Pathway to Japanese Literature

On the veranda bathed in warm sunlight filtering through glass doors, amidst documents strewn about as if violently scattered, Mr. Shōji Rikitarō clicked his tongue in irritation while frantically searching for something. He was by nature not one to dwell on things, and throughout his over ten-year police career up until assuming his current position as newspaper president, he had scarcely ever jotted down events in a notebook or organized documents. Today, having suddenly needed a certain document, he began searching for it, but even after twenty minutes it remained nowhere to be found, and being short-tempered, he was growing increasingly flustered.

He decided to give up the search. And so, while picturing the face of the friend who had said he wanted to see the documents, he muttered the words he ought to say under his breath. “I searched all day yesterday, but I couldn’t find it. “It’s not a big deal, so why don’t you just leave it be?” However, seeing his friend’s face twisted as if he’d bitten into a bitter bug—a look that suggested he wouldn’t easily accept such an explanation—the newspaper president had no choice but to diligently resume sifting through the towering stack of documents.

Amidst the documents, a large envelope discolored to a mouse-gray hue suddenly caught his eye. He hurriedly picked up the envelope and turned it over. Sure enough, on the back was written "Shikura Kihei" in bold brushstrokes with jet-black ink. He furrowed his brows. "Hmm... Why would something like this still be here?"

There was no need to open it and look inside. It was indeed filled with Shikura's relentless curses. Over the ten years from when he had been captured by Mr. Shōji, sent to prison, and ultimately convicted, Shikura had continued writing curse letters addressed to Mr. Shōji. Mr. Shōji remembered that the curse letters—each marked with numbers—had reached their final count at seventy-five. One of those letters had somehow been discovered by chance. Mr. Shōji suddenly found himself reminiscing about the past. Bold and utterly convinced of Shikura's guilt, he had not flinched an inch at mere curse letters like these. Moreover, his strong character and overflowing energy did not permit him to wallow in past grievances or sentimental reminiscences. Yet the Shikura Incident remained one of the most significant events during his long police career. The investigative struggles, anxiety over insufficient evidence collection, the clamorous voices of public opinion's praise and censure at the time, the curse letters—all these had tormented him considerably.

Before his eyes floated the missionary Shikura’s ferocious face, his frenzied figure shouting in court, his wife’s imploring countenance, and then the ghastly scene of exhuming the victim’s corpse—buried three years prior for evidence collection—each horrific image surfacing one after another.

A few days later, one night in Mr. Shōji’s parlor, three men—host and guests—were seated around a table. The balding, overweight man was a detective novelist. The fair-skinned, small-statured man with a prominent lower jaw was Sergeant Ishiko of the Metropolitan Police Department. “Detective Ishiko was an investigator back then—the first person to lay hands on the Shikura Incident.”

Mr. Shōji’s face shone as though delighted to have finally gained the chance to recount the Shikura Incident at length this evening.

“It began from a very trivial matter, you see.”

Ishiko began to speak.

“If this were a novel, it would start with a gruesome murder scene, a mystifying supernatural occurrence, or perhaps even a splendid ballroom soirée—but real-life accounts don’t unfold that way.”

Escape

Late January 1917. The 2:00 PM sun calmly illuminated every corner of Greater Tokyo. New Year decorations had long been removed, and people were listlessly preparing for February's stagnation with hearts heavy from post-festivity weariness—yet along the capital's avenues, those still clinging to New Year spirits wandered here and there, lured by the unseasonably warm weather. Looking down at those people from above, Detective Ishiko sat alongside Detective Watanabe on the Meguro-bound train. The train raced forward with a raucous clamor.

“Hey, Watanabe.” Detective Ishiko whispered. “If this were a bit more of a major case, there’d be some drive to it, but with just a theft, it’s rather dull.” “Yeah.” Detective Watanabe—who had closed his eyes while dozing—gave a half-hearted reply when suddenly addressed. Detective Ishiko grew slightly sullen. Though he’d called it a trivial theft case, inwardly he felt proud. For a year since his promotion from uniformed officer to plainclothes detective, the young man’s heart had burned with ambition—yet having encountered no proper cases and always trailing behind other investigators, he’d grown impatient. Now that he’d unearthed through his own efforts what seemed at last a promising case, he was thoroughly motivated.

Detective Watanabe glanced sidelong at his tight-jawed colleague sitting silent with sealed lips and clicked his tongue lightly, but then spoke up as if to lift the other’s spirits. “Not really, you know. It’s not just some ordinary theft. After all, he’s a pastor who steals Bibles. And according to your account, he’s stealing them brazenly in broad daylight, isn’t he?”

“That’s true, but…”

Detective Ishiko’s mood improved slightly. Detective Ishiko had received a visit from a young Bible salesman named Kishimoto Seiichirō three or four nights prior. Kishimoto had been a delinquent middle school student near the police box during the time when Detective Ishiko was still in his official uniform, working shifts at the Kagurazaka Station police box. He was a boy with thick eyebrows and sharp features, and Detective Ishiko, feeling it somewhat a waste to leave him as a delinquent, had made discreet efforts to guide him toward betterment. Thanks to those efforts, he was deeply moved and later became like a different person, turning into a Christian believer who began studying seriously. However, due to family circumstances, he became unable to continue his schooling; Detective Ishiko made every effort to help but ultimately could not prevail—and so young Kishimoto ended up dropping out of middle school and becoming a Bible salesman. He still had not forgotten Detective Ishiko’s kindness and occasionally visited the detective’s home. When Ishiko was promoted to plainclothes detective, the person who was likely most pleased after Ishiko himself was probably him.

That evening, Kishimoto hesitated awkwardly for a while, but “Mr. Ishiko, I don’t wish to harm my fellow believers, but there’s someone who’s been stealing Bibles for quite some time now. We have a general idea who it is, but could you handle it discreetly to avoid damaging the church’s reputation?”

According to his account at an establishment called Yokohama Nichibei Bible Company，Bibles had occasionally disappeared over a considerable period．However，until recently，clear details remained unknown．But two or three days prior，it became certain when complete volumes of Old and New Testaments—newly printed by the company and stored in their warehouse without yet being released—were being vigorously sold at bookstores around Jimbocho．Detective Ishiko didn’t think it was a major case but agreeably took it on．

“From what you’ve said, he’s quite a tough customer.”

Detective Watanabe repeated.

“Well, maybe not that much—but I’ve got this sixth sense telling me he’s no ordinary thief. In fact, I suspect he might be involved in some serious crime. Watanabe, I’m counting on your assistance.”

Detective Ishiko answered as if anticipating something significant in the future. At that moment, the train stopped at Daichō 2-chōme.

The mansion on elevated ground spanning from Shirogane Sanko-cho to Ōsaki-chō in the Tokyo prefectural district had one side vividly illuminated by the sun while remaining as still as uninhabited wilderness. Detective Ishiko entered a certain alley accompanied by Detective Watanabe.

“That’s the house.” Ishiko pointed at a fairly large two-story house slightly ahead while saying, “I’ll go check it out regardless, so you keep watch around here, please. And if I don’t come back within ten minutes, make up some good excuse to come check on me.” Detective Watanabe found it disagreeable how Detective Ishiko acted like a senior giving orders. Though called his senior, Ishiko had only become a plainclothes detective slightly earlier, and age-wise both were still young men a few years short of thirty. However, since Ishiko had primarily investigated this case and Watanabe was effectively in an assistant role, he had reluctantly agreed.

“Very well. I’ll keep watch from this corner at the front gate and back entrance, so make sure you do your part thoroughly.” Ishiko was aware of Watanabe’s inner discontent, but at that moment, he burned with what might be called the glory of his debut case to such an extent that he couldn’t afford to dwell on such things. He abruptly approached the targeted house.

The old yet towering gate pillars and the stately entrance visible beyond the overgrown courtyard plants slightly dimmed his elated heart. The four characters "Shikura Kihei," boldly inscribed on the gate plaque, pierced his eyes intimidatingly. The master of this house was a missionary. He possessed considerable academic knowledge and high social standing. They were going to request his accompaniment to Kagurazaka Police Station under the disgraceful suspicion of stealing Bibles from the Bible company—but if he weren't the culprit, how could they reconcile compassion for him with their professional dignity? No, he firmly believed Shikura was guilty—but what if he refused to comply? Given the man's bold methods, he would surely not come willingly. Detective Ishiko's mind remained occupied by these thoughts for some time.

Upon receiving young Kishimoto’s request, Detective Ishiko made the rounds of bookstores in Kanda Jimbocho district the following day. At two or three bookstores, he confirmed that the Bibles from the wholesaler in question—which had not yet reached the market—were being sold. Upon tracing their source, he found they originated from a missionary named Shikura Kihei. After obtaining detailed descriptions of Shikura’s facial features and other characteristics, he immediately set out for Yokohama. En route, he considered: The volume of stolen books was too substantial to have been carried by hand. If they had indeed transported them by vehicle, it would logically have been via carts from the station. Yet since those workers might have been sworn to silence, it would be prudent to first make discreet inquiries near the Bible company. With this plan in mind, he went directly from Sakuragicho Station to Yamashita-cho’s Nichibei Bible Company.

Directly across from the company stood a carriage inn, so he made discreet inquiries. Normally establishments like these would fear future entanglements and remain tight-lipped, but surprisingly the drivers all spoke up in unison and willingly disclosed the facts.

According to their account, nearly every Sunday, a missionary-like man would arrive at the company in station carriages, force open the locked door, enter, load up a great number of books, and return home. When they described his appearance, it perfectly matched what they had heard about Shikura’s features at the Kanda bookstores. The reason the carriage drivers spoke so willingly was that Shikura always used station carriages, combined with their resentment that he never hired their own vehicles. Ishiko then went directly to the Bible company. The company clerk seemed eager to avoid addressing the issue but reluctantly acknowledged the theft of the books.

Thinking of his boldness in openly driving a carriage to commit theft in broad daylight, Detective Ishiko glared at the gate plaque as if seeing Shikura himself. Detective Ishiko glared fiercely at Shikura Kihei's gate plaque and briskly stepped through the gate. To the maid who came to answer, he said courteously: "Is the reverend at home?" "Yes." The maid looked up at his face with a bewildered expression. Thinking he had him, he presented a business card reading "Tomokichi Ishiko" without any title, not letting the slightest hint of triumph show on his face.

“I am someone of this sort, but I earnestly wish to meet with the reverend and receive his guidance. Might I inquire if this would be convenient?”

The maid bowed and withdrew, soon reappearing before Ishiko who waited with bated breath to see how matters would unfold. "Please come this way." The first obstacle had been cleared splendidly. He exhaled a sigh of relief. He was led to a secluded detached guest room. The compact space of about six tatami mats was adorned in missionary style - a hanging scroll of Christ's Passion in the alcove, a Madonna image on the wall, and thick Bible-like volumes with gold-trimmed leather bindings arranged on staggered shelves.

Presently thudding into view came a man of medium build—a burly, priest-like figure in a padded kimono with a close-cropped chestnut-burr head, his complexion unrelentingly dark, thick eyebrows framing large eyes that glared sharply, reminiscent of a medieval evil monk. Even Detective Ishiko, who had heard about his general appearance at bookstores and carriage inns and formed an image of him, faltered slightly upon seeing him. If someone were to see him for the first time, would anyone think him a missionary?

“Are you the Reverend?”

Detective Ishiko asked.

“I am Shikura.” He settled firmly into the seat of honor, his eyes gleaming. “Actually, I am a police officer.” Detective Ishiko, without allowing a moment’s opening yet while calmly observing him,

“I thought stating my purpose at the entrance would cause trouble for your maid, so I deliberately refrained from mentioning it.” “Oh? What business does the police have with me?” Even he showed a hint of fluster as he answered. “The chief of Ushigome Kagurazaka Police Station has something he urgently wishes to ask you in person, so he ordered me to accompany you to the station.” Detective Ishiko—small-statured yet radiating fierce resolve from his entire frame—flushed his fair-skinned face slightly red, his round eyes gleaming like a falcon’s as he fixedly gazed up at Shikura, whose large mouth was pursed into a tight ヘ-shaped line whether he consented or not.

Shikura, who had shown a momentary look of panic, quickly regained his usual composed demeanor, assuming an air of immovability that no lever could budge. “I have no recollection of needing to go to the police, but if there’s something you wish to ask, why not come here instead?” His voice—a deep, gravelly tone befitting his burly frame—bore a severe Tohoku accent that made him appear all the more intimidating. “Quite right.” Ishiko nodded. “However, as the police chief is currently occupied with numerous duties, it would be most convenient if you could come to us.”

“And what if I were to refuse?” “That would be most inconvenient.” “I must insist—” “What exactly is this business about?” “That is something I do not know.” “Hmm.” Shikura stared fixedly at the detective for a moment, “Regrettable as it is, this humble one must decline. “One who serves in a holy office cannot lightly go to the police without knowing the nature of the matter.” Time passed steadily amidst their verbal sparring. When the appointed time came, Detective Watanabe would arrive. If someone were to bungle things and cause him to get the wrong idea or become obstinate, that would spell trouble. Detective Ishiko was beside himself with anxiety. Just as he was about to speak again, a voice requesting entry was heard at the entrance.

“Excuse me.” It was unmistakably Detective Watanabe’s voice. Ishiko thought he’d blundered.

Detective Ishiko, hearing Detective Watanabe’s voice at the entrance and thinking he had messed up, soon found the maid coming out to whisper something in a low voice to Shikura.

“It seems someone claiming to be your friend has come calling.” Shikura said sourly.

“Ah, it’s Watanabe, right?” Ishiko said with feigned innocence. “We came to the neighborhood together and parted ways—perhaps something came up?” “He said he had no particular business but…”

The maid said. “I see. Well then, since I’ll still be occupied here for a while longer, could you tell him to go on ahead?” “Understood.”

When the maid withdrew, Ishiko turned back toward Shikura and, "My apologies for the interruption. Since he knew I was here, it seems he decided to stop by briefly." He paused briefly,

“So, how about it? Might I ask you to come?”

Shikura kept his eyes firmly shut in thought, but appeared to resign himself to the fact that the police net had closed in, “Very well. “I don’t know what this is about, but in any case, let us go together.” “Thank you very much.” Having overcome the second hurdle, Detective Ishiko once again let out a sigh of relief and expressed his gratitude, but he still didn’t let his guard down. “Shall we proceed immediately?” “Yes, let us go at once.”

Shikura answered with relative ease. “I’ll just change my clothes, so please wait here.” When Shikura withdrew toward the parlor, Detective Ishiko immediately stood up, stepped out into the corridor, and while concealing himself in the shadow of a pillar, peered intently at the situation in the parlor. Shikura’s figure changing his kimono flickered in and out of view. Through his sinewy hands, the edges of his kimono, and the hurried movements of his obi crawling across the tatami mats, it all became as clear as if held in one’s hand. Staring too intently felt like disregarding his personality, and with the mental fatigue from earlier, Detective Ishiko suddenly turned his gaze to the garden. Before the veranda, a plum branch bore buds as softly swollen as a virgin’s nipples, their sight catching his eye. Soon it would be spring, he thought. As he turned his head again to look toward the parlor, no trace of kimono fabric remained visible. Whether due to nerves or not, it seemed deserted. Detective Ishiko abruptly changed color and dashed into the parlor.

Just as the ominous premonition had foretold, there was no sign of Shikura there. In front of the chest of drawers stood a petite woman. She appeared to be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, her face—suggesting a mannish quality—pale and drawn, her eyes moist with entreaty.

“Madam!” The moment he recognized her as Shikura’s wife at a glance, Ishiko shouted loudly.

“Where has your husband gone?!” “He just went out front.” The wife answered quietly. Detective Ishiko felt relieved. If he went out front—whether through the main gate or the back entrance—he’d immediately be caught by Detective Watanabe lying in wait. There was no need to panic like that. He calmed himself with that thought and, before pursuing Shikura, cast a sharp glance around the room with his keen eyes. The staircase leading to the second floor—partially visible through the abruptly opened sliding door—came into his view. On top of it lay the blackish obi that Shikura had been wearing over his padded robe earlier, writhing like a snake. In an instant, his sixth sense shouted in his head: It’s over!

He dashed out of the room like a startled hare and immediately ran up the stairs. In the two adjoining rooms—an eight-tatami and six-tatami mat space—the south-facing veranda’s glass door stood open. When he rushed to its edge and looked down, there lay soft, deep soil below. Upon that soil, two large footprints—whether from tabi-clad or bare feet—were clearly imprinted side by side, mocking Detective Ishiko. Mockery.

The detective turned pale, ran down from the second floor, and rushed out to the front. Detective Watanabe, alarmed by his distraught state, called out in surprise.

“What’s wrong?!” “I-I let him get away! You go around that side!” The two split right and left, tracing the fence to surround Shikura’s house. They combed the area haphazardly, but their efforts proved futile. The men stared blankly at each other.

“It was my fault.”

Where had all his earlier confidence gone? Ishiko said gloomily. "I thought I hadn’t let my guard down at all, but it seems there are still shortcomings in my methods."

Ishiko briefly explained how he had let him escape.

“Hmph.”

Having heard this, Watanabe was impressed. "He’s one hell of a guy."

But they couldn't afford to keep being impressed forever. "Watanabe, I can't go back like this and sheepishly report to the judicial chief that I let him slip away."

Ishiko said dejectedly. “I feel the same way.”

Watanabe spoke partly to himself and partly to console Ishiko. “You can’t say we let him escape together. First of all, it was my poor watch that caused this.” The two conferred. Having reported to Judicial Chief Ōshima that Shikura was absent, they vowed to work together and capture him within three days at the latest. However bold he might be, he wouldn’t dare return home in broad daylight. He would surely return secretly late at night. Since it had been a sudden escape and he hadn’t made proper preparations, he might even return tonight. Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe decided to stake out Shikura’s house once people had quieted down for the night.

Enduring the biting wind as they stood unnoticed in the darkness through the late hours of a winter night was by no means an easy task. Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe, enduring cold so bitter it froze their breath, kept watch over Shikura’s house all night without sleeping a wink—encouraging each other through gritted teeth, determined not to let even a kitten slip by.

That night passed without incident.

The next night, the night after that—three nights in total—no one came or went from the house.

“Hey, Ishiko, I’m getting thoroughly sick of this.”

On the third night, Detective Watanabe vented. "Nah, three nights of stakeouts ain't nothin'." "I ain't sayin' it's hard work." "But does skulkin' round someone's house like a mangy mutt for three sleepless nights even mean a damn thing?" "I'm gettin' thoroughly sick of this detective racket." "Don't talk such nonsense."

While rubbing his frozen hands together vigorously, Detective Ishiko answered.

“We aren’t doing this for personal gain at all. We’re doing it for the public good.” “We’re making precious sacrifices to maintain society’s peace!” “You call that a precious sacrifice?” “But the folks out there don’t call it that.” “Because they think we’re just amusing ourselves by exposing people’s hidden sides.” “That’s absurd! What would become of things if there were no one doing work like ours? There’s nothing to be done but let those who say such things have their say.”

Detective Ishiko spat out the words, but in truth, he too was thoroughly disheartened that three sleepless nights had proven futile. On the fourth morning, Detective Ishiko received a thick envelope addressed to him via registered express mail at the police station. It had unexpectedly come from Shikura Kihei, who was still on the run, and was written at length on scroll paper in bold, masterful calligraphy. With a somehow oppressive feeling, Detective Ishiko opened the envelope—then immediately made both hands tremble violently and firmly clenched his bloodless lips.

The letter addressed to Detective Ishiko from Shikura contained the following. Dear Sir,

Dear Sir, The other day, when you graciously paid your visit, I must apologize for my discourtesy. Though I did propose accompanying you immediately upon request, upon earnest reflection—considering that what you term police interrogation doth prove unexpectedly protracted—this humble one currently hath matters of some urgency that cannot be neglected, and to be detained overlong at your station would occasion me no small inconvenience. Therefore, once these aforementioned affairs are settled, I shall present myself of mine own accord; pray acknowledge this arrangement. Furthermore—though you likely presume this concerns the Bible matter—I append a note clarifying that said item was received from Secretary Ojima and was by no means purloined; I humbly entreat you to harbor no misconception on this account. Most fervently do I beseech you to refrain from futile inquiries into my whereabouts, for fledglings of your stripe possess not the means to seek me out; as I shall assuredly declare myself in due course, I doth counsel you to desist from needless exertions.

Detective Ishiko gnashed his teeth in frustration. Detective Watanabe also flew into a rage when shown the letter. “That bastard’s mocking us!” After a moment, Detective Ishiko said irritably. “He probably wouldn’t even mention the Bible matter.”

Detective Watanabe asked. “Of course he wouldn’t.” Ishiko answered roughly, his lingering resentment still not subsided. “So he quickly caught on through that Achilles’ heel of his, huh? Even so, writing this without being asked is practically a confession.” Watanabe let out a slight sigh, “Did you meet someone called Secretary Ojima?” “I met him, but that claim about receiving it is a lie. The company wants to avoid making this a public issue—he’s exploiting that to spread these falsehoods.”

Ishiko said all at once, but then changed his tone and, “Put that issue aside for later. We have to catch that bastard as soon as possible.”

“Of course we do.”

Watanabe answered without hesitation.

That afternoon, yet another registered express letter from Shikura arrived addressed to Detective Ishiko. In it was written—even more mockingly than the previous correspondence—the implication that no matter how vigilantly they kept watch around the house, their efforts would prove futile.

"Damn you!"

Ishiko screamed inwardly.

“Damn you—just wait and see! But I must think calmly. He might be writing and sending such mocking words to mislead our search strategy. This is precisely when we must instead intensify surveillance of that bastard’s house.”

That night, Ishiko and Watanabe decided to stake out Shikura’s house starting around eight o’clock. As ill luck would have it, the day had been dully overcast since morning beneath a bleak sky, and come nightfall, a bone-chilling north wind whistled through. The two men walked aimlessly around the vicinity of the house, their hats pulled low over their brows and chins buried in scarves while feigning nonchalance to avoid arousing suspicion from passersby. Days of fatigue and anxiety had left them gaunt.

Shikura's house stood deathly silent without its master.

The wife naturally remained indoors, and even the maid did not venture out. There were neither tradesmen making deliveries nor visiting guests. As night deepened, the flow of people on the streets dwindled to nothingness until all things seemed frozen solid.

“Another night wasted?” Disheartened, Detective Watanabe whispered. In a manner meant to console the dejected Detective Watanabe, Detective Ishiko deliberately replied with forced cheerfulness. “It’s still too early to despair.” “He’ll definitely come tonight.”

However, despite their expectations lasting past midnight, Shikura never showed himself. The only person around was what appeared to be a student returning from a banquet, dragging his wooden geta with a clatter as he passed by, warily peering into the darkness where the detectives were crouching—and that was all. Detective Ishiko felt like bursting into tears. Thinking to say something to Watanabe, who shared his despondency, Ishiko twisted around—when from far off in the distance, he spotted a suspicious figure. He came sauntering in this direction.

Detective Ishiko tensed up. The suspicious figure drew steadily closer. Completely wrapped in a double-layered coat, he appeared to be clutching a cloth-wrapped bundle in one hand—they caught only a fleeting glimpse. He wore a hunting cap pulled low over his eyebrows, but this fair-skinned young man bore no resemblance to Shikura. Detective Ishiko was disappointed.

The suspicious man passed right in front of the detectives without showing the slightest awareness, approached Shikura’s house, and entered through the gate without any hesitation, briskly stepping inside. Detective Ishiko surged with excitement. Detective Watanabe, who had been observing the situation all along, also wore a look of delight as he said, “He finally showed up, but that guy isn’t Shikura, right?” “No.” Ishiko answered with a smile. “But there’s no doubt he’s connected.” “Anyway, let’s catch him when he comes out. To avoid ending up like last time, I’ll keep watch on the garden side.”

“That’s right. If we let him get away this time, it’ll be disastrous.” Ishiko said with a wry smile, “Then I’ll leave the garden to you.” The two men split up to cover the front and back, waiting intently for the suspicious man to emerge. Waiting aimlessly had been arduous enough and felt interminable, but waiting in anticipation for it to happen any moment now proved even more prolonged and grueling. A single minute stretched like ten, even thirty. Though four nights of grueling effort had failed to capture the crucial mastermind, being able to apprehend this man who was surely his accomplice made both detectives’ hearts race. All the more reason they waited urgently for him to emerge.

In reality, just over thirty minutes had passed—though to Detective Ishiko it must have felt like three hours—when a faint light shone through the shrubbery at the entrance, and there came signs of someone emerging. Detective Watanabe, having apparently noticed it quickly as well, came back toward the gate. The man who emerged from the gate was indeed the same one from earlier. The cloth-wrapped bundle appeared to have been brought as-is; rather than being cradled like before, it was now casually slung, causing more than half of it to protrude from beneath his double-layered garment. It appeared to be something flat and angular.

When he stepped outside the gate and walked five or six meters, Ishiko and Watanabe—who had been lying in wait—approached him from both sides as if to surround him. “Excuse me,”

Detective Ishiko was the first to speak.

The suspicious man was startled and jumped up. He nearly dropped the cloth-wrapped bundle. “Oh, there’s no need to worry.” “We’re detectives.” “There’s just a small matter we’d like to ask about.”

Ishiko said calmly. “Huh?” He answered hesitantly, glancing between the two detectives’ faces. “Kindly tell me your address and name.” “26 Shirogane Sanko-cho, Asada Jun’ichi.” “And your occupation?” “I’m a photographer.” “What? A photographer?”

The suspicious man who had come and gone from the Shikura residence late at night answered Detective Ishiko’s questioning with composure. “That’s correct. It’s the photo studio just up ahead.” “Hmm, and what brings you here at this late hour?” Detective Ishiko asked eagerly. “I came to deliver the reprints of Madam’s photographs since they were ready.” “What’s in that cloth-wrapped bundle?” “This? This is a sample book.”

He proactively spread out the cloth-wrapped bundle to show them. Just as he had said, it was a large notebook with various photographs pasted inside. “Still, what’s your reason for coming at such a late hour?” “First of all, isn’t the master of this house absent?” “I don’t know about the master, but this morning Madam urgently requested reprints and insisted they be delivered by today no matter how late it got. Since they’ve been loyal patrons for some time, I had no choice but to take on the task.”

His answer showed no hesitation. Ishiko quietly looked at Watanabe’s face. The suspicious man they had apprehended late at night, certain he was connected to Shikura, turned out unexpectedly to be the owner of a nearby photo studio, leaving Detective Ishiko completely disheartened. There was no ambiguity in his answers, and with no pretext to request his accompaniment to the police station, they had no choice but to let him go as he was.

Ishiko peered at Detective Watanabe’s face, but Watanabe didn’t seem to have any particularly good ideas either. “My apologies for the trouble. I understand perfectly.”

Detective Ishiko said to the photographer. He could not conceal the tone of vexation in his voice.

The photographer neither looked particularly happy nor appeared angry; he silently bowed and walked briskly away. Detective Watanabe skillfully and quietly trailed him.

After a while, the detective returned.

“He definitely went into Asada Photo Studio.” Watanabe said this to Ishiko, who was standing there dumbfounded. The two of them no longer had the courage to continue their surveillance. Unable to wait for dawn, the two detectives retreated one after the other to their lodgings.

When Detective Ishiko took a short nap and went to Kagurazaka Police Station around noon, he received a thick registered express envelope. That was yet another letter from Shikura that he recognized. Ishiko clicked his tongue slightly as he cut open the seal. The letter was filled, as before, with mocking language. But since this was the third time, he didn’t get as angry as he had the first time.

But when Detective Ishiko received yet another thick letter from Shikura the following morning, even he couldn’t help but be appalled by the man’s persistence. Of course they checked the postmark each time, but since each one was from a different post office—Asakusa, Kanda, Kōjimachi—it provided no leads. The letter was filled with the usual taunts. Detective Ishiko was reading with a derisive snort, but when he struck upon the next line, his fury reached its peak.

“O greenhorn hunter! How could someone like you with untrained hands ever hope to fell a great stag such as myself? Should you somehow succeed in capturing me, I shall grant you 100,000 yen.” The repeated insults proved too much for young Detective Ishiko to bear. Without pausing to consider whether his reply might reach Shikura or whether such correspondence might help or hinder the investigation, he wrote a response addressed to Shikura’s vacant residence.

“I saw your letter. Since I’m in need of money right now, I’ll take that 100,000 yen you’re offering. Don’t forget to have it ready.”

The letter had carried that meaning. Detective Ishiko, feeling a twinge of unease at Shikura Kihei's audacious behavior, consulted with Detective Watanabe and finally reported all details to Assistant Inspector Ōshima, the judicial affairs supervisor.

“Hmph.”

The red-faced Assistant Inspector Ōshima frowned, "I see. He's quite the troublesome one. If we leave this alone, it'll damage police authority. Let's apprehend him as quickly as possible and be done with it. In that case, Ishiko—not that I doubt your abilities—but let's have Negishi lend us a hand with this one. For a cunning bastard like this, you absolutely need a seasoned hand." Negishi was at the time the most seasoned detective in the station, having been in police service for nearly twenty years. There had been an incident at another precinct where he'd made a slight misstep and narrowly avoided being demoted to uniformed duty before transferring to this station; even when positioned lower than reserve plainclothes detectives, he'd still commanded every detective in the station. Ishiko had no particular objections since he was on friendly terms with Negishi.

“An all-night stakeout was quite a grueling task, wasn’t it?”

Having heard the account, the lanky Detective Negishi said to Detective Ishiko, his swarthy face tense.

“However, if the mark catches wind of surveillance, it loses its bite.” “First off, have the neighbors and regular tradesmen keep watch.” “Tricky part is—if he’s well-liked ’round here, that’s a headache. But if folks can’t stand him? Perfect. They’ll sing like birds.” “Next—get those photos circulated to every precinct yesterday.” “And that shutterbug you nabbed—Asada? Dig deeper. Man’s worth his weight in leads.”

Detective Ishiko listened in silent contemplation, as if chewing over Negishi's words.

From the gloomy early February sky, powdered snow fluttered down.

Detective Ishiko walked through the neighborhood around Shikura's house in Shirogane Sanko-cho from early morning, making the rounds to four or five houses to ask them to keep watch on Shikura. What surprised him was how readily they all agreed when he outlined the situation and requested they promptly inform the police of any signs of Mr. Shikura returning or unusual activity at his residence. Judging from their manner of speaking, it seemed Shikura was somehow unpopular among the local residents.

While regretting that there had been no need to keep all-night surveillance for three or four nights, and yet rejoicing that things had gone surprisingly well, Ishiko headed toward Shikura’s house to obtain the photographs.

When Shikura’s wife saw Detective Ishiko, she made an unpleasant expression, but obligingly welcomed him and showed him to a back room. Detective Ishiko authoritatively ordered all photographs to be brought out. The wife obediently carried thick photo albums and faded photographs before his eyes. As he was flipping through the photo album, Detective Ishiko involuntarily let out a cry. It was a cry half of frustration and half of admiration. From every part of the photo album, any photographs thought to be of Shikura himself had all been torn out.

What an utterly meticulous villain! From the photo album, not only his solo portraits but also any sections of photographs showing him with two or three people or in large groups had all been torn out. Needless to say, among the cabinet-sized and carte-de-visite photographs stored in the handbox, there was not even a trace of his figure. When had he managed to make such thorough preparations?

Detective Ishiko asked casually. “Ma’am, which of your recent photo enlargements are these?” “That’s, um...” She faltered, “I already sent them to my friends.” Detective Ishiko stared intently at the wife’s expression. Then, after noting down the name of the photo studio remaining on the half-torn photo mount in his notebook, he went outside. Then he visited two or three photo studios noted in his notebook. To his astonishment, at every photo studio, all the photographic plates Detective Ishiko sought had recently been bought up. Undoubtedly, it was Shikura’s doing. Detective Ishiko was left dumbfounded by the man’s remarkable swiftness.

However, he did not yield to such tactics. In his mind lingered the memory of a single half-torn photograph fragment. It appeared to be one where Shikura had been photographed with four or five fellow missionaries—though his own figure had of course been torn out—with a white-haired foreigner sitting properly at the right edge. Since there were few foreign missionaries, and if those belonging to Shikura's faction narrowed the scope further—especially given the distinguishing feature of a white-haired old man—it seemed they could somehow track him down.

He visited two or three churches. Eventually he discovered this was likely Pastor Williamson of Nakano Church in Nakano, Tokyo-fu.

Detective Ishiko immediately headed for Nakano. The short winter day was already approaching dusk.

After inquiring at Nakano Church about Williamson’s whereabouts and winding through several cramped alleyways, he visited his residence and found him fortunately at home. Upon meeting him, he was indeed the old man from the photograph. Given that he was dealing with a foreigner and someone in the position of a missionary, Detective Ishiko—worrying whether his request would be granted—explained Shikura’s escape and broached his desire to borrow a photograph they had taken together. Contrary to his anxieties, the pastor readily responded, “God does not side with wrongdoing.”

Saying this, he obligingly lent the photograph taken with Shikura.

Ishiko returned to the station, submitted the photograph he had obtained to Judicial Officer Ōshima, and then went home to his residence in Ushigome Saiku-chō. His wife Kimiko hurriedly welcomed him but soon presented an envelope. It had arrived by registered express mail. He picked it up to look—ah, yet another letter from Shikura. He involuntarily slammed it onto the tatami with all his strength. His wife widened her eyes. The contents brimmed with mockery as always. It stated he would soon visit their home to express his gratitude. Even so—how had he discovered my home address?

After briefly explaining the situation to his astonished wife, Ishiko said.

“Given that he’s this kind of bastard, there’s a real chance he might actually come to my house. Of course he’ll come to check when I’m out.” “Oh, how dreadful!”

His wife grimaced. "You fool! What kind of detective's wife can't handle something like that?!" He forced a wry smile and, "If he comes, act completely natural—politely invite him upstairs, then pretend you're going out to buy some tea sweets and head straight to the police box." "I've already informed the police box properly, so you understand, right?" "Yes, if he comes, I'll do just that." "Alright then, I'll go to the police box for a bit and come right back." "That bastard might've been loitering around here depending on how things went."

“Officer—didn’t this fellow ask anything about me?” When Detective Ishiko went to the police box, he described Shikura’s appearance in detail to a familiar officer stationed there. “Yes, he came.” “It was morning.” “Right during my shift.” “That’s definitely him.”

The police officer answered. According to his account, earlier this morning Shikura had casually dropped by this police box and, while showing his bandaged arm,

“I recently fell from a train and sustained these injuries, but at that time I was greatly assisted by Detective Ishiko who happened to be nearby. I would very much like to pay a visit to express my gratitude—where might that gentleman’s residence be?”

he had asked.

And so, the police officer explained Detective Ishiko’s residence in detail.

“So he had a bandage on?”

Ishiko pressed further. “Yes.” “Did he look injured?” “Well, yes, he certainly seemed to be.”

I wonder how he got injured. Maybe when he jumped down from the second floor? Ishiko briefly considered it, but of course there was no way to know. “Alright then, you—if he’s spotted loitering around here again, kindly arrest him right away.”

Ishiko returned home after leaving those instructions.

The next afternoon, when Detective Ishiko arrived at the station, he received yet another thick letter by registered express mail. “Again?” Detective Negishi smirked knowingly as he asked.

“Persistent bastard, isn’t he?” Chief Oshima, who was standing nearby, said. “Ah, right—I had copies made of the photos you brought and distributed them to all stations this morning.” “Is that so?” Ishiko gave a brief reply and calmly opened the letter’s seal. Just as he’d anticipated, the inside was filled with mocking phrases.

“Thanks for the postcard.” “I’ve got 100,000 yen ready, so come and get it whenever you like.”

When he encountered these words, Ishiko tilted his head slightly but suddenly let out a shrill voice. "He’s in contact with the empty house!" "What did you say?"

The chief asked in a surprised manner. Ishiko quickly explained about the 100,000 yen matter and how he had sent a postcard to the empty house in a fit of frustration. “So that’s how his reply came through.”

Detective Negishi folded his arms and pondered for a moment. "We must summon the photographer Asada again." "Had you summoned him before?"

Ishiko asked. “Yeah, we summoned him once while you were running around, but he dodged our questions and wouldn’t come clean. That guy’s quite a slippery customer. I had my reasons for deliberately letting him go home, you see. As for that bastard’s movements, Detective Watanabe should be keeping an eye on them.” “That bastard Shikura came near my house.”

Ishiko said as if he had just remembered. “He went and looked up my address at the police box, you know.” “He says he’ll be visiting my house soon, so my wife has been trembling in fear, you know.” “Ha ha ha...”

At that moment, the door opened and a policeman peered in.

“Judicial Officer, there’s a phone call.”

Chief Oshima, who had hurried out, soon returned with an excited expression.

“It’s from Kitakonya Police Station.”

He said rapidly.

“A man matching the photos distributed this morning has reportedly been appearing repeatedly at that station in recent days.” “What? What did you say?!”

Detectives Negishi and Ishiko shouted simultaneously.

"He is indeed the man you described." The young policeman nodded.

Detective Ishiko was facing him in a gloomy, damp room at Kitakonya Police Station. “I believe he came three times.”

The policeman continued. “Apparently he fell from the train due to the conductor’s negligence, and because of that he had a bandage on his arm and what looked like a doctor’s certificate.” “So he was trying to claim damages?” At the man’s utterly outrageous behavior, Detective Ishiko bit his lip and listened.

“That’s correct. He kept insisting he’d get damages from the Electric Bureau and was in a tremendous rage. However, from what I saw, the injury didn’t seem serious enough to warrant making such a fuss by pressing charges, so I recommended settling things amicably.”

“So what happened then?” “Well, he was an obstinate bastard—kept shouting about how ‘the police lack sincerity’ and ‘pick on the weak’ until we were ready to tear our hair out.” “But once he realized pressing charges meant jumping through all sorts of bureaucratic hoops, he slunk off with his tail between his legs.”

What an audacious bastard he was. To think that he—a wanted fugitive—would boldly present himself at a police station, even if it was a different precinct, and then make such an uproar with his forceful demands! Detective Ishiko was at a loss for words.

The young policeman said sympathetically. “Of course we would’ve arrested him if we’d known he was that sort of man, but we had no idea whatsoever.” “Even so, for him to come to the police station… he’s truly an astonishing bastard.” Detective Ishiko hung his head and exited Kitakonya Police Station. When he returned to the station and reported all the details to the judicial officer, the officer said regretfully. “If the photos had come into our hands just a bit sooner, we could’ve caught him, I tell you.” Detective Negishi remained silent, his face expressionless.

Ishiko found Negishi's cold demeanor somewhat irritating, but upon reflection, he had to admit that failing to notice the photo issue was entirely his own fault—there was nothing to be done about it. He scratched his head with a look of shame. "I'm truly sorry." "Oh, failure is the mother of success. You've gained that much experience from it." "Ha ha ha..."

The Judicial Officer laughed heartily, but immediately changed his tone and, glancing at Negishi,

“But I must say,” “A bastard this audacious is rare indeed.” “If this bastard were uneducated, one might say he acted recklessly without considering consequences—but given that he’s sufficiently learned, it shows he utterly despises the police.” “To think a wanted man would have the gall to come to the police demanding compensation just for falling off a train and bruising his arm—what nerve!”

“He’s a bastard who looks down on people.”

Negishi answered coldly as ever. “What an insufferable bastard.” Detective Ishiko shouted as if to himself. When he thought of his own pitiful self being mocked by Shikura, he could hardly contain his rage. Just you wait! he was shouting inwardly. Suddenly the door opened, and Detective Watanabe, his face pale, staggered in. “Wh-what happened?” Even the usually unflappable Negishi asked in surprise.

“I let him get away. That photographer—that bastard went to Shikura’s house again. When I tailed him after he came out, he passed by the house and walked off briskly. But I was skillfully shaken off in the end.” Detective Watanabe sighed and looked around the group.

Past Crimes

The Shikura Kihei incident became a topic of discussion even within the station. As a result, Judicial Officer Ōshima had to report every detail to the superintendent. “Outrageous bastard!”

The Superintendent, who had been fidgeting impatiently as he waited for the story to conclude, turned crimson as if steam were rising from his thinning hair—unusually sparse for his age—and bellowed in a rapid-fire Hokuriku accent. "How dare anyone suggest leaving such a bastard be? We won't stand for it—arrest him with every last officer!" The superintendent was a man who had transferred from Horidome Police Station just about a week prior. In his previous post, he had made local gamblers tremble in fear—a man of upright temperament as straight as split bamboo, reasonable yet unyielding in certain matters, and at times an intensely passionate man of action. Speaking of Shōji Rikitarō, there should naturally be those who know of him. He would later occupy an important position in the Metropolitan Police Department. A man who had retired from the police world after taking responsibility for an unfortunate incident—before anyone could voice regret over his departure—he was then in his early thirties, five or six years out of university, in the prime of his fiery youth when he could achieve anything he set his mind to.

"That's exactly the kind of bastard you're dealing with."

After a moment, Superintendent Shōji spoke.

“He must have done bad things before.” “Why don’t you dig into his background a bit?” “I was actually planning to look into that myself.” The Judicial Officer replied as if praising the Superintendent’s insight.

