Otowa, since her days in Fukagawa. Satō was a twenty-five- or twenty-six-year-old bachelor, and Okatsu’s heart leaned toward him; however, compared to Kaneda, Satō was of lower status, a libertine with poor finances, so he lacked the means to compete with Kaneda, and Okatsu was reluctantly taken into the Yanagishima residence. Moreover, their bond remained unbroken, and even after Okatsu moved to Yanagishima, she continued to secretly meet Satō under the pretext of temple pilgrimages and shrine visits.

When their secret was discovered by Kaneda’s retired master and matters grew complicated—and with Satō having been ordered to depart for Nagasaki on official duty—Okatsu finally murdered Kaneda’s retired master, stole thirty ryō of gold from his lacquer box for travel expenses, and set off in pursuit of Satō. Of course, she could not openly enter Satō’s residence; she lived in hiding on Nagasaki’s outskirts like a secret mistress until three years slipped by and Satō was ordered back to Edo. Since traveling together on the return journey would draw eyes, Okatsu returned a step behind and quietly slipped into the Otowa residence.

Had she remained lurking in the hatamoto residence—a place akin to a zone of extraterritoriality—and quietly spent her days there, she could have easily avoided the townspeople’s notice. However, upon returning to Edo, Okatsu soon found yet another new lover: Yoshida Kōnosuke, the second son of the Yoshida family from Shirauo-gashi. Since the Yoshida and Satō families were closely acquainted through maternal kinship, Okatsu 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, Okatsu’s affection for her young lover blazed like wildfire. To bind him irrevocably, she confided her secret to Kōnosuke and threatened to drag him down as her accomplice in the retired master’s murder should he ever waver. Unlike today, such threats held unexpected potency in this era—even if proven innocent, having his name exposed in connection with such a woman during magistrate interrogations would doom his entire life to ruin. Thus did young Kōnosuke, lamenting his entanglement with this unforeseen calamity, comply with her demands out of fear.

Before long, the incident of Kuronuma Denbee’s unnatural death occurred. Since they had long been in an engagement-like relationship, Kōnosuke was designated as the husband of Kuronuma’s daughter Okatsu and was to come to the provisioning magistrate’s residence in Otowa. Okatsu (Okame), delighted that her lover had come nearby, designated the night watchman Tōsuke’s house as their rendezvous spot and had been summoning Kōnosuke there. While on one side there was Okatsu (Okame), and on the other his official wife-to-be Okatsu—though their wedding had yet to take place—the weak-willed Kōnosuke proceeded to form a new relationship with his neighbor Uriu’s daughter Okita next door. Thus did the relationships among three women revolving around one man grow exceedingly complex. Though he knew full well that matters would not end peacefully, Kōnosuke could no longer do anything about it now.

Here, it becomes necessary to speak of Head Priest Yūdō. He was in truth Okatsu’s full brother by blood. Yūdō had been the eldest of four siblings—a sister and brother followed him, with Okatsu as the youngest—but having lost both parents in their childhood years, each had tasted bitter hardship. The middle brother and sister perished early, leaving only Yūdō and Okatsu. From boyhood, Yūdō entered service as an acolyte at a temple in Fukagawa. Through single-minded devotion to his training, he eventually rose to become head priest of this temple in Otowa—a place of no small standing. His younger sister Okatsu, however, had been sold into becoming a geisha in Fukagawa, forced to drink from what might be called life’s murky waters. Yet fate wove strange threads: through dwelling near this very temple, Satō Magoshirō formed a twisted bond with Okatsu—one that led her to commit the grievous sin of murdering her master.

Yūdō lamented his sister’s crime and waited for her return to Edo, urging her to surrender honorably, but Okatsu, still clinging to this world, refused through tears. He even considered taking her to court and filing a lawsuit, but when he saw his sister—who had endured hardships alongside him since childhood—weeping before his very eyes, even Yūdō’s resolve wavered. Fully aware that this was an unforgivable act before Buddha, he chose to let his guilty sister go unpunished—yet even as his heart remained tormented by remorse, she went on to commit a second and third crime.

