Pathway to Japanese Literature

Pursuers

When I reached the front of the tobacco shop, I bought some Cherry through the small, glowing window of colored glass.

As I placed one in my mouth and brought a match flame close while focusing on the windowpane, the bright display window of the Western confectionery shop across the street was reflected there.
Beside that display window, I could see two strange men standing shoulder to shoulder, motionless, staring fixedly in this direction.

"They’re determined to tail me all the way, huh."

I barely managed to suppress the sudden urge to look back over my shoulder and shout, "Idiot!"

I first noticed these pursuers right after I’d grabbed a late-night meal in that bustling Isezakichō district—what they call Yokohama’s Ginza—and casually stepped outside.
Even after crossing the bridge, slipping through the dark park, and entering this Yamashita-chō district, these tenacious pursuers showed no sign whatsoever of dispersing.

When I looked at the luminous watch on my wrist, it was already nearly the critical eleven o’clock.
Fifteen minutes to go?!

If I dawdled any longer, I’d miss the important task I’d gone to such lengths for.
Will I be able to shake off these two by eleven o'clock?
If this were Ginza, I’d know every back alley there is, but here in Yokohama, everything’s completely different from when I lived here as a kid.
The Great Earthquake had warped the shapes of buildings, leaving gaping expanses of pitch-black vacant lots in eerily unexpected places—everything was completely unfamiliar now.
Given the current situation, victory seemed likely to go to the pursuers.
What remained was a darker coastal road a short distance ahead; he had to use the darkness there to somehow make his escape.

As I advanced while pondering such things, a street corner came into view ahead. I drew a deep breath into my lower abdomen and, seizing the moment to break free, wheeled sharply around the street corner. And just as I was about to break into a headlong dash, someone suddenly appeared right in front of me.

“Hey Masa, wait!”

That voice was familiar.
He tried to turn back upon realizing this was bad, but then another person came chasing after him from behind.
I was finally cornered from both sides.

Damn it!

I thought, but it was already too late.

“Masa!”
“Fancy meeting you in such a strange place!”

The two were detectives from the Metropolitan Police Department’s violent crimes division whom I’d long been acquainted with—Mr. Orio and Mr. Yamashiro.
Or rather, it would be more accurate to say ours was a far more troublesome relationship than mere acquaintances.

“…”

I pulled out a Cherry cigarette and placed it between my lips.

“I have something to discuss. Let me have a word with you.”

“Talk?”
“What kind of talk?”

“No need to trouble yourself—it’ll be quick.”

The detective said in a cooing voice.

“Detectives.”
I said earnestly.
“The Ginza gold bullion—that wasn’t me, I tell you.”

“What… I never said it was you.”

The detective forced a wry smile.

There was likely no one who hadn’t heard of that famous “Ginza Gold Bullion Case”—the incident being a brazen heist that had occurred about ten days prior, where ninety thousand yen worth of gold bullion was stolen from the display window of Ginza’s premier Hanamura Jewelry Store and swiftly carried off.
The culprit had apparently planned this in advance, choosing a deserted early morning hour. Approaching the display window, they suddenly raised a brick wrapped in kraft paper tucked under their arm and hurled it at the glass.
With a thunderous crash that left a gaping hole in the pane, they immediately thrust their hand inside to seize the ninety-thousand-yen gold bullion before fleeing from the spot like a bird of prey.
From that day until now—the tenth day—the culprit remained uncaught.
Given the early morning timing, there had been surprisingly few citizen witnesses.
Authorities searched for leads but found nothing substantial.
The case had plunged entirely into a labyrinth.
The Metropolitan Police Department grew increasingly irritable by the day under bombardment from newspapers’ sensational articles.
When two violent crimes detectives from headquarters made the long trek to Yokohama during this period, anyone would have realized—ah—it was for that gold bullion case.

“If you’re willing to trust me, then let’s have this talk another day.”
“It’s gotten quite late tonight, you know.”

I lightly brushed it off. When I furtively checked my watch, it was already nearly eleven o'clock. I was on edge.

“You’re awfully eager to run away,” the tenacious detective pressed, closing in. “By the way—did you happen to see Sentarō ‘Red Buoy’?”

“Did something happen to Sentarō?”

“Don’t ask unnecessary questions.”
“You bastard—where’d you meet Sentarō?”
“What time was it?”

“Detectives.”
“If I were keeping watch over Sentarō of Yokohama, I wouldn’t be walking alone in a place like this nowadays,” I lied through my teeth.

“Cut the crap.”
“Then I’ll ask—why has the Ginza street brat, who’s changed his turf, come all the way out to the backwaters of Yokohama…”

Young Master Masa—that was the nickname that had somehow been bestowed upon me.
Of course it was only natural that the two detectives I’d long been acquainted with would remember it.
But even if left unspoken, being called by that name—no matter how much this was Yokohama—how could I possibly cower? Irritation flared within me.