The Superintendent’s estimation had not been off the mark. When they inquired at Shikura’s registered domicile in Yamagata Prefecture, he proved indeed to be a cunning trickster with three prior theft convictions. They even doubted whether he formally held missionary qualifications at all. Detective Ishiko immediately launched an investigation into his movements since arriving in Tokyo. He received Shikura’s jeering letters nearly every day—grinding his teeth at his own impotence in failing to pin down the man’s whereabouts—while dashing from place to place, retracing steps upon steps, sniffing out every trace of Shikura’s past.

Shikura had been in Takanawa before coming to Sanko-cho. Before Takanawa, he had been in Kanda. Before Kanda, he had been in Yokohama. Yet the curious thing was that he had invariably encountered fires at all three of his previous residences.

In Yokohama it had been a total loss; in Kanda and Takanawa, partial burns. When nearby residents were questioned about the Takanawa fire, they confirmed it was indeed a partial burn—yet the insurance company had paid the full movable property coverage. During the Kanda incident, an anonymous tipster informed Nishikichō Police Station that Shikura's neighbor had committed arson. Consequently, the neighbor was detained at the station for about a week, but due to insufficient evidence—compounded by Shikura's feigned sympathy when petitioning for his custody to be lifted—the man was in fact released shortly thereafter.

Having uncovered these facts, Detective Ishiko sat in his home parlor for the first time in ages, arms crossed, thinking intently.

Were the fires he encountered coincidences? While one couldn't say they weren't coincidental, the fact that all three residences had burned down—each time netting him substantial insurance payouts—had to be more than mere chance. According to their findings, he'd been living far beyond his means. What's more, that large house was his property, and he owned other rental buildings too. The Bible thefts might have brought in considerable sums, but he couldn't have amassed such wealth without additional income streams. Of course, there were legitimate ways to build fortune—investments, stock market ventures—so one couldn't dismiss it outright. But three fires? That wasn't something you could just ignore. Given his track record, wasn't it nearly certain this was arson for insurance fraud?

As Ishiko sat lost in thought before the hearth, the front door clattered open.

“Could it be the mail?”

When the front door clattered open, Kimiko, his wife, stood up with a shudder and said this. "Oh, it wasn’t the mail." Soon she entered with a refreshed expression. Behind her followed Kishimoto, the young man, smiling broadly. When Ishiko saw him, he called out cheerfully.

“Oh, you came.” “I must apologize for my long absence.” Kishimoto spread out the offered zabuton cushion while,

“You look rather pale, don’t you?” “Yeah, it’s that Bible thief I told you about before. That guy’s giving me real trouble right now.” “I see. You still haven’t identified who it is?” Kishimoto asked, his charming eyes gleaming innocently behind his glasses. “Oh, I know who the culprit is—it’s just that I can’t catch him and it’s got me stumped.” “I see.” “What kind of guy is he?” “It’s a bastard named Shikura Kihei.” “What? Shikura?”

“That’s right. You know him?” “I know—so it was him after all? He’s got a terrible reputation. The younger crowd can’t stand him. But those old church folks? All about keeping the peace at any cost. Show them some fake tears and they’ll swallow any lie whole—so Shikura escaped?”

“I’m the one who let him get away—good grief, what a mess I’ve made.” “The man’s utterly fearless and devilishly cunning.” “Between you and me, truth is—he’s completely out of my league.” “I wouldn’t say that.”

Kishimoto smiled wryly but suddenly turned serious, “Is he truly such a wicked man?” “He’s not merely wicked—he’s an arch-villain.” “I see. If that’s the case, there’s something I need to discuss.”

“About Shikura, I take it?” “That’s correct.” “What kind of story is it?”

Ishiko involuntarily thrust his head forward. “As you know, I attended Jōhoku Middle School up through my fourth year. There was a science teacher named Kobayashi—a Christian—whose daughter was named Sadako. She’d been sent to Shikura’s household as a maid to learn proper etiquette.” “This was three years back. The girl would’ve been about sixteen then.” “I was still mixed up with delinquents back then. We’d stir up trouble—calling him names like ‘Toteshan,’ sending letters with my rough crowd—really gave the teacher grief.” “She was a shy, sweet girl.”

Kishimoto flushed faintly but immediately composed himself, "That girl soon ran away from home and remains missing to this day." "Wait—was that running away from Shikura’s house?" "No, apparently that’s not the case." Kishimoto didn’t know the details either, but apparently this Sadako girl had fallen ill while in service at Shikura’s house, been dismissed because of it, and was commuting daily to the hospital from an acquaintance’s residence when one morning she left home saying she was going to the hospital as usual and never returned.

Three more years had passed since then, yet she remained missing.

“Could it be that Shikura was involved somehow?” Kishimoto said uneasily.

At Kishimoto’s words suggesting that Shikura might have abducted the delicate girl who had gone missing, Detective Ishiko

“Hmm.”

he said and crossed his arms. If she had gone missing while working as a maid in Shikura’s household, that would be one thing—but given that she took leave due to illness and returned home first, one couldn’t rashly suspect Shikura. However, when considering Shikura’s audacious behavior up to now and his various questionable past deeds, even though the maid’s disappearance appeared at first glance to be a commonplace incident, they couldn’t immediately conclude it was unrelated. What was the maid’s illness? Why had she fallen ill? They would have to investigate the circumstances surrounding her disappearance at the time.

Detective Ishiko unfolded his arms and raised his face.

“Is that teacher named Kobayashi still at the school?” “Yes—still stuck teaching flora and fauna while getting mocked by students.” “Where’s his residence?”

“Near Edogawabashi. I believe it was Suidōbashichō.” “Do you know what illness the girl had?”

“Well, there’s a strange rumor about that.” Kishimoto lowered his voice and said, “It’s said to be a venereal disease.”

“Huh... A sixteen-year-old girl, huh.”

Ishiko tilted his head. “Where do you think delinquent middle schoolers dig up such things? They know all sorts of matters.” “Moreover, they were probably making a ruckus about the teacher’s daughter being a tramp.” “Even after she went to Shikura’s place, they kept probing into every move she made, big or small.”

According to the rumors Kishimoto had heard and his own speculations, it was said that the girl might have been violated by Shikura and contracted a repulsive disease. “There was a terrible classmate of mine—he was the son of a notable figure, somewhat mentally challenged, in his twenties yet still stuck in fourth grade.” “That guy loudly asked Mr. Kobayashi during class, ‘What exactly is your daughter’s illness?’ At that moment, Mr. Kobayashi twisted his mouth as if about to burst into tears—I still remember that indescribably pitiable expression to this day.”

“Hmm, well you’ve told me something useful.”

Detective Ishiko crossed his arms again and sank deep into thought.

Young Kishimoto, feeling restless, spoke to his wife.

“Mrs., don’t you have any interesting stories?” “Well, no, there’s nothing in particular.” “As for me, I’m being threatened by that Shikura person we were just talking about, you know.” “What? Why?” “They’re like properly structured threatening letters with beginning, middle and end.”

Kimiko furrowed her brows and said, “It says something outrageous like ‘I’ll come to your house soon to show my gratitude, so wait for me.’” “Heavens,” Kishimoto replied, “what a terrible man.”

Kishimoto said in a dumbfounded manner. "That’s why I’m trembling with fear every day."

Kimiko had a lonely look on her face. Ishiko remained deep in thought, shutting out the couple’s conversation so their voices wouldn’t reach his ears. The disappearance of the maid three years prior. Had she been kidnapped, committed suicide, or been murdered? In any case, if she were dead, a body should have turned up by now. As parents, had a body resembling hers turned up, they surely would have gone to see it. If no corpse had turned up, did that mean she was still alive?

The mysterious disappearance of the maid belonging to Shikura, that monstrous enigma. This was getting increasingly complicated. Detective Ishiko involuntarily let out a low groan.

The night after hearing from Kishimoto that three years prior a maid from Shikura’s household had gone missing, Detective Ishiko visited the home of the maid’s father—Mr. Kobayashi, a teacher at Jōhoku Middle School.

Mr. Kobayashi—his gaunt face with prominent cheekbones bearing the weariness of a hard life—sat with his back to a dilapidated alcove where haphazard stacks of aged books lined the walls. Blinking rapidly, he spoke in halting fragments. “As you said, she went missing exactly three years prior.” “I’ve given up by now, trying not to recall it as much as possible.”

“Sadako is the eldest daughter. She has an older brother—though I’m ashamed to say he’s completely gone astray—and I worry he’ll end up troubling you all. As for my younger son, he is currently attending middle school. The younger sister is still in elementary school. She had a shy and sickly disposition, you see, and as you can tell we were poor. So we had to withdraw her from school midway. Fortunately, there was someone kind enough to look after her, and we sent her to Mr. Shikura’s to learn proper manners.”

The room was gloomy and dimly lit, but Ishiko had found it strange how something ghastly in Mr. Kobayashi’s manner of speaking made him feel drawn in—until he suddenly realized it was due to Mr. Kobayashi’s discolored, misaligned teeth. The upper two canines—what people call eyeteeth—were strikingly long, and each time his mouth opened, they gave an uncanny, monstrous impression. “However—” Mr. Kobayashi remained completely oblivious to this, all the while continuing to flash his unnaturally long canine teeth.

“It was something utterly beyond imagination.” “To be sure, my daughter was physically mature for her age, but considering she was only sixteen and Mr. Shikura held the respected position of missionary, we never even dreamed there could be any wrongdoing.” “That...” Mr. Kobayashi paused briefly here and said resentfully. “I heard about such matters in passing.” Detective Ishiko, thinking it was indeed the case, deliberately spoke in a nonchalant manner to put Mr. Kobayashi at ease.

“Ah, you’ve already heard about it? It’s most shameful.” “It’s... truly disgraceful.”

According to Mr. Kobayashi’s account, Sadako had been violated with violence by Shikura. And having been infected with a dreadful disease that left her unable to work, she was forced to take leave and commute to the hospital from an acquaintance’s house. Even Ishiko could only listen in stunned silence.

“It was the end of January three years prior.” “Late at night, a messenger came from the acquaintance’s house where Sadako had been staying, asking if she had come over here.” “When they inquired in detail, it turned out she had left in the morning saying she was going to the hospital as usual but never returned. They checked the hospital and all possible leads, but there was no sign she had gone anywhere else.”

After that, Mr. Kobayashi’s side also split their efforts and searched everywhere, but there were no leads whatsoever. There was no note left behind, nor did a single postcard arrive. They filed a missing persons report with the police as well, but there had been no trace of her whatsoever. “We’ve resigned ourselves to her being dead.” Mr. Kobayashi blinked his eyes while, “Did she feel so ashamed in her child’s heart that she threw herself into a river or something?” “What was your relationship with this acquaintance?” “The person who arranged for Sadako to go to Shikura, you see.” "Since it had been agreed that Shikura would cover the costs until Sadako recovered, they took her in and looked after her."

Mr. Kobayashi’s gloomy manner of speaking and protruding canine teeth made his appearance strangely eerie, so much so that the dim light seemed to grow even dimmer—yet Detective Ishiko persisted in his earnest questioning. "I must ask intrusively—did you learn about her violation and contracting the disease directly from her?" "Later I made her tell me herself, but it was my brother who first noticed." "This fellow is completely beyond control—he ruined himself through drink and now lives like a common ruffian." "They’re all deeply shameful matters." "This wretch still comes begging to me every time without fail, but back when Sadako was at Shikura’s place, he’d occasionally go pestering him for handouts too." "As they say—‘a snake knows a snake’s path.’ Being a bad sort himself, he quickly sniffed out such wickedness." "He threatened and coerced every detail from Sadako." "After that, that scoundrel started frequenting Mr. Shikura’s place to shake him down for money."

While marveling at how it took a true master to extort money from Shikura, Detective Ishiko leaned forward. "Is that brother of yours in Tokyo?" “Yes, he’s in Kanda, but...” With an air of having heard something troubling, Mr. Kobayashi became evasive. “Could you kindly tell me your address?” Unable to retract his agreement to the detective’s request now, and having earnestly pleaded that his brother not be disadvantaged, Mr. Kobayashi finally provided the address in detail. Ishiko recorded this and left the house.

Before he knew it, the night had grown quite late.

The next morning, Detective Ishiko visited Kobayashi Sadajirō in Kanda Misakichō district. As he entered an alley that felt strangely cluttered with debris, there stood a cart inn with sagging eaves.

In a room on the second floor there, he was.

Creaking noisily as he descended the crude ladder steps in a cramped manner, he bowed deeply upon seeing Detective Ishiko. He had been drinking since morning. “You’re from the police, sir? I haven’t done anything lately that’d trouble you, sir.” Though his round, fleshy face—ruddy from alcohol’s ravages—and slovenly exposed chest bore no resemblance to his gaunt, sacrum-like elder brother Mr. Kobayashi (one might doubt they were siblings), when he opened his mouth, two abnormally long canine teeth emerged, proclaiming their indisputable blood relation.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.” Detective Ishiko said casually. “There’s something I’d like to ask you in confidence.” “Is that right? “Well then, sorry ’bout this, but please come up.” “It’s filthy—unusually filthy, so you’ll want to brace yourself.”

The room at the back of the second floor was so cramped that standing up would immediately make one hit their head. On the exposed, twisted rafters, a good inch of dust had accumulated. “Is it about that Shikura bastard, then?”

When Detective Ishiko brought up the matter, he immediately raised his voice. “Sir, there’s no villain like him, I tell you. “That guy’s a Christian preacher? Hearing that, I was downright shocked!” “I hear a relative’s daughter who was with Shikura went missing.” “Yeah, that bastard took advantage of my niece when she was barely sixteen, and in the end lured her somewhere and killed her, I tell you.”

Even Detective Ishiko was taken aback by Sadajirō’s brazen declaration. “Hey—keep your voice down. Don’t go making wild accusations.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” “The truth is, I don’t have any solid evidence either, so I can’t raise my voice about it like you said.” “If I had even a shred of evidence, I wouldn’t have stayed silent all this time.” “Well, my brother’s got no backbone—his own daughter ended up in that mess, and he just calls it fate! Says making a scene would disgrace us all—are all middle school teachers like that?” “So I couldn’t just stand by and watch.” “So I went to confront him, sir—demanding he give my niece back unharmed.” “That bastard Shikura gave some curt mechanical greeting, but since the mistress was more reasonable, they decided to have a doctor treat her illness—so my niece was first taken in by someone who’d been caring for her, then started going to the hospital.”

“And then?” “Then—as an apology token—two hundred... Hahaha! Did my honorable brother say anything about that?” “You said you extorted two hundred ryō from Shikura.” “N-No, it’s a joke, sir! Extorted? I didn’t extort nothin’—didn’t receive a single thing from any extortion! The very next day after they settled the matter with just talk of two hundred ryō, my niece went missing.” “Hmph, and what about the money?”

“I figured that bastard Shikura must’ve killed her ’cause she was a nuisance, so I barged right in.” "But the bastard stayed calm as anything and instead started coming at me." “‘You must’ve hidden her! That’s why Sadako vanished!’” “Bring her here immediately.” “If you don’t bring her here, I won’t pay a single penny!” he ranted—but get this, sir—the whole thing was backwards!”

“Hmph, then what happened?”

Detective Ishiko asked rapidly. "I didn't stay silent either, y'know, sir." Emboldened, Sadajirō exhaled foul breath as he...

“The idea that I’d hide Sadako is downright absurd, sir. But when it comes to talking, I’m just no good at it, see? In the end, Shikura cornered me, and I had to slink away with just a paltry consolation sum.” “Hmm.” Detective Ishiko crossed his arms. “So you’ve got no leads regarding Sadako, then?” “Not a single clue—nothing at all. But she was sixteen too—if she’d meant to kill herself, she’d have left some note, and if she’s alive, there’s no way she wouldn’t have contacted us in three years. I’m dead certain Shikura’s behind this. Sir, you’ve gotta arrest that bastard.”

Sadajirō’s account only deepened suspicions toward Shikura further without yielding concrete leads. Detective Ishiko left the grimy carriage house with his head hanging listlessly. Having stepped outside, he considered returning straight to the station to consult Detective Negishi, but an idea struck him—he would instead visit Shikura’s unoccupied residence once more to question his wife directly. He boarded the government railway train from Suidobashi Station. Shikura’s house remained silent and still as ever. Over roughly ten days, the plum tree in its garden—oblivious to its master’s absence—had begun sprouting scattered buds. When shown to the detached guest room and gazing up at plum branches, Detective Ishiko vividly recalled letting Shikura slip away that day—the four grueling nights of sleepless vigilance that followed, all trials since then—seeming now like some endless ordeal stretching back through time.

Shikura’s pale wife lowered her head and sat quietly before Detective Ishiko. He had met her twice since the incident but had never observed her closely; now that he saw her properly, she appeared to be a beautiful woman of quiet bearing and apparent virtue—ill-suited to that imposing Shikura. She looked younger than her actual age, which he had previously heard was twenty-eight. The name Shizuko suited her character.

“Have you received any word from your husband?”

Ishiko asked, feeling some sympathy for the dejected wife.

“No, I haven’t received any word at all.” “You must be concerned.” “But I find myself in a bind as well.” “This isn’t some grave matter—if he’d simply surrender honestly, things would go smoothly. But maintaining this stance will only bring you harm.” “Indeed, I offer my deepest apologies for troubling the authorities.” “Can’t you find some way to urge him to turn himself in sooner?” “Were we aware of his whereabouts, there would be no need for such instructions.” “I would have him surrender without delay, but as we remain wholly ignorant of his location, nothing can be done.”

She answered smoothly. “That is most reasonable.” Having discerned that she—despite being a woman of considerable education who even taught Sunday school—would not yield under gentle questioning once resolved to remain silent for her husband’s sake, Ishiko shifted the conversation toward another objective. “I’ve heard that two or three years ago, a maid who worked here went missing.” “Yes.” The wife answered flusteredly. “Do you not know her current whereabouts?”

“Yes, it appears we do not know.” “I heard she fell ill here.” “Yes.” She raised her face slightly for the first time and looked up at Ishiko with a probing gaze. She’s a woman with beautiful eyebrows, Ishiko suddenly thought. “What was the illness?” “Yes.”

She lowered her head again and remained still. "I’ve heard it was a venereal disease." The detective pressed insistently. "Yes, well…" She looked up at Ishiko imploringly, "You may already be aware of this, but to speak of it would bring shame upon my husband—my husband did something mischievous—"

Her voice trailed off into silence.

“I hear your uncle and others made quite a fuss.”

“Yes.” She resigned herself, "My father was a middle school teacher—a truly gentle man—but my uncle, though his brother, was an utterly incomprehensible person." “What was that maid like?” "She was a quiet girl with good looks who worked very diligently—an invaluable help." “When she fell ill and was sent to stay with acquaintances, then began commuting to the hospital from there, she showed no signs of resentment toward us.” “Since her parents weren’t well-off, she always wore a modest black satin obi for her age when going out, along with a peony-patterned wool haori.” “On the day she disappeared, she left cheerfully as usual in that same outfit to go to the hospital—I can still picture her so clearly.”

She said this while gently wiping her eyes.

Pursuit

While Detective Ishiko labored for four or five days combing through Shikura’s past, under Detective Negishi’s command, Watanabe and a contingent of officers hunted for any trace of Shikura’s whereabouts. There remained no evidence of flight, yet their exhaustive efforts yielded nothing—vanishing into the void without capturing a single lead.

The mocking letters addressed to Detective Ishiko still continued to arrive at the station nearly every day via registered express mail. At Kagurazaka Police Station, the chief and all the staff were growing more and more impatient.

"Hmm... At this point there's no choice but to make that suspicious photographer spill the beans." "I wonder if there isn't some clever plan..."

Even the seasoned Detective Negishi, at his wits' end, crossed his arms while pondering such things.

Having dimly pieced together Shikura’s past misdeeds, Detective Ishiko returned to the station for the first time in a while. Pleasant morning sunlight streamed through the window into the detectives’ office.

“Hmm.” Having listened to the account in detail, Detective Negishi remained silent in thought, “Since the arson is an old matter, we have no choice but to make the man himself confess.” “The maid situation is indeed suspicious, but without a corpse surfacing, there’s nothing we can do.” “Because she might still be alive, you know.” “But, Negishi,” Ishiko said. “Having moved three times and had fires break out each time—isn’t that suspicious?” “Hmm, it’s certainly suspicious. Three times in a row is too much of a coincidence. But here’s the problem, Ishiko—we can’t definitively say such coincidences never happen. To suspect everything at least once—this is what’s called a detective’s instinct, and a detective ought to act accordingly. But this very thing becomes one reason why detectives get ostracized by society—it’s a real problem. A profession is sacred. Being a detective is also a profession. A detective must constantly suspect people—therefore, isn’t suspecting people a sacred duty for a detective? Ha ha ha.”

“You’re absolutely right.” “Ha ha ha.” “But you see—with Shikura’s methods, even non-detectives couldn’t help but suspect him, don’t you think?”

“Exactly.”

Negishi nodded. “Then why don’t we re-examine those three fires too?” Crossing his arms, Negishi sank into thought, then spoke up energetically: “When the Kanda fire happened, didn’t someone anonymously accuse Shikura’s neighbor of being the culprit?” “That’s right.” “Criminals often finger innocent people as perpetrators.” “That method proves remarkably effective for dodging suspicion.” “People get thoroughly fooled by such simple tricks.”

“So that means the one who made the secret report is suspicious, right?” “Now then,” “The real culprit often lies among those who defend the man being accused as the criminal.”

“You mean…” Detective Ishiko was somewhat at a loss.

“Didn’t Shikura go to take in that neighbor who’d been secretly accused?” “Uh-huh.”

“Listen. He sets fire to his own home to commit insurance fraud. And then he informs on the neighbor. He informs on them, then goes to vouch for them with an innocent face, saying, ‘Such a person would never do such things.’ How about that—isn’t it a clever way to avoid suspicion?” “I see—so Shikura—”

As Ishiko was about to continue speaking, a detective rushed in, his face pale. "We just got a call from Shikura’s neighbor—they’re moving luggage out of his house!"

“What?!”

Detective Negishi leapt to his feet.

Upon hearing the neighbor’s report that luggage had been hauled out from Shikura’s house, Detective Negishi was elated. “You—in any case, make sure to have them note down the shipping company’s name properly.”

After saying this to the detective who had received the call, Negishi turned toward Ishiko and spoke.

“Ishiko, we need to track the luggage. “First, we must track down the shipping company.” Negishi’s words, which bossily stated even the most obvious things, were far from pleasant, but Detective Ishiko currently had no time to dwell on such matters. He set out for Sanko-cho with Detective Watanabe, who happened to be present at the station, moving briskly with determination not to let Shikura escape this time.

When they inquired with the neighboring house, they learned that the luggage removed appeared to consist of four or five pieces—Chinese-style suitcases and wicker trunks—transported via handcart. However, when it came to identifying the shipping company, they had absolutely no leads. They thoroughly questioned the maid who had witnessed the removal, but she couldn’t even recall the emblem on the workman’s coat. Since there was definitely no lantern, it seemed unlikely they had taken [the luggage] very far.

“Can’t you remember anything? Even something small would help.” Ishiko pressed intently. “Anything at all. Was there anything distinctive about him?” The maid’s face twisted as if she might cry while she concentrated, then finally answered in a fragile, pleading voice: “The workman’s coat had a red pattern on the back instead of lettering. He was a short, stocky man.” “Which direction did he come from and go?”

“He came from the Ōsaki direction.” “He went that way.” The maid pointed toward the city area. “It can’t be helped. Let’s check every shipping company in the Ōsaki area one by one.” “They might not have returned yet, but—”

Ishiko turned toward Detective Watanabe and said.

The two began searching separately through shipping companies.

Detective Ishiko, who had taken charge of the area around Ōsaki Station, first entered a large shipping company. “I’m someone like this,” Ishiko produced a business card bearing his official title while asking, “Didn’t you send out a vehicle toward Sanko-cho today?” The laborers who had been boisterously clamoring while diligently packing luggage abruptly stopped their chatter and fixed their stares on Ishiko. “This isn’t our job.” Eventually, one of them answered curtly. “Is there a shipping company around here that has a short, stocky, fat man working there?”

“I don’t know.” The man answered as curtly as ever. When the laborers stopped packing, they sat down haphazardly, facing outward, and began smoking cigarettes. “You really don’t know?” Ishiko, with a dejected look,

“This is a problem... There’s something I need to check out.” “Mind if I join you for a smoke?”

Muttering to himself as if in soliloquy, he sat down in a corner of the dirt-floored area. The laborers stole furtive, hostile glances at him. "It's not much, but how about using this to buy some tea sweets for yourselves?"

Detective Ishiko took out a 1-yen banknote. For a detective with a meager salary and limited stipend, parting with even this amount of money was painful, but it was an effective method to get them to open up—one he had often succeeded with in the past. Forming a circle, they sipped weak bancha dregs and munched on the rice cakes Ishiko had treated them to, and as they lost themselves in casual chatter, they gradually began to open up. “I really don’t know any short, fat deliverymen.” “How about you?”

One of the laborers said. "There doesn't seem to be anyone like that around here."

One of them answered after some thought. Won over by Detective Ishiko’s hospitality and worldly conversation, the shipping company laborers told him everything they knew and even tried to recall any short deliverymen they might know, but ultimately no one had any information, so Detective Ishiko had to leave the shipping company empty-handed. Detective Ishiko then meticulously visited one shipping company after another, but by nearly noon, there had been no results. Detective Watanabe, who had been making inquiries from Meguro Station toward Gotanda Station, had also wasted his time until around noon.

However, this time fortune was with Detective Watanabe. When he returned dejectedly from the Gotanda direction, dragging his heavy feet, there stood a small shipping company in a cramped alleyway—the sort one might easily overlook if not paying attention. He peered into the dim storefront.

“Wasn’t it your place where there was a short, sturdy young man?”

From the back, a man who appeared to be the owner came out with a sullen expression and looked suspiciously at Detective Watanabe.

“Is this about Kanekichi?” “Yes, yes—it was Mr. Kanekichi, wasn’t it?” “What business do you have?”

“Well, the thing is...”

Detective Watanabe lowered his voice. "I’ve come at Mr. Shikura’s request." “Ah, I see.”

The owner abruptly became more amiable.

“Thank you very much for your generous offering earlier.”

“The luggage arrived without any issues, I trust?”

Exulting inwardly with "Got him!", Watanabe spoke with feigned nonchalance.

"Yes, we certainly delivered it." "Has Mr. Kanekichi already returned?" "Yes, is there something you require?" "Ah, actually..." "Hey, Kanekichi."

The owner peered into the back and called out.

The man who emerged was short and sturdy-looking, his work coat emblazoned with a vivid red butterfly pattern across the back. "Is there some business you require?" "I want you to tell me where Shikura's luggage was transported." "This is who I am."

Suddenly changing his attitude, Watanabe glared at the young man named Kanekichi in a threatening manner while presenting his business card. The young man glanced briefly at Watanabe’s proffered business card, made an unpleasant face, pursed his lips into a frown, and turned away. “Hey”

Slightly disconcerted by the young man’s attitude, Detective Watanabe barked again. “Hurry up and talk!” “You don’t have to be so high-handed about it.” “It’s not like I did anything wrong.” He answered huffily. Thinking that if the young man had perhaps been silenced, gentle questioning wouldn’t get him to talk, Detective Watanabe had tried taking a high-handed approach—but faced with this response from his opponent, he found himself at a loss for words.

“No, my mistake.” “Force of habit.” Detective Watanabe gave a wry smile, “Now don’t take offense, I beg of you. My apologies—just tell me where that luggage was delivered.” The young man’s mood softened slightly, yet he remained reluctant to speak. “Hey, Kanekichi—the gentleman’s asking you properly,” “Why not just tell him and be done with it?”

The owner added his voice. “It’s the residence called Takayama in Iibura Itchōme.”

He finally spat out. After pressing the shipping company and extracting the delivery address from its young employee, Detective Watanabe returned triumphantly to the area near Shikura’s house. As arranged, Detective Ishiko had been waiting in a daze. When Watanabe relayed his success, he leapt for joy.

The two of them immediately returned to the station and reported the circumstances to the judicial chief. “Good.” The judicial chief was in high spirits. “Take five or six officers for backup and go arrest him immediately.”

“Well…”

Detective Negishi said while making his sunken eyes gleam sharply. “It might be better not to make too much noise.” “It’s better not to startle birds, you see.” “How can we afford to take it so easy?”

The judicial chief’s mood had soured slightly. “If we keep dawdling like this, he’ll escape again.” “Exactly.”

Ishiko declared energetically.

“Since he transported no small amount of luggage, it’s safe to assume he means to lay low for now.” “He’s definitely there.” “I want him apprehended without delay.” “Hmm. That might do.”

Negishi forced a sardonic smile while,

"But you see—birds that flee naturally return to their nest. Startle them, and they'll never come back." "You speak in riddles." Ishiko grinned back at Negishi's sardonic smile.

“It’s no riddle,” he said flatly. “I simply cannot approve storming into this Takayama residence.”

“Why?” “It’s too crude for Shikura.” “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ishiko challenged. “So in other words, you’re saying Shikura isn’t foolish enough to have his hideout discovered by us. In other words, you’re saying we can’t actually uncover his real hideout.” “I can’t have you twisting my words like that.”

Detective Negishi said coldly in his characteristic tone.

“Anyway, let’s try doing it my way.” “Do as you see fit.”

From the side, Detective Watanabe spat out. He had been growing increasingly irritated since earlier, as Detective Negishi kept making nitpicking remarks about the house in Iibura Itchōme that he had painstakingly tracked down himself. Detective Negishi glared sharply at Watanabe but said nothing.

Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe, having secured five or six officers for backup, set out for Iibura Itchōme.

The target house was a two-story latticework structure standing at a corner of a T-junction. They positioned two colleagues at the back entrance and stationed one colleague each at key intersections along the streets, then finalized their plan for Ishiko and Watanabe to enter through the front. Judging by the sunlight, it seemed to be nearly four o'clock. Though the cold snap had broken two or three days prior, a bone-piercing chill had persisted since morning. In front of Takayama's poorly sunlit house lay thick ice—likely hauled up from the gutter and smashed onto the gutter stones in childish mischief—now shattered into two or three fragments and scattered about.

When he suddenly looked up, the dull western sunlight was streaming onto half of the second floor, where an old wind chime—likely forgotten since summer—hung forlornly under the eaves.

“Pardon the intrusion.”

Ishiko called out. “Yes?” The one who emerged from the back was a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl who appeared to be a maid. “I’ve come from Shiba Sanko-cho and would like to have a brief word with Mr. Shikura.” “Yes.” The young maid withdrew without even asking our names. Ishiko thought he had him. Before Detective Ishiko—who stood bracing himself for the response with bated breath—appeared not the maid but a refined woman in her late thirties who seemed to be the mistress. “Are you here on behalf of Mr. Shikura?”

She looked up at Ishiko with an expression of bewilderment. "Yes, that's right." "Did you come to retrieve the luggage?" Her words came as a surprise. Even Ishiko found himself at a loss for words. "Huh? To retrieve luggage?" "Then that isn't the case?"

The mistress spoke regretfully. “A cartload of luggage arrived earlier from Mr. Shikura. He said he’d come retrieve it eventually and asked me to keep it here, so I assumed you’d come to collect it already.” “Then Mr. Shikura isn’t here?” Ishiko’s heart sank. “No, he hasn’t appeared.”

“I must meet Mr. Shikura.” “Where might he be now?” “That’s not something we would know—perhaps you should ask at his own residence.” “We did ask there before coming here—just give us a moment.”

Ishiko called out to Watanabe, who was standing outside. "You there! They say Mr. Shikura isn't here."

“That can’t be right.”

Watanabe lumbered in. He bowed his head slightly to the mistress, “The luggage arrived earlier, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” The mistress’s eyes grew alert with suspicion. “Then there’s no way Shikura isn’t here.” Watanabe intensified his tone. “No, we’ve merely taken custody of the luggage.” “Just who exactly are you people?” The mistress too had become part of the scenery. “Oh, no—it’s just that we have some business with Mr. Shikura, you see.” Ishiko turned toward Watanabe, “You see, if he’s not here, there’s nothing we can do. “Let’s come back another time, shall we?” Watanabe shook his head. Perhaps because he himself had tracked down this house, Watanabe deeply believed that Shikura was hiding here.

“Then what is it, ma’am?” Watanabe pressed on sharply. “Shikura has visited your house recently, hasn’t he?” “Yes, he came once two or three days ago.” “So he’s been here ever since, hasn’t he?” Emboldened, Watanabe pressed on. “No.” The mistress made a displeased face. “Just who exactly are you?”

“I’m a detective.” “What?!” The mistress turned pale. “Ma’am, Shikura is currently wanted by the police. It would be most unwise to do something like hiding him.” “I’m not hiding anything.” She declared firmly, though she seemed somehow fidgety. “You.” Watanabe turned toward Ishiko. “In any case, let’s have them show us the luggage.” Ishiko had thought Watanabe was pushing too hard from earlier. Perhaps owing to their inherent dispositions, Ishiko’s approach differed from Watanabe’s in certain respects. But having come this far and caught in the momentum of riding a tiger, there was nothing to do but follow Watanabe into the tatami room. The mistress made no particular effort to stop the two men from entering.

The luggage from Shikura was piled up in the four-and-a-half-mat room beside the entryway. Every room was neatly organized. The two men scoured every corner with sharp eyes determined not to overlook anything, but there was no sign of Shikura himself nor any trace that he had been hiding there. "Hmm, was Negishi right after all?" Ishiko thought that if Shikura were here, "See? I told you a half-hearted approach like yours won't cut it." At the very moment Watanabe would have triumphantly said this, Ishiko whispered into the ear of Watanabe burning with zeal.

While Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe were storming into the Takayama residence in Iikura, at the Shikura house in Sanko-chō his wife Shizuko was listlessly preparing to go out. She had graduated from the women’s department of Hakuei Academy and gone on to complete theological studies. Though only twenty-seven years old, she had opened a Sunday school at her home where she taught—indeed, it was largely through her efforts that Shikura had become known among circles of theology students. Ever since her husband had fled under dark suspicion, she had endured frequent visits from detectives while surveillance eyes seemed perpetually watchful around the house. The Sunday school students gradually withdrew until none remained; she too grew reserved until now no visitors came at all—devoting herself entirely to seclusion and rarely venturing out. But that day after sending luggage that morning to Takayama’s house in Iikura 1-chōme—Takayama being a fellow believer—she sat motionless in one room with her face buried in her collar as though unwell.

The house, already too spacious for their small family, now stood hollow and desolate with only the young woman left in her husband’s absence, as though it were an abandoned home. After lunch, she remained seated in the same spot, vacantly gazing at the frost-thawed garden where pale sunlight filtered through. But when three o'clock passed, she rose listlessly and began changing her kimono with evident reluctance. When she stepped outside the gate, properly dressed with her pale face lowered, it was already about four o'clock.

After taking two or three steps away from the gate, she suddenly raised her head and sharply scanned her surroundings. Once confirming there was no one around, she began trudging forward again.

However, she had been mistaken.

As she began walking away with relief, a man abruptly rose from behind a large pile of dust left by the neighboring house’s back entrance. He was a small-statured, middle-aged man wearing a double-layered coat who at first glance resembled the manager of a cheap tenement. With a hunting cap pulled low over his brows and a scarf concealing most of his swarthy face, his sharp eyes darted restlessly. He began trailing Shizuko with an innocent expression. Unaware of being followed, she stepped out onto the street and began walking toward Meguro without boarding a train. Of course, the suspicious man followed after her.

When she arrived at Meguro Station and approached the ticket window, the suspicious man pressed close behind her, gaping like a toad as he waited in readiness. “A round-trip ticket to Nakano, please.” She said, peering into the small window. After receiving the ticket, she briskly headed toward the ticket gate. If she had lingered just a bit longer, right behind her— “Nakano one-way, one ticket.” She might have noticed the suspicious man who had called out, but she seemed deep in thought and hadn’t noticed a thing.

From the moment they descended to the platform and waited for the train, to after boarding it, and even during the transfer at Yoyogi Station, the suspicious man maintained an appropriate distance from Shizuko while keeping her under sharp observation. When the train stopped at Nakano Station, Shizuko hurriedly got off. The suspicious man, of course, also got off.

Shizuko quickened her pace. The short winter day was already waning, and the cold evening wind blew as if to stiffen cheeks. She turned from the main street into an alley, veered left, then right, threading her way through a path that seemed part of a newly developed area—small houses lining the way, vacant lots here and there strewn with dust. Soon she stopped before a Western-style wooden building of stately appearance, only to vanish inside immediately. The suspicious man came to an abrupt stop in front of the house. The nameplate read Nakano Dōjin Church and Williamson.

The suspicious man paced back and forth in front of the church, peering inside to observe the situation within. Unfortunately, the sun had not yet fully set, and with quite a few passersby around, he found it extremely difficult to avoid suspicion. But there was no cover in the vicinity where he could hide himself.

“Damn, and on top of that, it’s a Western-style building—even if a crude one—so I can’t see a thing inside.” “Maybe I should just call Nakano Police Station and request backup.” muttered the suspicious man.

He was Detective Negishi from Kagurazaka Police Station. When he heard that luggage had been moved out from Shikura’s house, he tilted his head quizzically. If done secretly at night, that would be one thing—but Shikura must know full well that moving luggage by cart in broad daylight would inevitably draw attention, making the destination easy to sniff out. However, if he thought we were off guard and planned to quietly move the luggage to an acquaintance’s house, confirm we hadn’t noticed, and then retrieve it later—well then, our best course would be to deliberately feign ignorance to lull him into complacency, discreetly keep watch on the house, and nab him when he boldly came to collect it. He thought rushing in immediately was ill-advised, but since Detective Watanabe seemed unlikely to heed caution in his eagerness for glory, he went to keep watch at Shikura’s residence regardless. This was because, just as one must watch a magician’s left hand when their right hand moves, if someone had tried to divert attention by moving the luggage, he had deduced that the house itself was suspicious. Indeed, his wife’s outing had unfolded exactly as he had surmised, but being cautious, he had ensured another detective kept watch on the house while he tailed her. This was because he thought that by luring them out with the luggage and then luring them out with his wife, Shikura might calmly enter the house during their absence.

Detective Negishi continued pacing before the church as he pondered. Calling Nakano Police Station for backup would have been acceptable, but if Shikura escaped in the meantime, it would all be for nothing. Storming in without definitive evidence—especially since it was a foreigner's residence—risked serious repercussions later. What could have brought his wife here? The most logical assumption was that she'd come to meet Shikura. Did that mean he was hiding here now? Or had they arranged a rendezvous? Or perhaps her purpose was unrelated altogether? Regardless, they needed more time to assess the situation. Ideally, they'd catch him entering or exiting—but this cramped alley offered no cover for concealment. Even the veteran Negishi found himself stumped.

As he pondered, his gaze drifted to the church’s back entrance, where he spotted a suspicious figure wrapped in a double-layered garment sneaking closer. In the blink of an eye, he slipped inside and vanished. Detective Negishi tensed. He quietly approached the back entrance.

But even the seasoned Detective Negishi failed to notice that, the moment he crept up to the back entrance, the culprit had already slipped through the house and dashed out the front entrance.

At the entrance, the culprit scolded Shizuko—who had followed behind—in a gravelly voice. “You idiot! You were followed here! There’s a detective-looking guy at the back entrance. Can’t be helped—I’m leaving now. Give the registered seal to Asada. Got it?” “Ah—you—please stop running away!” Shizuko desperately grabbed his sleeve, but the culprit shook her off, dashed through the front entrance, and melted into the gathering dusk without a trace.

Amateur detective

From Azabu Ichinohashi heading into Shirokane-dai, down a cramped street where modest shops jostled shoulder-to-shoulder under their eaves, then turning slightly into a side alley in Sanko-cho, stood a photo studio as dilapidated as the neighborhood itself.

In the depths of a mid-February night, when the icy grip of lingering cold still clung, the sky stretched crisply clear with pallid stars twinkling aimlessly—yet in the shadows, darkness swallowed all sight beyond an inch. The photo studio’s facade featured a dusty display window decorated with a large photograph of a stern-faced general in full military regalia, an image of a geisha dressed in what had been fashionable attire several years prior, and two or three other photos. A dim electric light—installed as a half-hearted concession—cast a hazy glow over the entrance.

While gazing up at the sign reading "Asada Photo Studio" above the entrance, a suspicious-looking man stood motionless for some time—but without entering, he quietly slipped around to the side alley and groped his way toward the back entrance. The suspicious-looking man who had circled around to the back entrance crept up quietly, guided by the lamplight seeping through the door, and began knocking rhythmically on it. A streak of white light cascaded like a waterfall, and a man darted out from the opened door. When the door closed again, the momentarily illuminated scene of the cluttered, shabby back entrance vanished, and the surroundings returned to their original pitch-black darkness.

“Everything all right?” The man who had knocked from outside asked in a hushed tone. “Everything’s fine. He’s already gone to bed.” The man who had emerged from within whispered back. “Find any leads?” “Nothing concrete, but the studio owner’s been making regular trips to the notary office lately.” “I suspect Shikura put him up to it.” “Know the notary’s name?” “Someone called Kanda Daigorō.” “Kanda’s a rather prominent notary.”