In response to the Temple and Shrine Magistrate’s interrogation, according to Yūdō’s testimony, it was stated that since last autumn, the act of releasing white butterflies in the dark of night had been Okatsu’s doing. Why did Okatsu devise such a suspicious scheme? Given that the dead tell no tales and there was nothing to rely on but Yūdō’s one-sided account, he nevertheless gave his testimony as follows. “It is said that while my younger sister was in Nagasaki, she had been told a certain secret by a Chinese man from the Chinese quarter—that if one released white butterflies in the dark of night to startle a thousand eyes, any wish would be granted.” “From the perspective of our Buddhist path, this was undoubtedly a form of heretical method. However, my younger sister deeply believed in it and, after returning to Edo, practiced that heresy.” “Her wish was that her past crimes would go unnoticed, that she might spend her life with Kuronuma Kōnosuke, and that Satō Magoshirō—who stood in their way—would meet an early end… In short, blinded by love, she resorted to the heretical method of the white butterflies.” “While Satō himself bore guilt, given their years of acquaintance and particularly the debt owed for sheltering her since Nagasaki, to plot shortening his life for the sake of a new lover is truly akin to a yasha in every sense.” “However, being a woman, she could not manage to release butterflies in the dark of night as she desired. Thus, she provided money to Tōsuke the night watchman and had him release them on windy nights.” “As Tōsuke held the position of night watchman, even if he prowled about the area late at night, no one found it suspicious.” “Tōsuke had a one-eyed daughter named Ofuyu, who was clever by nature. Thus, it was Ofuyu who performed the role of releasing the butterflies, while her father Tōsuke appears to have overseen her activities.” “The butterfly… She claimed it was a secret technique and divulged it to no one, but it was made from something like thin, imported Chinese silk. A certain type of medicine had been applied to it, so it glowed white even in the darkness.” “As there was a risk of being detected if they operated solely around Otowa, they apparently also ventured to other areas from time to time.” “Given these circumstances, I do not believe the butterfly contained any poison.” “As for those who claimed to have fallen ill after seeing it, could it not be that they developed a fever from sheer surprise?” “Or perhaps someone mixed poison into that coating? That, too, I do not know.”

“And how did Okatsu become so familiar with Tōsuke the night watchman?” “That, too, I do not know.” “Satō’s residence had previously been in financial difficulties, but since his Nagasaki assignment, it is said to have become quite prosperous.” Yūdō stated that though Kuronuma Denbee had been killed in an incident before their temple gates, he himself knew nothing of it. “However,” he explained, “it was likely Tōsuke and his daughter’s doing—stabbed with something like a needle coated in poison.” In any case, Yūdō found it deeply troublesome that they repeatedly caused disturbances using the temple cemetery as their base. He admonished Okatsu and the others multiple times, but they refused to comply. As rumors of the white butterfly grew ever more rampant, and town officials seemed to have begun their own investigations, Yūdō’s heart grew increasingly tormented. Whenever he heard tell that Okatsu and Kōnosuke had been pursued by what appeared to be town officials while returning from Tōsuke’s house—narrowly escaping capture—he felt as though a poisoned needle were piercing his chest.

Since being pursued by the town officials, the timid Kōnosuke could no longer return to his own residence and ended up hiding in Satō’s estate. Seizing this opportunity, Okatsu devised yet another scheme to lure out her romantic rival, Okita. The one entrusted with that errand was none other than Tōsuke, who skillfully deceived Okita by informing her that Kōnosuke was hiding in Satō’s residence and that he himself wished to meet her once, thus luring her out. Having been led out, Okita unwittingly entered Satō’s residence, and Okatsu, who had been lying in wait, guided her further into an old storehouse deep within and confined her there. She had thought that by keeping Okita confined under her control, she could put an end to Okita and Kōnosuke’s chances to meet.

As these wicked acts continued one after another, Yūdō finally resolved. He apprehended his sister when she came to his temple and sternly declared, “A demon like you has no path to salvation. Turn yourself in, no matter what.” “If you remain unconvinced,” he implored, eyes brimming with angry tears, “know this—just as Indra destroyed the clan of Ashura, I, your brother, will execute you myself. Prepare yourself accordingly.” The ferocity of his resolve was so overwhelming that even Okatsu reluctantly agreed, answering that she would let her brother take her to the magistrate’s office the next day to surrender.

Still uneasy, Yūdō commanded his sister: "Now that you've made your resolve, do not return to Satō's residence. Stay at this temple tonight." Okatsu agreed and stayed, but when she indeed attempted to slip out quietly in the night, Yūdō—who had privately anticipated such an act—immediately pursued her and tried to restrain her in the front garden. Both fearing public attention, they exchanged no words, but in that silent struggle, the brother finally hardened his resolve and became Taishaku destroying Ashura. The brother wrapped both hands around his sister's throat and strangled her.