But this flaring up in irritation was my worst flaw.
In fact, wasn’t my leaving Ginza and drifting alone to this Yokohama all because I’d felt that same grand flare-up of irritation?

(How could I let those Yokohama bastards trample all over Ginza's traditions?)

Back then, that unreasonably grated on my nerves.
I’d sworn to myself that unless I wrenched what I sought from those I’d been watching, I’d never return to Ginza—not even in death.
—And right before that crucial moment, picking a fight with familiar detectives would be downright idiotic.
Hold your temper!

“Hey! Say somethin’ already!”

“Keeping quiet won’t help your case.”

The two detectives relentlessly closed in from both sides. Their eyes blazed with intensity. Considering me big prey, I saw the seriousness in their determination to capture me no matter what. This wasn’t going to be simple. Whether to obediently surrender and wait for an opportunity or swiftly trip up my opponents and make a break for it—the eerie silence froze all three men’s breath.

And then it happened—

*A blood-curdling shriek—*

And then—a startling, unearthly scream tore through the darkness.
It seemed to come from over there.
The moment it did, a groggy bong, bong rang out from the clock tower ahead, announcing eleven o'clock.
――Ah, eleven o'clock.
That time had come.
I felt a violent thudding surge—as though struck in the chest.

The Corpse Clutching Gold Coins

“Hmm—this reeks of casework.”

“It’s right there. Shall we go…”

The two detectives drew so close their faces nearly collided and grabbed each other’s arms.

“Let’s go right away.”

“But what about this bastard?”

“Hmm.”
“Well, what now?”

The detectives hesitated over how to handle me.

“I won’t run away,” I responded without hesitation.
“I’ll come along with you.”

“You’re coming along?”
“Then do it!”

The detectives let out relieved sighs.

I deliberately took the lead and started running.
The detectives also ran with all their might from the side, their movements almost swimming through the air.

We emerged into a pitch-dark vacant lot.
A two-story warehouse-like structure stood alone in the distance—a lightless black building.
The scream seemed to have come from that area.
I kept my eyes fixed ahead as I ran.

When we arrived before the silent warehouse, a lamppost with its light extinguished stood ahead as if wanting to say something.
Beneath it lay a long black object stretched out.

“Detectives. Over there—I can see what looks like a case.”

The detectives pressed their bodies closer to me.

“Yeah.”
“Looks stretched out...”
“There!”

The three of them fanned out and approached the spot.
From the detectives’ hands, flashlight beams flared out.
The light immediately captured the figure of a suspicious man lying prone on the ground.
On the rain-softened muddy road surface lay a pale right arm stretched taut, smeared with what first appeared to be black mud—but which revealed itself as bright crimson bloodstains upon closer inspection.
The light blue alpaca coat bore bloodstains like liquid pumped from a hose...
It was an utterly gruesome sight.

The detectives illuminated the profile of the fallen young man.
The face was drained of all color, leaving only thick eyebrows and a long nose.
Lips bared in a snarl were clenched around mud—and then the detective shouted.

“Gah!”

“This… this is Sentarō ‘Red Buoy’!”

Red Buoy Sentarō!
Speaking of Sentarō—he was precisely that Yokohama delinquent the detectives had grilled me about earlier, a member of Kankan Tora’s crew.

“That’s right—Sentarō.”
“His face looks completely different, but it’s definitely Sentarō.”
“Who killed him?”

The two detectives exchanged glances there, then glared sharply and meaningfully at my face standing behind them.
“……”

The fact that it was Sentarō—I’d known before you two did. The moment I heard that scream earlier, I’d even muttered “Sentarō, you fool! Namu Amida Butsu!” under my breath.

“He’s dead. …Finally killed.”

“That’s absolutely terrible. A bullet was fired into him—from behind at the base of his skull straight through to his upper back…”

“But we didn’t hear any gunshots…”

“Where was it fired from?”

The detectives remained crouched, peering through toward the distant intersection ahead.
The place lay silent like a sunken city beneath the water's surface—not a single dog ran there.

If I were going to escape, now was the time.
However, I made no move to escape.

The detectives, having finally discovered the gruesome corpse of Sentarō “Red Buoy”—one of the Yokohama gang members they’d been painstakingly pursuing—looked utterly crestfallen with frustration.
Perhaps unable to resign themselves, they continued manhandling the corpse.

“Oh! He’s got something clenched in his palm.”

Suddenly, Detective Orio shouted.

“What? He’s holding something?”
“Alright, get it open.”

Detective Yamashiro snapped the flashlight beam onto the hand.
The corpse’s right fist remained clenched like a flower bud, fingers frozen in their curl.
Detective Orio grunted through clenched teeth as he worked the fingers loose one by one from the pinky side.