“And then, Mr. Ishiko—”

The man who had emerged from inside called out—a voice tinged with youthfulness. “There’s been frequent correspondence with a man named Matsushita Ichirou.” “Matsushita Ichirou?” “Yes—I suspect that’s Shikura’s alias.” “The handwriting... it closely resembles that threatening letter you showed me at your home.” “So you don’t know the address?”

“I don’t know,” said Kishimoto. “The ones coming from him don’t have addresses written on them, and Asada always seems to mail any letters we send out himself.” “Hmm, that’s fishy,” Ishiko replied. “Kishimoto, I need you to put in more effort on this.” “Understood. I’ll find a way to investigate the address.” “Just remember—our opponent’s tough. Even Negishi was struggling with him.”

“Understood.” “What about your side?” “There’s not a single lead.” Ishiko—as you readers have no doubt already surmised—the suspicious figure who had crept up to Asada Photo Studio was none other than Detective Ishiko. The one who had emerged from inside—the young man Kishimoto Seiichirō—said resentfully: “We’re always bungling things.” “When we track down where they brought in the luggage and storm the place, it turns out to be nothing more than a storage spot for packages—not where he’s actually holed up.” “That’s how he diverts our attention while summoning his wife.” “Then even Negishi—the one who saw through that scheme and located their meeting spot—got outplayed! Before we knew it, Shikura gave him the slip, leaving Negishi stuck standing outside Nakano Church in the freezing cold for five solid hours.”

After continuing their discussion in hushed tones, the two quietly parted ways to the left and right.

“Kishimoto, a moment.” The Asada Photo Studio owner called out with a stern face. “Yes.”

Kishimoto bowed respectfully before him.

“I’ll be stepping out for a bit. Handle the burning-in for these, then mount them on the backing board. You’d better handle these rolls properly.”

“Understood.” “How should I handle today’s development?” “No development needed.” “It’s still too risky to let you handle it solo.”

“It’s fine, sir.”

Kishimoto sharply raised his beautiful eyebrows. “Ha ha ha!” Asada laughed derisively, as though declaring him a know-it-all. “Let’s drop it. If development gets botched, there’s no recovering from it.” “Is that so…”

Kishimoto said discontentedly. “Hey, Oshino.”

Asada called his wife.

“I’ll be off then.”

“Take care now.”

From the next room, Oshino answered in a loud voice. After finishing developing the bromides and exiting the darkroom, Kishimoto was busily pasting the completed photos onto backing paper when Oshino came to his side. “Kishimoto-san, you’re quite diligent.” “It’s no good, Madam—my pasting here is rather clumsy.” “Oh, that’s perfectly fine.”

“I see.” “Kishimoto-san, you must find my husband so strict, don’t you?”

"That’s not the case at all." "My husband is so particular, you see. That’s why we can never keep live-in students for long." “Please endure it for a long time, Kishimoto-san.” Oshino peered at Kishimoto’s profile with lowered eyes and said. “Yes, Madam, please do keep me here for a long time.” “I’ll certainly keep you here.” “Where has Mr. Asada gone?” “Who knows where—he’s probably gone to Shikura’s wife again or something.”

“Huh? Mr. Shikura?” “You know about him?” “Yes—I used to be a Christian believer, so I only know the name.” “Is that so? Now that you mention it, Mr. Shikura’s a Christian.” “Mr. Shikura’s wife seems quite remarkable.” “What? How should I know if she’s remarkable?”

The landlady’s mood soured in an instant. “Just because her husband is away, she keeps summoning mine for consultations. Isn’t that looking down on us?”

“Is Mr. Shikura away?” “He’s run off somewhere.” “Huh? Did he do something bad?” “Seems that’s the case. Getting involved with someone like that is bound to bring nothing but trouble in the end, I tell you.” “Oh—is he such a bad person?” “He’s got an unpleasant face, I tell you. He looks downright villainous. Though I suppose having a face that wouldn’t hurt a fly like his wife doesn’t count for much either.” “Does he really have such an ill-omened face?”

“Wait a moment—I have some photos here.” Oshino rummaged noisily through the desk drawers and soon pulled out a packet of old photographs. “What do you think?” “This is all Mr. Shikura’s share.”

“That’s quite a lot.” “We go way back, you know.” “This here’s Mr. Shikura.” “My word—he does look fearsome.” “And this is his wife?” “That’s right.” “Exactly why you must never lower your guard around his sort.” As Kishimoto shuffled through the stack of photographs before him, his gaze abruptly caught on one particular print—and he gasped aloud. While sorting through the Shikura family photos, Kishimoto’s eyes suddenly locked onto an image—and he gasped aloud. It was a photograph of Kobayashi Sadako.

“What’s wrong?”

Oshino asked suspiciously.

“N-no, it’s nothing.” “Oh my—seems you’ve got a taste for the young ones after all.”

The landlady smirked as she saw the photograph in Kishimoto’s hands and said,

“That’s not what I meant.” “Too bad for you, Mr. Kishimoto—that girl’s already dead.” “Sh-she’s dead?!”

Kishimoto flinched.

“You’re quite shocked.” Oshino glared at Kishimoto, “Not certain mind you—but dead I reckon. That there’s Shikura’s housemaid.” “Ah... So she was his maid?”

“Well, you see, she went missing three years ago and that was the end of it.” “Oh!” “They still haven’t found out, I hear—but well, she’s probably dead.” “Well, if her whereabouts have been unknown for three years, she might indeed be dead. Why did she go missing?” “Well, you see, even though she was just a young girl, you couldn’t let your guard down—it seems Mr. Shikura made advances on her.” “Men are all like that.” “Because of that, she was once demoted from her position in the household—well, being just a child, she probably grew to hate the world and ran away from home.”

"That's so sad." "You think that's pitiable?" "I do." "Hmph—all talk." "Men do such things without batting an eye, then forget them completely." "That's not true at all, ma'am." "Well, Mr. Kishimoto, perhaps you're different." "So what about it, ma'am?" Kishimoto deflected Oshino’s words while— "Don’t you know where Mr. Shikura is?"

“I don’t know—though my husband might know. He’s been exchanging letters and getting all sorts of requests from him, from what I hear.” “Ma’am, if he’s such a bad person, it’s not right to hide him like this.”

“I think so too, but this is just how obligations work in this fleeting world—can’t be helped.” “Are social obligations really that crucial?” “You’re still young—no wonder you don’t get it. These obligations are bitter pills to swallow.” “If letters keep coming this often, you must know where he is, ma’am.”

“Oh my, Mr. Kishimoto—you’re awfully concerned about Mr. Shikura, aren’t you?”

Oshino stared intently at Kishimoto and, "You ain’t some police informant, are you?"

“Don’t be absurd!” Kishimoto flinched but hastily backtracked. “I detest crooked dealings—when I hear such things, I can’t remain silent.” “True enough—everyone hates corruption. But you can’t go spouting such ideals forever when scraping by in this world.” “Is that truly how it works…?” “They say ‘not getting your way is life’s custom.’ I’m vexed by my own unmet desires—it’s maddening.”

“So Mr. Shikura—”

“Oh, Mr. Shikura again? How strange.” Oshino glared at Kishimoto. Having asked too much about Shikura and aroused the landlady’s suspicion, Kishimoto flusteredly—

“No, no—that’s not what I meant. It’s just that I have a nature where I can’t stand leaving things half-asked once I start prying, so I end up digging into every little detail. If I’ve offended you, I apologize.” “I don’t particularly mind, but well then, go ahead and ask until you’re satisfied.”

“That’s quite all right.” “Ma’am.”

“You’re a strange one, aren’t you? When I tell you to ask without holding back, you go and say ‘That’s quite enough already’?”

“Well then, shall I ask?” Kishimoto grinned as he continued— “So what business does Mr. Asada have visiting Mr. Shikura’s residence?”

“Hohoho.” Oshino laughed. “You’ve come up with something preposterous, haven’t you? Well, you see—apparently Mr. Shikura wants to transfer some rental property or something to his wife, so he’s asked someone to handle the paperwork.” “Huh.” “In other words—”

The landlady lowered her voice. "So I hear Mr. Shikura's been involved in some kind of fraud." "If he gets caught, this'll be taken back." "If they leave things be and it gets seized, that'd cause trouble—so they're probably rushing to change the names on the deeds." "And since the wife is a beauty," Kishimoto smirked sarcastically and,

“So that’s why Mr. Asada’s been working himself ragged, huh?” “What’re you on about?” The landlady’s eyes instantly flashed with anger. “If my husband tries any such trick, he won’t walk away unscathed.”

“And what exactly would you do?”

Kishimoto asked maliciously. “What do you mean, ‘what would I do’?”

The landlady raised her voice. “That’s exactly why I wouldn’t stay in this house!” “And what will you do then? Ma’am.” “What do you mean, ‘what would I do’?” Oshino, flushed with jealousy, shouted. “It’s not like I’m desperate for a man—I can get by on my own just fine.” “What’s with Mr. Asada—is he really that close with Mrs. Shikura?” Oshino, who had long been displeased with her husband’s frequent visits to Shikura’s vacant home to act as a confidant to his wife, grew increasingly agitated as Kishimoto continued provoking her.

“He’s truly making a fool of me.” “Let him attempt some worthless scheme.” “I’ll drown myself and make him rue the day!”

The provocation had been too effective; Kishimoto found himself at a loss for how to respond. He said soothingly, “Ma’am, it’s all right. Mr. Asada of all people would never do such a thing.” “Hohoho.”

Oshino, too, seemed to regret having gotten so carried away, “Mr. Kishimoto, you don’t need to worry. “It’s just a joke. “Who would ever do something like drown themselves? “Drowning yourself? Oh, I hate it—just thinking about it makes me shudder.”

Oshino seemed to recall something and shuddered.

Oshino hesitated for a moment, torn between speaking or staying silent, then turned to Kishimoto and said, “Mr. Kishimoto—have you ever seen someone who’s drowned themselves?” “No.”

Kishimoto shook his head.

“I’ve seen it once before, you know. Let me see... One year, two years—yes, nearly three years now. Up ahead in Osaki—you know that Ikedagahara field? There are quite a few houses there now, but back then, right in the middle of the field was an old well. I think it was around June or July. A drowned body surfaced. You see, it must’ve been submerged for ages—the eyes were so swollen you couldn’t look, the face was completely unrecognizable, and if you touched it with your hand or anything, pieces would just come right off. It was absolutely revolting. Ugh, how awful!”

The landlady scowled.

The decomposed corpse that had surfaced from the old well—though it was an incident from three years prior—left Kishimoto with an unpleasant feeling.

“How awful. So it was a woman?” “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Did they find out who it was?” “No, they never figured it out. That’s just it, Mr. Kishimoto—the police are just awful, you know. Such a gruesome corpse was left abandoned like that for two or three days. You see, apparently that field marks the boundary between the Takanawa police and the Shinagawa police. So if it were something to take credit for, they’d be fighting over it, but with something nasty like this, they just shoved it off onto each other—neither station would send anyone to do the inquest. In the end, the Takanawa police handled the inquest and burial, but they never figured out who it was at all. With things like that happening, missing people are a dime a dozen in this world.”

“About how old was she?” “You could tell from looking that it was a young person, but there was no clue as to who they were. The doctor appraised her as twenty-two or twenty-three, according to the newspaper.” Wondering if it might be Sadako’s corpse, he eagerly inquired, but since the age didn’t match, Kishimoto was disappointed.

“When I went to see it,” Oshino said as if she had just remembered.

“Mr. Shikura was there at the time.” “Huh? Mr. Shikura was there?” “That’s right. The two of us talked about how she looked young but must have met a pitiable end.” “Did Mr. Shikura come specifically to see it?” “Well, whether he came specially or just happened to be passing by—I don’t remember such details.” “Anyway, drowning yourself is such a horrible thing.” Not wanting to be noticed for probing too much about Shikura, Kishimoto deliberately diverted the conversation.

“It’s really awful.”

The landlady scowled but, "Oh no, this is terrible—I've been chatting away and haven't even started preparing for the evening!"

Kishimoto, now alone, was working diligently again when the master returned. He glanced briefly at Kishimoto working and then retreated straight into the inner parlor.

“Welcome back.” Oshino called out from the kitchen. Asada plopped down heavily in front of the hearth, “Oshino.” he called in an irritated voice. “What is it?”

Oshino appeared, wiping her wet hands on her apron. “Be careful around the new live-in student.” Asada said in a low, forceful voice, staring intently at Oshino’s face.

“What did you say?” “I’m telling you—when I’m away, don’t go blathering about pointless things to him.” “Wh-what did you say?” Oshino’s face paled. “When have I ever blathered about pointless things?” “I never said you did.” “I’m telling you not to talk.” “You’re mocking people!”

Oshino began to shout. "You’re the one who goes over to Mrs. Shikura’s place for no reason and does nothing but blather away!"

“Hey! Don’t raise your voice.”

“Why do you do things that mustn’t be spoken aloud?”

Oshino still had not ceased her angry shouts. “And you go on about other people’s business! What exactly have I done?” “What exactly are you saying I did?” “Hey, hey—don’t go getting the wrong idea now.” Asada made a troubled face and tried to placate her. “I only told you to be careful around Kishimoto.” “That’s none of your business.” “Whatever I do—”

Oshino puffed out her cheeks. Asada forced a wry smile and somehow managed to placate Oshino, then finished his dinner and went upstairs. He turned to a corner desk and started writing something.

Before long, when he finished writing, he put it into an envelope, wrote the address on it, and lumbered downstairs.

Downstairs, Kishimoto called out as if he had been lying in wait. “Sir, are you going out?” “Ah, just stepping out for a moment.” Kishimoto quickly noticed the letter Asada was holding, “Sir, if that’s mail, I can take care of sending it for you.” “No need.”

Asada dismissed him and went outside. Kishimoto, once his master was out of sight, whirled around like a fleeing rabbit and bounded upstairs. He approached his master’s desk and began frantically searching for something. He checked every unlocked drawer on the desk one by one, then carefully restored them to their original state.

At length, he muttered as if dejected.

“Hmm, he’s quite a cautious one. There’s no trace of it.” In the midst of this, he suddenly noticed a single sheet of blotting paper on the desk. When he looked closely, the characters spelling “Mr. Matsushita Ichirō” faintly appeared as mirror writing. The address in the heading also seemed sporadically readable.

“Got it!” Kishimoto muttered happily.

"The first character was definitely 'Hon'. Hmm—Hongo? Honjo? Ah, the second character was completely illegible—maybe 'kome'? Or perhaps 'Hayashi'... The top part was smudged, making it hard to tell. The next character looked like 'kawa'. The 'chō' part was clear enough, and the last one seemed to be 'kan'—ah, a photo studio! So that Matsushita Ichirō fellow must be at a photo studio. Which one though? Ah, I can definitely make out the 'uchi' character—Yamauchi? Ōuchi? Hmm... 'Hon', 'Kawa', 'Chō', 'Uchi' Photo Studio... If only I could read a bit more of this!"

As Kishimoto fidgeted impatiently while scrutinizing the blotting paper, Oshino’s voice called up from downstairs. “Mr. Kishimoto! Mr. Kishimotoooo!” “This complicates things.” Kishimoto stamped his foot, glaring sidelong at the blotting paper while half-distracted by the landlady’s summons, and muttered irritably.

“Mr. Kishimoto.” Oshino called out while making sewing machine noises, appearing to come up to the second floor. Regrettably, Kishimoto abruptly left the desk’s side and approached the stairway entrance. “What is it, ma’am?”

“What are you doing, Mr. Kishimoto?” “Nothing in particular.” “Is that so?” Having finally reached the top step, the landlady looked up at Kishimoto’s face and asked, “Did my husband say anything?” “No, nothing.”

“Is that so?” “Well, if you say so...” “What is it, ma’am? “The Professor’s acting a bit odd, I tell you.”

“Why?” “Because he’s secretly exchanging letters.” “Really?” “It’s absolutely true! They come addressed to a man named Matsushita Ichirō, but he always mails the replies himself through the post.” “All other letters he orders me to send out—only those replies does he handle personally.”

“Damn it!” Oshino bellowed.

“So he’s been deceiving me after all.”

Just then, as Asada appeared on the main street, the two hurriedly descended downstairs. Asada entered the house and wordlessly clomped up to the second floor. After carefully surveying the room, he dropped into a chair and let out a loud yawn, but suddenly turned his gaze to the desk. "Oh?" he muttered. The desk remained exactly as he had left it—not a single item out of place—yet some sixth sense made him feel someone had touched it.

“Hmm...” With arms crossed, he glared at the desk through narrowed eyes when his gaze suddenly snagged on the blotting paper. Whether from his own unease or not, its position seemed subtly askew.

He picked up the blotting paper and held it up to the overhead electric light to examine it. “Damn it!”

He muttered softly, raised his head, bit his lip, and stared fixedly into the distance as he sank into thought. Before long, he began examining the blotting paper closely once more. A smile crept across his lips. For some reason, he took out an envelope and placed it on the desk next to the blotting paper. Then he took a pen and, still deep in thought, moved it over the envelope. “23 Kikukawa-chō, Honjo Ward, Ōuchi Photo Studio... Hmm, this should do it.” He gazed at the envelope he had addressed with a nasty smile, then pressed it against the blotting paper, tore it cleanly in two, twisted the pieces into a tight ball, and tossed it into the wastebasket at his feet with a flick of his wrist.

He pressed the call bell. With a creak of the stairs, Kishimoto came up. “Professor, do you need something?” “Yeah, I think I’ll do some developing. Are the chemicals all set?” “Yes, everything’s ready.” “Then kindly tidy up around here.” “Right away, sir.” Asada entered the darkroom but did not immediately begin developing the film; instead, he quietly peered through the small window fitted with red glass that let in light, observing the state of the room.

Kishimoto was diligently cleaning the room. As he went about his task, he suddenly noticed the wastebasket. Bending down, he retrieved a crumpled envelope from within. He seemed startled for a moment but soon shot a sharp glance toward the darkroom, turned his back to the small window, feigned tidying up the desk, and carefully unfolded the envelope. Kishimoto’s countenance visibly crumbled. He was unable to conceal his delight and opened his eyes wide like a child.

Before long, he crumpled the envelope into a tight ball again, stuffed it into the wastebasket, and resumed cleaning with an innocent face. In the darkroom, Asada was thinking as he swirled the developing tray. "Hmph," he mused, "just as I thought—he’s a plant." This demanded constant vigilance. "But that guy’s an amateur—lucky for us." When he finished developing and placed the dry plate into the fixing bath, Asada lumbered out of the darkroom. Kishimoto finished cleaning and sat blankly in the chair by the window.

“Once you’ve finished cleaning, you may go downstairs.”

Asada said. “Yes, sir.”

When Kishimoto was out of sight, Asada plopped down in front of the desk and muttered.

"If it takes until tomorrow for that guy to reach the detectives' ears, and the detectives waste their time the day after... Hmph. That gives us two or three days of breathing room."

Arson Incident “Wha—what the hell? “What the hell—you’re the one who damn well slammed into me!” In the frigid air, a burly, red-faced man dressed like a laborer—wearing only a grimy workman’s coat and patched work pants that left his legs wobbling unsteadily—first seized the jacket of a small-statured salaryman, likely earning around a hundred yen a month, and roared. “Don’t spout nonsense—you’re the one who crashed into me!”

The man in Western clothes blustered and roared back. However, his eyes looked troubled and bewildered.

Along the tram street running from Ogawamachi to Surugadai, the sky hung dull and heavy with the oppressive gloom of impending snow. Yet tonight being both the fifteenth—a holiday for craftsmen—and the day of the Goju Inari shrine festival, the streets were relatively crowded with passersby. The unsteady drunkard on the right, staggering with a reeling gait as if itching for confrontation—passersby frowned and veered away—had collided head-on with the man in Western clothes, which proved to be the salaryman’s misfortune.

“Wha—what’re you sayin’? You’re sayin’ I crashed into you?” “Don’tcha think you can make a fool of me.” “I ain’t drunk, y’hear!” As the drunkard continued his drunken rant, the man in Western clothes, unable to endure it any longer, wrenched his jacket free from the grip. The drunkard reeled unsteadily, nearly toppling over, but finally steadied himself—and now he was having none of it. “Well, well, you went and pulled a slick move.” “You damn bastard!” “See what I’ll do to you!” He squared up to the man in Western clothes in a fighting stance. Unnoticed by anyone, the surroundings had become a throng of onlookers. But not a single person made a move to intervene. Some frowned and watched with evident displeasure, while others smirked with amusement, but none stepped forward to mediate.

The one who happened upon the scene was Detective Ishiko. He had received Kishimoto’s report and gone out to Honjo first thing that morning to make inquiries—not only in the target district but throughout every neighborhood—yet found no photo studio named Ōuchi or anything resembling it. Disheartened and on his way back home to Ushigome, he had gotten off the train at Ogawamachi and was wandering through the bustling festival crowds when it happened—half-hoping some clue might surface.

“A fight?”

After muttering this, he pushed through the crowd, but being of small build, he couldn’t easily see inside.

“What’s going on? A fight?”

He asked the person next to him. “It’s a drunkard picking a fight with someone who looks harmless.”

“That’s unfortunate. Let’s intervene. Please let me through.” Having said this, Ishiko steadily pushed forward, but when he saw the face of the ranting drunkard, he gasped in shock. This was Kobayashi Sadajirō—the uncle of Shikura’s missing maid. “Hey, that’s enough.” Ishiko grabbed Sadajirō by the shoulder. Swaying unsteadily on his lanky frame and bleary-eyed with drink, Sadajirō fixed his gaze on Detective Ishiko’s face and exclaimed joyfully.

“Oh, it’s you, sir!” Far from settling down, he suddenly perked up and grew even more boisterous. “Oh, sir! You’ve come at just the right time!” “Hey bastard, the police officer’s here!” “No matter how much you thrash about, it’s no use.” “We’ll get a proper judgment on who’s innocent and who’s guilty!” “What’re you laughin’ at?”

He began shouting at the onlookers. “This here officer’s gonna collar that bastard Shikura for ya!” “Still laughin’, are ya?” “Don’t tell me you lot don’t know Shikura? That villain Shikura!” Sadajirō’s words grew increasingly slurred. There in the middle of the thoroughfare, before a swelling crowd, the thoroughly soused Sadajirō kept bellowing “Shikura! Shikura!”—leaving Detective Ishiko aghast. “Enough of this nonsense.” “I said shut your trap!”

But Sadajirō grew all the more carried away. “What do you mean? What do you mean by Shikura?” “How could this great me just shut up and slink away after being humiliated by that bastard?” “Come on!” “Hmm! What’s Shikura gotta do with it?” Sadajirō finally collapsed in the middle of the thoroughfare. Just then, a patrol officer happened to pass by, so Ishiko showed his detective’s notebook and—

“This guy here—I know him a bit,” Ishiko said to the patrol officer. “He’s from Misakichō. Could you take him into protective custody?” The officer dispersed the gawkers and led Sadajirō away. The salaryman who’d been accosted stayed rooted in place even as the crowd thinned out, then marched resolutely over to Ishiko’s side.

“Excuse me, may I ask something? The Shikura that man mentioned—it wouldn’t be Shikura Kihei, would it?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Ishiko looked at his face in surprise. "You're with the police, aren't you?" "Yes." "I'm from Kagurazaka Police Station."

“In that case, regarding Shikura, there’s something I’d like to share with you.” “Oh, so you know Shikura?” “Indeed, I know him very well.” “I’ve had a terrible time because of him.” “I think Shikura may have committed arson.” “Wh-what?” Detective Ishiko was so overjoyed at this unexpected windfall that his face seemed to change color.

“Since this isn’t the sort of conversation for the middle of the street—er, would you come to my house?” “It’s in Ushigome.” “My home is just nearby.”

The salaryman said. “Would you be so kind as to come to my humble residence?” From what they had discussed along the way, his name was Tanida Yoshizō, and he worked for a certain trading company in Marunouchi.

His house was on a back street in Awajichō.

When he arrived in front of his house, before entering, he pointed to the neighboring two-story house.

“It’s been rebuilt, but this was Shikura’s house.” His home was a compact single-story dwelling, and being evidently a neat person, he showed them into a well-ordered room. “Well, it’s quite an old matter now.” “Must be nearly ten years.” “As I mentioned earlier on our walk, there was a fire in the neighboring house.” According to his account, the fire had partially burned down Shikura’s residence before being extinguished, while his own home had fortunately escaped the spreading flames. However, with arson being determined as the cause, he had unexpectedly fallen under suspicion himself and been detained at the police station for a week.

“On the seventh day, thanks to Shikura coming to intercede on my behalf, I was finally released. “It was truly an utterly absurd situation to find myself in. “But at the time, since he interceded for me and showed me all kinds of kindness, I felt grateful to Shikura. However, now that I think about it, it seems I was completely framed.”

On the night before the day the fire broke out, when he visited Shikura’s house, Shikura was busily tending to books in a back room. Because they had been left neglected for so long, he claimed that mold had grown on the books and was diligently wiping them with cotton wads soaked in volatile oil.

“But here’s the strange part.” Tanida took a brief breath.

“Of course, this is something we all realized afterward—the fact that he started tending to the books that very night could indeed be seen as suspicious upon reflection.” “Moreover, he changed the cotton soaked in volatile oil nearly every single time.” “As you’re well aware, there’s no need to change the cotton so frequently.” “As I watched, cotton soaked in volatile oil became scattered everywhere.” “When I returned home, I told my wife, ‘Leaving cotton strewn about like that makes proper fire prevention impossible.’” “If only I had remembered to mention this when at the police station, but I was so overwhelmed that it completely slipped my mind.” “At the police station, I endured rather insulting interrogations.” “This happened because I’d kept some movable assets on hand.”

The good-natured Tanida made a resentful face as if it had happened just yesterday. "As I mentioned earlier, at the time I didn't suspect Shikura in the slightest—in fact, I welcomed his kindness. But later, based on what I heard from others, I came to firmly believe that in my case, Shikura had set fire to his own house, quietly written an anonymous accusation, and shifted suspicion onto me." "And what about these stories you heard from others?"

Ishiko listened while admiring Negishi's perceptiveness, as Tanida's account aligned exactly with what Detective Negishi had previously deduced. "Soon after the fire here, Shikura moved to Takanawa, and within two years or so, he suffered another fire." "At that time, it was also partially burned, but he gave a two-hundred-yen bribe to an insurance salesman and had it recorded as a total loss, thereby obtaining the full insurance payout." "How did you learn that?"

Ishiko leaned forward.

“I heard it directly from the man who took the bribe.” “It seems he’d done other shady things too, so they soon dismissed him. He ended up working at my company for a while.” “Being that sort of man, he never worked properly anyway. He resigned a few years back, but when he came to my house and heard Shikura was next door, he confessed everything to me.” “That man also claimed the Takanawa fire was likely arson too.” “That’s how I fully realized how wrong I’d been to trust Shikura.”

The story he had been anticipating also turned out to be mere speculation, so Ishiko was disappointed. However, at the very least, the charge of insurance fraud appeared certain.

“Do you know that man’s address?”

Ishiko asked.

“Well, I do know, but since it’s already been settled out of court...”

Tanida faltered. "It's all right. As long as the company has no intention of pressing charges, he won't be found guilty." "Is that so?" Tanida was half-convinced yet skeptical.

“But that’s strange,” Ishiko said suddenly, as if he’d just remembered. “Since the insurance company would receive the police report, they should have been able to tell whether it was a partial or total burn.”

“Well, that’s…” Tanida said awkwardly, “Apparently, they bribed either a detective or a patrol officer for ten or twenty yen.” “I see.”

Ishiko gave a wry smile. "Well, you see—it's troubling when someone among our own occasionally steps out of line." "Though I must say—and pardon my frankness—you all risk your lives in such dangerous work, yet what you receive in return remains so meager." "That's true."

Ishiko continued his wry smile, “That may be true, but ultimately, because we deal with the underbelly of society, there are many temptations. It’s those who’ve done wrong that immediately try to bribe people, you see.”

“Amateurs always exaggerate their speculations as if they’re certain—it’s such a nuisance.”

When leaving Tanida’s house, Detective Ishiko inadvertently muttered this. What he had said did prove sufficiently useful as a reference, but there were no eyewitness accounts nor any solid evidence—though suspicion against Shikura had grown more substantial, in the end, that was all there was to it. The man himself skillfully concealed his tracks and still continued to send taunting letters. And as for the man himself, he was under suspicion of theft, fraud, arson, and murder, but no conclusive evidence had been found. This was the first time he had encountered such a bizarre case.

Having wasted an entire day walking around Honjo to no avail, Ishiko had unexpectedly met Tanida in Kanda through an introduction from the drunkard Sadajirō, hoping this might compensate for his earlier failure—but when even that came to nothing, he trudged homeward lost in these thoughts, his spirits low.

At home, Kishimoto was unexpectedly waiting in dejected silence.

Kimiko, his wife, said with a laugh, “Mr. Kishimoto got dismissed from his position.”

“Why?”

Ishiko was taken aback. "It was a complete failure—amateur detectives are no good."

Kishimoto scratched his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. Today—though I was being extra careful—I ended up breaking one of the photographic plates. Then that guy flew into a rage and told me to get out immediately. Truth is, I think he’d been eyeing me suspiciously for a while now. The landlady tried hard to smooth things over, but he wouldn’t budge. I’m truly sorry for insisting on taking this assignment when you warned me against it.”

“Hmm, well, it can’t be helped.” Ishiko said dismissively, “By the way—the Honjo Photo Studio’s no good. There’s no such house as you described.” “Huh? Is that so?”

Kishimoto was surprised. “I was really looking forward to hearing that, but I guess it didn’t work out after all.” “How on earth did you manage to find that out?” “There was an envelope with a botched address thrown into the wastebasket.” “Hmph. According to your account, he’s extremely cautious about not letting anyone catch his tail—yet finding an envelope with a botched address thrown into a wastebasket, the kind of place anyone might look? That’s rather odd, don’t you think?”

“That’s right. Even I wouldn’t have easily believed it if it were just a botched address, but before that, I saw it imprinted on the blotting paper.”

“Hmph, so you figured it out that clearly?” “No, it’s extremely unclear. Just the character for ‘book,’ then an unclear one that might’ve been ‘rice’ or ‘forest,’ the character for ‘river,’ and then what seemed to be ‘Uchishashinkan’—that’s all I could make out.” “So you saw that on the blotting paper before finding the botched envelope, huh?” “That’s right. After he finished writing the mail, as usual, he went to post it himself, so I immediately rushed upstairs and checked the blotting paper—that’s how I figured it out.” “And then?”

“While I was trying hard to decipher it more carefully, the landlady came upstairs. After I managed to dodge her and went downstairs, he came back and immediately went up to the second floor. Then, after a while, he called me and said he was going to start developing now—told me to tidy up the area—then went into the darkroom. While tidying up, the envelope in the wastebasket caught my eye.” “He told you to clean up and then went into the darkroom, right?”

Futility.

Ishiko, who had been listening, said reproachfully. At Ishiko’s reproachful tone, Kishimoto answered as if startled.

“That’s right.” “Well, if you’d just thought about it for a moment, shouldn’t it have been obvious?” Ishiko snapped. “Listen—a man who’s normally extremely cautious throws a botched letter into the wastebasket, then tells you to clean up? Doesn’t that strike you as odd? First he specifically calls you in to tidy up, yet claims not to notice there’s an important letter sitting right there in that very wastebasket? That’s impossible, don’t you think?” “Oh! You’re right—I’ve been had!”

“Hmph, that guy was watching from inside the darkroom. He killed two birds with one stone—exposing your true identity and making me waste an entire day’s time.” “I’m truly sorry.”

Kishimoto apologized. “You’re an amateur—can’t be helped.”

Ishiko gave a wry smile. “That’s impossible for you.”

Kimiko interjected from the side. “Now about the blotting paper—let me ask you this. That guy goes out, you rush upstairs—did you check the blotting paper first thing?”

“No—I checked the drawers and such first.” “Did you check the wastebasket?” “The wastebasket—ah! I checked it! I checked it!” “There was no envelope there at the time, right?”

“There wasn’t any.”

Kishimoto made a look of disgust at himself. “There, you see? He threw the envelope in as a decoy after returning. Wait a second—”

Ishiko crossed his arms and fell silent. Kishimoto looked up at Ishiko’s face with concern.

After a while, Ishiko said cheerfully.

“That’s it—I’ve figured out a lot! The blotting paper is genuine. Even someone as sharp as him carelessly overlooked this. But there are signs he checked the blotting paper. Right? You must’ve moved its position, didn’t you?”

“Well, I carefully put everything else back exactly where it was, but when the landlady came up from downstairs, I panicked and placed the blotting paper on the desk—it might’ve moved from its original position.”

Kishimoto explained. “There it is. Let me put it this way—try standing in that guy’s position. The characters carelessly left on the blotting paper are only two or three that are clearly legible, but since it’s an address within Tokyo city, one could easily decipher it with a little thought. Now here’s the problem. So he devises a plan: he creates a spot that looks exactly like where the blotting paper was left, but is actually a different location, crafts it convincingly real, and deliberately lets it fall into our hands. In that case, even if someone sees through the ruse, there’s no harm done—and if the enemy foolishly takes the bait, they’ll never deduce the real location hidden in the blotting paper’s text. I have to hand it to him—that’s a brilliant tactic for an enemy!”

“I see.” Kishimoto marveled. “That guy’s impressive, but Mr. Ishiko’s remarkable too!” “Don’t go getting impressed now.”

Ishiko, slightly regaining his composure, "Now, about those characters left on the blotting paper—what exactly were they again?" "The 'Hon' here must be a ward name—either Honjo or Hongo. That much is certain." "Then the town name starts with either 'Mori' or 'Hayashi'." "The next part seems to be 'river'." "And then—whatever it was... anyway, something-something Uchi Photo Studio." "Hunh—Hongo then. If not Honjo." "So if it's 'Mori,' then Moriokachō; if 'Hayashi'... hmm, Hayashichō—and was Hayashichō in Koishikawa?"

“Isn’t there a Hayashichō in Hongo as well—the one called Komagome Hayashichō?”

Kishimoto said. "Hunh. But Komagome wasn't included?" "Yes—it seemed only part of the town name remained."

Detective Ishiko went out to Hongo the next morning.

First aiming for Morikawachō, he had the good fortune to promptly discover a photo studio named Takeuchi. It was on the right side after turning left just before Ichikō and descending a long, gentle slope. It seemed far more prosperous than Asada Photo Studio, with its display window adorned with photographs of modern young ladies and stylish young men in half-length poses.

Detective Ishiko stood before the display window for a while, peering inside, then went to the police box in front of Ichikō, showed his detective’s notebook, and called Kagurazaka Police Station. Thinking that if they barged in carelessly and he escaped through the back door again, all their hard work would be for naught, he had requested backup.

Ishiko, who had been waiting for five or six backup detectives with an eternity’s worth of impatience, immediately assigned each their tasks upon seeing them and pushed open the entrance door of Takeuchi Photo Studio to enter inside. Even he found his breath quickening from the extraordinary tension.

Upon entering, there was immediately a wide staircase at the far end, with a sign conspicuously propped up reading, “Please proceed directly upstairs for your photograph.” Beyond this, the interior was dead silent. Detective Ishiko thought for a moment, then resolutely began climbing the stairs quietly.

Upstairs was a spacious Western-style waiting room. On the central table lay several thick-covered, gold-edged photo albums. As Ishiko stood hesitantly before the window-side bench, a student apprentice emerged from the next room.

“Welcome.” “Today, I’d like to meet with Mr. Matsushita.” Ishiko said politely. “Mr. Matsushita is not here.”

The student apprentice exclaimed in surprise.

“Where has he gone?” “Mr. Matsushita rarely comes over here, you know.” The student apprentice answered with a puzzled expression.

"I came here because I heard he was staying here." "Well, he is supposed to be here, but..." The student apprentice looked troubled,

“Please wait a moment.”

With that, he withdrew, but in his place emerged a presentable man of about forty who appeared to be the master of the house.

“Welcome. Well, please have a seat.” He said amiably. “Thank you.” Ishiko gave a slight bow and responded. “What exactly does this Mr. Matsushita do for a living?” The owner posed an unexpected question. Ishiko was taken aback. “What do you mean, ‘what does he do’? He’s imposing on you here, isn’t he?” “Well, you see, he’s truly a peculiar individual, you know.” The owner frowned and, “He’s supposed to be staying at my place, but he rarely shows his face.”

“Hmm, I had thought he was staying here all along.”

Ishiko scrutinized the owner’s expression.

“It does seem he’s been putting up that pretense.” The owner said with a wry smile, “Mail does come from time to time. And Matsushita comes to take it about once every three days, you know.” “What is his relationship with you?”

“He’s supposed to be a live-in student, you see.”

The owner’s answer was all the more unexpected. “It was about two weeks ago, I suppose. He just wandered in without anyone’s introduction and said he wanted to study photography, so he asked me to take him on as a student.” “At my studio, we have two types of arrangements: one where live-in students do various chores in exchange for a small salary while studying, and another where commuting students pay some tuition to study.” According to Takeuchi Photo Studio Owner’s account, the man calling himself Matsushita had promptly paid the tuition fee and joined as his student. However, he made no effort whatsoever to study photography and, as previously mentioned, would come every third or fourth day to collect the mail addressed to him.

“It’s as if he’s turned my house into a mail relay station, so I got rather annoyed and thought about refusing him. However, since I had already taken three weeks’ payment upfront, it was hard to mention it before the term ended.” "Matsushita is a dark-complexioned, sturdy man in his mid-thirties, with large eyes and eyebrows so thick they’re almost unsettling—a man who speaks in a loud voice with a heavy Tohoku accent, right?" “That’s correct.”

The owner’s account could not be considered a lie. Ishiko felt as crestfallen as if he had plummeted from the highest peak into a nine-ren abyss. “Do you have any letters for him now?” “The day before yesterday, I believe—he took all of them just the other day.” Ah, once again, they had been outmaneuvered by the narrowest of margins. “To tell you the truth, I am someone like this.” Ishiko presented his business card and said, “The man called Matsushita—his real name is Shikura—is a suspect in a crime. If he comes again, please detain him and hand him over to the police.”

The photo studio owner received the business card and answered while staring in surprise.

“Understood.”

Detective Ishiko left crestfallen. With this being a recurring situation, he couldn't face the colleagues who'd been maintaining surveillance. He gave his colleagues a terse explanation and returned to the station, teeth gritted. Detective Negishi—who had been convinced this time would yield results—grew despondent upon hearing Ishiko's report. "He's one slippery bastard." "I'm thoroughly disgusted with myself." Ishiko replied with visible shame. "Managing Shikura alone would be headache enough, but having that knothead Asada—who won't be handled by ordinary means—mixed up in this? It's downright exhausting." "But with this much evidence piled up, we'll finally be able to slap some truth out of Asada." "We already let him sample the sweet stuff last time before sending him packing." "This time, I'll make sure he gets a proper taste of bitterness."

Negishi was uncharacteristically agitated. “But will he come out willingly? Do we have any good pretext?” “Hmm—what sort of contract did you have with that informant of yours—Kishimoto or whatever his name was?” “He isn’t exactly what you’d call an informant. He owed me some favors, and since he also knew bits about that missing maid case, he volunteered to move into Asada’s place. Considering the risks we’d estimated, he did decently enough—but it still came to nothing in the end. There’s nothing complicated about contracts. He just became a live-in student.”

“Hmm, so we can’t use Kishimoto for something like breach of contract either, huh?” “We can’t go with harboring a criminal, and there’s no business violation either—it’s really a problem.” “In society, it’s often said that in such cases, they needlessly fabricate pretexts to detain good citizens, but...” Detective Negishi reverted to his usual frosty demeanor as he spoke.

“In cases like this one, if there’s no way to apprehend and question a man who’s aiding the escape of someone under such grave suspicion, we can hardly make any arrests at all. Even if we occasionally cause suffering to good citizens by mistake, those people—well, their misfortune lies precisely in having been in circumstances that invited such suspicion. It’s no different from the calamity of falling into a hole on the street or being in a train collision. We’re not doing this with any ill intent, you know.”

“But such arguments won’t fly with society.”

Ishiko gave a wry smile.

“In other words, this is how it stands.”

Detective Ishiko continued. “Even if you call it misfortune, there’s compensation available for falling into holes or getting hurt in train accidents.” “But people who get tangled up with us are crime suspects—we can’t exactly handle them with kid gloves.” “After enduring all that downright insulting treatment and coming away empty-handed, it’s rough.” “Compensation’s fine by me if they want it.” “These cases aren’t exactly common anyway.” “Newspapers just fixate on those stories—makes it seem widespread when it’s not.”

“But then our performance ratings take an immediate hit from that, leaving us too jittery to make proper arrests.” “It’d be best if all the wrongdoers just vanished into thin air.” “Then we’d be out of jobs!” “Ha ha ha.” “Ha ha ha.” The two men exchanged glances and laughed, but facing their actual circumstances, they couldn’t indulge in such carefree banter. “Anyway, I’ll haul Asada in.”

Negishi said. “Is that so? Then I’ll leave it to you. I’ll try digging a bit more into Shikura’s past misdeeds. What’s your pretext for bringing him in?” “Call it a strategy of no strategy or charging head-on—let’s try doing it without fabricating any pretext. Since our opponent’s a crafty one, it’s better not to say anything careless.”

