Pathway to Japanese Literature

At Kōfū Island

Tonight, exactly as I had long planned, I resolved to escape from this terrifying psychiatric hospital.——
To begin with, I didn’t know why I had ended up being placed in this island’s psychiatric hospital.
First, I hadn’t wanted to come to an island like this at all.
I had been led by mother O-Tori to bid farewell to the mainland and relocate to this northern island of Kōfū, but I couldn’t comprehend why mother had felt compelled to leave that pleasant mainland behind.
I don’t think mother O-Tori went so far as to abandon the mainland and come to Kōfū Island just to put me in this psychiatric hospital, but…

In any case, this was no dream.
I was now indeed confined in a room of the psychiatric hospital.
The entrance door wouldn’t open from the inside no matter what, and every single window was fitted with sturdy iron bars.
And in this filthy small room, two boys were roomed together.

Mother O-Tori had never once said she would put me in a place like this. When I arrived on this island with my mother, Uncle Mori Torazō—who had been close to us on the mainland—came to meet us. Uncle Mori faced us and said we must surely be struggling with the unfamiliar land, and since there were currently no suitable houses available on the island, we should come stay at his mansion for the time being. He kindly told us he would open two or three rooms for us, so we should stay there temporarily and look for a vacant house at our leisure. Thus we were guided to a grand Western-style mansion built on the island’s slope, where we were lent about three rooms. By all accounts, Uncle Mori had become very successful here—unlike during his time on the mainland—and wielded such formidable influence that everything on the island went exactly as he desired.

For a little over a month, we spent those strangely novel yet enjoyable days there. But then one day, my mother went downtown, leaving me alone to look after the house.
I was terribly fond of house-sitting.
Though it was something of a bad habit, I found great pleasure in stealthily opening cupboards and peeking beneath bundles—things I'd normally get scolded for touching—while minding the house.
That day too, seizing the opportunity of everyone's absence, I secretly slipped out of our room, stole into Uncle Mori's study, and after thoroughly indulging in clandestine delights, leaned grandly back in the armchair there, puffing away at the cigar Uncle Mori cherished.
Then the door I'd believed unoccupied suddenly flew open, and from beyond it appeared four or five men in high-collared uniforms who, upon seeing my face,

“Ah, this is the guy.”
“We’re taking this guy away.”
“That’s…!”

they shouted.
Beneath that shout, the group of high-collared uniforms swarmed in. Without a word of protest, they lifted me by my limbs and threw me into the cage-like car waiting outside.
I was so shocked by this utterly unexpected treatment that I screamed at the top of my lungs, but my mother O-Tori was absent, and as ill luck would have it, Uncle Mori was also away. With no one to take my side, the strangers who didn’t know me ultimately did nothing but watch with curious, gleaming eyes—as if to say how strange this all was—and not a single soul came to my aid.
And so, I was easily confined in this psychiatric hospital.

“I’m not insane! Call my mother! — Are you diagnosing me as insane? It’s the director who’s insane!”

In a fit of anger, I shouted those words. But the outcome only worsened matters. I came to be seen as increasingly deranged, until even I began to wonder—had I truly lost my mind?

At first, fury consumed me—such all-consuming fury that I could scarcely swallow a morsel of food. But gradually, without noticing when it happened, resignation took root in my heart, and I stopped lashing out violently. Yet life in the detention cell remained excruciatingly dull. Imagine it—no work beyond eating three daily meals, no books or newspapers to occupy me. Whenever I tried gazing outside through the window, the wall spitefully blocked my view.

In this dreary life of confinement, there was but one thing that brought me solace.
It was a key I had secretly hidden on my person.
This was in fact something I had pilfered when I sneaked into Uncle Mori’s cupboard—a key that had been lying forgotten in a corner, so weathered and peculiarly shaped that I thought it might have been crafted in Holland long ago.
And there was another strange thing—the inside of the key’s grip ring was shaped exactly as though a young woman’s profile had been carved out.
This feature greatly appealed to me, and though I had taken it without permission, this key alone managed to deceive the guards’ eyes and remained in my possession. I used it as my sole plaything—or rather, treasure—to slightly alleviate the excruciatingly boring days.

Afterward, there had come a single opportunity to meet—not only with Uncle Mori, but even with my mother, whom I had begun to fear I might never see again.
Moreover, at that time, the two of them had come together to visit this hospital room.
Overwhelmed with heavenly joy, I earnestly pleaded that I wasn’t insane and begged them to release me immediately.
However, for some reason, the two did not immediately agree to my request.
On the contrary, they adopted an attitude as if interrogating me,

“Hey Jun’ichi.”
“Did you steal something from Uncle’s room?”
“If so, return it quickly.”
“If you don’t, I’ll be in trouble…”

“Mr. Kitagawa.
“Won’t you tell me where you’ve hidden it?
“If you tell me，I’ll try my best to help you recover and leave this hospital sooner…”

he said.
I was taken aback by this abrupt talk.
At first, I couldn’t understand what they were talking about at all, but gradually—

(Ah...)
Could it be that they’re talking about the key with the woman’s profile?

I realized.
But I couldn’t bring myself to hand over the key.
They claimed they would release me from this psychiatric hospital in exchange for the key, but I could clearly see that was a blatant lie.
That would have been a terrible loss.
There was another reason I didn’t want to hand over the key.
That—that was something I’m somewhat embarrassed to say—the truth was, I had gradually come to feel something akin to love for the profile of the woman engraved on the key’s grip ring.
Who in this world would hand over their most precious beloved to others?!

Since that incident, I had come to realize that neither Mother O-Tori nor Uncle Mori could be relied upon in the slightest. And from that point on, I resolved that I had to escape this terrifying psychiatric hospital through my own strength alone.