“Yeah, got it off... Ah... This is...”
“What the—it’s gold!”
A single shiny coin emerged from the palm.

“Gold.”
“Oh! This is a gold coin!”
“And a foreign one at that!”

The coins emerged, and the detectives abruptly tensed. Ever since the Ginza bullion theft, these two had scoured every street for traces of gold. That these golden artifacts—products of refined bullion—had been found clutched in Sentarō “Red Buoy’s” lifeless hand seemed freighted with grim significance.

Still—foreign coins? What did that mean?

“Detectives.”
I said while remaining standing.
“There are gold coins lying here.
Look—there… and another one over here…”

“What? There are gold coins lying here?”

“It’s true…”

The detectives took their eyes off the corpse and crawled across the road surface as if sniffing the ground.
Three similar gold coins were picked up.
One lay about a foot in front of the corpse’s outstretched right hand, another at the base of the extinguished streetlight, and the last one right beside a dilapidated warehouse-like building…

“That’s a heap of gold coins.”
“What in blazes does this mean?”

“What connection could these coins have with Sentarō’s killing… and then that bullion robbery—”
The detectives appeared thoroughly confounded about how to untangle the cascade of mysteries multiplying before them.

“Detectives.
The gold coins just keep on coming.”

With that, I grabbed the loose coins from Sentarō’s right pants pocket.
Amidst the copper and silver coins, five glittering gold coins appeared.

“Hey—don’t do anything unnecessary!” Detective Orio barked, momentarily flustered, but then panted out, “Are there… no more gold coins…?”

“Let me see,” Detective Yamashiro took over, thrusting his hands into every pocket, but after that, no more gold coins emerged. In total, exactly ten gold coins had emerged.

“This haul’s worth at least four or five hundred yen,” Detective Orio exclaimed, wide-eyed. “It’s definitely unusual for Sentarō to have something like this, Detective Yamashiro.”

“Don’t you think he had more?” Detective Yamashiro’s eyes glared sharply.
“That bastard Sentarō must’ve been robbed right here.”
“That’s why the gold coins are scattered across the road…”

“If he was robbed, why are there gold coins left scattered? Moreover, when we rushed here, we didn’t see anyone searching for them either.”

“That’s because they killed Sentarō, you see. Listen—Sentarō got surrounded by several gang members. The guy in front tried to snatch the gold coins he was clutching. During the struggle to keep hold of them, the coins scattered from his hand. When they saw he was putting up a fight, the comrade behind fired a pistol—that’s how it went down. The front guy never meant to kill him. He panicked when Sentarō collapsed, abandoned the rest of the coins, and bolted. Didn’t want to get caught red-handed.”

“This is strange,” Detective Orio exclaimed.
“First off, even if there was a struggle, there’s no evidence of it.”
“No signs of scuffled footprints either.”
“Second—if they were threatening him from the front but shot from behind, wouldn’t the bullet hit their own comrade standing ahead?”
“I don’t think that’s how it went.”

“Then what’s your take?”

“Here’s my take,” Detective Orio asserted. “That bastard Sentarō had come this far counting gold coins.”
“It’s a dark deserted spot here—but with faint light from across town...”
“Glittering coins would show up clear enough.”
“Then some tail from way back pops him—bang! bang!—”

“I never heard no bangs,” Detective Yamashiro countered.
“Though I’ll grant you a silencer...”

“Regardless—shot from distance,” Orio pressed.
“Look sharp—this entry wound.”
“Bullet stayed lodged—no exit.”
“Close-range shot through soft neck flesh? Would’ve blown clean through.”

The detectives argued arbitrarily on their own without even alerting the relevant authorities.
They wanted to clearly grasp the nature of the incident before reporting it urgently to the local police station and, if possible, achieve a feat through their own efforts alone.
This was a perfectly natural desire for the detectives—moreover, since leaving headquarters and venturing all the way into this Yokohama backwater, the countless hardships they had endured together had only sharpened their ambition.

I had been avoiding the detectives' eyes and searching the vicinity where the corpse lay by matchlight. At last I found what made me think, "Ah—this is it." It was a small hole opened in the ground. With just this, part of Sentarō's murder mystery could be unraveled.

“Hey, Detectives,” I called out to the detectives, who were engrossed in their argument.

The Secret of the Dilapidated Warehouse

“Wh-what?!” The detectives seemed startled and turned to look at me.

“How about this—care to make a name for yourselves here?”

“The hell you say?”
“...Don’t get cocky with me.”

“If you’re allergic to glory, that’s your business...”

The two detectives exchanged glances for a moment, then abruptly shifted their tone.

“I don’t know what this is about, but let’s hear it.”

“So you’re saying we should listen? Hah! Hah! Hah!... Well, never mind that. Detectives.”
“I know where the culprit is.”

“What? The culprit’s whereabouts?”
“Who’s the culprit?!”