Negishi and Ishiko headed separately toward Shirogane and Takanawa. The reason Ishiko headed out to Takanawa was to go to the police station there and investigate the arson case in detail. “Well, of course the records do exist, but searching for a single half-burned house from five or six years ago would be quite a hassle.”

The officer in charge tilted his head.

“We’ve got some damn old cases today, huh?” The police officer next to him smirked and said.

“Mine’s an inquiry about a corpse that was temporarily buried three years ago.” “Huh? Three years ago?”

Hearing this as valuable information, Detective Ishiko turned toward the police officer and listened. “What’s it about?” “Well, three years ago, a woman’s body was found in an old well at Ikedagahara in Ōsaki. Since her identity was unknown, we buried her in Ōsaki’s communal cemetery. Today we received an inquiry from a certain region—parental love is something to be grateful for, isn’t it? They have a daughter who ran away from home three years ago and has been missing ever since. Apparently they saw the temporary burial notice somewhere and promptly made this inquiry.”

Three years ago! Ikedagahara! A runaway girl! How strikingly similar! Detective Ishiko's chest roared. "About how old was the girl?" "Twenty-two or twenty-three."

“I see.” Ishiko was disheartened. “Ah, we’ve finally found it!” The neighboring police officer called out. “The fire originated from the Shikura residence and resulted in a partial burn, I believe.”

When he looked where the officer pointed, it was indeed the record Ishiko had been seeking. He copied it and went outside.

The world was gradually taking on the semblance of spring. On the south side of a seemingly affluent house, precocious plum blossoms were just beginning to open a blossom or two over the fence. Even the cold wind striking his face seemed to carry an invisible, burgeoning vital energy.

As Ishiko wearily made his way back to the station, the myriad strange incidents that had arisen around Shikura's disappearance churned like a whirlpool in his mind.

The Malevolent Hand “Mrs., with this, all the procedures have been completed.” Asada said calmly. “Thank you very much for everything.”

Shizuko bowed her head politely.

This was the detached sitting room of Shikura's vacant residence. A hanging scroll depicting Christ’s Passion, a bulky gold-edged Bible, and other furnishings remained exactly as they had been on that day when still in use. Were Detective Ishiko to see this, he would be overcome with boundless emotion.

The man and woman facing each other were Shikura's wife Shizuko and photographer Asada.

The afternoon sun bathed the garden in what seemed a warm glow. “With this, both this house and the rented one in Takanawa have all become yours.”

Asada brushed back his thinning hairline and let out an unpleasant laugh. “You’ve truly gone through so much trouble.” Shizuko did not appear particularly happy, “I truly have no way to express my gratitude.” Even after completing the task, Asada showed no signs of leaving. He lit a fresh Shikishima cigarette and glared around the room.

Shizuko sat restlessly, praying for him to leave as soon as possible. "It must be lonely for you." After a while, Asada said. "Yes." "How is your child’s illness?" "Thank you. He’s been well for quite some time now, but—" Shizuko trailed off. The boy named Taichi, born to Shikura and her—now six years old—was of a somewhat delicate constitution, prone to catching colds and developing fevers whenever winter came. For this reason, he had been entrusted since the beginning of January to a kind believer living along a warm stretch of coast. They had planned to retrieve him by the end of January, but with the detectives raiding them around that time, the retrieval kept getting delayed. Showing the child such a state of affairs was hardly desirable, and fortunately, the child himself showed no eagerness to return—so he had ended up being left there indefinitely.

“Mr. Shikura was also wanting to see your son.” “——”

Shizuko silently bowed her head. Tears welled up. Wanting to see her child was no different for her—she longed to reunite the three of them as soon as possible and return to their former peaceful life. Whenever she wondered if her child might be crying for his parents even now, she found no peace. She resented her husband for hiding outside the home due to a momentary lapse in judgment. She could not fully understand why her husband was so urgently rushing to conceal himself and transfer the house deeds to her.

Shizuko raised her face. On her eyelashes glistened small dewdrops. "What could it be? Now that this is done, will my husband surrender himself to the police?"

“Well, I couldn’t say.”

Asada formed a malicious smile as he said, “Well, he probably won’t turn himself in. No one in their right mind would want to go to prison after all.” “Um,”

Shizuko’s complexion changed. “Then—does that mean he has indeed done something criminal?” “Well now...” Asada wore a troubled expression— “I suppose one could say so.”

“What sort of thing has he done?”

“You don’t know, madam?”

“If it concerns the matter of the Bibles—” Shizuko faltered, “That was absolutely not stolen. He maintained that they had been rightfully transferred to him.” “I see,” Asada said. “Then there must be something else.”

Asada smirked. Asada smirked and continued: “There must still be something else. Ah, judging by how he keeps running around—”

“No.” “It isn't that he's fleeing.”

Shizuko grew vehement. "I believe that once these transfer procedures are completed, he will voluntarily surrender himself to the police." “But here’s the thing, madam.” Asada assumed a cunning expression as he spoke: “Mr. Shikura still plans to keep evading capture.” “You see—the Hongo district, that photo studio used for letter deliveries—since they’re close to uncovering it, he’s decided we’ll establish another secure location shortly.” “What became of the Hongo situation?”

“It’s because I made a bit of a mistake, you see.” Asada stroked his chin as he continued: “Detectives have been snooping around the house. I thought they were just some punk kid and left them alone, but carelessly let them nearly sniff out the Hongo location. So then, I deliberately fed them a different address and threw them out yesterday. Right about now, those detective bastards are probably trudging around the wrong places, wearing out their shoes in the process. Ha ha ha!”

“It would be better if he surrendered himself soon without enduring such dangers.”

Shizuko let out a sigh of relief. "But madam, this isn't something you can consider so simply." "Huh?" "Though I say that, it's not something worth being so shocked about."

Asada deliberately cut off the conversation and stared fixedly at Shizuko’s face. Shizuko averted her eyes from Asada’s unsettling gaze while asking, “What could this be about?” “Well, I can’t say I fully understand it myself,” he replied. “If Mr. Shikura were truly innocent, there would be no need for him to flee about like this, nor any reason to hastily transfer his property to you. The fact that he still conceals himself makes one think he may have committed some grave crime, don’t you agree?”

“That cannot be.” “There is no indication he has committed any crime requiring him to flee like this.” Shizuko said decisively. “I see. If that’s your position, then very well.” Asada smirked.

“It was quite some time ago, but there was an incident where your maid went missing, wasn’t there?” “Yes.” Shizuko answered while looking up at Asada with resentment.

“I shouldn’t say this about that maid, but Mr. Shikura did something to her, didn’t he?” “Yes.” “Wouldn’t that get him summoned by the police?”

"I don’t believe that could be the case. That matter was properly resolved at the time, I assure you." “Oh ho, so it was properly resolved?” "Yes, we had Pastor Kobe mediate between us and completely settled the matter." “I heard there was some ruffian of an uncle or something—wouldn’t such a fellow have filed a complaint or something?”

“Well, I don’t believe such a thing occurred, but that uncle was quite an unreasonable person—”

“It seems that was the case.” “I believe hiding that maid was also his doing.” “My husband said the same.” “Still, if it were just about the Bibles, he wouldn’t need to hide like this.” Asada muttered as if to himself, then abruptly changed his tone. “Say, Madam.”

Asada changed his approach and broached the matter. "Say, Madam. Though I shouldn't say this, Mr. Shikura isn't someone you can rely on."

“————”

Shizuko remained silent and gazed up at Asada with reproach. "You may think me cruel for saying this," he continued, "but Mr. Shikura's recent maneuvers are downright terrifying. Wasn't it late January when he slipped through the detectives' fingers using that ingenious escape method? They say he spent that entire night in the garden of the old gunpowder factory grounds - right under a massive pine tree, from what I heard." Asada leaned forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "He took inspiration from Hideyoshi's legend - you know, when the great commander called himself Kinoshita Tōkichirō after sheltering under a pine. That's how he concocted the alias Matsushita Ichirō. Enrolled as a live-in student at Takeuchi Photo Studio in Hongō under that name - though 'enrolled' was just a front. Really, he turned the place into a mail drop for his correspondence." A mirthless chuckle escaped him. "All while flooding the police station with those mocking letters of his. When you piece it together... well, your husband's a frightful man indeed."

Shizuko remained silent as ever. “This may be meddling on my part,”

Asada continued. “Madam, why don’t you cut your losses now while you still can? Fortunately, the property has also been put in your name—” “I appreciate your concern, but—” Shizuko interrupted as if she could no longer endure it. “I must ask you to stop such talk.” “Of course you’d say that. As a married couple, your anger is entirely justified. However, Madam—”

Asada’s eyes gleamed strangely.

“Please listen to what I have to say.” “I truly admire you, Madam.” “You’re educated and steadfast in your resolve.” “My wife Oshino’s lack of education is such a burden.” “I’ll just drive that woman out anyway. So what do you say, Madam—will you grant my wish?” “What you refer to as a ‘request’...”

Shizuko turned pale. “Madam, you don’t have to say it so bluntly—haven’t you already understood?” “I’ve gone to great lengths this time.” “If not for me, Mr. Shikura would’ve been arrested long ago.” “I might face criminal charges myself.” “Why do you think I took such risks?” “Madam, isn’t it clear I only want one thing granted?” “Sticking with Mr. Shikura will bring you nothing but ruin.” Asada was, after all, running a legitimate business openly. “Madam, I beg you to think carefully.”

“I cannot give a reply to such matters.”

Shizuko said resolutely.

“Though it may be rude of me, please take your leave. Though he is just a child, there is also a maid here.”

“Madam.” Asada flushed with anger.

“Then are you outright rejecting my proposal?” “I have no choice.” “Then what is it? Won’t you even recognize that I’ve gone so far as to break the law for your sake?” “I am truly grateful for that.” “But that and this are entirely separate matters.” “So you intend to remain faithful to Mr. Shikura to the bitter end?” “Yes.” “I see. “Even though I, a man, yearn for you this deeply, you won’t even try to understand my feelings.” “I am a worthless man.” “But Asada is also a man.” “If you insist on saying such cold things, then I am prepared.”

“What exactly are you prepared to do?” At Asada’s threatening words, Shizuko—summoning every ounce of courage—retorted, her pallid face tinged with a faint flush. “With just a word from me, Mr. Shikura will go to prison. After all, it’s no minor crime. If he goes to prison, who knows when he’ll ever get out? Madam, do you truly wish to see Mr. Shikura groaning in a cell, clad in red prison garb?”

“If Shikura is guilty, then there is nothing to be done.”

“Madam, you certainly do say such resolute things!”

Asada’s voice trembled. “Don’t say such cold things—please grant my wish.” “I’m not saying this lightly.” “I care for you from the depths of my heart.” “Please—if you reject me, my life will lose all meaning.” “Madam, please grant my wish.”

“Mr. Asada. “It is truly an honor that you hold me in such regard, but... “There is a maid present. “Please take your leave. “Moreover, first and foremost, you already have the splendid Mrs. Oshino, do you not?”

“Oshino isn’t an issue. I’ll throw out that uneducated simpleton tomorrow and be done with her. Madam, please give me a favorable answer.”

“Mr. Asada—” “You see how it is, Madam.”

Asada lowered his head, placing both hands on the tatami as if to press his forehead against it. "Oh my, you mustn't go to such lengths!" "If you reject me, I cannot go on living." Asada let out a sob. "Please, Madam—it's the wish of a lifetime." "That is simply impossible." "Please don't say such things—" "Please leave now." Shizuko said sharply before she could stop herself. "Then what do you want?" Asada changed his attitude.

“Even after I’ve said this much, you still refuse to grant my wish?” “There is nothing to be done.” “Madam, you’ve truly humiliated me. Now that it’s come to this, Asada is still a man. I won’t leave meekly.”

“———” Shizuko was overcome with intense anxiety; shrinking her body, she peered at Asada’s demeanor. “Please consider it once more carefully.” He said, breathing heavily. “There is nothing more to consider.”

Asada wordlessly rose to his feet. Shizuko braced herself, trembling all over.

Asada closed in on her inch by inch, like a wild beast stalking its prey.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shizuko desperately mustered all her strength and screamed. “I-I’ll raise my voice if you do something rude!” However, such efforts only served to add fuel to the flames. Triggered by her scream, Asada lunged. Shizuko desperately writhed. But in the end, it was nothing more than the sad, futile struggle of a mouse caught in a cat’s grasp. Asada pinned her arms behind her back inch by inch. Shizuko—being a delicate woman with a fragile heart, especially since her assailant was Asada who had until now been kind to her—hesitated somewhat to raise her voice and call for the maid, so she continued to writhe in silence; Asada seized this opportunity to try to pin her down. She could no longer endure. Just as she thought to call for help—though it was some distance away—footsteps sounded.

Asada, startled, released his grip around her. Seizing the opportunity, she fled. Asada immediately gave chase. A struggle erupted. The sliding door came loose with a clattering crash. There came the pattering sound of someone rushing over. Shizuko writhed desperately to escape Asada's clutches—the sudden scuffle produced another clattering crash—and who should come running at the noise but Oshino, her face contorted like a wrathful demon.

Asada, startled, released the hand that had seized Shizuko. Shizuko started back in surprise and tugged her disheveled hem together.

Oshino suddenly sank her teeth into Asada like a lioness. "What the hell kind of game are you playing?!" Oshino forced out a tearful voice while adopting a warrior’s stance toward Asada. Asada tried to shake Oshino off, but though she was a woman, she had put all her strength into it, so he couldn’t free himself with gentle efforts. He raised his large fist and struck Oshino’s cheek, sending her flying. Then they punched, kicked, bit—the chaotic struggle continued for some time. Oshino, choking back tears of frustration, cried out desperately.

“How infuriating! You dare mock people! You dare take advantage when my husband’s away! What the hell is this?!” “No matter how much I shouted at the front door—even though the wooden clogs were properly taken off—you didn’t answer! I thought it was strange when I heard a clattering racket from the back, so I came to check—and this is what I find!” “What a disgraceful thing you’re doing!” “How infuriating! How utterly infuriating!” “Shut up.” Asada’s eyebrows shot up like those of a wrathful demon.

“If you keep spouting that nonsense, I won’t let you off easy!” “What the hell? ‘Won’t let me off easy’—that’s rich! You’re the one pullin’ this shameful act! What’re you gonna do with me now?” “If you’re gonna kill me, then go ahead and do it!” “Shut up!” Asada shouted. “Who the hell would kill scum like you?” “We can’t talk here. Go home.” “Like hell I’m goin’ home like this!” “I ain’t movin’ an inch till I get this settled right here!”

“If I say leave, then leave!” “No way! Mrs. Shikura—do somethin’ to end this!” Shizuko watched with bated breath, her face deathly pale and shoulders heaving, as the shameful marital scuffle unfolded before her eyes—but she could do nothing. Asada finally twisted Oshino’s arm upward and dragged her away bodily.

“Mrs. Shikura.” As he was leaving the room, Asada fixed a fierce glare on Shizuko and said,

“I must apologize for my rudeness.” “I’ll be sure to repay this kindness someday.” Shizuko trembled violently and lowered her face. Clutching the wailing Oshino firmly under his arm, Asada stepped out to the entryway—and jerked to a halt. Detective Negishi stood rigidly there, with a cold smile playing on his lips. Since being interrogated once by the police, Asada had come to view Detective Negishi as having an unsettling air about him—and now, at this very moment, here the man stood suddenly before his eyes. It was no wonder Asada was so shocked. He involuntarily released his grip on Oshino.

“Take a good look at this mess!”

Oshino began to shout. "Since Mr. Detective came saying he had business with you, I figured you'd probably be holed up here, so I brought him along." "Without even knowing that, you pulled such a stupid stunt and made me go through this awful ordeal!" "Huh, you didn't notice a detective was waiting in the entryway, did you?" "Serves you right!" "Come on, Mr. Detective—hurry up and haul this bastard away!"

“Starting a married couple’s quarrel in broad daylight—I must say, that’s impressive.”

Detective Negishi smirked. “This ain’t no married couple’s squabble! This bastard here was tryin’ to—” Asada clamped down on Oshino as she tried to shout. “Mr. Negishi—do you require something from me?” “Yes. There are a few matters I’d like clarified at the station.” “Understood. I’ll accompany you immediately.”

Unearthing the Grave

In a closed-door room at the Ushigome Kagurazaka Police Station, four men—Chief Shōji, Judicial Officer Ōshima, and Detectives Negishi and Ishiko—sat with tense expressions, deliberating over some matter. “So what’s the verdict?”

Judicial Officer Ōshima said to Ishiko.

“So you’re saying the corpse pulled from that old well in Ikedagahara, Osaki, could be Kobayashi Sadako—the woman who worked as a maid in Shikura’s household three years back before disappearing?” “That’s correct.”

Detective Ishiko answered.

“The corpse had been dead for six months—meaning the time of death coincides exactly with when the woman went missing. The woman named Sadako has been missing for three years with no word, so it’s reasonable to conclude she’s already dead. And since the woman retrieved from that well still remains unidentified, we can consider the possibility that they’re the same person. Moreover, the well is located in Osaki, and if we suspect Shikura threw that woman into it—well, given the well’s proximity to his residence, it would’ve been a convenient spot to lure her out and dump her in. I can’t help but think it must be that girl.”

“I see.” Judicial Officer Ōshima nodded deeply. “However, there’s a discrepancy regarding the age.” “According to the police doctor’s report from that time, it states she was twenty-two or twenty-three years old.” “But in reality, she was actually fifteen or sixteen.” “Hmm.” The judicial officer fell into deep thought. “Despite the age discrepancy, the reason I still insist it might be her is due to the following facts.” “When I went to Takanawa Police Station to investigate Shikura’s arson case, I incidentally learned about an unidentified drowned body. But strangely enough, a young man named Kishimoto—who volunteered to infiltrate Asada the photographer’s place as an informant on my behalf—uncovered similar information.”

“Did you extract this information at Asada’s residence?”

“That’s correct. Asada’s wife—a woman called Oshino—says she went to see the woman’s corpse in question when it was pulled from the well at Ikedagahara.” “What?!”

The judicial officer leaned forward. "So, are you saying she recognized the corpse or something?"

“If that were the case, there’d be no issue, but...”

At the judicial officer’s hasty remark, Ishiko forced a bitter smile, “After all, having been in the well for six months, identification would be impossible.” “Then what are you getting at?” “According to Oshino, when she went to see the corpse, she unexpectedly encountered Shikura at the scene.” “Hmm…” “And the two of them discussed how, though she appeared quite young, she’d met such a pitiful end.”

“I see.” “The fact that Shikura went to see the corpse—shouldn’t that strike us as highly significant?”

“That’s right.” Judicial Officer Ōshima nodded as he said, “From our motto that ‘the culprit will surely return to the scene of the crime,’ Shikura visiting the old well in Ikedagahara to see the corpse becomes an undeniable fact we must consider.” “And from a criminal psychology perspective,” Detective Negishi interjected, “it’s particularly intriguing that Shikura told Mrs. Asada, ‘I don’t know who this woman was, but what a pitiful end.’”

Detective Negishi, who had excused himself from Asada's interrogation to attend this meeting specifically, interjected. "I also think so, but..."

Detective Ishiko answered without enthusiasm. “It’s really about the age issue.” “The age of a drowned corpse that’s been dead for six months can’t be accurately determined.”

Police Chief Shōji, who had been listening in silence until now, spoke up for the first time.

"So—has that corpse been ruled a homicide or suicide?" "It was classified as suicide." Ishiko answered the police chief’s question. "However, there’s been no judicial inquest." "The police doctor only performed a cursory examination." "What was the well’s condition back then? Could someone have fallen in accidentally?" "Well..."

Ishiko flinched slightly under the police chief’s relentless barrage of questions,

“Well... this happened over three years ago. The well was filled in afterward, making it difficult to determine anything conclusively.” “However, based on our investigation records, there was indeed a proper well curb installed. It seems unlikely someone could have fallen in accidentally.”

“Hmph.” Police Chief Shōji blinked rapidly while pressing, “So what then—is there any evidence suggesting that girl committed a premeditated suicide? You’re telling me there wasn’t even a single suicide note?” “There isn’t even a single suicide note,” Ishiko answered. “Moreover, she was only fifteen or sixteen at the time—from what I’ve heard, she was somewhat absent-minded and not the type to dwell on things. It’s hard to believe she committed suicide.” “Then if it’s neither accident nor suicide,” Shōji concluded, “it must be murder.”

“Well, even granting that corpse is indeed the girl called Sadako...” “The age discrepancy holds no water.” The police chief pressed decisively. “In my view, we must conduct an examination of that corpse.”

“But, Chief...”

Judicial Officer Ōshima called out.

“However, that corpse has been classified as a suicide.” “That classification isn’t definitive either, is it?”

Negishi interjected. "If we're dealing with a drowned corpse six months post-mortem, we can't definitively state whether it's suicide or murder." "That's also true." Judicial Officer Ōshima nodded, but— "It was downright negligent of Takanawa Station to settle for a routine administrative inquest instead of conducting a judicial one."

“You see, it’s...” Detective Ishiko said.

“It’s the result of a jurisdictional tug-of-war with Shinagawa Station.” “After all, that field lies precisely on the boundary between the two stations.” “So when Takanawa Station ultimately ended up shouldering responsibility, I think they likely just conducted a pro forma inquest while grumbling ‘What a nuisance’.”

“Criticism from other stations is a secondary concern.”

The police chief said.

“What do you say we examine that corpse?” “Well...” Judicial Officer Ōshima looked around at the faces of the two detectives.

“Exhuming the corpse would be troublesome, and if it turns out not to be her...” Detective Ishiko said after a moment’s thought. “I think it would be good if we gave it a try.” Detective Negishi said. “Looking at Shikura’s past methods, he wouldn’t hesitate to go that far. If it were just a trivial matter of stealing a Bible, there’d be no need for him to flee and hide like this—no reason to mock the police so persistently either. That he excels in such cunning is truly astonishing. He’s the kind of guy who’d commit murder without batting an eye.”

“I agree with that opinion too, but that’s separate from whether the corpse in question is Kobayashi Sadako or not.” “But according to your account, isn’t this ninety-nine percent certain to be the missing maid’s corpse?” “I do think so, but given the age discrepancy, the fact that it was found six months after drowning, and that it’s been nearly three years since burial, I don’t believe we’ll identify who it is even if we exhume it.” “From the perspective of the age discrepancy, it’s indeed something to consider.” “If it turns out wrong, there’s the matter of responsibility.”

“Why don’t we give it a try?”

The police chief raised his voice and slammed his fist down on the desk. "If we're wrong, so be it. That ends the matter." "I'll shoulder full responsibility."

“Agreed.” At the Police Chief’s declaration about assuming responsibility, Judicial Officer Ōshima’s ruddy face tensed. “Let us proceed with exhuming the corpse. I will take responsibility—there’s no need to involve the Chief.” “I concur.”

Detective Negishi said. “If the Police Chief states it thus, then I too can proceed with confidence.” “Let’s proceed.” Detective Ishiko said, putting force into the end of his words. "Then, regarding the excavation site and other arrangements, we'll have Detective Ishiko handle them." Judicial Officer Ōshima said.

“Understood.”

Once the discussion was settled, Detective Ishiko energetically set off for Ōsaki Public Cemetery.

However, the problem was not that simple. The temporary burial of unidentified corpses had been conducted in a corner of the cemetery within an area of just over ten tsubo (about 33 square meters); however, there were no markers whatsoever erected—not even grave markers.

They couldn’t even begin to determine where exactly the corpse retrieved from the well three years prior had been buried. But if we dig them all up indiscriminately, there’s no way to prove which corpse is which. In short, they had no choice but to seek out someone who knew where that corpse had been buried here. Detective Ishiko found himself suddenly at a loss.

In any case, he sought out those who had long worked as gravediggers in this cemetery. Fortunately, he managed to locate two or three laborers. However, when asked about the corpse from three years prior, they all responded in unison, “Well…” They tilted their heads slightly. Detective Ishiko became frantic. After he had gone to the trouble of proposing it, and even the Police Chief and Judicial Officer had willingly agreed to the exhumation, now that the time had come, not knowing the burial location was simply unacceptable. He earnestly made inquiries around the public cemetery. And so, that evening, he finally managed to locate a graveyard laborer and was able to learn—though only vaguely—the circumstances of that time.

“Well…”

The gravedigger tilted his sunbaked, deeply wrinkled face with a scrutinizing look, "Yes, it's been three years now." "It was the hot season." "We buried a girl's corpse pulled from a well—so bloated and swollen you couldn't recognize her face." "She wore a kimono with big flower patterns and a dark satin obi, if I recall." "Wh-what did you say?"

Detective Ishiko asked again, as if doubting his own ears. According to what he had once heard from Shikura's wife Shizuko, hadn't the maid O-Sada been wearing a peony-patterned muslin kimono with a black satin obi when she disappeared? "Well now, about things like the kimono—I know every detail," the gravedigger said defensively, startled by Ishiko's intensity. "You see... When you looked at the kimono, she wore this flashy childlike thing, but the obi was dark like an old woman's—get it? And though her frame seemed childish..." He gave an awkward chuckle.

The gravedigger laughed servilely. "In front of you, sir, but... well, that... wasn't childlike at all—fully developed into a proper adult." "So we workmates made bets about what age she really was." "That's why I remember it so clearly."

As he listened, the dark shadow that had been hanging over Detective Ishiko’s head gradually cleared like morning mist. The point about the age he had been worried about also appeared to have an explanation. The conviction that this was undoubtedly O-Sada’s corpse solidified within him.

The next morning, a large automobile roared its engine valiantly in front of Kagurazaka Police Station. In the car were Judicial Officer Ōshima, Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe, four or five other plainclothes officers, uniformed policemen, and a guide gravedigger—all boarding with tense expressions. They were headed to Ōsaki Cemetery to exhume a corpse—discovered half a year after death, buried for three years, under suspicion of murder. Before long, the automobile roared to life and began racing forward.

The sky hung thickly overcast, beneath which leaden-gray clouds of sinister form stretched and shrank like eerie living creatures as they were swept southwestward by the northeastern wind, streaming ever further away. On a spacious, slightly elevated hill, hundreds of tombstones—large and small—lay jumbled irregularly together. Among them stood wooden stupas inscribed with Sanskrit characters: some weathered black by wind and rain, others still fresh with the scent of timber, intermingled with half-torn white paper lanterns. The reddish-black soil around the gravestones had swollen grotesquely under the lingering cold’s severity that still refused to abate. From the crematorium’s chimney across a distant valley rose what was likely the residual smoke from bodies burned throughout the night—a faintly yellowish haze hanging heavy in the air.

There was hardly a soul in the cemetery.

At that very moment, as if to startle the spirits resting eternally beneath the tombstones, a large automobile roared with a deafening engine clamor and came rushing headlong toward Ōsaki Town's public cemetery. Soon the automobile came to an abrupt halt at the cemetery entrance. Those who noisily disembarked from within were the excavation team dispatched from Kagurazaka Police Station.

In one corner of the cemetery lay a flat area measuring about thirty-three square meters. To those who passed by absentmindedly, it might have appeared as nothing more than an empty lot. However, this was the place where unidentified corpses without claimants had been temporarily buried. There were no tombstones to begin with, nor even grave markers; the soil that had been mounded ever so slightly at the time of burial had been washed away by rain and weathered by wind, until it had lost all form at some unknown point.

The group of police officers, led by the guide gravedigger, stood before the empty lot. Though born as fellow humans who meet the same mortal end and enter eternal slumber, some rest beneath towering tombstones in grand stone-walled cemeteries, reverently memorialized by their descendants. Even if not to that extent, it would be ordinary for each gravestone to have at least an offering of incense and flowers. And what misfortune could there be in that? The people buried in this corner are interred as carelessly as dogs or cats, their very names unknown. Of course, they were not people who died on tatami mats. Yet few who stand in this corner of the cemetery would indulge in such sentimental reflections. People living urban lives are far too busy to spare time for such thoughts. All the more so for those gathered here now—Judicial Officer Ōshima and his police colleagues—who had come to exhume an unidentified corpse buried three years prior under suspicion of murder; each face showed extraordinary tension, leaving no room for such trivial sympathies.

“Where is it?” Judicial Officer Ōshima turned to the guide gravedigger and barked. “Here it is.” The gravedigger pointed to the center of the empty lot.

“Alright, dig it out.”

As soon as the judicial officer's order was issued, the two or three gravediggers who had been waiting with shovels in hand gathered into a cluster and moved to the indicated spot. Before long, the tip of a shovel sank crisply into the soft red soil. One strike, two strikes—before their eyes, the hole was being dug. The police officers stared fixedly in silence. Somehow having heard the news, about ten people—landladies from the neighboring tenements and children—had gathered in a loose circle at a distance, looking disheveled.

Raindrops fell intermittently from the sky. A cold wind that seeped beneath the skin passed through the unobstructed field. The excavated soil gradually piled higher around the hole. As the grave was not particularly deep, the gravediggers' shovels soon struck something. Peering into the hole in unison, they abruptly stopped shoveling and signaled to the police officers. Detective Ishiko, who had been waiting impatiently, rushed forward to peer into the hole. At the bottom lay part of a skeleton.

When part of the skeleton began to emerge, the gravediggers carefully started moving their shovels. Before long, a complete human skeleton was unearthed. The corpse had likely been placed in a coffin at the time of burial—crude as it was—but now it had decayed to the point where not even a fragment could be discerned. Not even what appeared to be fragments of clothing remained. The skeleton was promptly placed into a prepared unpainted wooden box and loaded into the automobile. When the judicial officer and his team boarded, the automobile once again raised a deafening roar and drove off triumphantly as if trumpeting victory.

The skeleton was transported as-is to the Metropolitan Police Department’s Forensic Division. Drowned bodies or those that have been brutally murdered are things that even close relatives cannot easily identify. Moreover, the corpse they had now exhumed had already been submerged in the well for six months by the time it was retrieved, making it exceedingly difficult to determine its identity. Indeed, was Shikura—who was under suspicion of having thrown this woman into the well—not calmly going to view this corpse at the time to confirm that no one realized she had been his housemaid?

After three years of burial, with the corpse now completely transformed into bones, how could they possibly determine where it had come from or who it was? After placing the skeleton at the Forensic Division, Detective Ishiko decided to remain until the forensic work was completed, while the rest of the party once again drove off in the automobile to return to the station for the time being.

Police Chief Shōji was waiting to see how the results would turn out. “Well? Did you manage to unearth it successfully?” The moment he saw Judicial Officer Ōshima’s face, he called out to him. “Yes, there was a skeleton that appeared to have been buried for quite some time precisely at the spot indicated by the gravediggers.” “I see. So you referred it to the Forensic Division.” “Yes.” “I wonder if they’ll manage the analysis properly.”

“I believe there should be no issue. We have ascertained Kobayashi Sadako’s skeletal characteristics and obtained fragments of her clothing.”

“I see.”

The police chief thought for a moment, "What's the status of Shikura's arrest? You're making no progress at all." "I'm terribly sorry." The judicial officer bowed his head.

“Since Negishi has summoned and is interrogating that photographer Asada, I believe it won’t be long before his hiding place is discovered.” “That Asada fellow seems like a tough customer, but do you think Negishi can handle him?”

“I don’t believe there’s cause for concern regarding Negishi, but should circumstances require it, I shall conduct the interrogation myself. There’s no matter grave enough to trouble you with this, Chief.” “If you insist, I’ll entrust this to Negishi for the time being. Now—when might we expect the forensic findings?” “As Ishiko remains at their disposal, he’s been instructed to return and report immediately upon their determination.”

At that moment, there was a rapping at the door.

When Judicial Officer Ōshima stood up and opened the door, Detective Ishiko—his face as pale as a corpse’s—staggered in. “Wh-what’s wrong with you?”

Judicial Officer Ōshima cried out in surprise.

“Chief!” Detective Ishiko gasped painfully and forced out a strained voice. “I... I’ll resign.”

“What’s wrong?” The police chief gazed suspiciously at his face while, “Pull yourself together—suddenly talking about resigning makes no sense. Explain yourself.” “The corpse was different. It’s completely different!” “What?!” The police chief and the judicial officer simultaneously exclaimed in shock. “It’s completely different! The corpse we dug up this morning was that of an old man.”

Detective Ishiko said with a pained expression, his words halting. The police chief and the judicial officer involuntarily exchanged glances.

At Detective Ishiko’s unexpected report, the police chief involuntarily exchanged glances with the judicial officer, then said calmly: “You mustn’t get so worked up. “Now calm down a bit more and try to explain in detail.”

“Yes, Chief.”

Ishiko, somewhat ashamed of his own far too flustered appearance, “I believe you have already heard from the Chief about our earlier exhumation of a skeletonized corpse from Ōsaki Cemetery and its transfer to the Forensic Division.” "I remained alone and waited for the results." The doctor who happened to be present tilted his head slightly and, “This is strange. “This isn’t a woman’s corpse.” ...he had said this, and while I was growing somewhat worried, Dr. Ōi from Tokyo Imperial University—who had come on unrelated business—arrived and began intently examining it for some time...

“You—these are a man’s bones.” “And what’s more—an old man’s.” he said. “Unlike an ordinary person’s assessment, since it was Dr. Ōi’s appraisal, it’s hopeless.”

“Hmm, I see.”

The police chief nodded while,

“In other words, the corpse we exhumed was the wrong one, then?” “That doesn’t mean the corpse retrieved from the Ikedagahara well—the one in question—was male, does it?”

“Yes.” “Then that means the woman’s corpse pulled up from the well must be buried somewhere in the cemetery.”

“Yes. That’s correct. If Takanawa Station’s records aren’t wrong, then it should be buried somewhere in that cemetery.” “How could Takanawa Station’s records possibly be wrong? The laborer who guided you there admitted to handling such a corpse three years ago, didn’t he?” “Yes—but when we dug where he remembered, an old man’s corpse came out.” “But—”

The Police Chief said, cutting him off.

“The laborer could not have remembered the location that accurately. A meter or two off in either direction—you’d never tell the difference.”

“That may be so, but—” Ishiko wore a perplexed expression as he continued, “With such random digging methods, conclusively proving whether it’s the target corpse would become exceedingly troublesome.” “Troublesome or not, if it’s buried there we’ll dig it up,” countered the police chief. “Besides, don’t they have a general idea of the location?”

“That may be so, but—”

“We’ll dig again. What do you think, Ōshima?” “Indeed.” The judicial officer answered.

“We must dig once more.” “We cannot possibly leave matters as they stand.” “There’s no conceivable reason for the buried corpse not to exist.” “We’ll persist until we unearth it.” “Or perhaps you—”

The police chief turned toward Ishiko, “Are you suggesting you’ve given up?” “No, that’s not it.”

Ishiko answered with slightly more force. “If you permit it, Chief, I’ll dig however many times it takes.” “But if we still fail to identify the target corpse after all that, it would create complications. That’s why I thought it better to accept responsibility now and resign.” “Resigning isn’t as monumental as you’re making it seem.” “Aren’t you handling a major investigation—a three-year-old murder case where nearly all evidence has been obliterated?” “How can you lose heart over such a minor setback?”

“Yes.” “A mistake is a mistake.” “Proceed mightily!” “Hearing you say that makes me feel greatly reassured.” Ishiko, deeply moved, “I’ll do it.” “I’ll do it with all my might.”

Ishiko, with determination coloring his features, bowed once and approached the doorway with a stride that could only be called courage incarnate.

The police chief had been watching his departure with evident satisfaction when something made him call out.

“Ah—you there—Detective Ishiko—pray wait a moment.”

Detective Ishiko, who had been stopped just as he was about to exit through the doorway, returned with a faint look of unease. "Is there something you require?" "Right—I'll come along when we exhume the cemetery."

“What?” Detective Ishiko looked up at the chief’s face in surprise. “I’ll go and attend as well. That way is better.” “But Chief, sir—”

The judicial officer interjected.

"If you go, and if—" "You mean if we err this time, we'll be left without recourse." "I'll shoulder all responsibility." "I'm not base enough to blame subordinates for failure." "So my presence makes no difference either way." "My being there will surely bolster Detective Ishiko's resolve." "That's true."

The judicial officer nodded.

“Then let’s all head out tomorrow.”

“However,”

The judicial officer still seemed hesitant. "If we fail this time, this case will be buried in obscurity forever with no arrests made." "You're obsessed with failure alone." The police chief said reproachfully. "Even a corpse buried three years ago must have been properly interred, and there's no reason we can't prove it." "Police officers can't wallow in such timidity." "Our mission is to eradicate evil from this world." "To do that, we must arrest wrongdoers and bring them before judges." "When villains won't hand us clear evidence forever, we must sometimes take risks." "Proactive searches naturally involve some danger." "But can we really wait around for evidence to become crystal clear before making arrests?"

“That accords precisely with your reasoning.”

The judicial officer answered quietly. “Then let us advance with certainty to gather the evidentiary items that will substantiate Shikura’s past crimes.” “Understood.”

Ōshima Judicial Officer answered.

“I’m not advocating passivity for its own sake.” “With you so resolved, Chief, sir, this becomes greatly encouraging.” “We will locate the corpse without fail.” “Very well—tomorrow I shall go to the cemetery myself.” The police chief had declared this decisively, then continued: “And you must apprehend Shikura at the earliest possible hour.” “Three weeks—nearly four—have passed since his escape.” “Does he not still send letters daily to this station? Letters crammed with nothing but mockery and scorn?” “The man’s insolence knows no bounds.” “We must capture him without delay.”

“Please rest assured on that point.”

The judicial officer said. “The interrogation of Asada is proceeding smoothly. Before long, his whereabouts should be discovered. Actually, I want Detective Ishiko reassigned to that task sooner, but it’s being held up by this crucial matter of exhuming the corpse.” “I too want to be reassigned to Shikura’s arrest without a moment’s delay. He has been subjecting me to relentless insults.” “Yes, that’s right. You must apprehend him, or your honor as a man won’t stand. I shall place great expectations on you.”

The Police Chief nodded deeply, but soon composed himself resolutely, “Well then, in any case, tomorrow we shall all go to the cemetery and dig up the target corpse.”

“Understood.” “Then we shall make all necessary preparations.” “And you—” The judicial officer turned toward Detective Ishiko, “The corpse we dug up today must be reburied in its original place tomorrow.” “That’s correct.”

Ishiko answered.

“We’ll take it with us when we head out tomorrow.”

Ōshima Judicial Officer and Detective Ishiko bowed respectfully to the Police Chief and stood up. The faces of both men were filled with firm resolve.

Ah, would they indeed exhume the corpse buried three years prior and uncover Shikura’s past misdeeds?

The night passed in anxiety and impatience for Ōshima Judicial Officer, Detective Ishiko, and all Kagurazaka Station personnel, who had failed in their exhumation of the corpse.

The following morning was another gloomy day, with dark clouds hanging low and occasional pale sunlight breaking through—just like the day before. In the large automobile from the previous day, Police Chief Shōji—newly boarded—took position at the center, and together with the mistakenly exhumed skeletal coffin, they raced toward Ōsaki Cemetery, at times raising clouds of sand, at times kicking up clods of mud. Having learned from yesterday’s failure, Detective Ishiko briefly explained the situation to the gravedigger guides and ordered them to carefully reconsider the burial location.

“I do believe it’s around where we dug yesterday, but…” The gravedigger’s face, wrinkled like tanned crepe paper, showed bewilderment as he— “It might have been a bit more to the left.” “I suppose so.” “Let’s dig it up again.”

Having said that, the gravedigger proceeded to the middle of the cemetery and pointed to a spot immediately adjacent to where they had dug up the ground the day before. “Let’s try digging around here this time.” Following the gravedigger, Detective Ishiko turned toward Police Chief Shōji, who was approaching in large strides a short distance behind. “Let’s try digging here once more.” “Very well.” The Police Chief nodded deeply. With a grunt, the gravedigger thrust his shovel into the soft red soil. Police Chief Shōji and three or four officers standing around silently watched the movements of the gravedigger’s hands.

The hole gradually widened. As a single clump of reddish-black soil was flung vigorously from the shovel, crumbled fragments of yellowish earth tumbled into the hole in its place.

Before long, part of a skeleton appeared at the bottom of the hole, just as it had the day before. Detective Ishiko watched, holding his breath, as the skeleton gradually revealed its entirety. The exhumed skeleton had become almost entirely bones. Both the coffin and the clothing had decayed to the point where almost no trace remained. Only on the part of the corpse’s back that had presumably been pressed beneath it remained a few tattered fabric fragments. Detective Ishiko carefully spread out those fabric fragments on the ground to examine them. The fabric fragments were layered, with what lay beneath appearing to be part of an obi, and what was on top seeming to be part of a kimono. The item believed to be part of an obi was a darkish color and appeared to be a section of something relatively wide. Detective Ishiko, his face brightening with visible delight as he examined them, called out to Judicial Officer Ōshima, who was staring uneasily at the skeletal remains.

“Judicial Officer Sir, this appears to be part of a woman’s obi.” “Indeed, it does seem to be as you say.” Judicial Officer Ōshima gazed fixedly at the fabric fragments, “This one seems to be part of a kimono, but the color has completely faded—it’s hard to tell for certain—though there does appear to be some sort of pattern here.” “The base fabric also seems to be muslin, doesn’t it?” “Yeah, seems that way after all.” “Then—” Detective Ishiko’s face brightened further, “The clothing details match those of the corpse in question. Hey, you.”