After that, I pondered every possible method for this difficult escape.
And finally, I discovered a method that was sure to succeed.
Now all that remained was to wait for the right opportunity—

Now, tonight was finally the perfect opportunity.
Tonight—tonight, I absolutely had to carry out the escape.
But if that escape were to fail—given that this island lay entirely within the palm of Uncle Mori—no, I should no longer call him “uncle”—Mori Torazō’s grasp—I would have to resign myself to the certainty that my life would be forfeit.

Desperate Escape Plan

What I peered at was the entrance door of this detention cell.

That door was a large iron door.
The walls were thick concrete walls reinforced with iron bars.
Neither could be breached as they were.

The iron door and wall structure were designed such that a large iron bracket had been laid horizontally from the outside, forming a sturdy crossbar mechanism.
Moreover, a robust lock had been suspended from the lowered bracket.

Through careful observation from inside, I realized that while the iron bracket remained lowered at all times, the lock would only be fastened after the 11 PM inspection, staying disengaged until then.
Ultimately, making the horizontal bracket outside the door vertical would enable escape from this room; however, there existed no means to reach that bracket from inside the cell, nor could I even see it.
Furthermore, since the bracket had a substantial counterweight attached near its end—resembling an oversized clock pendulum—raising it required considerable effort.
Yet in the end, my solution lay in dislodging this bracket from within the detention cell itself.

Regarding the escape plan, the first thing that boosted my spirits was the square hole—about three sun (four inches) per side—cut into the wall immediately to the left of the door, right at its lowest point. This served both as an air vent and as a drainage outlet when cleaning the room with water. When I inserted my wrist into this hole, it slipped in easily. Even when I inserted my arm up to the armpit, my wrist remained at a distance that couldn’t possibly reach the bracket. The distance was approximately two shaku. If only one’s hand were two shaku longer, it could reach the bracket’s weight and lift the bracket—but if a human hand were two shaku longer than this, it would be a monster.

However, in any case, the problem was the two-shaku distance. If only I had a two-shaku stick at hand, I could grip it and reach the bracket's weight. But in the detention cell, such sticks were strictly prohibited. In fact, not just sticks—even a single nail or toothpick among hard objects was forbidden. Could it be that this plan would ultimately prove impossible to carry out?

However, human ingenuity is a terrifying thing—I finally managed to obtain a stick of about two shaku in length. Not that I bribed the guards. Without troubling anyone, I single-handedly crafted a two-shaku stick.

When I say this, it may sound as if I had used some magic trick—yes, this might indeed be counted among magic tricks.
In any case, having conceived a plan, I had a messenger sent to my mother and—claiming an upset stomach—requested that udon be provided for breakfast and lunch.
Then came a reply relayed by the guard.

“Hey, Kitagawa! You should be pleased—from now on, we’ll provide udon for your breakfast and lunch. But only one bowl each time, got it?”

After that, I switched two meals to udon and ate rice only in the evening. In truth, I wasn’t actually suffering from an upset stomach but had an ulterior motive. Whenever I ate udon, cedar chopsticks always came with it, but after finishing my meal, I would snap them in two with a crack, toss them into the bowl, and have it taken away. But in truth, that was where the trick lay. It appeared as though the chopsticks were broken into two pieces and placed in the bowl, but in reality, I had broken them into three—depositing the two end pieces in the bowl while secretly beginning to stockpile the middle portions. Therefore, if one were to try joining the pieces that had been broken into two, it should have been immediately apparent that the chopsticks’ dimensions were insufficient. However, the guards, reassured by seeing the chopsticks broken into two pieces, failed to notice their insufficient length.

Through patience upon patience—I who had been collecting short cedar chopsticks—finally reached what I deemed sufficient. This time I changed tactics and began secretly pocketing small amounts of rice during dinner. Then once the guards had cleared the tray, inspected my body and left, I took out the rice, kneaded it together into a paste. Using this well-worked rice paste, I glued the cedar fragments into a square bundle—making each piece slightly uneven at the ends—and gradually extended them longer toward the tip. It took a full month this way, but at last I managed to craft a sturdy stick over two shaku long. Fortunately my hiding method proved skillful enough to avoid detection by the guards. With this tool secured, victory was assured. Gripping it in hand and sliding it through that square hole—if I could lever up the bracket’s counterweight—the door would open.

All that remained was to wait for an opportunity—but finally, tonight was that long-awaited night.

Tonight marked the beginning of Kōfū Island's summer festival.

Even in the northern regions, summer arrived.
That summer was exceedingly brief, but precisely for that reason, it remained precious throughout the year.
The islanders—whether locals or Japanese—lived ceaselessly day and night, drinking, singing, and dancing.
For our guards too, this remained a treasured summer festival night.

At 9 PM, it had become routine for two guards to inspect our room. At that time, they would conduct a roll call, verify whether our health condition was satisfactory, and then make us retire for the night. Sure enough, that night too, the routine roll call began.

“Fourth Room.”
“Is everyone here? Huh?”

One guard, upon entering the room, stood in the shadow of the door to secure the entrance, while the other guard went to each patient scattered in corners here and there, inspecting their bodies as though stuffing letters into a mailbox.
For patients who were always naked, they followed convention by covering them with something like Western-style nightgowns.
The guard approached me first, but he reeked terribly of alcohol.
When I looked at the guard at the entrance, he remained clinging to the door, tapping out a rhythm with his shoe tips to the Sado folk song.

“You all—behave and get to sleep right away, got it?—”

Having said that, the two guards left the room.
The sound of footsteps gradually faded into the distance, followed by a clanging noise—likely from them opening the next room—that reached my ears.
I waited another five minutes.
It was to wait for the guards to circle around to the hooked-shaped ward beyond.

At last, the time had come.

I slid out from between the rice-cracker-thin futons and boldly began my actions. I retrieved the stick crafted from cedar chopsticks that had been hidden in the transom above the door, then lay prone beneath it as prearranged. Extending my arm holding the stick through the air vent, I lightly tapped the wall with its tip while feeling around for the bracket. Even as I did this, I—unable to see outside—was terribly worried that someone might pass through the hallway and witness this bold act.