“I don’t know who the culprit is.”
“But I do know where the culprit is... Look—there’s a pitch-black, crumbling warehouse here.”
“The culprit’s right inside here.”

“Why?”
“Why would he flee into here?”

“If we keep talking, he’ll escape.”

“But we can’t just move without a reason!”

“Then I’ll put it plainly.”
“Now about these five gold coins from Sentarō’s pocket—you do realize they had mud clinging to them, yes?”

“...”

“Second point—I planted a rusty five-inch nail here, but there’s a vertical borehole going straight down into the pavement.”

The detectives blinked rapidly, crouched down to the ground, pushed aside the rusty nail, and peered into a vertical hole as if a thick chopstick had been thrust into it.

“What’s this?”

“The pistol bullet is inside here. Let’s dig it out now.”

I dug into the hole vigorously with the tip of the nail. Then, just as expected, a nickel-colored bullet rolled out from below.

“Ah! Now I see,”
the detectives exclaimed in astonishment.
“Why’s this here?”

“Listen carefully—if you look up now, you’ll tip off the culprit.”
“Keep your eyes down.”
“He shot Sentarō from that second-floor warehouse window.”

“That’s strange. Sentarō was shot from behind.”

“No, that wound makes perfect sense. The gold coins in Sentarō’s pocket had mud on them, right? That bastard picked up every last coin right off this road surface. Hence the mud. The culprit threw them from the warehouse’s second floor. Sentarō crouched low to grab them—practically pressed himself flat against the ground. Follow me? That’s exactly when the culprit struck. They fired down at this very spot where we’re standing—tap tap from above.”

“What? This very spot…”

Upon hearing that they had been shot at from above, the two detectives, sensing danger, darted left and right to take cover.

“If you make such a racket, the culprit will notice,” I called after them.

“Come on—quickly secure the building’s exits!”

“Alright.”
“I’ll go in.”

“But what about this corpse?”

As the detectives hesitated, a plainclothes officer opportunely happened to pass by.

The two detectives, in a practiced manner, called over a patrolling officer and requested the securing of the corpse and notification to the police station.
The officer had nodded repeatedly, but as the detectives—
“Then, we’ll leave it to you.”
When they tapped his shoulder, he gripped his sword and stealthily retreated along the path he had come from.
“Alright, this should do it… Now, let’s move in.”

We three stealthily circled the entire perimeter of the building with measured steps. The large front door was caked with dust and showed no sign of moving. At the back stood a small door bearing fresh muddy boot prints on its threshold. We pulled at it, but it refused to budge.

“Enough—try prying it open from the inside!”

Experience made its point with crystal clarity.
The edge of the door came loose inward with a heavy thud.
With that added leverage, they pushed hard, and the entrance yielded without resistance.

The interior was pitch-black.

The flashlight beam moved.

On the ground floor, large old barrels lay scattered about.
Beyond them were rows of large glass jars, each seemingly large enough to hold more than a bushel.
Thick spider webs hung everywhere.
Not only was it dusty, but there was also a pungent, sour smell that stung the nose.
However, no figure resembling the culprit could be seen.

“Alright, I’ll go in and check,” Detective Orio muttered in a low voice.
“Detective Yamashiro, you stay here and keep watch.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll accompany you as well,” I offered.

“Huh… But it’s dangerous,” he said. “I’ve got a pistol here, but…”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Detective Orio and I entered the building cautiously, step by step.
We searched between the barrels but found nothing.
The detective jerked his chin.
A ladder hung diagonally in that direction.

(So we’re going up the stairs.)

I thought.

At that very moment, the detective’s flashlight went out.

Step by step up the stairs, holding our breath and muffling our footsteps, we ascended.
At any moment, a pistol seemed poised to roar thunderously from some unseen corner.

At that moment, Detective Orio grabbed my arm.
And near my ear, he whispered in a voice just barely audible.

“Since we’ve reached the second floor, I’ll try turning on the flashlight once.”
“A pistol bullet might come flying, but you mustn’t move.”
“After that, I’ll turn off the flashlight—use that moment to leap up to the upper floor.”
“Got that?”

I responded in a low voice, “Understood.”
The detective who had tried to restrain me and I, now allies supporting each other’s weight as we advanced on the murderer’s heels—
*How absurdly ironic life could be.*

Detective Orio climbed another step.
A sudden flash of his flashlight swept across the second-floor ceiling.
The trembling light slid down to illuminate a wall before swirling around all four sides of the room—yet no gunshot shattered the silence we’d braced for.
Abruptly, darkness reclaimed everything when he killed the beam.

(Now’s the time!)

I rushed up to the upper floor. In that instant, I collided violently with something unsteady—I must have miscalculated and hit a barrel.

Ten seconds, fifteen seconds…

The flashlight flared to life.
But there was no sound.

(So—had I miscalculated after all?)