He turned toward the gravedigger, "You said the woman was wearing a patterned muslin kimono with a black satin obi, didn't you?" "Yes, that's correct." The gravedigger nodded.

“That exactly matches the clothing Kobayashi Sada was wearing at the time of her disappearance.” Detective Ishiko said to the Judicial Officer. “Well then,” Having been silently listening to Ishiko’s explanation until now, the Police Chief smiled slightly for the first time. “This must be the one.” “Yes.” Detective Ishiko turned back toward Police Chief Shōji. “I believe this matches without discrepancy.” “Mmm.” The Police Chief said with a satisfied look,

“Judging by the skeleton’s measurements, it appears to be that of a young girl.” “Very well. Let’s take this and withdraw.” Under the Police Chief’s orders, the elderly man’s skeleton from the previous day was reburied in its original hole, and the newly exhumed skeleton was placed inside the coffin.

Daybreak

Whether the skeleton exhumed during this second attempt proved to be Kobayashi Sada or whether suicide could be distinguished from homicide—we shall reserve discussion of those appraisal results for later and instead turn our attention to examining the detectives' room at Kagurazaka Station.

The detectives’ room—a bare ten-tatami space with a sturdy three-foot doorway offering no means of entry or exit—was relatively bright from light streaming through its two windows. Yet anyone brought into this room, surrounded by rough-looking men with terrifying glares and subjected to sharp questioning, would surely tremble in fear. All the more so for those with even the slightest shadow over their conscience—shrinking back and being overwhelmed with fear was only natural. However, among them were stubborn tough individuals who sometimes tenaciously resisted even the detectives’ rough interrogations. Photographer Asada was one such case.

“So what’s this? You’re still insisting you don’t know Shikura’s whereabouts?” Detective Negishi fixed his interrogation subject with a gaze from eyes so cold and piercing they would have made most men tremble. “I don’t know.” Surrounded by Detective Watanabe and two other investigators, Asada answered composedly despite the pallor creeping across his swarthy features. “Enough of this!”

Detective Negishi pressed harder, his frustration showing through his strained voice. "How long do you plan to keep hiding it? You must know where Shikura is!" "No matter how many times you ask me, I don't know." "Hmph, still playing tough? You were exchanging letters with him nearly every day." "I did correspond with him. But it was through a photo studio called Ōuchi—never directly."

“So there you go.” Detective Negishi pressed insistently, “Name the intermediary house you’re using!” “Since the Ōuchi location was exposed, we agreed to prepare another place and notify him—but he never contacted us. I truly don’t know where he is now.” “Don’t spout nonsense! Those arrangements must’ve been finalized properly. You must have some inkling what crimes Shikura’s committed. Don’t you know harboring criminals is itself a crime?!”

“I know.” “Then you’d better tell us Shikura’s whereabouts right away.”

“I can’t say because I don’t know.” “Damn, you’re a stubborn bastard. Hey, you—just what day do you think this is since they detained you?”

“You’re precisely the one who ought to know that best.” Asada replied with an expression of smoldering resentment. “Hmph.”

Negishi sneered, “Today marks the third day. At first I took a humble approach, thinking to make you confess straightforwardly without angering you. I generally dislike rough methods—never used such harsh words with anyone I’ve questioned—but dealing with someone as stubborn as you leaves me no choice. If this Negishi snaps, you’ve no idea what’ll happen.”

It wasn’t particularly loud, but Negishi’s interrogation carried a certain visceral force that struck deep into the core with each thrust. And the eeriness of his glaring eyes. Even Asada couldn’t suppress a shudder. Yet he too was no ordinary schemer. Asada firmly planted his strength in his diaphragm, rebounding Detective Negishi’s threatening words as he declared resolutely. “No matter what you say, I don’t know because I don’t know.” “Just what are you—” Detective Negishi softened his demeanor slightly as he,

“What obligation makes you work for Shikura’s benefit like this?” “There’s no particular obligation.”

"Hmph, is that so?"

Negishi wore a sneering smile as he— “Then you must have some purpose.” When Detective Negishi suggested there must be some purpose behind his efforts to benefit Shikura, Asada was momentarily startled—yet his expression showed no sign of it as he replied with perfect composure.

“I have no motive at all.” “Is that so?”

Negishi grinned slyly. "You’ve been coming and going so frequently to Shikura’s vacant house—I can’t help but think you had some scheme in mind." “——” Asada bit his lip in silence. "When I was taken by your wife to Shikura’s residence, there seemed to be some commotion, didn’t there?" “——”

“Your wife—you called her Oshino, didn’t you?—was absolutely furious.” “The problem is she’s utterly uncouth, shouting wherever she pleases.”

Asada answered in fragments. “You can’t just say that and leave it at it. At that time, it seems you were the one at fault, huh?” “Why do you say that?”

“Hey, Asada.”

Negishi stiffened. “If you think playing innocent will settle this, you’re dead wrong.” “I know everything.” “When you say ‘everything,’ what exactly are you referring to?” Asada feigned ignorance. “What you did to Shikura’s wife.”

Negishi continued to bellow. "What do you mean by that?"

“Idiot! Are you still spouting such transparent nonsense?! Did you underestimate Negishi? Do you know what kind of man Negishi is? Show some damn respect and confess before you get hurt!” “——”

Asada did not answer. “Alright—what you did at Shikura’s empty house, we’ll find out immediately by summoning Oshino.” “Hey, Watanabe!”

Negishi called Detective Watanabe.

“Bring Oshino here at once.” “Very well.”

Detective Watanabe sprang to his feet. “Wait a moment, please.”

Asada panicked and called out. "What's this about?"

Detective Watanabe answered mockingly. “Please wait before calling Oshino.” “If you tell me to wait, then I might just wait.” Watanabe stared fixedly at Asada while, “What’s your reason for telling me to wait?” “The problem is she’s not very bright—she’ll shout about anything without thinking, you see—” “What’s wrong with that?” Watanabe cut in brusquely. “If you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about, it shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”

“But the thing is—” Asada looked perplexed, “She’ll blabber about fact and fiction.” “If there’s nothing to it, you shouldn’t have anything to fear, should you?” “Well, that’s true, but—” “Watanabe.” Negishi called out impatiently.

“What’s the point dithering about asking the same thing over and over?” “Go summon Oshino at once.”

“Understood.”

Watanabe answered energetically. “I’ll go right away.” “W-wait a moment, please!”

Asada panicked. “There’s no point calling that good-for-nothing.”

“Hey—” Negishi glared daggers at Asada, “You’ve been up to no good—something your wife’s been yapping about.”

“That’s not true!”

“If you’re merely aiding Shikura’s escape, there’s no reason to fear your wife so much.” “I’d always figured you weren’t one to be handled with a single rope—but you’re tangled up in something bigger, aren’t you?”

"There’s absolutely nothing of the sort!" "That must be the case. We’ll dig up every last thing—so brace yourself." "Huh? I don’t recall anything like that though."

Asada said resignedly. “There’s no helping it. I’ll tell you everything.” At Asada’s words—“I’ll tell you everything”—Detective Negishi was inwardly delighted, but maintaining a look of feigned ignorance, “If you’re this forthcoming, there’s no need for any unpleasantness. Depending on how things go, we could even release you right away.” “Then what? If I tell you everything, will you let me go home right away?” Asada leaned forward slightly.

“That’s been obvious from the start, hasn’t it? I have no intention of slapping you around any further and stirring up pointless dust.” “If you’d told me that from the beginning, I would’ve immediately shared everything I know.”

“Haven’t I been saying that from the start?” “You never said anything like that! You were just threatening me recklessly all along—” “There’s no need to bring that up now, is there?”

Negishi smirked. "If you've come to your senses, why don't you tell us everything properly?" "I'll talk." Asada answered with a solemn expression. "By the way, Mr. Negishi, I truly don't know where Shikura is right now."

“What?!” Negishi raised his voice. “It’s true. Why would I lie at this critical juncture? I really don’t know.” “Hmph. So you know absolutely nothing?”

Negishi softened his tone slightly and spoke in a manner that suggested he was half-convinced, half-doubting. "I truly don't know. However, he was supposed to contact me soon. So depending on how things went, there might already be a letter at my house." "Shut up!"

Detective Negishi shouted. "Do you think this Negishi would swallow such bait? We've already confirmed whether any letters from Shikura arrived at your place or not. With that honeyed tongue of yours, we won't be letting you off easy!" "Then what?" Asada looked suspiciously at Negishi while asking, "Hasn't any letter addressed to Matsushita Ichirō arrived at my house?"

“No.” “That’s strange.” Asada stared fixedly while thinking,

"That can’t be right—it should’ve arrived by now." "Then perhaps it’ll come today." Since Asada’s demeanor didn’t entirely suggest deception, Negishi felt a flicker of suspicion as he pressed, "So you’re saying there was an arrangement for a coordination letter to arrive from Shikura’s side?" "That’s correct."

“In that case, word might come through soon.” Negishi considered for a moment, “Then will you agree to this? We don’t know what alias Shikura might use, but supposing one comes under Matsushita Ichirō—will you consent to us opening that letter?”

“Yes—there’s no helping it.”

Asada reluctantly said.

“Very well, I consent. But if you indiscriminately open every single one, that would be problematic.”

“You needn’t worry about that. Even we have some common sense, you know.” “In that case, very well.” Asada nodded deeply,

“Then you’ll let me go home, won’t you?” “Well…” Negishi answered reluctantly. “If we release you, any letters would come directly into your hands. There’s a risk you might conceal anything from Shikura.”

“I’ll never do anything like that again.”

“Hmm, that may be so, but we still have to stay vigilant on our end.”

“Then what is this? You make me say everything and still won’t let me go? Do you people not keep your promises at all? Didn’t you promise from the start that you’d let me go?”

Asada turned red with anger. “There’s no need to get so worked up—I’ll let you go.”

Negishi said quietly. “But there’s a condition.” “What kind of condition?”

Asada asked uneasily.

“It’s nothing complicated. We’ll station a detective at your place. And we’ll need you to show us every piece of mail as it comes in.” “That’s quite a tough condition.” Asada considered this for a moment, “I suppose there’s no choice. I agree. After all, you wouldn’t let me go otherwise.” “Very well.”

Negishi nodded with satisfaction. “Once this is settled, we’ll carry it out immediately.”

Asada let out a sigh of relief. He had finally escaped three days of grueling ordeal. Out of loyalty to Shikura and attachment to his wife, he had resolved to stubbornly keep silent about the criminal's whereabouts, but the relentless daily interrogations in the detective room had nearly drained him of all resolve. Moreover, when Negishi hinted at knowing about his attempt to make advances on Shikura’s wife during the latter's absence, even Asada—defiant as he was—had no choice but to capitulate completely, leaving Negishi to dictate terms.

“Well then, Watanabe.”

Negishi called out to Detective Watanabe. "Could you go with Asada and stay there until a letter arrives from Shikura?"

“Very well.” Watanabe nodded.

Urged by Detective Watanabe to be escorted out, Asada reluctantly exited the gate of Kagurazaka Police Station. At their empty home, Oshino sat dejectedly, steeped in the desolate awareness of her husband being held at the police station for three days without returning. Though she had sent him off to the authorities in a momentary fit of anger, as days passed Oshino found herself missing her husband after all. By now she could no longer sit still or bear it any longer, having resolved to cast aside both shame and appearances to go retrieve him. Just then, her husband unexpectedly returned unharmed, and Oshino welcomed him with her heart leaping.

“Oh, you managed to come back after all.”

“——” Asada remained silent and glared at her sullenly. “Are you angry?” Oshino looked uneasy, “Please forgive me—it’s all my fault.” “In my anger, I ended up saying something pointless, didn’t I?” Oshino, looking up resentfully at her husband who offered not a single word in response to her clinging pleas, suddenly noticed for the first time an unfamiliar man standing behind him. “Oh, there’s someone here.” “How utterly despicable!”

Oshino appeared irritated, “Just who are you?” “Another detective, isn’t that right?”

"That's right, ma'am." Watanabe smirked slyly. "You police are really persistent, aren't you?"

Oshino gradually began raising her voice. “Did you come to look for another letter from Mr. Shikura? Coming twice in a single day now?” “Hey, quiet down!”

Asada said in a low voice and turned toward the detective. "Sir， please do not take offense—she’s always been this way." "Isn’t this gentleman a detective?"

Oshino asked while looking up anxiously at her husband’s face.

“He’s a detective. He’s come on business.” “What kind of business?” “Like you said—to intercept letters from Mr. Shikura.” “Oh!” Oshino’s eyes widened dramatically.

“Then you should just refuse and be done with it.” “But things didn’t go that way. The detective will be staying over until Mr. Shikura’s letter arrives.” “Oh!”

“Hey, don’t just stand there gawking—make some tea already!” Asada plopped down in front of the long brazier with those words.

When Detective Watanabe stormed into Asada’s house to seize incoming letters from Shikura, Detective Ishiko was trudging along Kuramae-dori. The corpse excavated a second time had fortunately been determined through expert analysis to be that of a young woman. The two canine teeth protruding prominently from the skull like fangs matched perfectly with those of the deceased Kobayashi Sadako. When Detective Ishiko met Sadako’s parents, he had immediately noticed their abnormally developed canine teeth; her uncle Sadajirō also possessed such teeth, making this dental feature a distinctive trait of the Kobayashi family. But this alone could not conclusively identify the skeletal remains as Kobayashi Sadako. Compounding their troubles was the analysis result indicating the skeletal frame was slightly too large for a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl. The missing maid had been appropriately sized for her age and was by no means large-framed, making this oversize an unfavorable finding for definitively identifying the corpse as Sadako. Thus, their sole remaining clue lay in fragments of clothing around the waist area that had barely left traces beneath the corpse. The tattered cloth pieces had been sent to Tokyo Technical High School for analysis. With the results due today, Detective Ishiko had set out for the school to hear them.

For Detective Ishiko, this was a moment that could make or break him. Depending on the dyeing department professor’s analysis, the exhumed skeleton could be confirmed as Kobayashi Sadako. In that case, not only would they have located the corpse of the woman who had gone missing three years prior, but they might also be able to actively prove Shikura’s terrible crimes. But if the analysis results defied expectations, first and foremost, the work into which they had poured all their energy over several days—approached with desperate determination—would be rendered utterly in vain from the ground up. Not only would they have no face to show Police Chief Shōji and their colleagues, but the maid disappearance case would plunge back into a labyrinth, leaving them unable to censure Shikura. Detective Ishiko, who had not known a single day’s peace since letting Shikura escape, was so deeply troubled by today’s analysis results that his heart grew heavy and his feet dragged as if weighted down, trudging forward while tormented by endless worries.

He finally reached the gate of Tokyo Technical High School. He informed the gatekeeper of his business and walked along a narrow ditch flowing into the Ōkawa River, following a stone-paved path for about fifty meters. The area around the school buildings was near the Ōkawa River, where the abundantly flowing water relentlessly lapped against the banks. The warm March sun was glinting off wave crests tracing irregular ripples. From somewhere came the clatter of a steam launch.

The young professor from the dyeing department welcomed Detective Ishiko with a scholarly, dignified face that struggled to suppress a smile. "Well, it's rather old, you see."

The professor began speaking haltingly. "I can’t state this definitively, but the darker piece is indeed satin obi fabric. And as for the other piece—" The young professor momentarily broke off his words. Ishiko, who had been listening with bated breath, suddenly raised his face and braced himself not to miss a single word. From here he could survey the entire Ōkawa River in one glance—and just then came into view a lone sailboat catching the wind as it made its leisurely way upstream. The professor, who had paused to gaze out the window at the scenery, suddenly meeting the tense detective’s gaze, flustered, he continued speaking.

“The other piece has a pattern on its muslin ground—part of what appears to be a large flower, most likely a peony. Though the color has completely faded now, it was certainly red originally.”

As he listened, Ishiko's dark heart began to loosen like a bud bathed in spring light. A smile of irrepressible joy began to surface on his face. "Thank you very much."

Having obtained the desired results, Detective Ishiko looked pleased as he bowed to the young professor, “Thanks to you, I’ve obtained a valuable lead.” “I see, that’s excellent news.” The young professor bowed graciously. As he exited the school gate, Detective Ishiko walked with a triumphant stride. The corpse they had excavated as anticipated was almost certainly that of Kobayashi Sadako. Whether it was suicide or murder remained unclear, but considering both the location where the corpse had been found and the surrounding circumstances, they could reasonably attribute this to Shikura’s doing. Now all that remained was to gather as much evidence as possible and force Shikura to confess.

Even so, where was Shikura? When this thought struck him, Detective Ishiko’s previously bright face suddenly darkened. Detective Ishiko suddenly felt gloomy again, but changing his mood as much as possible and steeling his dispirited heart with today’s success, he hurried to Kagurazaka Police Station to report this good news to the police chief and others.

The hardships endured by Detective Watanabe—who took over the pursuit of Shikura from Detective Ishiko and lodged at photographer Asada’s residence—were no ordinary matter. He could not take a single step outside the house. He had all three meals delivered from a nearby caterer and maintained an unwavering watch day and night. All mail was received directly from the postman, and any suspicious-looking items were ordered to be opened by Asada. He also had to carefully monitor each and every letter Asada sent out. Like a scout in enemy territory, he turned his entire body into eyes and ears, unable to let his guard down for even a single minute.

If they messed up this time and allowed Asada and Shikura to resume correspondence, that would spell disaster—neither man was ordinary. Since they were men of astonishing cunning, once that happened, it would not be easy to obtain any new leads again. Asada was putting on a show of meek compliance on the surface, but if given the slightest opening, there was no telling what schemes he might devise.

Detective Watanabe’s extraordinary efforts continued in vain for three days and nights. To speak of "three days and nights" may sound simple, but maintaining such grueling tension for three full days and nights was beyond the capability of an ordinary person. Even the stalwart Detective Watanabe had become emaciated, his nerves honed so sharply he would jump at the sound of a pin dropping. Had Shikura already caught on to their surveillance? Could Asada have informed him through some unnoticed method? Given that Shikura’s mocking letters still poured into the police station daily, they could not believe he had fled far away. True, there had been one instance where he sent a letter suggesting he would finally make his escape, prompting them to stake out every station—but this soon proved to be nothing more than police mockery. He showed no signs of intending to flee at all.

He seemed to take infinite pleasure in skillfully eluding the police while mocking them at every turn. Naturally, he appeared oblivious to how his crimes were being successively exposed and that he was being pursued under such grave charges. Had he truly grasped this reality, he would never have sent daily taunting letters to the authorities or audaciously shown up at Kitakonya Police Station demanding compensation from the city tram company—he would have fled posthaste instead. What earthly purpose drove him to keep confounding the police through this cat-and-mouse game? Could he truly be so blind as to not consider how these brazen acts might sow suspicions about his past?

The questions that kept arising one after another were impossible to unravel. As for Detective Watanabe's immediate practical concern, it was the fact that for three days and nights, there had been no word whatsoever from Shikura.

Detective Watanabe was utterly disheartened. On the fourth morning since Detective Watanabe had taken up residence at Asada’s house—as he was utterly exhausted from his continued futile efforts—the postman shouted “Mail!” and tossed several letters inside. Detective Watanabe—who had already positioned himself in the next room, lying in wait at the sound of the approaching postman’s footsteps—swiftly rushed out and scooped up the mail. As he did so, the thick handwriting on one envelope’s surface abruptly caught his eye. Gasping at the sudden recognition, he flipped it over—and the four characters spelling “Matsushita Ichirō” struck his vision like lightning. He involuntarily clutched the letter tightly and gave thanks to God.

Summoned by Detective Watanabe and made to open the letter from Matsushita Ichirō before his eyes, Asada—his face pale—cut the seal with hands trembling uncontrollably. The letter requested that Asada bring a ring and a watch. No location had been specified for where to bring them. “The location isn’t written here.” Detective Watanabe said, fixing Asada with piercing eyes. “There’s no location written here.” Asada answered while holding out the letter to Watanabe.

“You’ve arranged a meeting place somewhere, haven’t you?” “No such arrangement exists.”

Asada shook his head. "Then you don't know where to deliver it? You—it's no use lying now. Tell us the truth." "I haven't made any arrangements at all!" "Then how do you deliver them?" "We make new arrangements each time." "If you're making arrangements, that means you know where Shikura is." "No, that's not it."

Asada said hurriedly. “Then how do you arrange it?” “We send a letter from our side via poste restante to the post office where this letter was postmarked.” “What?” Detective Watanabe found himself thoroughly impressed by their adept cunning and wariness. Asada fell into a resigned silence. “Hmph.”

Detective Watanabe crossed his arms and thought intently. Should we apprehend Shikura when he comes to collect the poste restante mail? No—given his cautious nature in all matters, it was doubtful whether he would come himself. Moreover, the area where the post office was located happened to be quite bustling, with main thoroughfares and back alleys crisscrossing each other—if by chance they failed to apprehend him there, it would become exceedingly troublesome. Rather than that, it would be better to lure him out to some quiet, easily apprehended location and capture him there.

Detective Watanabe looked up decisively.

“You—write a reply immediately! The wording goes like this.” “Bring the requested items to Ryōgoku Sakamoto Park at 10 AM two days from now.” “If that’s inconvenient for you—notify me at once.” “Understood?”

“Understood.” Asada obediently wrote the letter addressed to Shikura exactly as dictated by Detective Watanabe in his presence. Watanabe meticulously scrutinized the letter, thoroughly ensuring there was no room for Shikura to harbor suspicions. After placing it in an envelope, he personally sealed it, had Asada write the address, then took Asada with him to a postbox to mail it. By keeping Asada under strict surveillance, they prevented any counter-letters from undermining their plan. That afternoon, Watanabe explained the details to a visiting colleague detective and requested that foolproof arrangements be made for the day after tomorrow. Detective Watanabe, overjoyed that matters were proceeding smoothly, kept an unrelenting watch on Asada’s movements while waiting for the day with mounting impatience—each hour feeling like an eternity.

Even the audacious Shikura had now become like a rat trapped in a sack. The impenetrable net of the police was gradually tightened, and the day when he would be bound drew near.

Would the mysterious Shikura indeed be caught easily in Detective Watanabe’s trap?

The long-awaited day arrived. Today, without fail, at 10:00 AM in Sakamoto Park, Shikura would be arrested by the detectives lying in wait.

To prepare for any contingency, Detective Watanabe had not relaxed his surveillance of Asada’s premises and was keeping a vigilant watch. Since morning, he glanced at the clock countless times while waiting restlessly for ten o’clock to draw near.

When the clock hands had just passed nine o'clock, a piece of mail arrived. Detective Watanabe hurriedly picked it up and examined it—it was a letter from Shikura addressed to Matsushita Ichirō in thick, bold strokes. Startled, Watanabe tore open the envelope without even having time to summon Asada, scanning the contents in one frantic motion as if devouring two or three lines at once. The letter explained that while the requested items were supposed to be delivered to someone named Sakamoto in Nihonbashi, since this Sakamoto was unknown and they felt uneasy about it, they wanted Asada himself to bring them to the grounds of Fukagawa Hachiman Shrine at 10:00 AM two days later.

Detective Watanabe dropped the letter in a daze. What a flawlessly cautious man! He hadn't trusted from the outset even the letter Detective Watanabe had painstakingly made Asada write to avoid suspicion. If he had felt uneasy about being lured to a place like Ryōgoku Sakamoto Park—and perhaps he had—it ultimately came down to his excessive wariness, having sent another letter to Asada just to be thorough. If the letter were Asada's forgery or written under coercion, he might uncover the truth through this second message. And yet—to feign misreading "Ryōgoku Sakamoto Park" as some unknown person named Sakamoto while penning such hollow words—what a cunning devil he was!

Detective Watanabe grew indignant enough that his eyes burned. But when he suddenly realized, he froze in horror. Given Shikura's cunning, the man might have sent this refusal letter only to secretly come observe Sakamoto Park himself. Even if he didn't appear personally, he might have sent someone to scout the area. If he caught even the slightest whiff of heightened security there, it would spell disaster. He'd never trust Asada's letters again after that. Once that happened, there'd be no predicting when they might capture him. They needed to withdraw the park surveillance immediately. Detective Watanabe grew agitated. Yet he couldn't risk leaving carelessly himself. Who knew what tricks Asada might try in his absence? Ah, what should I do? The appointed ten o'clock drew steadily nearer.

Just then, the front door clattered open. Detective Watanabe let out a relieved breath. The one who had entered was none other than Detective Ishiko. "You’re here!" Watanabe said, as though about to seize Ishiko’s hand— "Take a look at this." "Did Shikura send word?"

Ishiko cried out the moment he saw the letter Watanabe had thrust forward in an unusual state. He snatched it up and began reading in one breath.

“Hmm, we’ve been outmaneuvered again,” Watanabe said dejectedly. “Damn that bastard!” Detective Ishiko bit his lip after finishing reading. “I can’t fathom how deviously cunning he is.” “We must have the surveillance at the park lifted immediately!”

Watanabe shouted.

“That’s right. If he catches on, it’ll be disastrous. I’ll make the call right away and have them lift the surveillance.”

Ishiko responded immediately but added dejectedly. "Ah, I was certain we wouldn't let him slip away today of all days..." "I thought the same and had been on edge since this morning."

Detective Watanabe said regretfully. "Anyway, I'll make the call. There's still hope—it doesn't mean Shikura has completely caught on yet. Kindly wait here for a moment. Let's devise preventive measures."

With those words, Ishiko hurried out. Detective Watanabe stood transfixed, still gripping Shikura's letter without truly thinking of anything, when Detective Ishiko soon returned at a brisk pace.

“You don’t need to worry anymore.” Ishiko said immediately upon seeing Watanabe’s face. “The surveillance will be lifted immediately. There’s no longer any risk of him catching on. Plus, we’ve left just one man at the park to see if anyone who looks like him shows up.” “I see. That’s a relief.”

Watanabe said as though genuinely relieved. “Now then, about the second-stage preparations. I don’t think Shikura takes at face value the letter you had Asada write.”

“I think so too. That bastard’s got a suspicious nature, so he probably sent this letter for reassurance and changed the meeting place.” “That must be the case, but if we’re to proceed with that, we must send a reply as soon as possible to put him at ease.”

“Right, let’s have Asada write the reply immediately.” “Please do so. I was certain there’d be no mistake today, but given who our opponent is, I worried something might go wrong—that’s why I stopped by here before heading to Ryōgoku. Good thing I did, eh?”

“That’s right.”

Detective Watanabe nodded. “If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have been able to inform everyone about this letter—we’d have been in real trouble.” “We’ve made significant progress uncovering that bastard’s past crimes.” Ishiko’s expression darkened as he continued, “If we don’t arrest him soon, it’ll undermine police authority—and worst of all, I can’t even face the Police Chief anymore.” “Same here. “Seeing the Chief’s impatient face hurts worse than being flayed alive. “We’re both utterly spineless, aren’t we? “Getting mocked daily through those letters while failing to catch him—it’s downright humiliating.”

“That’s right—we can’t stay composed like Negishi can.”

“It really does come down to age, huh.” “We might end up like that when we get older, but right now there’s no way we could imitate that guy.” Watanabe nodded in agreement but, as if suddenly struck by a thought, “So, has that corpse finally been confirmed as Kobayashi Sadako?” “Yeah, it’s been confirmed.” Ishiko suddenly brightened his expression. “Right—since you’ve been staked out at this house the whole time, you wouldn’t have known.” “The skull had very distinctive features, and part of the remaining clothing was confirmed to match what she wore when she ran away, so we’re all set now.” “They say the skeleton is a bit too large, but I don’t think it’ll pose any real problem.”

“I see. That’s quite an achievement.” “Let’s put that aside for now and have Asada write the reply.”

“Right.” Detective Watanabe called out loudly from the foot of the stairs. “Hey, you—come down here for a moment.” Asada descended with a sullen expression, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. He shot a piercing sideways glare at Ishiko.

“We’ve received this reply from Shikura.”

Watanabe showed Asada the letter from Shikura. “Who opened it?” Asada took the letter and said bitterly.

“I opened it. “It was an emergency—there was no other choice.” Watanabe said in a pressing tone. “Is that so.” Asada said only that and for a while gazed at the unfolded letter. “I want you to write a reply stating that you’ve acknowledged.”

Watanabe said solemnly. “Very well.” Asada replied with relative obedience.

“Mr. Shikura’s luck has finally run out.” “To think he’d be caught in Hachiman Shrine’s precincts—one might call it divine punishment, wouldn’t you say?”

A Fish in the Net

On a certain day in March of Taisho 6, the spring rain that had begun falling softly the previous afternoon intensified through the night, leaving worries about how the weather might turn. But come dawn, it cleared completely - morning found the roads still damp with scattered puddles and deep wheel ruts lingering as remnants, while the brilliant morning sun sparkled over roofs, roads and bridges alike, conjuring shimmering heat hazes that rose languidly from every surface.

The spacious precincts of the historic Fukagawa Hachiman Shrine exuded the fragrance of rain-drenched earth, appearing as if deliberately swept clean, with the color of raked sand vividly emerging. Paper fragments beaten into the half-sandy soil by the rain were visible here and there, adding an unexpected charm. As midday still lay some time ahead, street vendors remained few in number—only cheap snack stalls and toy shops catering to children, tended listlessly by old women and middle-aged housewives. Not a single huckster peddling dubious medicines or flimsy books promising occult secrets could be seen.

The shrine precincts were steeped in silence. On the stone pavement before the worship hall, male and female pigeons mingled together, bathing in the spring sunlight as they joyfully pecked at something. The spirited young woman paused her work tending the bag shop and gazed at the adorable little birds she saw every day as if seeing them for the first time. Worshippers passed by here and there in front of it.

Everything was peaceful.

The old woman tending the toy shop, the merchant-like man bowing his head before the shrine, the young man casting sidelong glances at the bag shop girl—all like doves serving as God’s messengers—were blessing spring’s bounty with childlike innocence, free from any care. To them, even in this very moment, the notion that there existed those who defied God by committing sins and police officers chasing such criminals with bloodshot eyes was utterly beyond consideration. In fact, at this very moment, detectives from Kagurazaka Police Station were streaming into this peaceful precinct one after another.

Some appeared as fresh-faced country folk straight from the provinces. Some wore square academic caps to pose as university students. Others donned workmen's coats, attired like veteran craftsmen. Maintaining feigned nonchalance, they skillfully blended with the tranquil atmosphere while mingling among other worshippers, each keeping relentless watch over their assigned positions. Among them, Detective Ishiko—dressed in a crisp Western suit that gave him the air of a young gentleman—bore mental burdens beyond compare. For he alone knew the face of Shikura Kihei, the enigmatic fugitive they were meant to apprehend that day. Though Shikura's distinctive features had been thoroughly impressed upon the detectives' minds, this cunning man might well have altered his appearance. A man who tensed at the faintest rustle of dry grass, Shikura would undoubtedly flee at the first hint of suspicion. They had intentionally left Asada behind today, fearing he might send some signal—yet this very absence could easily rouse Shikura's wariness. Should he recognize Ishiko's figure, disaster would follow. Whether Shikura would spot Ishiko first or vice versa would virtually decide the contest. Though their net of detectives made escape difficult even if spotted first, Ishiko absolutely had to be the one to find him first. It was he who had uncovered the first clue to Shikura's secrets. It was he who had initially let Shikura slip away. The days and nights of agonizing effort since then had been truly grueling. He wouldn't let him escape today. With blood coursing through his veins, Detective Ishiko roamed freely about the grounds, unbound to any fixed post.

10:00 AM was drawing closer every moment. Unnoticed, the number of street stalls increased and the crowd of worshippers gradually grew larger, the shrine precincts beginning to shift from the morning’s stillness into the daytime’s bustle. The group of children and nursemaids who had been basking together in the sun until now could no longer maintain such leisurely idleness and began wandering about restlessly.

Detective Ishiko was vigilantly scanning this scene without letting his guard down when, struck by some thought, he suddenly quickened his pace and hurried out through the torii gate. At this, the sunburned middle-aged man with a country-bumpkin-like appearance who had been squatting nearby tapped his greasy pipe with a *pon*, slipped it smoothly into the grimy tobacco pouch at his waist, then unfolded his lanky frame to stand. He stepped before Detective Ishiko and gave a quick bow. “Excuse me, might I trouble you for a moment?”

he started, but immediately lowered his voice to a whisper, "What's wrong? Did he come?" he asked hurriedly. "No, not yet."

Detective Ishiko answered sharply in a low voice. "Why are you going outside?"

He pressed again. This country-bumpkin-like man was Detective Tanuma—a third-degree judo expert renowned as the strongest in the station—specially selected for today’s operation, the type who’d spring into action at the slightest signal to exert physical force. “Well, here’s the thing...”

Ishiko answered. “It just occurred to me—that bastard Shikura’s too damn cunning to show up here in the shrine grounds. He’s probably lying in wait near Hachiman Shrine instead, trying to spot Asada. That’s why we’re outflanking him—we’ll set up along the tram line and catch him the moment he shows himself at the conductor’s platform when getting off.”

“I see, that’s an effective approach.”

Tanuma nodded. “But first off, there’s no guarantee he’ll come by tram at all. And if he notices us first, we’re done for.” “That part’s up to luck anyway. “First off, if you start talking like that, we can’t even be sure he’ll show up here today. “I’m giving it everything I’ve got—not a one-in-ten-thousand chance I’ll screw up—but even if we do let him slip away, we’ve got ten men forming a net. It’ll hold. “Well then—counting on you.”

With that retort, Ishiko turned on his heel and hurried toward the tram line. He stealthily checked his watch—fifteen minutes remained until ten o'clock. Clutching a hand to his pounding chest, he took cover in the shadow of a telegraph pole just ahead of the stop and glared intently at the tram hurtling toward him, its carriages swaying violently fore and aft. If Shikura suspected Asada's letter might be a police trap, he'd likely be scrutinizing his surroundings from inside the tram—yet observing details outside from a speeding vehicle would prove challenging. Even more critically, when disembarking through crowded doors, no fugitive could maintain full vigilance over their environment. Anyone attempting stealth would inevitably expose themselves completely to hidden watchers. And since Shikura lacked such precautions, Ishiko—the hunter lying in wait—held decisive advantage. Ishiko had accounted for all this when stationing himself at the pillar's shadow to monitor boarding passengers. But executing this plan proved far trickier than anticipated. From front and rear exits of each packed tram disgorged wave after wave of commuters.

Since this was near the terminus, the relatively small number of boarding passengers did somewhat reduce the crowding; however, keeping track of each and every individual was no simple task. Ten o'clock was drawing closer every moment. Shikura’s figure was still nowhere to be seen. Ishiko was gradually growing uneasy. As ten o’clock drew near and Shikura’s figure still failed to appear, Detective Ishiko grew increasingly impatient.

Had he once again sensed the situation and skillfully escaped? Or had he slipped into the shrine grounds through some other means? If he had entered the shrine grounds, he would surely have been caught, for his fellow detectives were swarming about laying their net; yet still no word had come from within—perhaps because they were relying solely on his photograph to identify him, and he had altered his appearance, making him impossible to detect. Ishiko, his mind swirling with all manner of doubts and hesitations, nevertheless kept a vigilant eye on the trams that continued to arrive one after another.

The trams ceased running for a time.

Ishiko let out a tense breath he’d been holding and scanned his surroundings. Before him, people of various appearances milled about in confusion. A carter pulling the reins of a heavily laden cart passed by him, humming a carefree tune as he went. The cart rattled forward heedless of puddles and mud, sending clods of earth flying like gravel in all directions. A middle-aged woman in stylish geta with claw-leather trim carefully picked her way through the chaos, casting resentful looks at the mud splattered across her kimono.

Such a dizzying spectacle unfolded before Ishiko’s eyes, but his vision—still unable to adjust after having stared fixedly into the distance—registered it all like a dim, unexplained film projection.

Ishiko abruptly regained his senses and hurriedly looked toward the tram tracks. A tram was just speeding toward them. Because there had been a lull for a while, passengers had crowded onto the conductor’s platform until they spilled over the edges. With a clattering roar, the tram passed before Ishiko—and in that moment, his eye caught the figure of a man with a ferocious countenance frantically pushing through the tram door toward the packed conductor’s platform. Ah! That was the figure of Shikura—the archenemy he had pursued relentlessly for a month, never once fading from his waking thoughts!

Ishiko involuntarily, “Got him!” he shouted.

The tram stopped at a station about forty yards away from Ishiko. The passengers surged off like an avalanche. Amidst that chaos, Shikura’s figure—descending with eyes sharply vigilant—came clearly into view. He was wearing a black double-layered coat and geta. "Seeing him wearing geta and acting so composed, it seems he’s completely unaware of our plan." Ishiko, careful not to lose sight of him, stealthily emerged from the shadows and began following his trail while muttering to himself. His chest throbbed with excitement, but he forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor as he steadily closed in without being noticed.

Shikura moved sluggishly toward Hachiman Shrine's torii gate. There lay lying in wait about ten detectives rubbing their arms. From behind, Detective Ishiko crept steadily closer in pursuit. He was truly a fish caught in the net. Even this cunning man appeared to have missed the dreadful scheme concealed within Asada's letter. Like a puppet manipulated by unseen hands, he lankily entered the shrine grounds—had his fate finally reached its conclusion?

As Shikura’s foot stepped into the shrine grounds, Detective Ishiko let out a relieved breath. With still about eighteen meters between them, it remained unclear whether his fellow detectives had spotted Shikura yet. But they would surely notice Ishiko himself before long. Once they did, they would immediately signal, and apprehending him would be effortless. In any case, he had already driven him deep enough into the net—there was nothing left to worry about.

The instant Detective Ishiko let out a relieved breath and lowered his guard, Shikura suddenly spun around. Before Ishiko could so much as gasp, he had been spotted by him. Shikura let out an uncanny cry and immediately kicked off his geta.

Capture. When Shikura—who had suddenly turned—caught sight of Detective Ishiko, he immediately kicked off his footwear and dashed barefoot into the torii gate. Ishiko, who had been utterly confident, hurriedly gave chase at this unforeseen turn. As the distance between them closed, Shikura fluidly spun around in a full circle, crossing paths with Ishiko before bolting straight toward the tram street. Having driven him into a corner like a trapped rat toward the shrine grounds, Ishiko seized Shikura’s double-layered kimono—only for him to shed it swiftly, leaving the detective flustered. In that instant, he pounded away through the opening. Having grasped everything in a split second—realizing flight into the shrine would mean disaster—Shikura deliberately lured Ishiko close before pivoting sharply at the last moment and fleeing toward the main street.

Putting this into writing would make it seem quite lengthy, but in reality, all of this transpired in an instant—leaving even Detective Tanuma, who had been positioned near the torii gate, no time to comprehend what was happening. Damn it!

Shouting this inwardly, Detective Ishiko immediately blew his prepared whistle with a piercing shrill. At the whistle's signal, four or five detectives in assorted attire came spilling out from the shrine grounds. Seeing Ishiko pursuing a suspicious man, they gave chase without an instant's hesitation. Shikura ran with his chestnut-burr head shaking violently. His fastened obi had come undone unnoticed, its long dangling end tangling around his hem. Though Shikura possessed a sturdy physique and formidable energy, being thirty-eight years old meant he couldn't run as swiftly as one might expect from his build. Those pursuing him were professional detectives - half being robust, hot-blooded men in their twenties. He found himself increasingly cornered.

Near the tram stop, the hand of Detective Ishiko, who was at the front, touched his arm. As passersby stared in astonishment at the commotion, four or five detectives who had come running from behind swarmed over him, and arrest ropes were swiftly fastened around him. And thus, the fiend Shikura was apprehended by Kagurazaka officers at Fukagawa Hachiman Shrine on a March morning when the sky was clear and azure—over a month after his escape. Having fled under suspicion of Bible theft, he now took his first accursed step toward atonement—here, under a dreadful charge that would see him lament for ten long years behind iron bars.

At the time of his capture, his attire consisted of a brown felt hat and a striped cotton-padded kimono, over which—as previously described—he wore a dark double-layered haori and high-toothed geta. However, concealed within his pockets—apart from a wallet containing over eighty yen in cash—were a new pair of straw sandals with hemp lining, a Benkei-striped hunting cap, and a small bottle of strychnine sulfate poison. The straw sandals with hemp lining and the hunting cap were, needless to say, for escaping at a critical moment, while the poison was likely intended for his final disposition. Even this revealed the extent of his preparations and resolve.

I have now recounted at length Shikura Kihei's path from flight to capture. How filled with such turbulence it was—this, I believe you, dear readers, have grasped thoroughly even through my clumsy writing. The year Taishō 6—exactly ten years prior to now—marked an era when even I, who lavish in fantasies to craft detective tales, could never have imagined that such a brazen villain truly existed: a master of wicked cunning who might as well have walked straight from the pages of an Arsène Lupin story. Having followed this account in detail to the present moment, you must now fully comprehend—without need for further elaboration—every treacherous scheme he employed.

With his capture as the boundary marker, the first part of this story concludes.

The middle part that follows—spanning from interrogations to conviction—will unfold before your very eyes, dear readers, revealing even more bizarre and uncanny facts when combined with the latter part's curse stemming from his relentless obsession.

Interrogation

Before recounting the bizarre words and deeds of the captured Shikura, I must briefly preface one matter. This may prove tedious and inconvenient for you, dear readers. However, this is something I must explain here as it will have significant bearing on later events, so I ask that you bear with me just this once.