The rod's tip clinked against the counterweight. While rhythmically tapping it, I estimated a suitable midpoint and pressed the stick fragment against that spot. My heart suddenly began pounding violently. Now—whether success or failure—it would all be decided in the next instant.

"Ugh..."

Gradually focusing strength into the rod's tip, I heard creak creak creak—the bracket's counterweight began rising. Seizing the moment, I pushed with all my might, straining my arm...

Snap!

"I failed—"

By the time I realized it, it was already too late.
The cedar chopstick-crafted rod fragment snapped brittlely, my arm thrust into empty air, and with unchecked momentum, my head struck the wall with a sickening crack.

The Crossroads of Life and Death

The depth of my disappointment at that moment defied both speech and writing. That rod I'd crafted through two months of extraordinary effort had snapped like kindling at the critical juncture—the frustration seared through me, my very bowels burning with its heat.

I pushed myself up weakly from the floor. Was fate's god truly so spiteful...?

For a time I glared fixedly at the iron door. If only that damned chopstick rod hadn't broken—this door would've groaned open by now—I thought, flicking the metal surface with a fingertip.

"Agh—!"
I involuntarily cried out loud.
What an utterly unexpected turn of events.
With the slight force I’d concentrated in my fingertips, the door I had believed immovable as a fortress wall creaked open outward with a groan.
From valley-deep disappointment to soaring mountain-peak elation—

(That’s right.
The cedar chopstick rod had snapped—but before breaking, it had fully lifted the door’s bracket!
Banzai!)

I realized the truth in an instant.

In my overwhelming joy, I immediately leaped outside the door.
When I noticed and looked back behind me, the two roommates who had been watching my actions with keen interest were about to follow me out.

"Damn—!"

As I turned around, I pushed them back into the room and slammed the iron door shut.
If they came out now, the guards would spot us immediately.
All my two months of effort would be wasted—The shoved-back pair scrambled to press their faces against the peephole, roaring like wild beasts.

From outside the iron door, I pushed the bracket down sideways to ensure no one else could get out. And I pressed my body tightly against the dark corridor’s wall and crawled like a spider as I advanced toward the exit.

At the exit stood an extremely sturdy iron grating, its center portion forming an iron-barred door.
Beyond it lay a guard station.
There burned a brightly lit lamp.

The exit’s iron grating was snapped shut.
However, I had known beforehand that although this grating had a large lock, it was never actually locked.
This was likely due to the frequent comings and goings making it highly inconvenient to lock each time.

If only I could get past that checkpoint...

Fortunately finding no one around, I approached the iron-barred door with my heart leaping—as expected, tonight too no lock had been set on the grating.

"It worked!"

I placed my hands on the iron grating and gently pushed.

Screeeech.

The iron grating seemed to have warped, letting out a high-pitched metallic scraping sound that sent a chill through my guts.

This is bad!
I thought, but I couldn’t get outside without opening the grating.
I proceeded with even greater caution, gently continuing to push the door, but the iron grating still screeched with a screeeech.
As long as the people in the guard station don’t realize…

“Da— Who’s there? Kiyota—?”

Then, suddenly, a voice came from inside the guard station.
The voice sounded quite intoxicated.
I began trembling on the spot as if struck by lightning.
Discovered?

"Oh…"

I boldly responded in a disguised voice.

“Hurry up, hurry! You’ll make us late…”

“Mmm—”

I opened the iron door and slipped out smoothly. Then I bent down, slipped past beneath the guard post window, and raced down the corridor as silently as possible.

“What are you doing?—”

At that moment, the guard post’s glass window clattered open.

“Hey!
“……Who are you?”
“Ah! You’re getting away!—”

The guard’s furious roar—followed by the violent report of a pistol: Bang! Bang!

Whizz, whizz—bullets grazed past my ears as I raced down the corridor.
And then one bullet struck the concrete wall once and came clattering down to my feet.
Now I stood at the boundary between life and death.
In a frenzied daze, I had no memory of where or how I charged forward, but upon exiting the building, I leapt into the pitch-black garden, then desperately scrambled up the high wall I collided with and tumbled down to the other side.
At that moment, I heard a siren begin to wail from the psychiatric hospital’s tower: Woo-woo-woo.
Leaving that behind, I began fleeing toward the town’s festival lights, pounding away into the night.

At that time, my attire was the Western-style nightgown provided to hospital patients, so when I reached a certain bridge’s edge, I completely removed it, unwrapped the paper bundle I had carried under my arm to change into the prepared high-collared student uniform I had readied beforehand, wrapped the nightgown in the paper, tied a suitable stone I found nearby as a weight substitute, and threw it into the river with a splash. Thus, from every angle, I had fully transformed into a student. I entered the brightly lit town with great swagger.

The nighttime streets were alive with a seething bustle. From the eateries lining both sides, the sound of string music clamored, while intermingling with these came the resonant tones of kokyū—a Chinese fiddle thick with exoticism—and the violent banging of gongs echoing from every alleyway. The windows of houses hung with colored lanterns and lavishly decorated with red, yellow, and blue tinsel were all open, and inside them could be seen the disheveled figures of people dancing and singing. No sooner would there be a group singing folk songs while waving their hands and stomping their feet as they danced along the street than a crowd would come surging from an alleyway carrying a massive dragon effigy, undulating down the road as though licking the pavement with their snaking dance.

La la la, la la…

Clap-clap, yo-heave-ho!

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

All manner of shouts swirled madly from the pavement up to the rooftops.
My heart even temporarily forgot I was a fugitive, swept up in the crowd’s fervor, and gradually grew cheerful.

Even this cheerful mood of mine did not last very long.

The siren’s wail pierced the pleasure district without warning—people froze mid-dance like figures in a silent film whose reel had stopped, becoming rigid statues where they stood.
From the main avenue ahead, a motorcade rushed in, their headlights blazing brilliantly.
I darted to the wall and hid myself.