I was growing irritated.

“Alright, now it’s your turn to hold this,” the detective said, making me grip the flashlight. “Take the lead and go around this room. It’s dangerous, you know.”
With that, he pretended to shoot an enemy with his pistol.

I quietly moved the flashlight sideways.
The room, like the floor below, was lined with large glass jars and barrels.
However, a strange apparatus that hadn’t been downstairs occupied one corner.
It consisted of retorts like those found in old chemical engineering textbooks, acid-resistant jars, and oddly bent antique glass tubes mounted on racks of differing sizes and heights.

*So this building doubles as both a strong acid factory and warehouse.*

I realized.
This was a remnant of the strong acid factories that had proliferated like bamboo shoots after rain—spurred by Westerners who had come to Yokohama during the Meiji era and made fortunes producing sulfuric acid, nitric acid, and other substances both rare and expensive in Japan at the time.
They had likely tried reviving it after the earthquake destroyed it, but finding no profit, abandoned it to spiders.
Even so...

And suddenly, from behind came the clattering sound of a barrel toppling over.
Before I could whirl around in surprise, a black shadow that had burst forth raced down the stairs like a swift bird.
“Wait!”

No sooner had Detective Orio shouted than he charged toward the stairway’s descent in pursuit of the shadowy figure.
And then he tumbled down the stairs.

The fierce shouts and sound of breaking objects jumbled together echoed up from downstairs.
Blocked by Detective Yamashiro stationed at the exit, the suspicious man lost his escape route—there, a struggle involving three people must have erupted in chaos.

However, I remained standing stock-still in the upper-floor room, still holding the flashlight.
The chemical apparatus before me, whose purpose I couldn’t fathom, had completely captured my attention.
It was indeed a strange apparatus, but what caught my interest wasn’t its strangeness—it was how vividly real it felt.
The room lay in ruin—barrels smothered in white dust, a large cobweb hanging from the ceiling—all bearing the marks of antiquity. Yet amidst this decay, only the chemical apparatus remained untouched, not a single speck of dust having settled upon it.

I sensed that the mystery of the case was hidden precisely here.

“Alright.”
“How could I leave this secret unsolved?!”
I stood there with my arms folded, like a stone, rooted in place for what felt like an eternity.

**Sinister Transaction**

The following evening, I was partaking in a splendid dinner in the same Isezakichō district.
What differed from the previous day was having one companion with me.
Old Man Sōhei—a most unimpressive-looking elderly man—was my guest.

“Truly, Masa-san,” Old Man Sōhei said, blinking his watery eyes. “If I hadn’t met you, I might’ve hanged myself by now. When I heard that Kankan Tora had been arrested by the authorities on murder charges, I thought—why’s my luck so rotten?—and all my strength drained away at once, I tell ya.”

Kankan Tora was the boss of the aforementioned Sentarō—the suspicious man whom Detectives Orio and Yamashiro had arrested last night at that old building along the waterfront.
He had initially been hiding on the upper floor, and after skillfully evading us, he descended the stairs to flee, but his retreat was cut off by Detective Yamashiro, who had been holding firm at the exit. As he hesitated, Detective Orio closed in and grappled with him, leading to a fierce brawl that ended with him finally being restrained.
The two detectives had, as expected, achieved a great success.
In their overwhelming jubilation—though they had once suspected me—they let me go without incident.

However, Kankan Tora—the captured gang leader—gave no confession during the authorities' interrogation. Even when pressed about the murder of his subordinate Sentarō "Red Buoy," he kept shaking his head in denial; even when shown conclusive evidence, he remained unfazed. They had long deemed him a formidable villain, but so vehement were his denials that even the officers began to have doubts—a fact Detective Orio had voiced with evident frustration earlier that day.

In contrast to Kankan Tora’s arrest, it was Old Man Sōhei who harbored clear disappointment.
He was the owner of that old building.
Apart from his only daughter Kiyoko, who worked in Honmoku, this old building was his sole property.
Now, Old Man Sōhei faced a severe financial crisis.
The year before, he had carelessly endorsed a usurer’s loan agreement as guarantor, only for the borrower to suddenly die—leaving him struggling to procure the one thousand yen due tomorrow.
If matters worsened, he would have to either force his daughter Kiyoko into relocation under massive debt or resign himself to hanging by the neck.
Having no alternative, he visited Kankan Tora and proposed a thousand-yen loan using that dilapidated building as nominal collateral (he was told it wouldn’t secure even two hundred yen).