The one who had been watching this was Tōsuke. He had been pursued by Yoshigorō and his men into the depths of the graveyard, but when Tomekichi collapsed midway and they appeared to abandon their prolonged chase, he quietly circled around to the temple kitchen and had a temple laborer untie his bonds. Moreover, since carelessly venturing outside was dangerous, he arranged to stay within the temple grounds for the night. Not only himself but also his subordinates ended up staying here tonight, so he felt a certain unease. When he came to the front garden late at night to check on things, he happened upon Okatsu at the very place where she would meet her end.

Whether out of sympathy for the head priest or intending to use this as leverage to extort future drinking money, he declared he would handle the corpse's disposal himself and summoned Tetsuzō, a manservant from the Satō residence. Okatsu's corpse was carried out in the wind-lashed dead of night and sunk into the Edogawa River.

Since Kuronuma Denbee’s untimely death, Tōsuke had discerned the peril of remaining in his own home and, feigning disappearance, had concealed himself within the Satō residence in truth.

Yūdō's testimony had come to an end. The next question was how Okita had come to drown herself. Was it indeed suicide, or perhaps murder? In any case, Kuronuma Kōnosuke, as the only person involved, was subjected to rigorous scrutiny. Yet Kōnosuke himself adamantly declared he knew nothing about the matter. However, he testified that he only knew that on the evening of the day Okatsu was killed, Okita had slipped out of the storehouse when the maid who had brought her evening meal was distracted.

Upon further investigation, it was revealed that Genzō of Ichikawa-ya had initially concealed this; however, according to subsequent testimony, after slipping out of Satō’s residence yet unable to return home immediately while wandering aimlessly along her way—she happened upon Genzō himself and learned of her neighbor’s suicide by self-harm. From this it was surmised that she had either repented her sins or resigned herself to an inevitable tragic end—wandering those streets until nightfall when she drowned herself. Though deemed a geographical coincidence that both she and her romantic rival were found adrift in identical currents—their corpses floating side by side—it seemed less happenstance than karmic entanglement.

Gohei the landscaper of Mukōjima had been a craftsman serving the Satō and Yoshida households since his parents' generation. As the town authorities had apparently caught wind of matters lately, Kōnosuke cautioned that they should temporarily halt the white butterfly scheme—but Okatsu refused to comply, insisting that abandoning it midway would destroy their ambitions. Instead, she pressed Kōnosuke further and commanded Ofuyu's group to maintain vigilance. The masked villain who rescued Tōsuke before the temple gates had been Kōnosuke. Moreover, this timorous man could no longer endure being perpetually coerced by Okatsu into their entanglement. That very night he fled Otowa, knocking late at night on his family gate in Shirauo-gashi. After hearing the full circumstances, his father Kōhee declared: "You cannot spend another night under this roof. I have my own considerations—go wait at Gohei's house in Mukōjima," thus directing him. Following these orders to Mukōjima, Imai Riemon arrived the next evening. Uriu Chōsaburō came afterward. The okappiki Yoshigorō and Kanematsu appeared. With Ofuyu's death, Kōnosuke's fate became irrevocably fixed here.

Why Satō Magoshirō had brought about his own ruin remained an unsolved mystery, but regarding this, Kōnosuke let slip the following.

“Okatsu said to me, ‘Satō had been engaging in all sorts of wrongdoing during his time in Nagasaki.’” “Since I knew all about it, I declared that no matter how selfishly I acted, Satō wouldn’t be able to say anything.”

During Satō’s assignment in Nagasaki, there appeared to have been some corrupt incident related to his official duties. The fact that he—an impoverished hatamoto—had grown prosperous spoke volumes about the circumstances of that period. Okatsu, having grasped that secret, seemed to act as she pleased within Satō’s residence. In connection with this recent incident, it was surmised that Satō, fearing his past misconduct would come to light, had brought about his own ruin.

The night watchman Tōsuke disappeared once again. Yoshigorō and his men pulled every string to investigate, believing that apprehending him would further clarify the truth of the incident, but ultimately found no clues. About three months later, a hanged corpse resembling him was discovered in the mountains of Hachiōji, but as the body had already decomposed, its features could not be clearly identified. Hachiōji was Tōsuke’s hometown, but no rumors surfaced that he had gone there to make inquiries. Perhaps he had kept his mouth shut everywhere, not wanting to become entangled in anything.

The okappiki Yoshigorō, who primarily worked on investigating this case, was the adoptive father of Old Man Hanshichi, whom I have often introduced in *Hanshichi’s Detective Stories*.