“Ah— Quiet, everyone! Quiet!”
“There’s an important proclamation now, I tell you!”

The man on the vehicle rattled off the same message in various languages.
When I peered into the car’s interior, my breath caught.
There sat a lavishly dressed Uncle Mori—no, Mori Torazō—wearing an unsettled expression as he strained to maintain dignity by arching his back.

“I shall read the proclamation.—” A man who appeared to be a gold-badged police chief—having been seated beside Mori Torazō—rose to his feet.

“Earlier today, a dangerous patient escaped from the psychiatric hospital.
“Age twenty-four—a Japanese male named Kitagawa Jun’ichi.
“Height: one meter sixty; fair-skinned youth with a small scar at his forehead’s hairline.
“Clad in mouse-gray nightgown-style trousers and jacket.
“This extremely dangerous individual must not be left at large.
“Exercise utmost caution and apprehend him on sight.
“Lethal force is authorized if circumstances demand.
“A reward of two thousand silver dollars shall be granted for his capture or elimination.…”

I heard my own arrest proclamation.
Was my life worth two thousand silver dollars?!
Though its value couldn't be called high, what could drive them to offer such a bounty just to arrest—no, even kill—me?
Am I truly such a monstrous person?
As I watched, it seemed Mori Torazō must be the one offering the bounty.
I had heard Mori Tora was my late father's close friend.
When Father died in America, it was Uncle Mori who had sent us in Tokyo every detail.
Moreover, it was Uncle Mori who had warmly welcomed Mother O-Tori and me here, even lending us a room.
Yet soon after, he began treating me cruelly, had me confined to a psychiatric hospital, and now in the end was urging them to shoot me dead.
...What a terrifying transformation... I couldn't comprehend it at all.

A reward of two thousand silver dollars!

The crowd temporarily forgot all about dancing and singing and erupted in cheers.

“Damn it!”
_Do you think I’d let myself be caught by you lot?_

I clenched my fist in the shadow of the building and trembled uncontrollably.

It was then.

Someone of unknown identity suddenly grabbed my arm from the side with a firm grip.

“Kitagawa Jun’ichi!”

I failed!
When I whirled around in shock, there stood a beautiful woman with a freshly tied Shimada hairstyle and gorgeous furisode kimono, gripping the vital points of both my arms with strength unimaginable for a woman.

Hopeless predicament!
Am I fated to be turned into money because of this woman and meet my end?

Nun Shūren’s Hermitage

The woman gripping my arm was exquisitely beautiful.
I felt as though my soul had been stolen.
To escape execution, I needed to kick that woman down and flee.
Yet I did not act—because she bore too striking a resemblance to the phantom woman I had always held close in my heart.
There existed something more precious than my solitary life.

No—far from kicking her down, I remained captured and didn’t even attempt to let out a cry.—Though this was also because, at that moment, I sensed something akin to goodwill toward me within the woman’s cool eyes.

“Mr. Kitagawa, isn’t it?…”

“P-please… tie me up… and turn me in.”

“Shh!—” the woman rebuked with a look, “...If someone notices, it’ll spell disaster.”

“Huh?—”

I turned to look at the woman.

“It’s dangerous to stay here—you must flee at once.”

“Ah, you were not my enemy after all?”

“Of course,” the woman smiled sweetly and said, “but no matter where you flee on this island, it’s dangerous. Well then, I’ll tell you the best place to hide.”

“Huh? A hiding place?”

“If you keep going straight south along this road ahead, you’ll end up climbing the mountain. There’s a large temple there. That place is a Buddhist nunnery called Renshō Temple. Though it’s off-limits to anyone but women, try sneaking in through the back gate. When you climb the hill with the bell tower, there’s a small hermitage there. A nun called Shūren lives there—you should tell her your circumstances and have her hide you. Do you understand?”

“Ah, I understand.”
“Thank you, thank you—how can I ever repay you?”

“Repayment, you say?”
“Ohoho.”
“You nearly had your life taken—there’s no need for thanks. …Instead, use this hand towel as a headband.”
“You need to hide that scar on your forehead that’s your identifying mark.”
“And shouldn’t you go to the place I told you about as quickly as possible?”

“Then I’ll go… But first, I must ask.”
“The name of you who saved my life—”

“My name? What’s the point of asking… But shall I tell you anyway? The Woman with the Shimada Hairstyle—that’s me!”

The woman herself briskly stepped out from under the eaves.

I stood dazedly watching the retreating figure of that mysterious young woman until finally regaining my senses, then tied a headband with the hand towel received from the woman with the Shimada hairstyle to conceal the dangerous identifying mark that jeopardized my life. Upon emerging from beneath those eaves, I slipped smoothly into the back alley.

The back alley was alive with an unusual bustle from the islanders.
Yet forming clusters here and there, they whispered among themselves in hushed tones.
This could only be about the enormous bounty placed on me—the escaped fugitive.

Among the residents were those who glanced back at me with suspicion.
But having swiftly shed the hospital gown and adopted the disguise of a student uniform with headband, I avoided serious scrutiny.

To Renshō Temple—

I kept strict watch in all directions while gauging my general path and marched resolutely southward.

Ryūma Mountain—a famous mountain on the island—was something I had come to know firsthand. When I suddenly emerged before the familiar fence of Renshō Temple, I felt dreamlike joy.

Where was the back gate?

The nunnery’s fence stretched endlessly like a miniature Great Wall of China. Locating the back gate proved grueling work, but once I found a gate, I plunged inside.

The temple garden was literally pitch-dark. I couldn’t discern where the bell tower stood or where paths might lie.—I picked up a stick and swung it about while circling through the temple grounds. After wandering aimlessly for thirty minutes, I discovered the large bell tower’s roof tiles standing crisp as a paper silhouette against sky faintly brightened by festival lights—and exulted.