Kankan Tora readily agreed to this without hesitation and sent Old Man Sōhei home.
That had been one month prior.
However, Kankan Tora showed no sign of handing over the money.
When he went to press for it, there was talk of delivering it by the day before the deadline.
Yet when last night arrived—the night before the promised day—Kankan Tora was suddenly taken into police custody, leaving Old Man Sōhei nearly fainting from shock.
Pale-faced, he went to Kankan Tora’s unoccupied residence and pleaded his case, explaining all that had transpired while desperately begging for financial assistance at this critical moment.
However, the caretakers managing the place scornfully dismissed the old man’s pleas and turned him away.
With the boss in this state, did they think we’d entertain such a request? That was their response—essentially “Know your place at your age!”

Old Man Sōhei, shocked to the point his heart nearly stopped, returned home in bitter tears. Along the way, as he steeled himself to either burden his daughter with new debt by explaining the situation or hang himself—resolving either way on a desperate end—I called out to him from behind. The old man and I had been acquainted since my boyhood days—well, that's how it was.

“Well then, old man,”
“I’ll take Kankan Tora’s place and buy that for a thousand yen. What do you say?”

After hearing his circumstances, I made my proposal.

“Wh—what?!”
“You—taking his place to pay the thousand yen—”
The old man widened his eyes and said.

“If you have no objections, I’ll hand over the money now.”

“I see…”
“I’m sorry… but if you’d do that…”

“Here—a thousand yen. Go on, check it.”

I handed the bundle of thousand-yen bills to Sōhei, reassured by the room’s emptiness.
That thousand yen—to tell the truth, it was money as precious as the very blood and flesh of friends, a parting gift from my comrades when I left Ginza. Yet the old man received it in hands trembling uncontrollably.
And then, moistening his fingertips with saliva, he began counting the bills one by one.

“Certainly a thousand yen.”
“I ain’t got the words to thank ya.”

“No need for thanks now.”
“Listen old man—there’s something I gotta tell you.”

“Right.”

“Don’t breathe a word to anyone that I fronted the cash.”
“But if some fool comes sniffing around wanting to buy that dump—thinking it’s still yours on account of this deal—you tell ’em you’ll hand it over anytime, then hightail it straight to me.”
“Got it clear, old man?”

“Right, thank you for your kindness.”
“But mark my words—there’s no way some eccentric buyer’s gonna show up wantin’ that thing from here on out. It’s a pity for you, though…”

“Ha ha ha!”

I sent Old Man Sōhei out. Once the old man’s hurried figure had disappeared around the street corner, I called the shipping company and the family member I’d brought from Tokyo. Then I dashed outside. That was to finish the job I’d come to Yokohama for.

What job?

Gangs ran rampant.

That night grew very late when I returned to the inn.
For some reason, my whole body buzzed with restless happiness—I lay down on the bed but found no trace of sleepiness.
In the end, I roused the attendant and made him chill champagne, then guzzled it alone in solitary gulps.
Yet that night, the intoxication stubbornly refused to come.

Instead, faces of various people surfaced and vanished, only to rise again after disappearing—a masked figure materialized, shattering Ginza’s Hanamura Jewelry Store display window with a crash. As he ran clutching the ninety-thousand-yen gold bullion under his arm, his mask slipped away to reveal Sentarō “Red Buoy’s” flushed face beneath. Then from the side emerged Kankan Tora with serpentine eyes—Sentarō’s features instantly twisted in agony. A thin smirk curled Kankan Tora’s lips as pale smoke coiled from the pistol in his grip. The detectives’ faces, Old Man Sōhei’s beaming countenance, Kiyoko’s innocent childhood visage—all warped before my eyes into the seductive face of a Honmoku woman.

When tomorrow comes... will I get to meet Kiyoko?
Old Man Sōhei said she wants to see me too, but...
Idiot! Idiot!
What a clumsy oaf I am.
My self-conceit’s gone way too far.
"I still can’t even handle my job properly…"

Mocking myself and wallowing in self-conceit, I finally grew pleasantly drunk.—And then, before I knew it, I fell sound asleep.

Tap, tap, tap.

It was the sound of hurried knocking.
That woke me up.
When I came to, bright daylight was streaming in through the vent window.
I looked at my watch—nine o’clock in the morning.
"What the…"

“It’s still early…” I muttered discontentedly.

“Paying a visit this early in the morning…”

The voice persistently apologizing beyond the door was unmistakably Old Man Sōhei’s.
I jolted upright instinctively.

When I opened the door, Old Man Sōhei stumbled in.
His face had gone deathly pale.
Whether from sleeplessness or agitation, his eyelids were puffy.

“Things moved so fast—they ignored the bellboy entirely, and my call wouldn’t go through, so…”

Old Man Sōhei said deferentially.

“What’s this—coming here this early in the morning?”

I took a Cherry and put it in my mouth.

“No, Masa-san—since early this morning, I’ve been in an uproar too.”
“That Kankan Tora’s whole gang came swarmin’ over to my place.”

“Hmm,”
I blew purple smoke high toward the ceiling.
Beautiful smoke rings swirled rapidly.