This concerned Shikura's appearance. To put it charitably, he was imposing; to state it bluntly, one might call him grotesque or sinister—in any case, he appeared to possess an exceptionally villainous countenance. He stood neither particularly tall nor stout, of average medium build, yet his complexion was swarthy through and through, with conspicuously thick, sharply defined eyebrows and large eyes that rolled about with terrifying intensity. His high cheekbones and visibly robust frame, combined with his booming native Tōhoku dialect that he would unleash in torrents—alongside his intimidating chestnut-burr haircut—made him resemble nothing so much as a wicked monk from Mount Hiei sprung to life from an ukiyo-e print. Those who knew him nearly unanimously claimed their first impression could only be that of an irredeemable villain.

However, just because he had a grotesque, villainous countenance did not definitively establish that his heart was that of an evildoer. In the *Biographies of Zhongni's Disciples* from the *Records of the Grand Historian*, Confucius states: "I judged people by their words and erred with Zai Yu." He continues: "I judged people by their looks and erred with Ziyu." Zai Yu—as mentioned in the *Analects*—was a man scolded by Confucius for napping during the day; though eloquent in speech, he proved ultimately petty in character. These words expressed Confucius's regret at having been momentarily taken in by Zai Yu's silver tongue. Ziyu—whose real name was Dantai Mieming—possessed such a remarkably grotesque appearance that even Confucius privately rejected him and showed no pleasure in accepting him as a disciple. Yet this man became an exceptionally upstanding individual who later gathered three hundred disciples and made his name known among feudal lords. Thus did Confucius come to regret having erred in judging people by appearance, admonishing his disciples by pairing this case with that of Zai Yu. However, there exists a contradictory account regarding this matter. According to the *Kongzi Jiayu*, Ziyu bore a countenance quite befitting a gentleman, though his heart remained wanting. It describes precisely the opposite scenario—that Confucius erred by being misled by Ziyu's gentlemanly appearance—as if reversing the accounts. But in essence, even a great sage like Confucius had moments of judging people by their looks—and what makes this particular anecdote amusing is that it remains his only such misstep throughout history.

Now, regarding Shikura Kihei—though his countenance was villainous, he had in fact committed evil deeds. He had already accumulated three prior convictions, had now committed Bible theft, and had inflicted violence upon a girl who had come to work as a maid. All of these had evidence with irrefutably clear charges, and furthermore, he was now under suspicion for the grave crime of arson-murder. Under these circumstances, even those outside police authorities had no choice but to regard him as a villain. The actions he took from fleeing when Detective Ishiko visited his residence up until his arrest were an utter mockery of the police—one could only marvel at his audacity, meticulous preparations, and cunning. During his flight, he appeared at Kitakonya Police Station to sue the Municipal Electric Bureau and apprenticed himself at a photo studio to use it as a letter drop—none of which fell within the realm of ordinary human conception.

Why did he keep fleeing like that? Why did he repeatedly send mocking letters to the police? His own defense would emerge later, but it proved exceedingly ambiguous, failing to compel third parties to assent. These aspects, I believe, clearly indicated that he was indeed a man of abnormal character.

Thus, given these circumstances, it was only natural that Kagurazaka Police Station regarded Shikura as a major criminal. Particularly as the detectives had been incensed beyond measure by his mockery, I imagine that when he was finally apprehended and escorted to the station, the building must have resounded with triumphant cheers. Now, once Shikura had been escorted to Kagurazaka Police Station, he was immediately dragged before Judicial Officer Ōshima. What manner of interrogation would he face? Would he offer a forthright confession, or would he not?

Shikura Kihei was seated before the Judicial Officer. On both sides, detectives were stationed. If an exaggerated description were permitted, one might imagine that Judicial Officer Ōshima and the detectives directly involved in the case—Negishi, Ishiko, and Watanabe—had practically leapt at the chance to confront him. Given that Shikura was clearly understood to be no ordinary man who could be handled with simple ropes, and given that substantial evidence had already been gathered against him, there must have been ample resolve in each investigator’s heart—if not openly declared—to make this man spill his crimes at all costs.

Though it must be said that Shikura had brought this upon himself, there was something pitiable in how from the very start of the interrogation, the officers held such an impression of him. “Your name?” The Judicial Officer stared fixedly at him and declared solemnly. “Shikura Kihei.”

He answered without hesitation in a gruff voice. “Your age?” “Thirty-eight years old.”

“Your address?” “Shiba Shirogane Sankōchō ××-banchi.” “Your occupation?” “I am a missionary.” “Hmm.” The Judicial Officer gave a deep nod while bracing his lower abdomen, “When our station sent an officer to request your accompaniment, why did you deceitfully flee?” “I wasn’t fleeing.” Shikura defiantly retorted, “The police and such institutions call people out over trivial matters and arbitrarily detain them for three or four days as they please. I simply refrained from appearing because being subjected to such humiliating treatment was unacceptable.”

“Hmm.” The Judicial Officer appeared visibly unsettled by his defiant responses, showing clear signs of irritation.

“Did you know why you were being summoned?” “I think it’s probably about the Bible.”

He answered loudly while raising his thick eyebrows. “If it’s about the Bible, I’ll never trouble you people—since I acquired those through transfer, where I sell them off is entirely my own affair.” “If that’s truly the case, then there was no need for you to keep running around like that.” “There must be something else shady you’re hiding.” “There is absolutely no such thing.” “What’s your explanation for repeatedly sending letters filled with mockery addressed to the police station and detectives during your flight?”

The Judicial Officer slightly changed his tone and inquired about other matters.

“Because the detectives who came to visit me were far too insolent in their attitude, which I found extremely insulting, I wrote those letters in retaliation.” “I see. So that was your reasoning.”

The Judicial Officer nodded lightly but suddenly changed his tone, "Now that it's come to this, why don't you just come clean and tell us everything?" "We've already completed a full investigation here at this station." "What are you talking about? I haven't the faintest idea." "I haven't the faintest idea." Shikura sneered.

“I see. Then let me ask—surely you haven’t forgotten that three years ago you employed a woman named Kobayashi Sadako as a maid?”

“Kobayashi Sadako?” Shikura’s sharp eyes glinted.

“I do recall having such a maid.” “Do you have any recollection of committing assault against that woman?” “I have no recollection of that.” He denied it outright.

“Don’t feed me that transparent nonsense.” The Judicial Officer rebuked him. “A formal assault complaint has been filed by the victim’s uncle, Kobayashi Sadajirō!”

“That can’t be.”

Shikura began to grow flustered. "That matter was properly settled long ago." "Settled? What do you mean by that?" "A pastor I knew in Kobe mediated at the time. After certain arrangements were made, there should have been no further issues." "I see. So you acknowledge the assault actually occurred then." "――――" Shikura remained silent.

When Shikura fell silent, Chief Ōshima pressed on with a triumphant air. "If you keep quiet, we'll never get anywhere." "For that matter, I must ask you to consult the Kobe Pastor."

Shikura answered resignedly.

"I see. Very well, we'll set that matter aside for later." The assistant inspector grinned with satisfaction but immediately turned serious,

“The maid called Kobayashi Sadako has since gone missing, but you should know her whereabouts.” “You’d better speak without concealment.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

Shikura shook his head vehemently. “There’s no reason I would know.” “Don’t talk nonsense!” The Judicial Officer barked. “I won’t have you claiming ignorance!” “Sadako’s whereabouts must be known by her uncle Sadajirō.”

Shikura also shouted back defiantly. "Since Sadajirō kept demanding money for medical treatment, I told him to bring her here once, but he ended up hiding her, thinking he wouldn't be able to get any more money if he showed her." "I see. So you told Sadajirō to bring her here and said you'd give him money—that's what happened, isn't it?" "That's correct." "Then there's no other way to interpret this—you're the one who hid Sadako, isn't that right?" "Why do you say that?" "If Sadako doesn't come forward, there's no need for you to pay the money—is there?"

“That might be the case, but I have absolutely no recollection of hiding Sadako.” “I see. Now one more thing—you’ve been caught up in three fires altogether, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

Shikura nodded. “Don’t you think it’s strange for the same person to be involved in three fires in a row?” “I don’t find it particularly strange. I consider myself very unlucky.” “But this isn’t about bad luck, is it? Every time there’s a fire, you receive insurance money and steadily move into bigger houses.” “I will not answer such an impertinent question.”

Shikura pursed his large lips tightly.

“You can’t get away with not answering.”

The Judicial Officer sneered. "You know that all those fires were cases of arson, don’t you?" "I don’t know whether all three were arson or not, but I heard the Kanda one was." "You’re the one who set the fires, aren’t you?" "Preposterous. "I lost all my important books in that fire and suffered a great deal of inconvenience. "I’d like you to stop with these ridiculous jokes already." "Silence!" The Judicial Officer roared as his pent-up irritation burst forth all at once.

“If you think spouting this nonsense will settle things, you’re gravely mistaken.” “Every single thing I’m saying has evidence behind it.” “I’m not fishing for groundless speculations here!”

“Evidence?”

Shikura remained completely unperturbed. "I don't know what evidence you mean, but I'd like to see it." "So you claim not to know?"

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything at all.” “Alright, we’ll leave it at that for now. We’ll interrogate you again later—make sure you think carefully until then.”

“Even if I think about it, what I don’t know remains unknown. Being summoned this frequently is a tremendous nuisance. If there’s nothing left to ask, then let me go.”

“What? Let you go?!”

The Judicial Officer glared hatefully at Shikura. "Do you think we can let filth like you walk free?!" "Get in that detention cell and stay put—quietly!"

“So you’re saying you’ll detain me?”

Shikura's face flushed with anger. “This is an outrageous violation of human rights! What grounds do you have to detain me? I maintain legitimate employment. I’ve committed no legal violations whatsoever. There’s no justification for holding me!”

Shikura bellowed. While keeping a watchful eye on the raving Shikura out of his peripheral vision, Chief Ōshima declared coldly: “You are hereby sentenced to twenty-nine days’ detention under charges of traffic obstruction.” “What? Traffic obstruction charges?”

Shikura was dumbfounded.

At that time, police authorities could not detain suspects for questioning no matter how strong the suspicion might be. Thus, it became standard practice for police to detain such suspects by fabricating arbitrary charges. In Shikura’s case, having nearly exhausted plausible justifications, they ultimately charged him with something like traffic obstruction—a desperate measure that amounted to nothing less than human rights violation.

However, if they allowed each and every suspect to return home, there was a risk of fleeing or evidence destruction; thus, in many cases, they detained them by fabricating charges in this manner, and it seems even the judicial authorities tacitly condoned this practice. “Throw this guy into the detention cell.”

The Judicial Officer commanded the detectives standing beside him. Shikura was roughly escorted away by two detectives.

The two detectives who remained behind—Ishiko and Watanabe—directed accusatory eyes at the Chief.

“Chief.” Ishiko said vehemently. “With such lukewarm methods, there’s no chance that guy will confess.” “Now, don’t be hasty.” The Chief answered in a suppressing tone. “You can’t expect things to move so fast.” “Anyway, we’ll all have to take turns grilling him relentlessly.” “That may be so, but...” “I’ll handle another session this afternoon, then I’ll have Negishi-kun and you take over next.” “Yes, sir.” Negishi thought for a moment,

“I will assist the Chief, so let’s have Detective Ishiko and Watanabe handle the vigorous parts.” “That will suffice.” The Chief nodded. “Then there’s that Pastor Kobe fellow he mentioned.” “We’ll need to look into him.” “That’s right.”

The Chief spoke as if suddenly remembering. “Let’s summon him immediately.”

“No.”

Negishi, his sunken eyes flashing sharply as if deep in thought,

“There’s no telling whether he’ll come even if we summon him. Perhaps we should have Detective Ishiko go there instead.” “I’ll go.”

Ishiko interjected. “Then Detective Ishiko, you will go to Pastor Kobe’s place. After I have conducted my investigation this afternoon, Detectives Negishi and Watanabe, you are to rigorously re-examine the case.”

“Understood.” The three detectives bowed.

“Well, shall we have lunch or something?”

Chief Ōshima cheerfully tried to stand up.

Just then, a detective came running up in a panic. “Chief, Shikura has started writhing in agony! He’s thrashing about in the detention cell!”

“What?!” The group exchanged startled looks, but the Chief said quickly to Ishiko: “You did confiscate all of that guy’s belongings, didn’t you?” “Yes.”

Ishiko nodded. “They said he had poison—” “The poison was naturally the first thing I confiscated.” “Then it appears he’s contracted some sudden illness.”

The Chief turned to the detective who had come running, “Have a doctor summoned immediately.” “Understood.” As the detective went out, the chief stood up straight.

“Let’s go take a look.” When the group was led to stand before the detention cell, in the dimly lit, filthy enclosure, Shikura lay with a pallid face, thrashing his limbs and moaning. “What’s wrong?” Chief Ōshima peered into the detention cell and called out. "Ugh..." Shikura, however, did not attempt to answer and continued to groan.

Detective Ishiko entered the cell and lifted Shikura up, but he merely writhed with a pale face in agony, showing no signs of having vomited blood. "What's wrong?" Ishiko bellowed. "Ugh... It hurts... I'm going to die."

Shikura answered while gasping for breath. Just then, the police doctor rushed over in response to the emergency call. The small-statured old doctor grasped Shikura’s pulse firmly, “What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt or something?” he asked gently. “Yes,” Shikura answered listlessly. “I see. It’ll heal if left alone.” “It’s nothing serious.” “Did you eat something bad?” “Yes, I swallowed it.” “You swallowed it?” The doctor asked in surprise,

“What did you swallow?”

“I swallowed copper coins,” “I... I intend to die!” “What?! You swallowed copper coins?!” Ishiko shouted. “Where did you hide such things?” Shikura lay limp with a pained expression and did not answer. Ishiko asked the doctor with concern. “Is he going to be all right?” “He’ll be fine.” The doctor nodded.

“He won’t die from swallowing copper coins. His pulse is steady, and there’s nothing to worry about.” “I see.” Ishiko appeared relieved. “What a nuisance he is to look after. He swiped those copper coins right under our noses. He’s still hiding something else, I bet.”

Having said this, Ishiko shook Shikura in annoyance and began thoroughly searching his pockets and sleeves.

“It hurts! Stop being so rough!”

Shikura shouted. "Could you please give him some medicine?" The judicial officer asked the doctor while glancing sidelong at Shikura. "Sure, let's give him some digestive tonic." "Is he really going to be all right?" "Yes, he'll be fine." "Hey, Shikura."

The chief turned toward Shikura and rebuked him in a loud voice.

“Stop this nonsense! It’s no use trying to delay the interrogation with such idiotic tricks!” When Shikura heard the chief’s rebuke, he shot a piercing glare but kept silent. The chief glared at Shikura for some time before withdrawing from the room with the detectives, his footsteps pounding heavily. “What an insufferable troublemaker.” The chief still seethed with anger.

“Chief, let’s bring him out right away and teach him a lesson!” Ishiko said excitedly. “Perfect! I’ll go get him out myself.” The impetuous Detective Watanabe sprang up and moved toward the door.

“Hey now—don’t get ahead of yourself.” Detective Negishi stopped Watanabe as he tried to leave. “However you slice it, questioning him now would be too harsh.” “Besides, there’s no urgency to grill him immediately.” “Best leave him stewing in a solitary cell overnight.” “Even the most stubborn rats start squealing once they’ve chewed their own fears alone long enough.” “Depends on the rat.” Watanabe reluctantly sank back into his seat. “That half-baked approach won’t crack a shell like his.”

“Well, whether he goes or not, let’s just leave him be. More importantly, Chief.”

Negishi looked toward Ōshima, “Let’s summon his wife once and question her—she might know something.” “Right, that’s it. Let’s do that.” The chief nodded.

Shikura’s wife Shizuko was ordered to appear at the police station through Detective Negishi’s recommendation and underwent questioning.

Before that, Detective Ishiko had first visited Pastor Kobe in Shiba Imazato-cho. Pastor Kobe was thirty-five or thirty-six years old at the time—an age when one was just entering the prime of maturity—and was an elegant religious figure educated abroad. Shikura’s wife had become acquainted with him through her work as a Sunday school teacher and their shared affiliation with the same sect; through this marital connection, Shikura himself began frequenting their circle; and it was also he who had intervened to arrange for Kobayashi Sadako to be placed in the Shikura household. Due to that connection, Shikura had been studying under Pastor Kobe.

When Detective Ishiko presented his business card, he was immediately led to a room on the second floor. The pastor—his fair-complexioned face marked by slightly thick lips pressed firmly together—appeared, gave Ishiko a brief nod, took his seat, and spoke with evident displeasure. “Do you have some business with me?”

“Ah, there are a few matters I’d like to inquire about regarding Shikura.” Ishiko said respectfully. “Shikura? “Ah, what might this concern?” “The fact is, Shikura is currently being detained at Kagurazaka Station under certain suspicions.” “Shikura...?” Pastor Kobe appeared momentarily startled but quickly regained his composure,

“Hmm, what sort of suspicion might this be?” “Due to various complicating factors in the case, I’m unable to elaborate here. However, what I wish to inquire about concerns a woman named Kobayashi Sadako who once resided in Shikura’s household.” “I see.” “There are accounts suggesting Shikura perpetrated an assault against the girl Kobayashi Sadako.” “Are you inquiring about that matter with me?” Pastor Kobe asked with a newly edged tone.

“Y-yes.” “That’s correct.” “Shikura says we should ask you.”

“Shikura told you to ask me?”

“Y-yes.” “I see.”

Pastor Kobe thought for a moment, "If Shikura said that, there may be no objection on my part. However, as this concerns someone's honor after all, I cannot bring myself to speak of it."

“That may be so, but if we don’t uncover the truth, it could disadvantage Shikura.” “Since we too want to grasp the full truth of this matter as much as possible—and since we’ll absolutely avoid causing you any trouble—please tell us what you know.”

“I fully understand what you’re saying,” Pastor Kobe replied, “but this is ultimately a grave matter. I must decline to discuss it.” “Then would you tell me only what presents no difficulty?” Ishiko pressed. “Very well—what precisely do you require? Ask me one question. I shall answer to the extent I am able.” “It’s said that Kobayashi Sadako was placed with the Shikura household as an etiquette apprentice through your kind offices. Is this correct?”

“It wasn’t quite my doing. The parent of that child suggested having their daughter placed at Mr. Shikura’s house would be a good idea—so I merely said that seemed acceptable.” “Is it true that Shikura had his way with that girl?” “I cannot state whether that is true or false.” “Then, is it true that she was granted leave due to illness?”

“Ah, yes, that was indeed the case.”

“For what reason did she become ill?” Ishiko looked up steadily at Pastor Kobe’s troubled face.

In response to Detective Ishiko’s questioning, Pastor Kobe increasingly darkened his troubled face,

“I cannot answer that.” “I see.”

Ishiko thought for a while, but as the pastor’s attitude remained unyielding and showed no sign of compliance, he seemed to resign himself. “If you put it that way, there’s nothing I can do about it. However, as I am making this inquiry in the line of duty, it would be extremely problematic for me to return to the station without obtaining any useful information from you as things stand.” Seeing Ishiko’s dejected appearance, Pastor Kobe, perhaps taking pity, softened his words slightly and said: “If you say it’s a matter of duty, then I suppose I must tell you what I know. Then please proceed in this manner. If there is a formal summons from either a prosecutor or the police chief, I will make my statement in their presence. Because I dislike carelessly speaking of matters that might cause trouble for others.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Ishiko said energetically. “Would you speak if it’s before the police chief?” “Yes, if you say that’s necessary, let us do so.”

“Thank you very much.”

Ishiko bowed his head.

“Then I must ask you to endure the inconvenience. I will return to the station and begin the procedures promptly.” Though Detective Ishiko regretted failing to obtain any concrete leads about Shikura directly from Pastor Kobe, he nevertheless gained some momentum from the pastor’s own words—his agreement to speak before the police chief if formally summoned—and returned to Kagurazaka Police Station.

It was already nearing evening when Ishiko returned to the station.

In the detectives' room, the interrogation of Shikura's wife Shizuko began.

She wore a modest silk kimono layered with a dark haori bearing a family crest, sitting with her knees neatly aligned and her head bowed low, responding only in faint whispers of “Yes” or “No” to the detectives’ blunt and piercing questions. Occasionally raising her pale, bloodless face, she cast eyes that seemed to resent, to rage from beneath long lashes at the detectives.

Shizuko’s interrogation continued for three days starting from this day. In the view of the police authorities, they firmly believed that Shizuko must have known about Shikura’s numerous crimes—the three arson cases spanning before and after, and the murder of the maid Kobayashi Sadako. Because they believed that getting this woman to talk would settle everything, this interrogation was conducted with considerable severity. The interrogations of Shikura were conducted in parallel with those of his wife; however, even he—who had stubbornly maintained his ignorance throughout—appeared to have been considerably troubled by his wife’s questioning. It is thought that when he later made the mad-like statement proclaiming himself as the Taishō-era Sakura Sōgorō, he may have been referring to the events of this time.

Her interrogation continued for three days as previously mentioned. However, she endured it admirably. She was fairly educated, Shikura seemed to hold her in considerable respect, and their marital relationship appeared harmonious; therefore, the detectives reasoned that he would likely confide most matters to her, or at the very least she would have some inkling of his actions—so they took turns rigorously pressing her for answers. But contrary to their expectations, they were unable to extract any information from her. They had anticipated that she wasn’t the type of woman who would casually divulge her husband’s grave affairs, but given that she still refused to speak even under such pressure, they had no choice but to conclude that she truly knew nothing.

“Wait!” On the third day, even the tenacious Detective Negishi finally threw in the towel. “Stubborn woman. But it seems she genuinely doesn’t know.” “There’s no way she doesn’t know.” Detective Watanabe said vexedly. “I wonder if she really doesn’t know.”

Thus, the only truth that emerged from Shizuko’s mouth was that of the assault incident involving Kobayashi Sadako.

The story went back three years.

The intense fragrance of pure white daphne blossoms blooming riotously in the garden flooded into the study—a twilight hour that seemed to stir youthful anxieties. The young pastor, Kobe Genjirō, had thrown open the garden-facing shoji and sat upright, engrossed in reading a religious text. The Swiss-made desk clock ticked steadily, quietly measuring the spring evening said to be worth a thousand gold pieces. Just then, the sliding door opened without a sound, and his wife appeared with graceful poise. “Mr. Shikura insists he must see you.”

Pastor Kobe turned around and looked at his wife’s face, his expression darkening slightly as he countered. “Shikura?” “Yes.” Shikura had visited Pastor Kobe’s residence two or three times through an introduction from his wife Shizuko, but whether due to what people might call an instinctive aversion, the pastor found himself unable to feel any goodwill toward the man. As a religious figure tasked with saving sinners and straightening the crooked, one ought to avoid mixing personal emotions when dealing with others; yet not being divine himself, it was inevitable to harbor likes and dislikes. To be clear, Pastor Kobe did not hate Shikura at all. He simply found him vaguely disagreeable for no particular reason. He couldn’t turn away someone who voluntarily came seeking his teachings.

He snapped the book on the desk shut.

“Please come this way.”

Shikura Kihei entered the study, his countenance—marked by a peculiar intensity—drifting with a tinge of unease. “It has been a long time since I last visited.”

He prostrated himself. “The same to you—I’m glad to see you’re well. Please, have a seat.” The pastor offered him a cushion. “Thank you very much.” Shikura did not lay out the cushion and fidgeted restlessly. Dusk crept stealthily into the room. The surroundings grew hazy, and the clock’s sound resounded as though it had just remembered to chime. Pastor Kobe abruptly stood up and twisted the overhead light switch. A warm, yellowish light suddenly streamed down, vividly illuminating the weave of the tatami mats. The evening gloom was driven to the corners of the room.

Shikura, who had been fidgeting restlessly, raised his head as if resolved when Pastor Kobe quietly returned to his seat, but immediately let it droop weakly. A suffocating silence persisted. The scent of daphne blossoms crept into the nostrils of host and guest and rendered the atmosphere even more oppressive. Shikura once more resolutely raised his face. “Pastor.”

He cried out in anguish. “Please laugh at me. Punish me. Shikura is a pitiful human being.” “What’s the matter?”

Pastor Kobe looked at him with pity.

“Go ahead and tell me.” “Pastor, I am a despicable person. I am a weak person.”

Having rapidly spat out these words, Shikura paused for a moment to catch his breath before continuing with an anguished expression,

“Pastor, please look at my nose.”

Pastor Kobe stared fixedly at the enormous nose located right in the middle of his deeply tanned, rugged face. The pastor seriously observed his nose. His earnestness left the pastor no room to even smile. “Pastor, I have an excessive sexual appetite. “This large nose of mine is proof of that.”

Pastor Kobe did not offer any particular response and instead kept a steady watch on his pitiable, excited face. “Pastor, please punish me.” “Please forgive me.” “And then save me.” Shikura pleaded fervently, almost on the verge of tears. The wife who had brought the tea had been standing outside the sliding door since earlier. “Please don’t get so worked up—speak calmly.” Pastor Kobe said soothingly to Shikura. “Pastor, I have committed a grave sin.” “It is a defiled sin.”

“There is no sin so defiled that it cannot be atoned for. Go ahead and tell me.”

“Pastor, I violated a woman.” “An innocent girl.” “As I said before, I am a wretched slave to sexual desire.” “In truth, about a month ago, my wife returned to her hometown of Akita.” “In the desolation of my empty bedchamber during her absence, I made advances toward our maid Sadako and ultimately used violence to satisfy my beastly cravings.” Shikura spoke in broken fragments as if wrestling with each word, finally completing his confession before fixing his gaze downward. Pastor Kobe watched with restrained astonishment at this unforeseen admission,

“That is quite an outrageous thing you’ve done.” “That’s not all of my sins.” Eventually, Shikura raised his face and spoke in a wretched tone. “I ended up transmitting an abominable disease to her.” “Huh, uh...”

Even Pastor Kobe, who had been listening composedly, could not help but raise his voice at the sheer extremity of it all. Was he afflicted with such an abominable disease? Was this truly the act of one who supposedly belonged to the religious world?

“I can find no words to say. Please take pity on me for having to appear before you and speak of such shameful matters.” “You have confessed well. I believe you will certainly be saved.”

“Thank you very much. Pastor, my disgraceful deeds were not left unpunished. They were discovered by both my wife and the girl’s parents. The girl’s uncle is an uncontrollable ruffian. I am constantly being threatened.”

Pastor Kobe felt as though he had been somewhat deceived. He averted his eyes from Shikura’s utterly dejected figure and glanced toward the front garden. In the dusk, clove flowers stood out white.

Pastor Kobe had thought until now that Shikura had been confessing his sins with sincere earnestness, but hearing this, it seemed he might have come clinging to him out of fear of being threatened by the maid’s uncle. The tears he shed were not necessarily those of remorse—the one who had come seeking salvation might not have been his spirit but his flesh.

“Pastor,” Shikura looked up anxiously at the silent pastor while,

“I am sincerely repentant.” “Please save me.”

Was Shikura’s repentance genuine? At this moment, his genuine emotion—even if driven by fear of a ruffian’s threats rather than divine punishment—could indeed be recognized as true repentance. There would likely be no one who could cast stones and condemn him for this confession.

Pastor Kobe straightened his posture.

“So, what would you have me do?” “I would like you to mediate between me and the uncle.”

Shikura answered with a sigh of relief. “Of course, I swear I will never commit such a transgression again.”

“What exactly is the situation with this uncle you speak of?” “He just keeps shouting that I must return his niece in her original condition.” “I see.”

Pastor Kobe had been thinking for a while, but “I do not care to involve myself in such matters, but since you have gone to the trouble of asking, I shall at least meet with this uncle of yours. By the way, what about the father?” “There’s no doubt he’s furious, but my father himself hasn’t said anything directly about it.”

“As for the father, I believe I met him at least once.” “There’s no reason for the uncle to make such a fuss when we should first consider the father.” “In any case, I’ll try speaking calmly on my part.”

At Pastor Kobe’s compassionate words, Shikura repeatedly bowed his head, expressed his gratitude, and left. Afterward, Pastor Kobe exerted every effort and finally managed to have the maid Sada taken back by her parents, while Shikura—under the condition of paying two hundred yen in compensation, having her attend the hospital until her illness was cured, and bearing the treatment costs—reached a tentative agreement.

At long last, when it came time to hand over the promised money to the uncle Sadajirō, Pastor Kobe was somewhat taken aback by Shikura’s attitude. When Shikura, having been threatened by the uncle Sadajirō, found himself in dire straits, he had tearfully appealed to Pastor Kobe. At that time, his state of mind was truly pitiable, with such an overflow of remorse that no one could have borne to chastise him further in that moment. That was precisely why Pastor Kobe, feeling pity, had taken on the role of mediator; yet when it finally came time to hand over the money as part of the settlement, his attitude had completely changed.

He could not bear the regret of having to part with his money. "I handed over the money." When he reported this to Pastor Kobe with such a bitterly resentful appearance, even Pastor Kobe was startled. In short, he appeared to be a thorough miser. At times, he frantically begrudged spending money. It might be said that his numerous crimes too stemmed from this extreme attachment to money. The genuine emotion he had shown when earnestly confessing and seeking salvation from Pastor Kobe would—the moment it came time to pay money—instantly retreat into shadow, laying bare the ugly, base aspects of his psyche. In this regard, one might say he possessed dual personalities.

As the case was superficially resolved, Pastor Kobe withdrew from the case.

Uncle Sadajirō apparently continued visiting Shikura’s house from time to time afterward to press his demands. Kobayashi Sadako’s disappearance on her way to the hospital occurred not long after that. When Pastor Kobe heard Sadako had gone missing, he thought that avaricious uncle might have sold her off somewhere and felt pity for her; yet having neither obligation to pry further nor curiosity to do so, he left the matter as it was. Afterward, Shikura occasionally visited Pastor Kobe.

The above were the main points that Pastor Kobe had presented to the police in his statement. Shikura’s wife Shizuko’s account of this matter was largely similar.

Shikura, who for three days since his arrest had stubbornly denied any knowledge no matter what he was asked, was once again brought out to the interrogation room that afternoon and was being questioned by Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe. “Hey, don’t play innocent! Where did you hide Kobayashi Sada?” “Spit it out!” The short-tempered Detective Watanabe roared.

Shikura remained silent as ever, his cold eyes looking up at the detectives' faces. "The evidence has piled up more than enough!"

Detective Ishiko said through gritted teeth.

“The longer you stay silent, the worse off you’ll be. “A proper confession could mean extenuating circumstances. “Your stubbornness is making your blameless wife suffer too—isn’t that right?” “Huh? Are you saying my wife is being investigated?”

Shikura was startled.

“That’s right. Your innocent wife has been questioned nonstop for three days and nights.”

Detective Ishiko deliberately exaggerated and tried to intimidate him, speaking in a mocking tone. "That’s terrible! What could my wife possibly know?" Shikura said while trying to hide his look of anguish. "We’re trying to find out whether you know or not."

Seeing that Shikura had shown signs of flinching, Ishiko pressed harder with his words—but Shikura once again fell completely silent.

The three-foot door of the detectives’ room clattered open.

Appearing were Ōshima Judicial Officer and Detective Negishi. "Haven't you confessed yet? Fine, we'll handle the questioning." When Ishiko saw the face of the chief who had come out declaring *"Alright, I'll take over the questioning,"* he cried out in surprise. "Oh! Chief, your complexion looks terribly pale!" "Yeah." The chief answered with a furrowed brow. "I'm just feeling a bit unwell." Ōshima Judicial Officer's complexion was ghastly pale. Outwardly he had a sturdy, robust-looking build, but being inherently weak-hearted by nature, he would often suffer from cerebral anemia whenever he became overly excited or immersed himself in investigations.

“Since we’re not tired yet, why don’t you take a rest for a while?”

Detective Watanabe said worriedly.

When the detectives grew weary from questioning, they seemed to switch to fresh investigators. If Shikura—interrogated without respite—was never granted rest, then even one as robust as he would eventually see his strength to resist exhausted. “No, it’s nothing.”

The chief said firmly. "I cannot rest until Shikura confesses."

“I tried quite hard to stop him, you know.”

Detective Negishi said. "The Chief refuses to listen." "I see. Then we'll entrust this to you."

Ishiko said this and left the room with Detective Watanabe. “Shikura.”

The chief stared fixedly at him and said. “Are you still not going to confess where Kobayashi Sadako is?” “I cannot answer what I do not know, no matter how much you ask.” Shikura answered falteringly. “Okay, fine! Then I’ll tell you where the woman is!”

The chief roared. “What?!”

Shikura looked up at the chief’s face with a dumbfounded expression. “Kobayashi Sadako is in the old well at Ōsaki!” “Wh-What?!” Shikura sprang to his feet. “Do you think the police know nothing?!”

When the chief mentioned the old well in Ōsaki, Shikura’s face instantly paled—but he immediately regained his previous look of feigned ignorance and sneered. “If you know Sadako’s whereabouts, isn’t that good enough? Why have you been questioning me all this time?” “What! Are you mocking this officer?!”

Chief Ōshima had reached the peak of fury, but unable to utter another word, he staggered as if about to collapse. "Oh! What's wrong? Stay with us!" Negishi, startled, caught the chief to support him.

“N-nothing, I’m fine.” The chief bit down on his bloodless lips and said. “Well, please rest.” Negishi forcibly restrained the chief and turned to Shikura. “Look here, Shikura—you’re causing quite the stir.” “There’s no point in angering the Judicial Officer, don’t you think?” “I think it’d be better for you to honestly tell us everything you know.” “I don’t know, so there’s nothing I can do.” Shikura answered somewhat kindly, though still as bluntly as ever.

When one read a certain text on interrogation methods for suspects, the first things listed were not to threaten the suspect, not to become angry with the suspect, and not to let them know the content of the suspicion. The police officers currently interrogating Shikura Kihei—starting with the chief—were all seasoned experts in their field; there was no way they could be unaware of something this fundamental. Naturally, they had initially conducted the interrogation by the book, but since Shikura was not a man to be easily subdued by nature, their gentler methods had all proved ineffective. Now, thoroughly exasperated, they were attempting to overwhelm him into confessing through sheer force.

Even the seasoned Detective Negishi still maintained some composure and pressed the investigation forward methodically. Since Shikura had been relentlessly harangued, he showed signs of being worn down. “Now then,”

Detective Negishi pressed forward with the interrogation, his sharp eyes gleaming ominously. "As we've repeatedly stated, we're not making unfounded claims." "But now I want to go beyond questions of evidence and appeal directly to your conscience." "You were ostensibly engaged in religious work, after all." "You must have preached to others about repenting from arrogance." "Listen—if you've done anything you consider wrong, why not come clean about everything now?" "Our duty isn't merely to uncover incriminating facts about suspects." "We thoroughly investigate beneficial circumstances too, attaching our recommendations when forwarding cases to the Prosecutor’s Office." "If you simply confess truthfully, we bear you no ill will—we'll request the chief to arrange for mitigated sentencing." "What I tell you contains no falsehood." "Persisting in resistance like this will ultimately work against your own interests."

“I’m not resisting in the least.” In response to Negishi’s endless, detailed words, Shikura answered while slightly softening his expression.

"But if I don't know something, I can't answer it, and if you interrogate me so high-handedly, naturally I can't just stay silent and back down either." "I see. What you're saying is reasonable." "But we find it impossible to believe you don't know." "That's simply a difference of opinion—in other words, a futile debate." "So you deny that during the Takanawa fire incident—when your property was half-burned—you bribed the insurance agent to have it treated as a total loss?"

“I did give money to the insurance salesman.” “However, that was merely a token of gratitude; I have no recollection of having had a partial fire treated as a total loss.” “On the night of that fire, you paid and hired a vagrant commonly called Tatsubō—what was that for?” “It wasn’t for anything.”

Shikura, who had inadvertently let something slip, hurriedly continued.

“No, I don’t recall hiring anyone like that.” “Hmph. Well, putting that aside for now—you were frequently threatened by Kobayashi Sadako’s uncle Sadajirō; that must have worn you down.” “That guy’s truly a bad one.” Shikura said resentfully, “That guy really put me through hell.” “Hmph. So about what time was it when you took Kobayashi Sadako from the hospital on her way back?” “I don’t know anything about that.” Shikura was not easily falling for Detective Negishi’s tactics. Though spring days are said to be long, under Negishi’s painstaking interrogation, the day had grown utterly dark before anyone noticed.

“Mr. Negishi.”

The Judicial Officer listened intently while wearing a pained expression. “I can’t go on—my head is swimming.” “I need to rest, so I’ll leave the rest to Ishiko and the others.”

While saying this, the Judicial Officer left listlessly.

Soon, Ishiko and Watanabe burst in roughly. "Hey, Shikura!"

Ishiko suddenly called out. “Still not confessing? You’re a stubborn bastard.” “Keep up this stubbornness, and we’ll make you regret it!”

Watanabe shouted.

“Mr. Shikura.” Detective Negishi said.

“These two are young men—there’s no telling what they might do to you. “Wouldn’t it be better to speak now rather than endure such pointless suffering? “Since you’ll have to talk eventually anyway, it’s more advantageous to do so now.” “Advantageous or not, I can’t say what I don’t know.” The night grew heavier. In the center of the bare detectives’ room where Shikura had been made to sit, a single dim electric lamp hung high above his head, casting stark shadows across the sunken eyes, sharp cheekbones, and prominent nose that marked his rugged face—every contour thrown into relief until he appeared truly monstrous.

“Fine! Then I’ll show you something!” With that shout, Ishiko took out something white, but the moment Shikura saw it—

“Ah!”

he shouted. What had made Shikura scream "Ah!" before he could even properly look? What Detective Ishiko had taken out was a bleached-white skull. "Shikura, take a good look at this skull."

Ishiko thrust the creepy skull in front of Shikura's eyes.

“What is this?”

Shikura shouted. “Don’t you recognize it?” “Look at the teeth of this skull.” “This is the skeleton of Kobayashi Sadako—the one you killed!” “Uh… uh…”

Shikura showed a look of terror and tried to look away. "Hey，there's no need to be so scared." Detective Watanabe took the skull from Ishiko— "Aren't these the bones of that woman you doted on?"

It wasn’t yet late enough to be called midnight.

But here in this detectives’ room—so terrifying even to hear about—the surroundings were desolate. Surrounded by hardened detectives with a skull thrust before his eyes, even someone as formidable as Shikura must have been startled. If he had indeed killed Kobayashi Sadako, how terrified he must have felt then—it was not hard to imagine. Yet the audacious Shikura displayed only a flicker of disarray before swiftly regaining his original detestable demeanor of contemptuous disregard for others.

“I don’t know anything about that thing! Don’t talk such nonsense about killing Sadako!”

“Sadako’s corpse was retrieved from the old well in Osaki, you know.” Negishi said calmly. “I hear you went to see it then. What did you feel?” “There was an incident where a woman’s body was retrieved from the old well in Osaki.” “I remember going to see that.” “But that was absolutely not Sadako.” “That’s not true.” “It’s definitely Sadako’s body.” “No—that retrieved corpse had completely decomposed, so there’s no way to tell whose it was.” “In fact, even the coroner at the time couldn’t have known anything about it.”

“Shikura, you know an extraordinary amount of detail, don’t you?” “――――” “Since something had come to mind, you were paying close attention to the autopsy results, weren’t you?” “Right?”

“――――” “Shikura.” Detective Ishiko shouted as if he could no longer endure it. “No matter how you try to hide the fact that you threw a woman into that old well, it’s useless.” “Just confess frankly and get it over with!” “You can’t keep this hidden forever.”

Negishi continued in a nitpicking tone. “I’ve interrogated all sorts of criminals. There were stubborn ones among them who wouldn’t confess easily, but in the end they all gave in. You can’t keep insisting until the very end that you don’t know about the crime you actually committed. If you’re going to have to tell the truth anyway, the sooner the better. Even if it goes to trial, it would be very advantageous for you. Moreover, the longer your confession drags on, the longer your wife and children will suffer.”

“I understand perfectly well what you’re saying.”

Shikura nodded while, “If I had any recollection, I would naturally speak of it. Being kept in such a place indefinitely is agony, and when I think of my wife and children, it’s more painful than being sliced open. Because I truly know nothing, no matter how much you ask, I won’t answer beyond this. Send me to trial quickly.” “So you insist to the bitter end that you know nothing?” Negishi changed his tone and glared piercingly at Shikura. “That’s right.” Shikura retorted under Negishi’s blazing gaze.

“Enough!”

Negishi stood up abruptly.

“I have nothing more to say. From this point onward, I won’t care what hardships you endure. If you happen to recall anything I’ve said, tell them you want to meet Negishi—then we’ll meet again.” Having spat out these words, Negishi left the room.

Detective Watanabe, who had been inching closer all this time, edged forward toward Shikura with the skull in one hand. The night gradually deepened.

Here was a separate world removed from the mundane world.