Finding the hermitage in the shadow of the bell tower was no longer any great difficulty.
On the hermitage’s shōji doors, a vivid yellow light was cast like the hue of a fully ripe plum.
When I quietly placed my hand on the hermitage door,
“Who goes there?”

A low voice was heard from inside.

“...”
I involuntarily let go and fell silent, but
“This is because I was informed of Your Reverence’s name in town.”

“I will now open it for you.”
“Just a moment...”

A faint rustle of fabric came from within, followed by the latch clicking softly, and then the entrance quietly opened.

“You were told my name, you say.”
“First, please come in and tell me your circumstances.”

The nun, apparently unaware that I was a man, ushered me upstairs without the slightest hesitation.

Within the earthen-floored area were two hermitage rooms of about four and a half tatami mats each, and in the innermost room, Amida Buddha was enshrined on the raised floor with two oil-filled candlesticks.
An apricot-colored light flickered.
In front of that faint light, Nun Shūren and I faced each other. Though called a nun, contrary to her low voice, the abbess was unexpectedly still a young woman.
On her freshly shaven, beautiful head, the candlelight from the candlestick reflected and flickered restlessly.

“The truth is, I am someone who just escaped from the hospital…” While untying the hand towel wrapped around my forehead, I recounted my entire story and informed her how under the eaves of a town wailing with sirens, a beautiful woman wearing a long-sleeved kimono with a Shimada hairstyle had told me about the abbess.
And then,
“……Please, shelter me from these lawless hands for a while.”

I pressed both hands to the floor and bowed my head.

“That is truly a pitiable circumstance you find yourself in,” the nun said as calmly as water. “Since you have made your request, I shall shelter you. Take heart. However, since this could bring trouble upon me as well, no matter what may occur, you shall not leave this hermitage—nay, not even show your face—without my express permission.”

“Ah, I am deeply honored. If Your Reverence will shelter me, why would I defy your orders? Thank you ever so much.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, I shed tears onto the tatami mats.

After the nun served me a cup of hot water,

“Then, as you must be quite weary, please rest. However, since I cannot fetch bedding from elsewhere, you will have to share my bed. Is this acceptable to you?”

“Share a bed?”
I asked back in shock.
“No, I don’t need to sleep.”

The nun offered no reply to this. She rose gracefully, opened the cupboard, laid out bedding in the adjacent room, and placed a single pillow to the left. Then, still searching through the cupboard, she took out a furoshiki cloth, wrapped something in it, and shaped it into a pillow form. And on the right side of the bedding, she placed the makeshift pillow. When I saw the two pillows lined up on the futon, my face grew hot as flame.

“Please use this makeshift pillow.”
“You should lie down at once and recover your strength.”
“I will read sutras awhile before retiring to bed, so please go ahead first...”

I hesitated.
Even if she was a nun, the one before me was a young woman.
What would it mean for us to lie down together in one bed?

“Please go ahead and lie down.—”

The nun repeated it.—I had said earlier that if she would shelter me, I would surely obey the abbess’s instructions.
I thought it would be disastrous if I were to disobey the abbess’s words now and end up being made to leave here.
And so I finally resolved myself and entered the bedding first.
The sutra recitation would likely take about an hour, but I resolved to sleep at least during that time and wake when the nun came in.

I lightened my clothes and got into bed.

The nun lifted the light before Amida Buddha and quietly began to recite sutras.

The makeshift pillow gave off a wonderfully sweet scent, though I couldn’t tell what was inside it—a fragrance that drifted through the nunnery with an allure wholly unsuited to such a place. Could it be that young women naturally carried such an intoxicating scent? These thoughts kept me awake, and instead of sleeping, I found myself tumbling through one bizarre dream after another: the woman with the Shimada hairstyle I’d met by the town’s edge appeared smiling softly, only for her face to transform into the nun’s prim expression. Then Mori Torazō’s hateful visage would burst from the shadows, my mother chasing after him in tears, followed by hospital guards pursuing me with machine guns while three young men lunged to sink their teeth into them… Chasing these phantoms through my exhaustion, I finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Secrets Surrounding the Key

When I came to my senses, sutra chanting filled my ears.
With a start, I opened my eyes to find bright sunlight streaming through the shoji paper before I realized it.

"Damn it—"

I timidly cracked my eyes open and looked at the adjacent pillow.
It appeared that a heavily weighted head had rested there so long that the center was sunken inward as if gouged out.
In the futon, I quietly stretched out my hand.

"Ah, that's bad—"

Next to my body, I could distinctly feel the residual warmth of someone having slept there—that young nun must indeed have lain beside me!

When I sat up, Nun Shūren stopped chanting sutras.
When I gave my morning greeting, the nun—
“It seems you slept quite well last night.”

With that, she smiled faintly.

When I sat before the breakfast tray she had prepared, I was shocked to realize the abbess appeared even younger than she had in the stark shadows of lamplight the previous night.
Though I couldn't say for certain, she might be a year or two younger than me.
And she was a nun with far more refined and beautiful features than I had seen the previous night.

"Someone I've seen before..."

I gazed at Nun Shūren with her round head, but try as I might, I couldn't recall.

In the morning, Nun Shūren appeared quite busy—going out, then returning to the hermitage, over and over.
I was not permitted to look outside, so I stretched out before Amida Buddha and pondered various things—how my dwelling had changed since yesterday, whether I should go visit my mother from here, or perhaps make my escape from Kōfū Island as I was.

When those thoughts had run their course, I—

"Ah, that’s right. …I’d forgotten about the lover’s key!"

The key engraved with my lover’s profile—I had completely forgotten about it. I had kept it against my skin. I took it out and gazed fixedly at that profile. The woman in the key’s grip ring had her hair styled in waves. A straight nose bridge. Small eyebrows, a particularly rounded lower lip, and a well-shaped lovely chin…

“Excuse me, Mr. Kitagawa—”

At the sound of my name being called, I awoke to find Nun Shūren sitting beside me. I hadn’t noticed when the abbess had returned. I had apparently been taking a nap, feeling quite content.