“Yesterday they wouldn’t give that building on Coast Street the time of day, but now they’re saying they want to buy it, I tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I got angry and gave them a harsh rebuff.”
“I’ve already sold that off.”
“It’s too late, I tell ya.”
“Then they say that won’t do—insist we sell it to them instead.”
“When I kept refusing, saying that wouldn’t do, they got all worked up.”
“If we don’t buy it back from you, we can’t face the boss.”
“If we don’t sell, they’re threatenin’ they won’t let us live.”
“Since they’re dead serious, and with what you told me last night, Masa-san, I said I’d go consult someone and managed to settle things for now, but…” Old Man Sōhei’s face trembled.

“Then sell it to them.”

“Huh?”

“Tell them I’ll sell—but say it’s pricey.”
“Five thousand yen flat—not a penny less.”

“That’s… rather steep.”

“Don’t want to say it? Then I keep the building… That’s a joke—this here’s profit.”
“They’ll bite.”
“Those bastards must’ve gotten orders straight from Kankan Tora in lockup this morning.”
“Threatened ’em—‘No deal now means we’re through with you lot.’”
“If Tora’s pulling the strings? They’ll pay five grand easy.”
“Go on—try it.”

Old Man Sōhei, seeing I wouldn’t change my mind, made to leave in resignation.

“Ah—hold up,” I called out to stop him. “Listen here, old man. Once you’ve got that five thousand yen secured, clear out of Yokohama fast. Take your daughter with you—I mean it.”

“Why?”

“Staying in Yokohama any longer won’t bring anything good your way.”
“You’ll just keep suffering worse.”
“Cut your losses already and say goodbye to Yokohama.”
“Keep dawdling around and Kankan Tora’s gang’ll make you regret it.”

“...”

“And as for that five thousand yen—I’m giving that to you too, old man.”
“It’s my thanks for how you took care of me when I was little, you know.”

“Five thousand yen?” Old Man Sōhei widened his eyes. “Your words mean more than the money—but where in the world are we supposed to go?”
“Now that it’s come to this, I feel uneasy being far from your side.”

Old Man Sōhei moistened both eyes again after his moment of joy.

“You’re going to Manchuria.”
“There’s a freighter called the Seiken Maru leaving Yokohama tonight at eleven—perfect timing.”
“Her captain’s Ginza-born—an old acquaintance of mine.”
“I’ll square things with him. You clear out of the port tonight.”

“Manchuria, eh?… Suppose that’ll do.”

“Then get your daughter ready—start packing now.”
“And keep your trap shut about this to everyone else—I mean it.”

“That’s no problem,” the old man nodded. “Then I’ll do everything as you say.”
“Then, as a matter of procedure, let’s first go take care of the five thousand yen business deal.”

“Wait a second,” I called out to stop him.
“As for that building deal—tell them to make it at ten tonight.”

“That’s ridiculously late, don’t you think?”
“Isn’t right now any good?”

“It’s a bit tricky. The thing is, after I bought that place, I moved out some of the contents. To put everything back as it was, it’ll have to be ten o’clock tonight.”

“Huh—the contents?”
The old man muttered suspiciously.
“When you say ‘contents,’ you mean that acid-filled…”

“Yeah—I moved the acid somewhere else.”
“Since I bought it, that treasure’s mine now—get me?”

“Come to think of it, Kankan Tora’s gang also said they wanted the contents exactly as they were.”
“This is strange, I tell you.”
“Hey, Masa-san—rumor has it that Kankan Tora stole the Ginza gold bullion, but you went and found the ninety-thousand-yen gold bullion he’d hidden in that building yesterday and carted it off, didn’t you?”

“There was no gold bullion,” I said cheerfully.
“Not only was there no gold bullion—there weren’t even any gold bars inside. The police officers inspected every bit and confirmed it themselves.”

“Well now—the police witnessed this themselves?”

“They sure were.”
“After all, those contents are with the police now, I tell ya.”

“Heh heh, so the contents went to the police, huh.”
“I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“What’re you plannin’ to do with that acid then…”

“An extra edition’ll hit the streets soon.”
“You’ll understand everything then.”

O Yokohama, farewell.

Late that night, I went to the freighter Seiken Maru to see off Sōhei and his daughter. From behind the ropes piled high on the deck, we gazed at the beautiful harbor lights.

“When it comes to leaving Yokohama… I guess it really is lonely after all.”

Kiyoko pressed the crumpled handkerchief to her nose.

“Kiyoko, if you go complaining about luxuries, you’ll bring down divine punishment,” said Old Man Sōhei.
“If Masa-san hadn’t come for us, we might’ve been lying here as corpses by now.”

“But…”

“But not only did we avoid becoming corpses—we repaid the debt and even have five thousand ryō of gold to boot.”
“On top of that—how dare we have complaints?”

“I’m grateful.”
“We’re making all sorts of gains here, but you’re just taking losses left and right, aren’t you?”