Even hearing its name would make the timid tremble—such was the interrogation room. From Detective Watanabe, who advanced on Shikura with the skull in one hand, a ghastly aura emanated. “Shikura! No matter how you feign calmness and cling to your ignorant act, it won’t work.” “If you were truly innocent, why didn’t you come forward boldly from the start to clear yourself?” “Your very flight proves your guilt!” “And those countless deeds you committed while fleeing—no one witnessing them could see you as anything but a villain.” “We’ve uncovered irrefutable evidence—Bible thefts, arson, assaults.” “You want to evade the murder charge most of all, but that’s hopeless now we’ve recovered the victim’s undeniable corpse.” “Why not confess this obvious crime at once and beg mercy from the court?” “Do you still dare claim this skull means nothing to you?!”

Shikura, who had grown agitated under the relentless interrogation from earlier, shouted in his distinctive, booming rasp.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! No matter what you tell me, I don’t know!” “How could you not know?!” Detective Watanabe roared.

“This is the skull of that woman you pampered. Now look closely!” Detective Watanabe pressed the skull flush against Shikura’s face.

As Shikura was about to shout something, the room's entrance clattered open, and someone slipped in abruptly.

It was Police Chief Shōji Rikitarō. The Police Chief moved his tall frame—honed through judo—forward with heavy, deliberate steps, his face betraying no emotion as he addressed the detectives with an inscrutable, vacant demeanor. “Hey, what’s taking so long? Haven’t you finished yet?” “No, sir.” Ishiko stiffened while responding, “He still hasn’t confessed.” “I see.” He gave a slight nod before turning toward Shikura, “Hey you—looks like this still hasn’t been resolved, has it?”

The night was already quite late. Though still too early for flowers, it was the heart of spring, and Kagurazaka Street, which had bustled with evening crowds, now lay nearly deserted, its night stalls sparse and passersby few. Though the wind wasn’t blowing, the bone-chilling cold pierced through to the marrow. Shikura, subjected to prolonged interrogation in a cold, unheated room, was pitiable—though this was a problem entirely of his own making.

“Hey, you—how about you hurry up and tell the truth to get this over with?” The Police Chief spoke as if urging the silent Shikura. Shikura looked up steadily at the Police Chief, who appeared to be seven or eight years younger than himself.

When one looked at the diary Shikura later wrote in prison recalling this interrogation at Kagurazaka Police Station,

“As the clock struck twelve with a clang, the Police Chief would appear like a hellish demon tormenting the damned, looming forth.” he had written.

In the report that Kagurazaka Police Station submitted to the court regarding this matter,

“Due to investigative necessities, interrogations were sometimes continued into the night, reaching past ten o’clock.”

it stated.

There was no way to know which account held truth, but interrogations had indeed been carried on well into the night at Kagurazaka Police Station during that period. Shikura, "When the twelve o'clock bell clangs," had written this with some rhetorical flourish—it seemed unlikely the Police Chief had actually appeared precisely at the bell's tolling. Whether Shikura had truly committed murder remained a matter for sacred trial to determine, but his involvement in other misdeeds left no room for doubt. Given his obstinacy, perhaps the interrogations' reaching such extreme severity they did became unavoidable.

Now, how did the Police Chief conduct his interrogation?

“Hey you, where did you hide Sadako?” “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Police Chief Shōji, his ruddy, round face framed by thick strong prescription glasses beneath which his relatively small eyes blinked rapidly, began his interrogation calmly and methodically without pressure or haste. "I don’t recall hiding her, so there’s nothing for me to figure out." Even Shikura, facing the Police Chief himself, adopted a more courteous tone. “Claiming you don’t remember hiding her won’t work.” “It’s an undeniable fact that you were being hounded for money over that woman and found it a nuisance.” “Then what do you think made her disappear?”

"I don’t know much about that, but perhaps her uncle Sadajirō might have done something." "What do you mean by ‘something’?" "He probably sold her off somewhere." "Hahaha, you come up with such odd ideas." "That Sadajirō fellow landed himself a nice little cash cow thanks to that woman, didn’t he?" "You don’t really think he’d throw away such a valuable cash cow for the trifling amount he’d get by selling her off, do you?" "No—you’re the one who saw that woman as a nuisance." "You kidnapped her on her way back from the hospital and sold her off somewhere."

“There is absolutely no such thing.” “Think it over carefully.”

The Police Chief stared intently at Shikura, “You won’t be able to leave here until you finish telling everything you know. Look, the evidence that you stole the Bible is already irrefutable. With that alone, you will be sent to the Prosecutor’s Office and will certainly be indicted. So then—how about you finish by honestly telling us about the other matters? The preliminary judge won’t overlook anything eventually—confessing here and now would show far more backbone.”

“If it’s a crime I committed, I will confess—but I cannot speak of things I know nothing about.”

Shikura answered vehemently. "Hmph, that's precisely the problem."

The Police Chief slightly strengthened his tone. "You can't possibly not know—and as long as you keep this up, even your innocent wife will be thoroughly investigated alongside you. If you won't open your mouth, we'll have no choice but to make your wife open hers." "My wife knows nothing about this."

Shikura shouted. “You just said your wife knows nothing, didn’t you?” The Police Chief pressed for confirmation as he spoke,

“That may be so. “But you said your wife doesn’t know anything, didn’t you?” “Since you insist your wife knows nothing, you must certainly know something yourself. Out with it.” “I’ll have your wife sent home immediately.” “――――” Shikura pressed his lips tight, his expression turning ferocious. Once he reached this state, he wouldn’t open his mouth easily. “Hey, staying silent won’t help anyone understand.” “Why not just tell the truth now and spare yourself these tiresome interrogations?” “Wouldn’t it be better to face trial promptly and make a clean confession?” “In my official capacity, I’ll strive to mitigate your sentence. With your substantial assets, the family you leave behind needn’t suffer want.” “Well? What say you?”

The Police Chief continued to press his case insistently. There’s a saying about changing tactics and approaches, and when dealing with a stubbornly obstinate man like Shikura, they had no choice but to follow it to the letter. Determined to make Shikura talk, the Police Chief interrogated him by alternately deceiving and cajoling him as one would a child. From the very beginning, the Police Chief harbored no ulterior motives.

Even as Shikura at the time persisted in his denials of knowledge, he must have been considerably impressed by the Police Chief’s interrogation. This became evident through his later confession.

However, how he—now transformed into a vengeful demon—seized upon the Police Chief’s careless remarks during this interrogation and exploited them. Dear readers, there will come a time when you are startled.

“I have thoroughly understood your words.”

Shikura suddenly raised his head. “I will consider this carefully, so please allow me to sleep today.”

“Very well.” At Shikura’s words requesting to be allowed to sleep, the Police Chief thought for a while, “Alright—we’ll conclude today’s interrogation here. I’ll question you again tomorrow; you’d better think it over.”

The long interrogation that had continued since the afternoon ended here. Shikura wove fragile dreams in his desolate cell.

The next morning also had a pleasantly spring-like sky. People, laughing merrily all the while, went to visit the remaining plum blossoms in the suburbs and cherry trees whose buds were still tightly closed. Even the people busily bustling about in the shopping district were filled with an unaccountably leisurely mood.

However, for Shikura Kihei, confined in his detention cell, there was no arrival of spring. The police officers, who were single-mindedly striving to make him confess, also had no time to savor spring. Inside the square gray building of the police station, things were hectic.

That morning, the interior of Kagurazaka Police Station was somehow shrouded in gloom.

Judicial Officer Ōshima’s condition had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. It had been previously mentioned that he had pushed through his illness and thrown himself into interrogating Shikura, but yesterday—despite feeling particularly unwell—he had forced himself to come to the station. Once there, he found himself unable to refrain from questioning Shikura. Ignoring the detectives’ attempts to stop him, he began the interrogation but soon grew agitated, severely aggravating his chronic heart condition. Upon returning home, he collapsed on the spot.

“Judicial Officer Ōshima seems to be in critical condition.”

Ishiko, his face deathly pale, entered the Police Chief's office and said while staring at the Police Chief's face.

“What?!” Even the usually unflappable Police Chief finally showed a look of shock and abruptly stood up.

That same afternoon when Judicial Officer Ōshima had fallen into a comatose state, kept barely clinging to life through saline injections, Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe once again brought Shikura out from the detention cell. This was their act of vengeance for the Judicial Officer.

The two men were filled with murderous intent from the beginning.

“Hey, Shikura! Are you absolutely not going to talk?”

Detective Watanabe raged.

“Now it’s a battle of endurance. Will you break first, or will I collapse? We’ll keep interrogating you for days on end.” “Shikura, as I’ve told you many times—” Detective Ishiko barked, as though he might bite at any moment.

“The things you did are crystal clear. Even if you keep feigning ignorance and insisting you know nothing, it’s no use!” However, Shikura did not readily attempt to confess.

The afternoon sun gradually sank until dusk finally arrived, but the interrogation still did not cease. Through the firmly closed door of the detectives' room, the angry shouts of the detectives occasionally leaked out to be heard. When the day had completely darkened, the door to the detectives' room opened, and Shikura, his face pale, abruptly appeared. Behind him, both detectives followed without a moment’s inattention. He had been permitted to go to the restroom.

What must Shikura have been feeling at this moment?

He was now under suspicion of a terrible crime and being interrogated day and night. His actions were fully sufficient to warrant such suspicion. As you, dear readers, are already aware, numerous pieces of evidence had been gathered. However, while this evidence certainly served to deepen suspicion, one might say there was nothing definitively conclusive. That was precisely why they absolutely had to extract a confession from him. Yet he—perhaps sensing the fragility of this evidence—refused to open his mouth. The police officers, who until now had handled notorious tough guys like children, found themselves thoroughly outmaneuvered. Now they sought to pry open his jaws through sheer force, much like General Nogi's relentless assault on Port Arthur. Even Shikura—that formidable man—staggered into the restroom utterly spent.

Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe were keeping steady watch outside.

Shikura, who had entered the restroom, did not come out for quite some time. Since detained suspects sometimes tried to escape through restrooms, the windows had been completely covered with wire mesh; moreover, given that this was an especially crucial suspect, the two detectives kept watch with eyes blazing fiercely, making any thought of escape utterly impossible. Was he now seeking a moment’s respite in that miserable restroom, his mind granting him no peace? Even so, it was taking far too long.

Detective Watanabe called out from outside when he could wait no longer, but instead of a reply, a groan was heard from within. Then the door opened and Shikura staggered out. Blood was thickly smeared around his mouth, and from his right fist, blood dripped down onto his kimono.

“What happened?!”

Detectives Watanabe and Ishiko simultaneously shouted that and restrained him from both sides. “Ugh...”

Shikura gasped painfully. Since they had been maintaining strict vigilance to prevent any recurrence of such attempts ever since he had tried to kill himself by swallowing coins in the past, the detectives could only look upon this state of affairs with suspicion and astonishment.

Due to the emergency report, the police doctor immediately rushed over.

As a result of the interrogation, it was discovered that Shikura had broken the restroom window glass and swallowed its fragments. After conducting a brief examination, the doctor declared there was no significant harm, just as when he had swallowed coins before.

This kind of situation could never have been calmly accepted by detectives already worked into a frenzy. “Bastard!”

Detective Watanabe shouted. "You pulled another fake suicide stunt!" "Do you think swallowing glass could kill you?!" Detective Ishiko said bitterly. "You're pulling these pathetic stunts to delay the interrogation." "No matter what anyone says, you've definitely committed arson and murder." "Do you think we'll let you stay silent?!"

However, the two detectives were unable to continue the interrogation that day. Shikura was also weakened, and that night, Judicial Officer Ōshima finally died.

The Judicial Officer’s death might not have been solely due to the Shikura case. However, it is certain that this case constituted a significant contributing factor. And the fact that the Judicial Officer had died during Shikura’s interrogation sent shockwaves through the entire police station.

The person appointed to replace Judicial Officer Ōshima was an assistant inspector named Satō. This man was one who would earnestly persuade others with compassion. Moreover, since he was unaware of the initial circumstances, he held no preconceived biases or resentment toward Shikura. He was able to approach him with a completely blank slate. That seems to have indeed been effective in eliciting Shikura’s confession. Judicial Officer Satō and Detective Negishi patiently explained to Shikura the benefits of confessing and advised him to seek leniency by appealing to the Police Chief.

During that time, it went without saying that Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe and the Police Chief had alternately continued the interrogations. However, since Shikura's interrogation had already dragged on considerably, we shall now cease repeating such trivial questioning.

However, there was one matter here that could not be omitted—the question of why Shikura, who had been so obstinate until now, had come to make a complete confession. In short, I believe this was ultimately because they had persistently persuaded him by using his wife and children as shackles. If that were the case—since it related to subsequent matters—the final interrogation by the Police Chief could not be omitted.

“Shikura, why don’t you show some sense and finally make up your mind?”

Shikura’s so-called “appearing when the twelve o’clock bell goes BONG” The Police Chief said coaxingly. “Don’t you care for your wife and children? “I have children too, so I understand how dear they are—but you don’t mean to torment your wife and children forever, do you? “The longer your confession drags on, the more needless suffering they’ll endure. “Think hard about that.” “Causing your family unnecessary hardship can’t truly be your wish.”

The Police Chief’s admonitions continued relentlessly. "I’m not telling you to confess to things you don’t remember." "You’ll have to admit what you do recall eventually—the sooner the better." "You must worry about the aftermath, but with such a fine house and my full support, your family needn’t fret." "Isn’t it better to confess like a man than keep suffering through these interrogations?"

“Hey, Mr. Shikura.”

Detective Negishi took over after the Police Chief and said. “I think you’ve mostly figured it out by now. As we’ve always said, if even you would just honestly confess, we intend to do everything we can for your sake. The Police Chief has kindly assured you that you needn’t worry about your wife and children in that manner, so rather than causing us further trouble and pointlessly working against your own interests, why don’t you just come clean and confess everything?”

Judicial Officer Satō and Detective Negishi relentlessly pressed from the flank, using familial bonds as shackles. On the other hand, Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe bellowed head-on. In those intermittent moments, the tireless Police Chief Shōji conducted interrogations without rest or respite. Even the notoriously stubborn Shikura, who had resolved never to open his mouth once deciding not to speak, was now completely worn down. Moreover, he was also concerned about his wife and children.

Even if he momentarily evaded questioning, he could no longer maintain the facade of complete ignorance. The Police Chief, detecting this crack in his defenses, would never let such an opening slip. “Now, speak plainly.” “What exactly did you do with Kobayashi Sadako?” “I deeply regret all the inconvenience I’ve caused.” Shikura bowed his head as he spoke,

“As for Sadako, it was indeed I who abducted her.” “Hmm.” The Police Chief widened his eyes. “What did you do after abducting her?” After being arrested by the Kagurazaka Police Station, Shikura Kihei had maintained a blanket denial day and night despite relentless interrogation—but now, after a week of questioning, he finally began speaking about Sadako’s whereabouts. Both Police Chief Shōji and Detective Negishi felt eager to leap up, yet they kept their composure and waited intently for his next response.

"I'm deeply sorry." "I sold her."

Shikura answered while wearing a grave expression.

“What? You sold her off?”

The Police Chief parroted back,

“Where did you sell her off?”

“Shanghai.” “What? Shanghai?” “Yes.” “Hmm, I see. But you wouldn’t have sold her directly to Shanghai yourself. It must have gone through someone’s hands—but where is that someone from, and what sort of person are they?” “I’ve forgotten that.”

“What? You forgot? That can’t be—try to remember.” “After all, it’s been three whole years—I’ve completely forgotten.” “That’s impossible! You with your exceptional memory couldn’t possibly have forgotten such a major crime. Now that you’ve started talking, you might as well speak plainly.” “I just can’t recall.”

He reverted to his former self as Shikura—no matter what they asked, he insisted he knew nothing beyond that point. But victory had already been won by the police. Had he kept utterly silent, that would have been one matter. Yet once he let slip even fragmented words about his crimes, it sealed his fate. From then on, through relentless interrogation and exposing contradictions in his statements, any criminal would inevitably be cornered.

“Hey, Shikura.” Negishi pulled out his trump card. “Just saying you sold her off to Shanghai isn’t clear enough. Since you’ve resolved to make a proper confession, just say it plainly without all the fuss.”

Confession Subjected to relentless interrogations alternating between the Police Chief and detectives, he could no longer maintain silence and confessed to having sold Sadako off to Shanghai. Yet as their pursuit intensified—the questioning first handled by the Chief before being transferred to Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe—his responses grew increasingly disjointed, riddled with contradictions that made his claim of selling her to Shanghai appear ever more dubious. When Negishi finally resumed the interrogation and pressed him on every critical point—concluding with his customary admonition to confess quickly and seek the Police Chief's mercy—he seemed profoundly moved, prostrating himself with both hands pressed to the floor.

“I surrender. I will hide nothing anymore. I will make a full confession. Please take me before the Police Chief.”

When it comes to the psychology of criminal confessions, matters grow complex—yet it's said that criminals invariably desire to confess before the most authoritative figure possible. Was this class consciousness at work here? Or were they attempting to ensure their confession reached authorities intact? Either way, it presents an intriguing psychological phenomenon.

When Shikura stated that he wanted to confess before the Police Chief, Detective Negishi—a man of considerable experience—far from taking offense, was instead greatly delighted and promptly relayed the matter to the Chief. The Police Chief rejoiced as if about to leap for joy and rushed over without a moment’s delay.

Shikura, having already steeled his resolve, here showed no trace of guilt as he methodically confessed each and every one of the crimes he had committed. The details of his horrific crimes, if dramatized, would indeed form an entire novel; but for now, in our haste to proceed, we shall limit ourselves to recording them exactly as he confessed.

It was an autumn morning in Taishō 2, the sky clear and high. Kobayashi Sadako, who had been infected with an abominable disease by Shikura, received treatment at a certain hospital in Izarako while enduring feelings of shame and trudged toward home—but when she suddenly noticed a man standing by the roadside, "Oh," she exclaimed and came to a halt. There stood Shikura Kihei, grinning smugly. "Sada, I've been waiting here for you." Shikura gazed at her surprised face while,

“So your illness will get better soon—I thought I’d take you to a better doctor. Come with me.” The girl called Sadako, as had been mentioned before, was just sixteen years old at the time—a timid girl who some might even call simple-minded, being a gentle soul unable to firmly voice her objections. Since it was her former master Shikura making the request, and she remained completely unaware of any sinister plot, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse outright and followed him in silence.

To reassure her, Shikura first took her to Akasaka Juntendo Hospital. However, having no intention of actually having her examined, he made Sada wait in the disorderly waiting room for a while before taking her outside again, claiming that the hospital was unavailable that day. After that, he took the girl to Shinjuku. In Shinjuku, he entered a certain movie theater with Sadako and waited for time to pass. Unaware even in her dreams that a terrifying demon’s hand was creeping up behind her, leading her moment by moment to the brink of death, how cruelly ironic fate must have seemed as she watched a love scene with childlike delight.

By the time they left the makeshift movie theater on that autumn day when dusk comes early, the surroundings had grown dim. There, for dinner, Shikura had Sadako eat tendon. Watching the girl innocently eating her tendon, what could Shikura possibly have been feeling? He deliberately chose the Yamanote Line train for the return trip from Shinjuku. At the time, the acquaintance’s house where Sada was staying was not particularly far from Meguro Station, so Shikura was able to invite her without arousing suspicion.

By the time they alighted at Meguro, daylight had already completely faded. Shikura—having disembarked at Meguro Station—deliberately selected back alleys and led the woman toward Ikedagahara. While Meguro Station today teems with bustling crowds of commuters, around Taishō 3 it remained a desolate stop where daytime passengers numbered at most four or five, let alone at night when travelers grew nearly nonexistent. The road toward Ōsaki naturally lacked the rows of houses seen today; though dwellings stood scattered along the main thoroughfare, the rear immediately gave way to what was then called Ikedagahara. Though still early evening, not a single passerby could be seen.

Shikura pressed onward into the vast field of lush, overgrown grass. Sadako followed along without suspicion. When they finally neared the old well at the center of the field, Shikura deliberately slowed his pace. The moment he drew shoulder-to-shoulder with the girl, he lunged at her in the blink of an eye, strangled her with a pre-prepared hand towel, and finished the deed by throwing the corpse into the old well. This corpse resurfaced after six months, was buried as an unidentified suicide victim, and then was exhumed by the Kagurazaka Police Station in February of Taishō 6, three years later. The corpse had been confirmed as Kobayashi Sada through part of its clothing and the peculiar development of its canine teeth, as previously described.

It goes without saying that Sada’s father searched desperately for his daughter’s whereabouts. Furthermore, that her uncle Sadajirō had repeatedly confronted Shikura, suspecting him of wrongdoing, is something readers already knew well. However, needless to say, Shikura flatly denied everything and refused to engage. The situation at that time could be glimpsed in letters Shikura had sent to Pastor Kobe. "Regarding this matter, I am profoundly grateful for your manifold considerations, yet find myself at a loss for how to express adequate thanks—indeed, there exists no means to convey my gratitude. The Lord shall surely act in my stead, and I believe without doubt He will recompense even one ten-thousandth part of your kindness, Reverend." (Omission) "Ah, entrusting myself to your earnest words—though they claim she fled the hospital or hides again, such insolence recurring not once but twice—yet heeding your counsel, I shall turn a blind eye and pay one hundred yen. Beyond that, there remains nothing more to be done. O wise Pastor, I humbly beseech you to arrange matters as you deem fit."

Regarding the aforementioned letter, Pastor Kobe had wondered why Shikura kept sending him elaborate letters about an already resolved case, going out of his way to emphasize his ignorance of Sadako’s whereabouts—yet it never occurred to him that Shikura had already murdered Sadako by that time. Furthermore, based on Kobayashi Sadajirō’s complaint, the Takanawa Police Station at the time dispatched two detectives to conduct a preliminary investigation, summoning Shikura for questioning. However, it proved largely a perfunctory inquiry; after submitting a brief written statement, Shikura was released. This matter is recorded here because Shikura later wrote about it repeatedly while imprisoned.

In addition to murder, he confessed to the terrifying crime of arson. He first committed arson in Yokohama for the purpose of insurance fraud and successfully carried it out. Emboldened by this success, when he relocated within Kanda, he plotted to commit arson once more.

One evening, under the guise of organizing books, he soaked cotton waste with gasoline and tossed it behind the bookcase. And then, at midnight, he set it ablaze. Once his house had burned down, he devised a treacherous scheme. That is, he secretly drafted an anonymous denunciation letter and reported to the Nishikichō Police Station that his neighbor Tanida Yoshizō had plotted the arson to commit insurance fraud. By arranging matters this way, even should the arson be discovered, he could redirect suspicion toward his neighbor. What a fearsome scheme this was. The one who suffered was Tanida.

The distinction between accidental fires and arson could prove difficult even for seasoned police officials to discern depending on circumstances. Moreover, even when arson was confirmed, identifying the actual perpetrator often proved exceedingly difficult. That the police station initially directed suspicion toward Tanida based on the anonymous accusation letter was perhaps unavoidable. Whether Tanida had occupied a position particularly vulnerable to suspicion, or whether his responses - unaccustomed as he was to such settings - only served to deepen suspicions, he remained detained for some time. He had been held in custody for roughly a week.

On the seventh day, Shikura appeared before the police with a virtuous expression and pleaded on Tanida’s behalf. This too was an extremely cunning method, and he fully utilized his position. The police, believing him to be a pastor, kept him entirely outside suspicion. Then, with an utterly sympathetic expression, he passionately defended Tanida as someone who would never do such a thing, so even the normally astute police were completely taken in.

The third arson was executed with even greater ingenuity and audacity than before. This occurred within Shinagawa Police Station's jurisdiction, where he hired a vagrant—commonly called a tatchinbō—to set fire to his own house. That very night, he calmly shared bedding with his wife, lay beside her pillow, and slept deeply. The Shinagawa Police Station had been thoroughly deceived and never entertained the slightest suspicion toward Shikura. Though this fire only partially burned the structure, Shikura gave ten yen to Shinagawa officers to doctor the documents, paid three hundred yen to an insurance agent to report it as a total loss, and deftly collected the full insurance payout. One could only marvel at such layers of depravity.

The assault on Sadako and, more fundamentally, the theft of the Bible that had precipitated this incident—all of these he had confessed to in full. Given his outrageously heinous crimes, persistent evasion tactics, and stubborn denials, the manner in which he laid everything bare without hesitation once his confession began—so cleanly and effortlessly—left Police Chief Shōji and all personnel thoroughly awed.

When his lengthy confession concluded, Police Chief Shōji let the weight drop from his shoulders with a sigh of relief and spoke with a radiant look of satisfaction.

“Well done confessing thoroughly.” “This allows me to fulfill my duties, and you must feel unburdened now.” “All that remains is to receive judgment from the sacred judge.” “Sins committed will vanish through repentance.” “Yet punishment must still be borne under the nation’s ordained laws.” “You’re prepared for this, I trust?” “Yes.” As though transformed into another man entirely, Shikura—crushed and choking back tears—finally lifted his face,

“I am prepared for that,” Shikura responded, his voice choked with emotion. “Truly, I deeply apologize for having caused you such prolonged trouble until now. For your considerate efforts throughout this ordeal, I have nothing but gratitude. I humbly entreat you to handle the remaining matters with kindness.” “That goes without saying,” Chief Shōji replied, his tone retaining its formal authority. “I shall prepare the written record of your confession—you will affix your seal to it. With our station’s role concluded, you’ll be transferred immediately to the prosecutor’s office. Should you wish it, I could arrange a final meeting with your wife and child beforehand.”

“Thank you very much.”

Shikura looked up at the police chief with an expression of profound gratitude.

"I would like to see my wife once... but as for my child," He faltered,

“I do not wish to see my child.”

“Hmm, I see.”

The police chief, who was already a father himself, true to form in weighing parental affection, nodded somberly and,

“Then I’ll have your wife summoned immediately.” “And if I may presume upon your kindness, I would ask that you permit me to meet with Pastor Kobe once.” “I wish to make a complete confession before him without lingering regrets.” “Very well.” The police chief readily approved Shikura’s commendable request. “I’ll see to the arrangements at once. You should rest properly until then.”

That night, with the relief of having fully confessed to his crimes, Shikura—who until now had been unable to sleep peacefully due to the anxiety of concealing his sins, the agony of interrogation, and the torment of his conscience—now slept soundly without a care weighing on his mind.

The next day, when he got up, he was immediately made to bathe, and through the Police Chief’s kindness, was able to have his unkemptly overgrown hair completely cut by a barber who had been waiting. He felt refreshed in spirit and single-mindedly awaited the arrival of the time for his confession.

At this time in the chief’s office, Pastor Kobe—who had received a police summons and appeared while harboring suspicions—was told by the Police Chief about Shikura’s numerous criminal charges, leaving him utterly astonished and dumbfounded. “He fully confessed last night.”

The police chief said quietly. “So he says he wants to make a confession before you—would you be willing to meet him?”

Recalling this moment, Pastor Kobe said the following.

"—This was Mr. Shōji’s explanation.

We were astonished as we heard each and every one of them. As I have mentioned before, since we had been convinced until then that Shikura had no reason whatsoever to hide Sadako, this story was truly the most sensational news imaginable. But when we thought this way, indeed there were things that came to mind—his past litany of complaints and the depth of his resentment now surfaced with striking clarity.

That afternoon. Police Chief Shōji, now at long last preparing to transfer him to the prosecutor’s office, asked that we meet with him one final time. “We reluctantly agreed and awaited the appointed hour.”

Readers might have found Pastor Kobe’s final remark—“reluctantly and so on”—suspicious.

This is because pastors are those who should save sinners, and especially since Shikura, whom they usually served, wished to confess, shouldn't they have willingly listened to him?

However, I think as follows. The phrase “reluctantly” was likely written inadvertently, conveying a somewhat reluctant sentiment. As you all know, Pastor Kobe had been unable to feel any goodwill toward Shikura from their very first impression. He had reluctantly taken on the role of mediator in the Kobayashi Sadako incident, but Shikura’s conduct—unbecoming of someone in religious circles—and the attitudes he adopted before and after the incident made him frown; there can be no doubt he had ample reason to no longer wish to be involved with Shikura. Religious figures engaged in the great work of saving the world and its people can never persist in sentimentalism—no, rather, is it not that those very religious figures require exceptional rationality above all else? I must apologize for boring you, dear readers, with such logical arguments, but I feel compelled to briefly mention these matters here as they will have some bearing on subsequent events.

In any case, when Pastor Kobe heard of Shikura's commendable confession, he did not become needlessly agitated, nor did he from the outset pity Shikura and lose himself in sentimental emotions; instead, fully exercising his rationality, he attended the scene of Shikura's repentance with what could be described as a reluctant attitude. This not only revealed an aspect of his character but also created a significant contributing factor when Shikura was later condemned.

Even so, Pastor Kobe was pitiable. For this mere half-hour meeting with Shikura, he had to endure unspeakable unpleasantness over several long years that followed.

Was Pastor Kobe's reluctance to meet with Shikura perhaps forewarned by some primal instinct?

In front of the desk, the Police Chief was sitting calmly in an armchair. In another armchair placed beside it, Pastor Kobe had taken his seat. Beside them, a foreign missionary named Williamson, who had been summoned as a witness, sat on an ordinary chair with a perplexed frown. With just that, this cramped police chief’s office left little room to spare. The afternoon sun, which had grown distinctly spring-like, was gently striking against the window. Outside the window was a small garden where several slender trees stood, and birds flitted noisily from branch to branch. Occasionally, the chirp-chirp of their calls leaked into the room.

The three waited in silence. Soon the door opened, and Shizuko—Shikura's haggard-faced wife—entered with her pale face bowed low, accompanied by a detective. Upon entering the room, she dropped heavily onto the wooden floor and sat motionless like a mannequin, never lifting her head. Stray hairs trembled faintly against her white neck. Pastor Kobe found himself gazing at them without purpose. The detective who had escorted her left at once but soon returned restlessly, surveyed the scene, then exited again. These movements carried an ominous weight that seemed to foreshadow impending events, while an unnatural stillness pressed suffocating tension upon everyone present.

A maddening silence persisted for several minutes. The soft tapping of stealthy footsteps could be heard approaching.

Before long, the door swished open, and Shikura, with a rope fastened around his waist, entered dejectedly. Detectives Ishiko and Watanabe were following behind him.

He obediently sat down in the chair before the Police Chief and Pastor Kobe as instructed and kept his head bowed. “Shikura.” The Police Chief called out gently. “You must be glad to finally meet Pastor Kobe, whom you’ve always respected. You may speak freely about anything.” Along with the police chief’s words, Pastor Kobe leaned forward slightly in his chair and gazed intently at Shikura.

Recalling this moment, Pastor Kobe wrote as follows.

In the center of the small police chief’s room were two armchairs. Mr. Shōji occupied one, and I occupied the other. Next to me sat a missionary named Williamson, who had come as a witness. Across the desk was also Shikura's wife Shizuko. Before long, a detective kept exiting and entering the room. A few minutes later, Kihei entered the room with a rope fastened on his back. Naturally, the two detectives were accompanying him behind. When Kihei sat down in a chair, Mr. Shōji demonstrated his goodwill by arranging for us to meet with his long-time acquaintance. "I was the first to admonish him."

Pastor Kobe fixed his eyes on Shikura’s face and earnestly admonished him. “I hear you’ve been worried since this morning that you couldn’t face me, but I assure you there’s absolutely no need for that.” “I hear you have finally confessed to all your past crimes—that is most commendable.” “Now that you’ve finally poured out from your heart the sins you’ve concealed for years, there’s absolutely no reason left to feel ashamed—is there not?” “On the contrary—today you must feel unburdened.” “Christianity especially should make sense in such circumstances.” “Christ came for sinners and died among those burdened by sin.” “Now is when you understand what it means to rely on this compassionate Savior.” “Resolutely go forth to the Prosecutor’s Office with faith.”

Williamson then spoke.

“Even the thieves crucified beside Christ on His cross were saved by Him.” “Ponder this well.” Having been admonished by Pastors Kobe and Williamson that his sins were already absolved through confession, and that he must now enter a life of pure faith and submit unreservedly to the judgment of law, Shikura remained with head bowed low, tears streaming ceaselessly from both eyes as he wept in stifled silence.

Shizuko abruptly lifted her pale face drenched with tears.

Biting back sobs that threatened to burst forth at any moment, she wrenched out a voice as though her very guts were being torn apart—pleading, encouraging, exhorting—as she poured out her entreaties to her husband. “You.” “Did you hear what those two gentlemen taught just now?” “It is exactly as they said.” “I have nothing more to say.” “Please go forward now with the resolve they spoke of.” “Do not trouble yourself in the slightest about what comes after.” “I will raise the child with care.” “I will properly tend to Sadako’s afterlife too, so please do not worry about anything that follows.”

Shikura finally raised his face. While drenching both cheeks with tears that streamed down incessantly, with an eerily contorted expression born of the collision of remorse, shame, and gratitude, he trembled violently and let out an anguished cry. “I deeply apologize for the trouble I have caused everyone.” “Even when we part, I will never forget your kindness, Chief.” “I have committed unspeakable crimes.” “I can offer no excuse whatsoever.”

The room fell utterly silent.

The beautiful day was still reflected in the glass window as ever. The chirping of birds was serenely peaceful. However, the people confined in this narrow room were silently experiencing something as if they were inhabitants of a separate world—transcending time and space, shedding their ugly physical forms—as their spirits intertwined. Shikura choked on fresh tears for a time, but then turned back toward his wife as if reconsidering.

“Shizuko, forgive me. “I was truly an unspeakable villain. “You must surely resent me. “You must regret having a husband like me, I suppose.” A faint, intermittent sobbing resembling stifled screams continued endlessly, casting those present into boundless sorrow and uncanny dread. Shizuko tried to answer her husband’s question, but choked by spring-like surges of muffled weeping that defied all restraint, she found herself powerless to speak.

Even the stern police officers could not help but turn their faces away.

Finally regaining her composure, she shook her head vehemently and answered her husband’s question. “No, that isn’t true at all. I have not felt even a shred of regret.”

Shikura was overcome by an intense impulse from his wife’s gallant words, his body trembling violently. His face brimmed with profound emotion.

“Do you truly think that way for me?” “Yes.”

The wife’s reply was brief, but it was imbued with an unassailable force.

“You’ve spoken well for me.” “How heartening your words must be to me.” “I am truly happy.” Shikura stared intently at his wife with keenly gleaming eyes when, as if suddenly struck by a thought,

“Right. “You must be facing various inconveniences right now. “Currently, I have about eighty yen. “Since it should be in the Chief’s custody, I only need twenty yen from that. “The remaining sixty yen I’ll give to you, so use it as you see fit.”

“No, no.”

Shizuko pressed a handkerchief to her eyes and shook her head vehemently,

“There is no need for such concern. “I have no need for money or anything.” “You must be the one in need of it.” “Please keep it just as it is.” “No.”

Shikura, while insisting against his wife’s refusal of the money,

“I no longer need money.” “Right—if you truly don’t need it, then at least build a grave for Sadako.”

“Oh, that was indeed the case.” “If that is your wish, I shall humbly accept it.” “I do not want it in the slightest, but as you have instructed, I will erect a grave for the deceased Sadako and hold a sincere memorial service.” “Ah—!”

Shikura finally broke down into a man’s sobbing. “Ah—I need nothing more now. “There’s nothing left for me to regret. “Since all the money in the Chief’s custody is yours, I’m counting on you to handle everything from here on out.”

The group felt a kind of oppression that defied description.

Outside, both the guilty and the innocent walked about joyfully with light steps, bathed in the spring sunlight of the season. Yet in this cramped, frigid room, the husband—bound behind his back under a terrible charge—choked on tears of remorse, while his wife sat with knees drawn together on floorboards without even a mat, weeping over her wretched fate. Confronted so vividly with this inescapable underbelly of human existence, could anyone behold such a scene without being moved?

With her hands placed on her knees, stifling back sobs, her shoulders trembling violently, the heartrending figure of Shizuko lost in grief—even Chief Shōji, for all his composure, found himself involuntarily blinking his eyes.

Pastor Kobe ended up completely overwhelmed by the solemnity.

He wrote of this moment as follows. "The approximately thirty-minute scene in the chief's office at that time was something we several people intently observed, and its solemn, dignified state and our collective satisfaction remain an unforgettable, beautiful memory to this day." Pastor Kobe, struck by Shikura's admirable attitude, had already forgotten all about the trouble and involuntarily turned toward him to speak.

“If there is something you wish to ask of me, please do not hesitate to say so.” “Whatever it may be, I will certainly do it for you.” Shikura turned toward the pastor. In his eyes shone fresh tears of gratitude. “Thank you very much. “I will not forget your kindness.” “I have nothing more to ask of you.” “Henceforth, I shall be reborn in heaven and repay everyone’s kindness.”

With this, the scene of Shikura's beautiful confession came to an end.

He was immediately sent to the Prosecutor’s Office. What proved regrettable here was that Chief Shōji Rikitarō at the time—though young and keen enough to have exposed such a major case—still lacked experience; thus, without gathering substantial evidence based on his confession, he had already sent him to the Prosecutor’s Office.

However, that was only natural. This was because Shikura’s confession had been so impeccable that, as Pastor Kobe—who had been present—acknowledged in his previously cited words, there remained not the slightest room to doubt its truth. Not only that, but he repeatedly expressed his gratitude to the Chief. This stemmed from how the Chief’s interrogation had demonstrated sincere consideration while skillfully striking at the core of human sentiment, thereby deeply moving Shikura—so much so that he never even dreamed of attempting retaliation against the Chief in the future. For that reason as well, he refrained from promptly collecting evidence and instead sent him to the Prosecutor’s Office based solely on his confession.

This became the primary underlying cause that, over many subsequent years, plunged the case into chaos, turned Shikura into a living, cursed demon, and caused multitudes of people to tremble in fear.

Some criticized Chief Shōji, asserting that in his overzealous quest for distinction, he had ensnared an innocent man, rendering Shikura a pitiful victim; we shall now examine the veracity of this claim.

Did Chief Shōji truly coerce Shikura into confessing to a crime he was innocent of? As Police Chief, he must have felt tremendous pride at having uncovered this horrific crime committed three years prior—one that had nearly been buried without a trace. Above all, given that this criminal was a slippery figure who defied conventional methods—a man who required days of grueling interrogation with ever-shifting tactics before finally confessing—we can well imagine how his heart must have swelled with triumph. Should circumstances of insufficient evidence later arise during Shikura’s conviction, this ought to be seen as carelessness born of excessive elation—and in that very carelessness, do we not glimpse his humanity? Had he been an unfeeling brute who recognized even a hint of coercion in Shikura’s confession, he would surely have anticipated future retractions and thus pursued irrefutable evidence. Or perhaps in gathering such evidence, he might have employed underhanded means.

However, he had done none of those things, nor had there been any need to do so—for Shikura’s confession was one from the heart, bearing not the slightest trace of coercion; indeed, Shikura had repeatedly expressed his gratitude to the Chief.

In later years, Pastor Kobe wrote about the scene of Shikura's confession, reminiscing as follows. "—These very details and exchanges came to be remembered as increasingly valuable after the case began causing complications; why had his beautiful repentance from that time transformed his heart as abruptly as turning one’s palm?" Nevertheless, one could not help but wonder whether there had been another significance to his repentance at that moment.

Particularly, his words—"Even if it means drawing from the little I have in my pocket, use it for the funeral expenses"—seemed inconceivable as a sacrifice one would make for someone they hadn't killed. Yet alternatively considered, might he have blurted this out through tears not from guilt of murder, but moved by compassion—by his wife's profound sympathy? These facts remain an unresolved mystery to this day. Still, from our perspective—though it be an old saying—"Birds sing mournfully when nearing death; men speak kindly when facing their end." For this repeat offender now charged with multiple crimes—theft, arson, fraud, rape, and murder—to have uttered words of repentance and gratitude through a voice choked with tears, even briefly: why should it be wrong to see him too as human? "Even if he fails to confess every crime in court, wouldn't that honest admission welling from his spiritual core stand as a far nobler testament?"

Indeed, in this manner, the scene of Shikura’s confession was solemn, appearing as a heartfelt truthful confession, with not a single aspect that could be thought to have been a coerced false admission. In this sense, the chief at the time must have firmly believed in his confession. However, when one reads the diaries he later wrote in prison and the letters he sent to Pastor Kobe and others, there are passages so suffused with an eerie intensity—as if each word were vomiting blood—that one ultimately cannot bring oneself to read through them. If one were completely unaware of the surrounding circumstances, they might believe he was an innocent man, just as he himself claimed.

We will elaborate on those matters later; in any case, Shikura Kihei was sent to the Prosecutor’s Office under eight charges: fraud, theft, document forgery, assault, bodily injury, bribery, arson, and murder.

Shikura Kihei was transported to the Prosecutor’s Office under eight terrifying charges including murder and arson. What felt somewhat unexpected here was the words spoken by Chief Shōji and the detectives when extracting Shikura’s confession—their repeated assurances that they would arrange for his sentence to be reduced. When listing arson, murder, and assault together, committing even one of these would incur a grave punishment; how much more hopeless became any prospect of leniency when further charges were heaped atop them. The Chief himself might never have believed from the outset that there existed any grounds for extenuating circumstances in Shikura’s case. Then—had the Chief deceived him?