“Oh, this…”

I sat up with a start and scratched my head. When I saw Nun Shūren’s face, I was astonished. What could have happened? Her complexion was whiter than paper—

“Mr. Kitagawa.”
“This key is yours.”

“Yes, it’s mine.”

“Where did you obtain this?”

“That’s—”

I began, but Nun Shūren’s eyes gleamed with an intensity that suggested she might pounce at any moment. This became an unexpected major incident. What had suddenly made her Buddha-like demeanor tense as a guard dog? She completely transformed into someone entirely different.

“That’s something I found in Uncle Mori’s cupboard.”

“When you say Uncle Mori…”

“It’s about Mori Torazō, the one I told you about last night.”
“It’s the house where my mother should be staying now.”

“Ah, I see. …Did you see a beautiful inlaid box about this big in Mori Torazō’s cupboard, together with this?”

With that, the nun indicated the size of the box with her hands—about that of a lunchbox.
What she said reminded me—when I had just begun searching Mori Tora’s cupboard, I once found a beautiful small box in a trunk, just like the one we were discussing.
I remember it being as beautiful as a toy.
When I picked it up, it was surprisingly light.
I tried to open it, but found it locked.
When I shook it near my ear, there was a faint rustling sound.
It didn’t seem to contain anything significant, and since I couldn’t find the key at the time, I put it back as it was.
After that, someone locked the trunk again.
—I thought she meant that box.
But even so—why would this nun from Ryūmazan know about such a thing?

When she saw me remaining silent, Nun Shūren edged her knees forward and suddenly grabbed my arm.

"You know about that box, don’t you?"
"Come now—hurry up and tell me!"
"Well then, I’ll tell you everything."
"Now, Mr. Kitagawa Jun’ichi."
"That beautiful box is actually the very one your late father, Mr. Jun’nosuke, kept hidden when he was in America."

"What did you say?"

I was astonished to the point where my heart might stop.
That I should come to this remote land, find myself within this mysterious nunnery, and then suddenly hear my dear father’s name from the nun who was my life’s benefactor—the very nun with whom I’d shared a single quilt through a night of dreams—was something beyond even my wildest imaginings.

“Abbess, did you know my late father?”

The nun averted her eyes slightly,

“Yes, I suppose you could say I know a little about him.”
“The time will come when I can give you a full explanation.”

“Abbess—if you’ll pardon my bluntness—what manner of person are you?”

The nun did not even attempt to answer that,

“That box contains a secret.”
“I had been searching for its location.”
“The key you have is the one that opens that box.”
“Won’t you please hand that key over to me?”
“I won’t do anything bad with it.”
“In exchange, I’ll get you safely off this island tonight.”

“I won’t run away.”
“Besides, there’s my mother…”

“Your mother!”
“Ah, you’re talking about O-Tori-san, then.”
“That woman is a stepmother with no relation to you.”
“But if you keep dawdling and get found by Mori Torazō, you’ll lose your life on the spot.”
“First, we must get you to safety. …You must understand that by now.”
“Now, hand that key over to me!”

When she said that, I could not help but hand over the key.
Yet parting with this lover inside the memory-filled key proved exceedingly painful.

“I could hand it over, but… the truth is, within this key resides my lover.”

“A lover inside the key?”

The beautiful abbess stared wide-eyed in shock.
Steeling myself, I told her about the lover within the key.
Then I described how the beautiful woman with an elaborate Shimada hairstyle and long-sleeved kimono I’d glimpsed beneath a townhouse eaves last night bore this lover’s likeness.

“My—” The nun smiled with amusement. “You’ve taken a liking to that woman I pointed out to you last night, haven’t you?”

“In your presence, Abbess, I find myself growing more attached to that girl by the moment.”

“My, what a banquet this is,” said the Abbess in an un-nunlike manner. “So you don’t wish to meet that girl?”

“Yes, I do want to meet her! You know that girl’s name and whereabouts, don’t you, Abbess? Now please tell me.”

“Hohoho.”
“If you’re that taken with her, I’ll arrange another meeting.”
“But in return, you must leave this place at once—exactly as I say.”

“That’s no good! I won’t be able to see her anymore.”
“I won’t be able to see her anymore.”

“That’s no problem.
“I’ll certainly take you along afterward.”

The abbess’s utterly confident words seemed unlikely to be a lie.
I resolved that from this point onward, I would entrust all my fate to the abbess—my benefactor of rebirth—and determined to follow her every direction without question.

I had finally handed over the key engraved with a lover’s figure to Nun Shūren.
What kind of secret plan was being formulated within her?
What manner of person connected by fate was Nun Shūren—she who had so abruptly and completely changed her demeanor after seeing the key last night?

Shameful Disguise

As befitted a sacred realm enveloped in Amida’s light, within Renshō Temple on Mount Ryūma, the pursuers’ reach did not extend. And so the sunset sank beyond the dense pine forest, and night came. In the town, the last night of the lively festival arrived. In Nun Shūren’s hermitage beneath the bell tower, a night of bizarre mystery—so eerie it defied description—arrived.

The young abbess placed an oil-filled candlestick before Amida Nyorai and offered a yellow light. When the evening meal was finished, she sat upright before it and quietly began to chant sutras. From beside her, I fixedly stared holes into Nun Shūren’s face, illuminated by the light and resembling a relief carving. The longer I gazed at her, the clearer it became that she was an elegant nun. To think of entrusting her young self to grow old and decay in this gray hermitage seemed utterly unbearable to me. What circumstances led her to vow to enter the priesthood and abandon the floating world that should have been joyous?...

As I was lost in these thoughts, the sutra chanting came to an end.

“Well, you’ve been kept waiting long enough,” Nun Shūren rose from her seat and said, “Now, let’s finally begin devising a way to get you out of here. But I must stress this clearly: No matter what I do to you henceforth or what you may feel about it, you will flee from Kōfū Island to the beloved mainland of Kimeshima across the shore as per our initial agreement, following my words in all things—will you not? You’ll swear to that, won’t you?”