“Not really,” I chuckled.

“How about it, Masa-san?” Old Man Sōhei said gravely at that moment.
“Won’t you tell me about the case now?
About what you carted out from that warehouse—and how you washed up here in Yokohama.”

“Well then—as a souvenir story, shall I tell it?”

I then gave them a concise summary of the case.

I had bought the warehouse from Old Man Sōhei for 1,000 yen—and I’d had every confidence in that move. That night, the acid secretly transported from the warehouse to the police was contained in large glass jars—twenty-five in total. To all appearances, it showed no trace of gold’s form whatsoever—nothing more than a clear liquid—but in truth, 90,000 yen worth of gold had dissolved into this fluid. Why was that?

People likely know there exists a strong acid called aqua regia. It’s a mixed acid made by combining nitric acid and hydrochloric acid, but when you soak gold in this acid, the gold first begins to lose its form until eventually, having completely lost its shape, it dissolves into the liquid. That’s why this strong acid bears the noble name “aqua regia.”——

It wasn't me who dissolved the gold in aqua regia. That was the work of Kankan Tora—the same bastard now locked up on murder charges. He pulled it off in that old waterfront building. The ninety-thousand-yen gold haul? He made his lackey Sentarō "Red Buoy" swipe it from Ginza's Hanamura Jewelers. When Sentarō came crawling back, they grabbed that brick-sized bullion and stashed him where his own crew couldn't find him. But Tora got spooked thinking Sentarō might squeal someday—so he lured him out pretending to hand over reward money.

Sentarō, knowing nothing, must have come to the front of the old building in the waterfront district as instructed and whistled.
Kankan Tora cleverly claimed that meeting Sentarō in a room would be dangerous for him and threw down the reward of gold coins from the second floor of that building.
As Sentarō was about to gather the gold coins scattered on the ground, Kankan Tora fired a silenced pistol indiscriminately from the second floor and killed him.
I, who had harbored suspicions about Sentarō’s actions, had also known the time and location of that meeting.
Sentarō was a pitiful soul after all.

The truly absurd one was Kankan Tora.
He was probably delighted to have bought that old building from Old Man Sōhei’s hands—but he hadn’t the faintest idea that the 90,000 yen worth of liquid gold had vanished.
The acid I’d moved in that night was the same amount—twenty-five jars—but nothing more than pure acid bought from Tokyo.
That bastard Kankan Tora—when he later analyzed it and not a single momme of gold came out, what kind of face would he make?
I could almost see that bastard’s face burning with disappointment and rage.
As I was explaining this, Old Man Sōhei cut off my words.

“That’s all well and good, but what did you do with the 90,000 yen worth of liquid gold?”

“I handed it over to the Metropolitan Police Department.”

“Who’s to say? That’s ninety thousand yen we’re talking about.” He wore an expression that said what a shame it was to lose such a lucrative find.

“I really did hand it over.”
“I didn’t take on this job because I wanted money.”
“My purpose was just to make Kankan Tora’s gang—the ones who tried to muscle into Ginza’s turf—break out in a cold sweat.”

“Then the Metropolitan Police must’ve been thrilled.”

“Yeah...”

The detectives’ delighted grins when they realized it was a major success flashed before my eyes again.
Those two had probably swaggered back to headquarters in triumph.

At that moment, a gong resounded from the ship’s bow announcing the casting off.
The time for farewell had finally come.
I reached for my hat.

“Father—”

Kiyoko, who had been listening silently until now, suddenly raised her face.

“What is it, Kiyoko?”

“I’m getting off the ship.”

No sooner had she spoken than Kiyoko lifted the trunk with both hands.

“What are you saying?
“You won’t survive in Yokohama.”
“Kankan Tora’s gang aren’t some papier-mâché dolls!”

“I know my life’s in danger.”
“But… but I don’t mind dying… if I can stay by your side even a little longer…”

Kiyoko turned her face toward me with eyes like one possessed.

Sōhei was so mentally overwhelmed that he couldn’t utter a single word.

The gong had made its round through the ship and was now sounding again at the bow from where it had started.
Departure was imminent.

Having made up my mind, I suddenly took the trunk from Kiyoko’s hands.

“Oh, how wonderful!”
“Can I get off?”

“No, you can’t.”

I quietly lowered the trunk in my hands.
Kiyoko buried her face in both hands.
I quietly sat down on the trunk.
And I didn’t move for the longest time.
The gong had already stopped sounding, and the Seiken Maru began to move quietly.

To Manchuria, to Manchuria…
Parting from Ginza for Manchuria…

That too was just fine!

Just then, from the direction of the wharf came the shrill ringing of an extra edition seller's bell.
The bold headlines printed across that extra edition appeared vividly etched behind my eyes――At that moment, I felt a soul-stirring hot breath drawing near my ear.