“Very well. As I said before, I will absolutely obey your commands, Abbess.”

“Very well—then let’s begin preparations.”

Having said that, the Abbess beckoned me, took down a wicker trunk from the cupboard in the adjacent room, and had me carry it all the way before Amida. When I suggested opening the lid, she stopped me with a “Wait a moment.”

“I’m going to disguise you now. With that, please strip completely naked.”

I looked at the abbess’s face but, resigning myself, took off my student uniform, then removed my shirt, until finally I was left wearing nothing but a loincloth.

“There, that’s good… Now I’ll begin dressing you.”
“Now then, I’ll blindfold you with this.”
“I don’t want you to see anything until it’s completely finished.”

I could only sigh.
Not knowing what grand spectacle was about to begin, I let myself be blindfolded as instructed.
The abbess undid it and retied it tightly once more—I could no longer see anything.
Only my eardrums remained as my reliance.

“Are we comfortable? —I’ll have to keep you silent.”

When my vision vanished, the abbess’s rounded head disappeared from view, leaving only her voice to be heard.
As I listened solely to that voice, I could clearly perceive that the abbess was indeed a youthful woman.

“Oh—”

No sooner had something like tight undergarments resembling a loincloth been put on me than a long rustling cloth was wrapped around me from chest to heels.
Somehow, an alluringly sweet fragrance struck my nose.
Ah yes—I had smelled this same fragrance last night too.

“Raise both hands—”

“Ah—”

Around my chest, she wound something tightly again and again.

Next, I sensed her moving behind me, and this time she dressed me in a rustling kimono-like garment from the shoulders.
(Is this a kimono?)

Then, around my hip bones, she tightly wound a thin cord.
When that was done, she tucked something into my chest area and wrapped a wide, rustling obi-like sash beneath my breasts—I was startled.
My cheeks burned as if on fire.

(Isn’t this cross-dressing?)

Then, as I paid close attention, each subsequent step became clear one by one. I realized what was happening step by step—the first layer I’d been made to wear was likely an underkimono, over which came a heavy-sleeved kimono. Then my arm was raised as those sleeves were wound tightly around me, followed by a wide maru obi being tightened around my torso, and finally a haori jacket being put over everything. The abbess did not utter a single word during this time, unsettlingly silent. At times her supple forearm would entwine around my waist; then in the next moment, a hot breath would graze my cheek.

“Now, please sit down. …Gently now. Gently, okay?”

I did as told.

“You can remove the blindfold now—since you can’t proceed otherwise, there’s no helping it.”

When I removed the blindfold, I was more shocked than I had imagined.
From the neck down, I possessed the body of a beautiful woman.
The breasts rose high and full, the knees swelled plumply, and between carelessly draped sleeves peeked glimpses of a seductive scarlet underkimono.
—I was half in a dreamlike state.

“Now, please hold your head up.”
The abbess moved behind me and wrapped cloth around my head.

Then, retrieving strongly scented white face powder from wherever she had stored it, she began applying it to my face.
While I was still reeling in disbelief, that too came to an end.

“It’s a bit heavy.”

Under that voice, something heavy was placed over my head from above. And behind the ears, a cord tightened around my head.

“There, it’s done.—Oh, you look quite becoming, you know.”
“You’ve become such a truly captivating woman—”

If there had been a mirror, I would have felt compelled to take a look myself.
Still, why would the abbess have such alluring garments—and even a wig?
By all appearances, she was no ordinary person.

“Hohohoho.
“Do take a look here—you can see it, can’t you?
“How does it suit you?”

When I turned around with a start, the abbess was pointing at the sliding door between us. When I looked there, wasn’t the shadow of a slender woman with a tall Shimada hairstyle reflected? From a shock and excitement I had never experienced before, I could only gasp for breath.

“This should be safe… The timing is just right.”
“The festival must now be at its liveliest.”
“Now slip away through that crowd to the harbor.”
“There’s a Japanese steamship called Gokōmaru set to depart tonight—call for the Captain at the gangway and show him this letter.”
“Then he’ll surely take you safely to Kimishima.”
“…Now I’ll pray for your fortune and say goodbye.”

As the abbess held out the letter, I involuntarily clutched her hand tightly.

“Thank you.”
“I’m endlessly grateful… But I’ve changed my mind.”
“I won’t go.”
“I don’t care if they kill me.”
“I want to stay by your side.”
“Now I understand everything.”
“That night I escaped—I’ve realized who that beautiful woman with the Shimada hairstyle was, the one who told me about this hermitage beneath the town’s eaves.”
“It was you, Abbess—you all along.…”

And I, now cross-dressed, tried to embrace the abbess.

“Oh, you’re so…”

And the young abbess pulled back.

"How could I flee alone while leaving you whom I love behind? If not, please escape with me from now on. I will fight for you as long as I live."

“You’re not very manly, are you?…” The abbess’s expression turned cold as she pulled back toward the wall.
“I hate that kind of person.”

“Ah—”
I groaned.

“Then I’ll go after all.”
“That was our promise.”
“Then I pray that divine protection will be upon you.”
“I will wait forever and ever on Kimishima for your arrival.……”

Having said that, however reluctantly, I left the hermitage behind and ran out into the outer darkness.

Oda Haruyo, the woman

Here at Kimishima, leaning against the window of a Western-style mansion belonging to a certain institution, I gazed out at the open sea—I who had narrowly succeeded in escaping Kōfū Island with Nun Shūren's help. Unusually, a single airplane could be seen flying in the sky—this too was entirely due to Nun Shūren. It was precisely because I was dressed as a woman that I had managed to slip through the stringent surveillance net for escaped youths and safely reach the harbor. The Gokōmaru was quickly identified when I inquired. After that, everything proceeded as smoothly as sliding across a board—not only did I arrive at Kimishima the next morning, but through the captain's explanation, I became a guest at this splendid mansion.

All these exceptional treatments appeared to derive entirely from Nun Shūren's standing.
What an enigmatic personage Nun Shūren was!

What could have happened to her?
Seven days had already passed since coming here, yet still there had been no news of her.
Day after day, I kept waiting for someone to emerge from offshore.

When the sun at its zenith cast deep shadows of street trees onto the paved road, a car sliced through the wind and came rushing into this street. It was a covered luxury car. As it approached the mansion, it suddenly reduced speed, smoothly slid forward, and came to a stop right before my eyes. —Then, from within, one student energetically burst out.

The student, with a close-cropped head and no hat, suddenly looked up at the second floor where I was sticking my head out and fluttered his right hand in a wave.

Who could that be?

“Ah! —She’s come back!”

I finally understood who that student was.
Because she was wearing such unexpected clothing, I hadn’t realized, but there was no mistaking her—it was Nun Shūren.
I dashed downstairs and soon came face to face with her as she was coming up.

“You made it back.”

“Yeah… Were you worried?”

I guided her to the second floor.

Dressed in male attire, she was full of energy.
She seemed to have shed her nun persona entirely.

“You actually came back dressed like that?”

“Hohohoho, these are your Western clothes.”
“This time I ended up borrowing yours.”
“But it was truly difficult, you know.”
“If this hadn’t been here, I wonder if I could’ve escaped successfully.”
“In other words—I took care of your archenemy while I was at it.”

“Wh-what?!”
“What is that about?”

While sipping cold carbonated water, she began telling me about an unforeseen incident.—

According to her account, that man Mori Torazō was the villain who had killed my late father Junnosuke.
I had always believed my father died of a cerebral hemorrhage in America, but she revealed he had actually been murdered by Mori Torazō—known as Harupin Tora.
The reason was this: Harupin Tora had been committing a grave crime in that region when my late father Junnosuke—then serving as consul—witnessed him. Unjustly, he stabbed my father in the back with a thin-bladed dagger while he was performing his official duties.
Simultaneously, deeming valuable the small patchwork lacquerware box my father had secretly stored in that room, he stole it along with its key and fled.

Due to the crime being committed with such swiftness, not only was the culprit behind my late father’s murder never identified, but also, owing to certain international circumstances, they found it difficult to announce that the consul had been assassinated. Thus, through the arrangements of the vice-consul who rushed to the scene, they prevented the public from learning the truth by immediately declaring the cause of death to be a cerebral hemorrhage.
As evidence, only a thin-bladed murder weapon with a distinctive shape, the small box that had gone missing at the time, and the whereabouts of that peculiar key remained afterward.

Harupin Tora returned to Japan putting on an innocent face, visited O-Tori—now a widow—to offer condolences and conveniently describe the situation overseas, but eventually became infatuated with her beauty and even committed adultery with her. Moreover, upon observing that an enormous inheritance would fall to me, he conceived malicious intent and proceeded to plot its embezzlement.
Stepmother O-Tori too had become a demon of passion, conspired with Tora, crossed over to Kōfū Island with ulterior motives, and according to their plan confined me in the psychiatric hospital as a madman, intending to kill me at an opportune moment and embezzle the inheritance—only for me to escape.
It was only natural that the commotion had been so great.
—It seemed Nun Shūren had shot and killed Harupin Tora in self-defense on her way back here.
Therefore, by killing my archenemy, she might as well have done it for my sake.

“Why did you confront someone like Tora?”

When I asked this, she continued her account.

“That was of course to search for that small box. Through the key you had confirming it was with Harupin Tora—I sneaked into his mansion, opened his trunk with a duplicate key—but he caught me as I tried to steal it out.”

“Since things had already turned dangerous, I had no choice but to shoot him dead with a single bullet.”

“But because of this, the city suddenly tightened security. As their investigation progressed, they identified Nun Shūren as the culprit, making the pursuit increasingly urgent.”

“I discarded the nun’s robes, changed into the student uniform you’d left behind, and escaped the danger zone.”

“Then I boarded a plane, slipped away from Kōfū Island this morning, and arrived at this port just moments ago.”

“But how did conclusive evidence emerge that Mori Tora was the culprit?”

When I asked this, she—

“That’s because inside the box was the thin-bladed dagger he used for the murder, still smeared with blood.”
“And even his bloodstained fingerprints were found.”
“Moreover, the fact that he had the small box that vanished from your father’s room that day alone would make it clear how suspicious he was.”

Hearing those words, I clearly understood that the loathsome Mori Torazō had been my late father’s mortal enemy, and I thanked her.
However, there was still one more thing that didn’t add up.

“Why on earth did you need to search for that small box?”
“And what important things had Father placed inside that small box?”

She seemed slightly embarrassed there and said in a whisper while biting her lip.

“……You’re determined to ask no matter what, aren’t you?”
“Very well then.”
“When Harupin Tora opened that small box, there was nothing important inside at all.”
“He simply used it to hide the bloodstained weapon within.”
“But in truth, that box contained extremely important documents entrusted to him by the Japanese government from a certain source.”
“You must have realized by now—that box had a double bottom where they were concealed.”
“Had those documents left government custody, it would have caused an unimaginable crisis.”
“That’s why I absolutely had to recover them.”
“By now you must understand who I truly am.”
“Of course I’m no nun.”
“I’m Policewoman Oda Haruyo acting under orders.”
“I was specially chosen to investigate that foul Harupin Tora—disguised myself as a nun on Kōfū Island where I met you—saw that key—and thus achieved this great success.”
“But mark my words—I’ve resolved to retire after this final case.”

“So you’re retiring? And then what will you do after that?”

“Well, what should we do, you…”

“……”

I silently took down the Shimada-style wig from the shelf beside me and placed it on her head. Then there clearly appeared the profile of the woman who had emerged from the key.

“Let’s wait until your hair grows long enough to style like this, then hold a grand wedding for you and me.”