However, it would be somewhat harsh to blame the Chief over such an issue. In maintaining social peace and order, given their duty to apprehend and prosecute criminals, it was necessary to persuade obstinate offenders and those with pronounced antisocial ideologies with compassion and earnestness; moreover, even when believing there was no alternative, it had been unavoidable to convince them that confessing would mitigate what would otherwise be severe punishment. However, when indicting Shikura, there remained a regrettable point in having listed every single crime without exception and attaching as many as eight charges. This was done partly to establish the impression that Shikura was a heinous criminal, and partly out of fear that even if the police chose not to pursue certain matters, should criminal facts emerge at the Prosecutor’s Office or preliminary court, it would not only render their efforts futile but conversely expose police incompetence. In any case, the police authorities had to bear some degree of criticism for having been overzealous in their pursuit of merit.

The apprehension of Shikura and his confession to horrific crimes marked an undisputed triumph for the police authorities. To say this feat was achieved solely through Chief Shōji Rikitarō's leadership would scarcely be an exaggeration. A robust giant's physique, nerves like tempered steel, and unyielding resolve—these qualities had wholly overpowered the heinous Shikura. One cannot help but conclude that without Chief Shōji's involvement, Shikura Kihei's crimes might have remained forever buried.

In this sense, Chief Shōji stood as a meritorious figure within the judicial police. His success demanded recognition. Thus propelled by momentum, he denounced Shikura as a heinous criminal. Naturally, he harbored no intention of touting his own achievements.

In the Chief’s eyes, Shikura must indeed have appeared as a heinous criminal. Moreover, there was likely no one who would raise objections to the fact that Shikura was a villain.

Had Chief Shōji given slightly more calm consideration and taken appropriate measures immediately following Shikura's confession, Shikura—at that time—would have shed tears of gratitude for the Chief's benevolence and repeatedly stated this fact before anyone, ensuring that he would never later indiscriminately retaliate. Chief Shōji would likely have achieved a flawless conclusion to his duties. However, due to his slight lack of preparation here, he later caused tremendous complications. Though limited to certain quarters, it became regrettable that some claimed the Chief had used Shikura as a sacrificial stepping stone for his own advancement.

I would like to address the criticism that Chief Shōji sacrificed Shikura for his own career advancement. Generally speaking, those serving as police chiefs consider criminal apprehension one of their principal duties; thus, one might say every chief has used criminals as stepping stones to advancement. If they were criticized for such a thing, there would be no candidates willing to become police chiefs. The crux lies in whether there were elements warranting censure—harsh interrogation methods, coercion of innocents, or underhanded tactics—but did the Shikura case contain any such aspects?

Given the nature of the case and the criminal involved, there may have been some regrettable aspects to the interrogation methods employed. However, witnessing the fairness and integrity of the scene where the criminal confessed made such doubts vanish entirely. No one could have anticipated that Shikura would later completely overturn his confession.

This rather tedious discussion continues, but allow me to elaborate a bit more for the sake of the narrative. Otherwise, it would be impossible to make accurate judgments regarding the complex incidents that would arise later. The issue lies in whether Shikura’s confession was truth or falsehood. Admittedly, as readers already know, his confession was truly comprehensive, and no one would consider it a fabrication. The problem only emerged because he later retracted his confession; however, immediately claiming they tortured him at Kagurazaka Police Station or pinned nonexistent crimes on him would be unfounded. Though Shikura himself later asserted having endured various terrible ordeals, at the time he had shed tears praising Chief Shōji’s virtue for reasons he felt compelled to—thus there were inherent disadvantages in him raising such claims afterward.

As for Chief Shōji himself, at that time he had just passed thirty and was burning with lofty ambitions. Fundamentally, Japanese education was designed to cultivate an intense competitive drive from childhood. They taught children to achieve success and rise in the world. To achieve that, one had to push forward even a little - at times going so far as to exclude peers. If those ahead fell, it became an advantage; they advanced by trampling over their corpses. In the historical Battle of Ujigawa's vanguard competition, Sasaki's deception of Kajiwara had come to be regarded as nothing extraordinary.

Nowadays this may not be the case, but going back ten years, Imperial University graduates—the pinnacle of government-sponsored education—were fervently ambitious individuals determined to climb the social ladder by any means necessary. One reason was that students were truly pure-hearted and did not understand the complexities of society, so they found their seniors' methods tedious and grew exasperated watching them flounder upon entering society. I would never do such things. They believed that once they stepped out into the world, they could roll up their sleeves and secure prestigious positions. And since they had grown thoroughly weary of their long student lives, they held infinite interest and expectation toward entering society to work. Therefore, the enthusiasm and professional conscience of freshly graduated students were truly remarkable. This remains something anyone who recalls their time fresh out of academia when first starting work will surely find relatable. These qualities of enthusiasm and professional conscience were truly admirable—if properly harnessed, they could achieve great things. But tragically, due to flaws within organizations—be they government offices or companies—they could not be sincerely embraced. Because of this, fresh recruits' enthusiasm gradually became discouraged, their energy depleted until they withered away. Finally, they came to be seen by the next generation of students as spineless seniors.

Now, turning to the Chief in question, Shōji Rikitarō, he had not yet been long out of academia at that time. I could believe he possessed both remarkable zeal and ample professional conscience. No—this Shōji was an exceptional man; I believe he would never abandon that brimming spirit and conscience, no matter his age.

Whether the arrest strategy for the Shikura case was mistaken or the interrogation methods were flawed—such questions are secondary. While I do not advocate the extreme view that any action taken with sincerity is permissible, at the very least, there is no reason to believe Chief Shōji compromised his conscience in handling this matter. However, regarding Shikura Kihei as well, the mental state with which he persistently appealed his wrongful conviction in prison was truly pitiable; one could not read his prison memoir without tears and trembling. It was indeed only natural that numerous sympathizers emerged for him.

I have tediously elaborated on these unpleasant matters, but unless you fully comprehend all these circumstances, you would be unable to grasp the impending struggle between Shikura and Chief Shōji Rikitarō that was now unfolding. Moreover, without this understanding, one could not comprehend the most intriguing aspect of this main narrative—the emergence of Mr. Nose, a formidable figure once hailed as "the man" of the Eastern Capital Bar Association, resulting in a three-way deadlock in their struggle.

How would the case take a turn?

Judgment Shikura, having cleanly completed his confession at Kagurazaka Police Station, was sent to the prosecutor’s office with apparent eagerness. While describing him as "eagerly compliant" might verge on exaggeration, he at least felt completely liberated. Whether this liberation stemmed from escaping days of relentless interrogation at the police station, or from unburdening his accumulated evils and finding respite from conscience’s torment—only Shikura himself could say. Yet there he was, dispatched to face dreadful criminal charges without a trace of shame. Rather, much like a scolded child who rebounds into sudden liveliness after being thoroughly chastised, he instead seemed rather exhilarated.

The prosecutor in charge was Mr. Kozuka, a figure long renowned for his work. With a gentle countenance that belied his years of involvement in criminal trials, Prosecutor Kozuka fixed Shikura with piercing eyes that seemed to penetrate the man's very soul as he methodically conducted the interrogation. Shikura readily confessed to his crimes. After evading police for nearly a month while mocking their efforts, he had been confined at Kagurazaka Station. By his own account, even seven days and nights of relentless interrogation had failed to make him speak—until March 18th, when he finally claimed to have sold a woman to Shanghai. Under unremitting pressure, he disclosed every criminal act without omission on the 19th. Prosecutor Kozuka's interrogation occurred on the 20th, followed by immediate indictment that same day—a sequence laying bare how fearfully compliant Shikura had become as he stated facts through tears of remorse.

He said the following to Prosecutor Kozuka. “I am absolutely not lying.” “Since I have committed other serious crimes as well, I will absolutely not conceal one or two of them.” “Admittedly, during my detention at Kagurazaka Police Station, I did tell lies. At that time, I resolved to commit suicide without confessing my crimes—swallowing stones, glass, and coins, or trying to pierce my skull with old nails to end my life—but I failed to achieve my purpose. Amidst my anguish, I resolved that in today’s situation, it would be better to state the facts forthrightly so my innocent wife and children would not be inconvenienced by repeated court summonses. Thus yesterday, the 19th, I requested the chief to allow me to entrust arrangements for my family. I had Missionary Williamson in Nakano summoned to meet and entrust these matters to him, and was also permitted to meet Pastor Kobe and my wife to settle my conscience. Having done so before coming here, I will absolutely not tell any more lies.”

Having established this premise, he provided detailed confessions not only about the Bible theft but also regarding three instances of arson committed before and after, and further stated the following about the murder of Sadako.

“I believe the time was evening, but I do not recall whether it was indeed September 26, Taisho 2.” “If Sadako’s disappearance occurred on the same day, then whether it was that day or what time it was, I cannot recall.” “However, around nine o'clock in the evening on the day Sadako disappeared, I actually killed her by pushing her into an old well located within a vacant lot in Kamiosaki.” Prosecutor Kozuka quietly observed Shikura. And then he cast his eyes upon the family register records and criminal records that had been sent from Kagurazaka Police Station along with the defendant. Immediately beside them, evidence items were piled high. Mr. Kozuka stared fixedly in thought.

Outside the window, bathed in spring light at that very moment, a group of refined young ladies walked past the imposing brick building, their translucent gossamer shawls trailing long behind them as they paid it no heed. Before long, Prosecutor Kozuka took up the brush and signed the preliminary examination request. And then, “Indict all criminal facts listed in the judicial police officer’s opinion document.” he added.

When Shikura Kihei was indicted by Prosecutor Kozuka, he underwent his first interrogation that same day by Preliminary Judge Koga Kiyoshi. After making inquiries into address, name, occupation and other details as per protocol, the judge solemnly ordered: "State your prior convictions." Since official records contained accurate documentation of Shikura's criminal history, I shall briefly recount them here.

He had accumulated a total of four prior convictions. The first offense was in Meiji 36 (1903), when he was sentenced to three months of hard labor with heavy imprisonment by the Tsuruoka Branch of the Yamagata District Court for theft. At that time, he was twenty-two years old. The second offense occurred the following year in Meiji 37 (1904), when he received three and a half months of hard labor with heavy imprisonment from the same Yamagata District Court again for theft; the third offense in Meiji 39 (1906) at the Nara District Court resulted in six months of hard labor with heavy imprisonment, still for theft; and the fourth offense in Meiji 40 (1907), once more for theft, led to a two-year sentence of hard labor with heavy imprisonment from the Kyoto District Court—though for some reason, the Kyoto court recorded this as his first offense. From this record, it appears he had committed his next crime almost immediately upon being released from prison.

When the preliminary judge next questioned him regarding the Bible thefts, he admitted to having taken the Bibles from the company for himself, but asserted that it did not necessarily constitute theft due to a tacit agreement with the clerk. Next, the proceedings moved to examining the arson charges, and he affirmed all factual matters.

Q: On October 4, Taisho 3, around 4:00 a.m., did you set fire to that vacant house? A: I did not set fire. "I requested a laborer whose name I didn’t know and had him set the fire." "I asked a laborer from Yamadani-beya—a man around thirty who had entered the reclaimed land in that area—and made the request three or four days before having it set."

Q: Did you instruct [the laborer] on how to set the fire? A: “I did not instruct him.” “I asked him, ‘Could you set fire to the vacant house?’” “I explained that if a fire broke out and my house burned down, it would be convenient because I could collect the insurance money.” “I did not see the laborer set the fire.”

Q: “Did you realize when the fire broke out?” A: “My wife and I were sleeping on the second floor, unaware of the fire spreading, but a neighbor’s knitting mill worker broke through the gate or fence, woke us, and rescued us—it was around four or five in the morning.”

Q: How did you set the fire? "I don't know. There was gasoline in my possession, but I did not set the fire myself, and I do not know whether gasoline was used or not."

Q: How much burned?

A: The one house I owned burned down completely. Q: Did you receive the insurance money? A: I received approximately 1,800 yen.

When the arson matter concluded, the interrogation abruptly shifted to Sadako’s murder. At the outset, he denied committing rape by force, stating, “I did commit the act, but I used no violence.” “Did you have someone arrange a settlement?” “I asked Pastor Kobe to ensure her silence and paid 100 yen to settle it. I don’t recall the date I handed the money to Pastor Kobe.” “Then did you resolve to kill Sadako?” “I resolved to kill her in that fleeting moment. Though I’d given her 100 yen, she was still suffering from venereal disease, so I’d planned to hospitalize her. But upon reflection, I realized my own missteps would come to light. Instead of going to the hospital, I took her to Shinjuku, ran errands there, boarded the Yamanote Line train from Shinjuku, got off at Meguro Station, and on our way back home—about three *chō* from my residence—I pushed Sadako into a lidless old well in the field.”

In this manner, even to the preliminary judge, he smoothly confessed to the facts of his crimes.

Preliminary Judge Koga Kiyoshi immediately issued a detention order.

The judge methodically wrote that defendant Shikura Kihei was to be detained at Tokyo Prison under eight charges including arson and murder, then finally signed the document. At twenty minutes past nine in the evening, Shikura entered Tokyo Prison at ten o'clock that same night.

Preliminary Judge Koga Kiyoshi of the Tokyo District Court was in his home study, meticulously examining every investigative document concerning Shikura Kihei that had been sent from the Ushigome-Kagurazaka Police Station. The more he scrutinized these documents, the more they seemed permeated with an unsettling peculiarity. While there could be no doubt about Shikura's theft of Bibles or his violation of the young woman Sadako and subsequent infection of her with venereal disease, even though he had fully confessed to the graver crimes of arson and murder, a persistent shadow of uncertainty lingered over these matters. If everything he confessed were indeed true, he would stand as a villain of unprecedented wickedness in all history. Yet one could not rashly conclude this. A most rigorous examination was imperative. This formed Judge Koga's primary assessment. Shikura had amassed four prior convictions.

When handling defendants, judges must avoid becoming overly fixated on the presence or absence of prior convictions. Moreover, particularly in Shikura’s case—as he had now converted to Christianity and immersed himself in religion to the extent that some regarded him as a pastor—it was necessary to acknowledge his humanity as much as possible. However, upon closer examination, from Meiji 36 to Meiji 40 (1903–1907), he had committed four thefts almost consecutively, ultimately receiving a two-year sentence and being released from prison in Meiji 42 (1909), then becoming a Christian believer in Meiji 44 (1911). Yet the theft charges brought against him were committed consecutively in Taisho 5 and 6 (1916–1917), the murder in Taisho 2 (1913), and the first arson in Meiji 45 (1912)—all carried out with nearly continuous criminal intent, showing no signs of repentance whatsoever. As for the eight charges for which he had been indicted this time, it was believed he had almost certainly committed them.

After deep contemplation, Judge Koga finally formulated a plan to address this case. He let out a sigh of relief and gulped down the cold bancha beside him.

The following day after being released, Judge Koga promptly ordered his clerk to summon Shizuko—the defendant’s wife—as a person of reference for this case, along with two witnesses: Kobayashi Sadajirō and Pastor Kobe. Concurrently, procedures were immediately initiated to investigate the residence of Shikura Kihei in Shiba Shirakane.

On the afternoon of March 26, Taisho 6 (1917), an automobile carrying the preliminary judge and court clerks came to an abrupt halt before Shikura's residence. Shizuko was out with her child and therefore absent. At the house remained Shizuko's elderly mother and Kihei's nephew—a boy left behind—but the judge, enlisting these two bewildered witnesses daunted by the official proceedings, conducted a full search of the premises and seized one copy each of a Bible inventory and pawn ledger, one copy each of divorce papers and property transfer documents, along with several letters.

The search lasted approximately forty minutes.

Then immediately afterward, Judge Koga and his party conducted an on-site inspection of the old well purported to be the murder site of Sadako and prepared detailed diagrams along with an official report. The report contained the following details: 1. To reach the old well where Kobayashi Sadako had been thrown in and killed from said location: Proceed south along the road from Shikura's residence in Gotanda Kirigaya, cross Nakamaru Bridge, and continue approximately three *chō* until reaching an intersection of east-west roads. From there, turn left and proceed eastward about thirty ken to arrive at the well's location adjacent to the left side of the road.

1. According to witnesses' testimony, the vicinity of the well had originally contained only a small tract of farmland amidst dense forests of pine and cedar along with bamboo thickets. The well water had been used for drinking at a watchman’s hut, but thereafter the area was gradually deforested and cultivated. By around Taisho 2 (1913), it had transformed into a desolate wilderness referred to as “Ikeda’s newly developed land.” The well’s sides had decayed, with stakes erected around it and wire strung to barely prevent collapse. It remained abandoned in this state until its dredging in October Taisho 3 (1914), excavated tree roots scattered about here and there, while a narrow path ran north-south through weeds beside the well.

This deposition was quite an excellent piece of writing. Upon reading, it vividly conjured an ancient well amidst a vast, overgrown wilderness, instilling a desolate dread that pressed upon the reader. On March 29, Shikura's wife Shizuko was summoned to the preliminary hearing chamber and questioned by Judge Koga as a person of reference.

She had steeled herself after hearing her husband’s confession of horrific crimes at Kagurazaka Police Station, yet being summoned anew to the preliminary hearing chamber now drew fresh tears to her eyes as she clenched her teeth and endured the merciless trials of heaven. “Are you the wife of Shikura Kihei?” “Yes, I am.”

“When did you become husband and wife?” “We became husband and wife in November of Meiji 43 (1910). We registered our marriage sometime the following year.”

Ah, according to this answer, she had married Shikura shortly after he finished his fourth prison term and was released.

At that time, she was nineteen years old. "Where did you become husband and wife?"

“It was my parents’ home in Kosaka Mine, Akita Prefecture. At that time, Shikura was employed at a Bible company in Yokohama City and had come to Kosaka Mine for Bible sales and missionary work, and through the care of believers who were at the church, my parents arranged our marriage. I was nineteen years old.”

“Did you hear that Kihei had been imprisoned for theft?” “I first learned about his prior convictions this time at Kagurazaka Police Station. We became husband and wife after hearing that a man of religion could be trusted, but he never spoke to me about having prior convictions.”

Ah, how pitiable she was! She, still in the bloom of youth, had married the husband her parents had chosen for her, unaware that he was a villain, and devoted herself to him with unwavering fidelity. Her conduct from undergoing interrogation at Kagurazaka Police Station until witnessing her husband’s confession was so genuinely driven by her devotion to her husband and concern for her child that even the hardened officials—those who could outwit demons—were said to have been moved to tears. Q: Did Kihei build any extensions while living in the old house at your current residence? A: Yes, he did. He replaced the fixtures in the old house we purchased and built a rental house on the north side that still stands to this day. I heard it required about 1,000 yen, and he also built an additional structure connected to the old house.

“Where did he obtain the funds for the construction?” “I believe it was built using money earned from selling Bibles and funds received from the insurance company after the fire in Takanawa.” Judge Koga proceeded to thoroughly question her about the circumstances of the three fires they had suffered before and after, then shifted focus to the matter of the maid Sadako, gradually advancing his line of questioning.

The interrogation extended to Sadako’s disappearance and reached the matter of her uncle Sadajirō coming to Shikura’s residence that day to inquire about her whereabouts. “What were the date and time of Sadajirō’s visit?” “I don’t remember the exact date.” “It was evening.” “At that time, they said Sadako had gone out to the hospital that day and hadn’t returned.” “I didn’t know when she’d been discharged or where she was.” “Was Kihei home at that time?” “He wasn’t present then.” “What time did Kihei leave and return home that day?”

“He left home around eight or nine in the morning and returned after Sadako’s uncle had left,” she answered. “Since Shikura returned after dinner, I believe it was around seven or eight o’clock.” “Where did Kihei go that day?” “Since he usually leaves without a word, I don’t ask—so I don’t know where he went.” “When he returned—was there anything unusual about his demeanor?” “There was nothing out of the ordinary.”

Shizuko stated the facts to the extent of her knowledge without showing any sign of guilt. She, who had been absolutely obedient to her husband, had not interfered in his crimes in the slightest. She knew nothing but superficial facts. While revealing her pale profile and replying fluently to each question as it came, Shizuko's pitiable figure was gazed at fixedly by Judge Koga; before long, he spoke softly.

“Very well.” “I’ll leave it at this for today.” “Then I will now have the transcript of today’s questioning read aloud to you.”

After listening intently to the court clerk’s recitation, she silently bowed her head. Because she did not have a personal seal, she merely signed the deposition and was unable to affix her seal. “Very well.”

At the judge's words of permission, she let out a sigh of relief and left the room.

Judge Koga kept his gaze fixed on her retreating figure until she was gone, then suddenly tensed and summoned the waiting witness, Kobayashi Sadajirō. Sadajirō entered hesitantly, his sun-darkened face wearing an uneasy expression unaccustomed to formal settings. After administering the oath, the judge asked the standard questions regarding full name, age, social status, and occupation, then immediately commenced the interrogation. Sadajirō’s questioning proved entirely routine, devoid of any novel developments.

We shall set forth here only the details of Sadako's postmortem examination. Q: What was Sadako's physique like?

“For her age, she was tall and of medium build.”

Q: Are you aware that in October 1914, a female corpse was recovered from an old well in Kamiosaki? A: I did not know at that time.

“Did you see the corpse that was recently exhumed from the burial ground?” “I saw it twice. The remains from the previous day were misidentified, but I viewed the correct ones at the police station the following day. They showed me fragments of fabric and bones.”

“Did you believe those to be Sadako’s bones and the fabrics she had been wearing?”

“As for me, I had no knowledge whatsoever regarding the fabric remnants,” he replied. “But concerning the bones—whenever Sadako smiled in daily life, a single prominent canine tooth on each side became noticeably visible. Since each of the teeth I was shown had one such canine, I concluded the corpse must be hers.”

Judge Koga, without a moment’s respite, interrogated Pastor Kobe as a witness on the thirtieth day that followed.

Pastor Kobe had become Shikura’s guarantor when he entered theological school due to Shikura’s wife being a member of his congregation—this marked the beginning of their association. He had reluctantly undertaken mediation in the Kobayashi Sadako incident, which ultimately led him to witness Shikura’s confession and be summoned to the preliminary court for unpleasant questioning. The resolution of this case depended so crucially on evidence held by this man that he was compelled to testify multiple times as a witness. It became a situation where showing compassion had rebounded against him, resulting in an unwarranted ordeal.

Pastor Kobe pursed his large mouth into a taut line, his brow furrowing with displeasure as he took his seat before Judge Koga. Q: Did you report to Shikura about the negotiations initiated by Kobayashi Sadako’s father? A: That is correct. I explained the gist of the matter and informed him what measures would be taken. Q: How did Shikura respond? A: He stated he would apologize and treat the patient’s illness. The father was an honest man; initially he had proposed settling matters through apology and medical treatment.

“How were the subsequent negotiations conducted?” “He stated that since his younger brother Sadajirō was a laborer, he wanted to avoid informing them of the facts as much as possible. He had said that informing them might lead to unreasonable demands, but it appears he ultimately told his brother, who then came to my residence either alone or accompanied by another person.” When one considered it, Sadajirō’s detection of Shikura’s misdeeds through his own underworld connections—as the saying goes, “it takes a snake to know a snake’s path”—had been precisely what caused this incident to occur. Had Shikura killed Sadako out of fear of his threats?

Pastor Kobe’s testimony continued in detailed and exhaustive fashion. “When I summoned Shikura and conveyed Kobayashi’s proposal, he stated that while he could manage a small amount of money, he could not pay such a large sum. Moreover, he stated that if Kobayashi’s side insisted on taking the money no matter what, he would make it a matter for litigation. Kobayashi Sadajirō also stated that if he did not comply, he would file a lawsuit. I advised Shikura that it would be better to settle than to do such a foolish thing. As a result, Shikura stated he would pay 100 yen, and I conveyed this intent to the Kobayashi side.”

“Kobayashi Sadajirō has stated that he initially demanded 300 yen and later agreed to 200 yen—what do you say to this?” “As I previously stated, I believe the initial demand was approximately 200 yen. As it was a long time ago, I do not have a clear memory.” “Has the witness ever met Sadako?” “Yes, I have. Likely Sadajirō once brought Sadako to my residence. She was a thin, petite woman.”

Sadako was described as both tall and petite, with witnesses providing conflicting accounts—an intriguing point indeed.

On March 31, an old woman named Nakata Kama, who had been taking care of Kobayashi Sadako and accompanying her to the hospital, was summoned as a witness.

From this point onward, it gradually became clear whether the corpse brought up from the Botsubotsu well was indeed Sadako. “What was the nature of your acquaintance with Kobayashi Sadako?” “I have known her since Sadako went to Tokyo during Taisho 1 [1912]. Her father first attended school from my residence, then later came to live with her younger brother Sadajirō. Since they were Christian believers, they visited each other, and I also knew about Sadako’s move to Tokyo.” “Did you, as the witness, hear directly from Sadako whether she had been raped by Shikura?”

“As for her symptoms, I heard she was ill and had difficulty walking, but I did not hear directly from Sadako about what Shikura had done to her.” “For how many days did you take care of her?” “From when I took her in until her hospitalization, but I do not recall the number of days.”

Q: “Until when did Sadako go to the hospital?”

“I believe it was September 26th. Around eight or nine in the morning, she said she was going to the hospital and left my residence.”

Q: Was Sadako sixteen years old at the time? A: “That is correct. She was of average build. Perhaps due to her illness, she had become slightly thin.” Q: What kind of clothing was Sadako wearing on the day she disappeared?

“I can’t say for certain about the kimono itself, but I remember the obi clearly. One side was black silk crepe, while other sections used medium-patterned merino wool—the color was either purple or dark gray, I couldn’t tell precisely. Since its width was slightly broader than a man’s obi, I’d estimate five or six *sun*. The kimono might have been an unlined one with an arrow-feather pattern.”

Judge Koga dismissed Nakata Kama, then summoned Mr. Takamachi, director of Takamachi Hospital where Sadako had been receiving treatment. The judge was inquiring about the clothing. Q: "What kind of clothing was Sadako wearing when she last came to your residence?" A: "I do not recall." Q: "Were you shown the skull at Kagurazaka Police Station?"

“I was shown it,” he answered. “I recognized it as the skull of a girl aged fifteen or sixteen, with low cheekbones and delicate bone structure, and thought to myself that Sadako’s skull must have been similar to this one.” After a day’s interval, Judge Koga swiftly summoned and examined four individuals on April 2nd—the laborers who had dredged the old well, the contractor who had undertaken the work, the physician who had conducted the autopsy, and Shizuko’s mother—and on that same day conducted the second interrogation of defendant Shikura.

“Dear readers, you must have grown weary of these witness examinations, but I ask your patience a while longer to honor the court’s meticulous investigation as we await Shikura’s outlandish responses.” Shimada Bou, a well-digging laborer, described to Judge Koga the circumstances of discovering the corpse: “The old well in Kamiosaki—Contractor Yamaya hired six of us to dredge it, but I alone went inside. The mouth measured three shaku five to six sun across, about three jō down to the water’s surface. It widened as it went deeper—two to three ken across at the bottom.” “The water depth was roughly seven shaku,” he continued. “Four or five trees surrounded the well, with thick grass growing wild around it.”

“I went inside and removed tree fragments that were hindering water drawing. When I started scooping water with a Genba bucket, something hit against it after a while.” “When I looked, it was a large stump, so when I tried to pull it up, the matting brushed against my hand.” “Then when I tried removing that matting, a human leg suddenly popped out.” “I was startled, but when I steadied myself and looked properly, seeing it was unmistakably a corpse, I couldn’t even scream and immediately scrambled back up.” “After that, I reported it to Shinagawa Police Station and asked for officers to come.” “As for retrieving the corpse, my father—who died last year—was the one who went down inside.”

The corpse had no hair on its head; its eyes, ears, nose and other features had rotted away, with neither wrists nor ankles remaining. Since an obi and collar remained attached to the torso, they identified it as female though could not determine its exact age. The obi found on the corpse was narrow black silk crepe. The collar too was black silk crepe matching the obi.

"I believe this black cloth fragment you've shown me matches what was attached to the corpse. As for the merino part, I know nothing about that." Yamaya Bou, who had contracted the well dredging work, responded to Judge Koga Kiyoshi as follows.

“As you instructed, the Shimada father and son retrieved that corpse.” “The corpse lay with arms outstretched and legs splayed in a cross shape, nearly naked.” “Only at the collar remained fragments of an undergarment and kimono collar, with an obi about seven or eight sun wide wrapped around the waist.” “The obi seemed to combine merino with silk crepe panels—the undergarment’s collar appeared reddish while the kimono’s collar was silk crepe.” “From the fabric fragment tucked inside the collar, I believe she wore an arrow-feather-patterned kimono of gas-weave crepe.” “Those present at the time claimed she was a woman between eighteen and twenty years old.”

“The cloth fragment you showed wasn’t torn like this when first retrieved from the well—it remained much more intact. There wasn’t as much mud on it back then either, though the color was about this shade. I believe the red piece was the collar of an undergarment, and the blue piece formed the back side of an obi.”

“Mr. Shikura did indeed come to see it at the time. However, he did not say a word.” Dr. Yoshikawa, who had conducted the autopsy on the corpse retrieved from the well, responded to Judge Koga as follows. “The estimated age being set at twenty to twenty-five was inferred from the height and overall physique, and the determination of female was concluded from the skeletal structure and mammary lines. If we considered exceptional cases, it could not be entirely ruled out that she was around sixteen years old; however, I estimated as stated in the autopsy report. I estimated the postmortem interval to be between six months and one year. I was completely unable to determine whether it was suicide or murder. The lobster-brown piece among the cloth fragments you have just shown was probably from that time, I believe. As for the other fabric fragments, I could not state anything definite. Furthermore, regarding the skull, given that a considerable number of years had passed, I could not state anything definitive, but it appeared slightly smaller than those from that time.”

From these witnesses' testimonies, it became virtually certain that the corpse retrieved from the old well was Kobayashi Sadako—the missing maid—and thus Judge Koga finally seemed to have grasped, albeit vaguely, the truth of the case. On April 6th, he further investigated the arson case with Shizuko’s mother as an informant and questioned Sadako’s father, summoned that same day from Hiroshima Prefecture, though both merely corroborated facts already established. Having gradually gained confidence in the case, Judge Koga conducted Shikura’s second interrogation on April 7th—the first having been carried out on the 20th of the previous month and left unfinished.

However, Shikura’s attitude had changed completely.

What could Shikura Kihei have been thinking during those approximately twenty days confined in Tokyo Prison between the preliminary judge’s first interrogation on March 20 and the second interrogation on April 7? During those twenty days, Judge Koga Kiyoshi had conducted house searches, carried out on-site inspections, and summoned over a dozen witnesses—some even brought from as far as Hiroshima Prefecture—and through exhaustive efforts had finally managed to grasp the heart of the matter. Thus today he summoned Shikura to the preliminary court for the second interrogation. Yet compared to his previous dejected demeanor where he could not even lift his face, Shikura now raised his characteristically jet-black countenance upright, glared fiercely with large shining eyes, and faced the judge with perfect composure.

Judge Koga, while glaring sharply at Shikura’s unexpected demeanor, slowly began to speak. “This divorce certificate was found in your possession—when was it created?” “I do not know,” “I have forgotten whether there was ever any discussion of divorce.” “Then what about this building transfer deed?”

Answer: “I do not know.” “I do not know who made it.” “I do not know whether there had been any discussion about transferring the building to my wife or not.” Question: “Did you obtain a receipt for one hundred yen from Sadajirō?” Answer: “It seems like I took it, and also seems like I did not take it.” Question: “Did you not witness Kobe handing over the aforementioned money to Sadajirō?” Answer: “I do not know.” Question: “Was the exchange on the night of September 26, Taisho 2 (1913), or on the following day?” Answer: “I do not know whether it was evening or morning.” “I do not recall whether I received any message from Kobe or not.”

“In any case, did you go to Pastor Kobe’s residence on the evening of the 26th and meet the Kobayashi brothers?” “At the police station, since everyone said they had met them, I stated it as if I had done so—but I do not know how it actually was.” “Why do you not know?” “For some reason, I do not know.” Shikura Kihei continued to deny everything from start to finish. However, regarding this last answer of his—since Pastor Kobe and the Kobayashi brothers had all testified in unison that they had met Shikura at Kobe’s residence on that same day—it had to be said that his denial was baseless. Could it be that during those twenty days in the detention cell, lamenting his bleak fate, Shikura had suddenly conceived the idea of denying everything? Had he exercised even a modicum of reason here—denying what should be denied and affirming what should be affirmed—he might have swayed the judge’s conviction and brought the case to a swift resolution. But his defiant soul, once resolved thus, would not easily waver. Whether one called it his good heart or Buddha-nature—in any case, the conscience within him had momentarily stirred awake during his confession at Kagurazaka Police Station’s chief’s office. Yet after being confined for twenty days in a solitary cell so dim it remained dark even at noon, his malice began to run rampant once more, ultimately conquering his flesh completely—until here he stood, having likely reverted to being the Shikura Kihei of old. In any case, his attitude of thoroughgoing denial remained utterly incomprehensible.

“Did you not submit a letter of apology to Kobayashi Sadajirō stating you had violated Sadako against her will?” “I do not know how it was.” “There is no doubt you forcibly violated her, correct?” “I do not know how it was. I leave it to your discretion.” “Did you consider having Sadako examined at Akasaka Juntendo Hospital?”

“Such statements were what the police coerced me into making—I am unaware of their truth.” “Then how do you account for your prior testimony that you disposed of Sadako in the well?”

Judge Koga posed a sharp question. When Judge Koga pressed him sharply about his confession that he had thrown Sadako into the well, Shikura answered without showing a trace of fear. "I did not put her in," he replied. "The police made me stay up all night and told me to say I put her in, so I made that statement accordingly. Even when coming to this preliminary hearing, I said so because the police told me to state it that way—but in reality, I did not put her in." "Then how about the remaining facts stated by the defendant previously?"

“They were all lies. I neither set fire to my residence in Takanawa myself nor had laborers set it. I do not know where the fire started either. I have often been involved in fires, but I have never committed arson.”

“During this recent escape, did you secretly meet with your wife and have her destroy photographs?” “I did not make her destroy them. Asada said it would be better to destroy them.”

The second interrogation began with denial and ended with denial.

How did this unwavering denial of criminal facts resonate with Judge Koga? Judge Koga had already, through the previous interrogations, vaguely drawn a certain conclusion in his mind. However, since it was dangerous for a judge to become captive to specific preconceptions, he had diligently maintained a cautious attitude; thus, even when unexpectedly faced with Shikura’s thorough denial of the criminal facts that day, he was not particularly flustered. And thus, he did not overlook the many contradictions present in his denials.

However, at this point, Judge Koga had to adopt an attitude several times more cautious than before. In the approximately forty to fifty days leading up to Shikura’s third interrogation on May 23, he had already summoned thirty-five witnesses in total—including Pastor Kobe and Kobayashi Sadajirō, whom he had previously called once, as well as newly added individuals such as photographer Asada. In addition to this, he conducted interrogations of Shizuko’s mother, Nakata Kama, as a reference person a total of thirty-six times. While it would be too tedious to list each of these depositions one by one and thus they shall be omitted, generally speaking, most were unfavorable to Shikura.

In a constitutional state, the application of law entails extremely significant consequences; particularly in criminal law, where matters concerning individual interests are numerous, judges must deliberate as carefully as possible. As a result, reaching a determination of guilt requires a great amount of time. The delay in judgment has often become a problem; even Prince Hamlet in Shakespeare’s play, when seized by pessimism and driven to contemplate suicide, counts the law’s delay as one of the causes inducing such pessimism.

However, when confronted here and now with Judge Koga’s meticulous manner of interrogation, one could no longer voice complaints about legal delays. Of course, not only Judge Koga but all judges had to conduct interrogations as thorough as his; without doing so, they could not reach a conviction.

Setting aside digressions, let us begin Kihei's third interrogation on May 23.

At this time, Shikura did not adopt as blatant an attitude as he had during the second interrogation. Considering this, during the second interrogation, he might have been agitated due to an internal reaction following his confession. The interrogation progressed from the theft of Bibles to the arson case and finally to the murder case. Let us now excerpt a portion of the most intriguing part—the murder—as is customary. Question: Did you confess to Pastor Kobe that you forcibly violated Sadako? Answer: I said I did it, but I did not say it was forced.

“Is it not true that you met Sadako on September 26?” “I didn’t meet her at all that day.” “I never lay in wait at Kiyomasa-zaka Slope. I told the police I took the streetcar from Kiyomasa-zaka Slope to Akasaka, but there shouldn’t have been any streetcars there at the time. I can’t ride a streetcar that didn’t exist.” Judge Koga’s face involuntarily changed color at Shikura’s response. Judge Koga was startled by Shikura’s assertion that there had been no streetcars near Kiyomasa-zaka Slope back then.

Dear readers.

The interrogation of Shikura by Judge Koga was taking place in May of Taisho 6 (1917). (Strangely enough, this corresponded exactly to ten years prior to now.) The murder case in question had occurred in September of Taisho 2. That is, nearly four years had already passed. After all, who could possibly remember with certainty whether there had been a streetcar running in front of Kiyomasa-zaka Slope nearly four years prior—especially since the streetcar line had just been newly laid around that time? But what if the streetcar had not been in service?

Dear readers.

Trials hinge on the most minute details. Even the slightest contradiction can overturn an entire verdict. If there had been no streetcar in operation at Kiyomasa-zaka Slope back then, wouldn't Shikura's confession about boarding there lose all its value? Thus the interrogation records from Kagurazaka Police Station would lose all credibility from their very foundation. What appears deceptively trivial proves in fact profoundly significant.

Judge Koga spoke in a tone as if Shikura had mocked someone, "There should have been no streetcar there at that time."

When he stated this, Judge Koga immediately brought the preliminary hearing to an abrupt close. For if there were indeed such facts as he claimed, it might necessitate fundamentally redoing the preliminary hearing; thus, he thought it imperative to urgently verify the facts. Judge Koga immediately ordered the clerk to send an inquiry to the City Electricity Bureau regarding whether streetcars had already been in operation there at the time.

But indeed, Shikura was a cunning man. It appeared he had quickly discerned Judge Koga’s flustered demeanor; seizing this opportunity, he composed a petition titled "Appeal" on two sheets of hanshi paper while imprisoned and submitted it in an attempt to sway Judge Koga.

At that time, Shikura deeply regretted having made his confession at the Kagurazaka Police Station. He found himself cornered beyond escape—the circumstances around him unfolded moment by moment to his disadvantage, compounded by the existence of an impeccable confession. Realizing he would vanish like dew on the gallows if things continued this way, he frantically sought to carve out an escape route from this dire situation. When the stone he had casually cast today unexpectedly rippled the waters, he seized the opening to make a desperate plea.

The petition he submitted was roughly as follows.

Your Honor The defendant is currently detained under charges too dreadful to name; however, the matters stated at Kagurazaka Police Station lack factual basis and do not constitute crimes committed by the defendant. As such, I cannot make a truthful declaration. Moreover, given the defendant's prior convictions, even were I to henceforth explain how these are false accusations staining my person, there would appear no means whatsoever to readily clarify matters. The defendant neither dreams of acquittal and release nor entertains any notion of being sent to Toyotama Prison to perform that base hard labor. Yet being one who finds no satisfaction in mounting the gallows for a false charge. I humbly entreat to remain detained indefinitely in preliminary hearings under these circumstances. Henceforth I intend to read many Christian texts and, whether privately or publicly, seek to guide even one soul to the Lord. I shall strive to cultivate my spirit. Until recently, the defendant contemplated proving through death that I labored under false charges of arson and murder; having attempted hanging, I deeply apologize for burdening the authorities with unnecessary trouble. To Your wise and discerning Honor, defendant Kihei prostrates himself and thus submits this humble petition.

What struck one upon reading this petition was how pathetically feeble Shikura's claims of false charges appeared; seizing upon even the slightest doubt that had arisen in the judge's mind, he could be seen attempting to sway judicial conviction through persistent pleas. This attitude—which would gradually harden thereafter—merited particular attention. Judge Koga received this petition and slightly furrowed his brows. The true intent behind his request to remain indefinitely in preliminary hearings eluded comprehension.

What was Shikura's reasoning when he sent a petition to Judge Koga stating he didn't expect acquittal but detested being executed under a false charge, instead requesting indefinite preliminary detention? If he truly had no memory of committing the crime, this was an unmanly display of weakness. Why didn't he vigorously assert his innocence? It seemed he sought to lessen punishment for actual crimes by appealing to the judge's mercy. Yet considering the dire circumstances, perhaps he thought proclaiming innocence futile, instead buying time through ambiguous claims to sow doubt and gradually reverse his position. But this was no ordinary case.

Facing the death penalty on charges of murder and arson, if this had truly been a false charge, he should not have been able to speak with such composure. Yet one might interpret his request to remain indefinitely in preliminary hearings as an act of despairing irony. Judge Koga clearly regarded the streetcar issue as crucial, having conducted thirty-six witness summonses over a mere thirty to forty days in his zealous investigation. Yet from May 23—when Shikura asserted during his third interrogation that no streetcar had operated there—until June 1, when Shikura’s fourth interrogation followed the Electricity Bureau’s response, the judge summoned only one reference witness: a tailor named Tanigawa Ginnosuke. Throughout that week, he held no further preliminary hearings.

Tanigawa Ginnosuke was a man who had been temporarily incarcerated with Shikura while serving time at Tokyo Prison for theft, and who was questioned regarding Shikura’s attempted suicide. “I received a sentence of three years and six months for theft at the ward court and appealed to this court.” Tanigawa stated timidly.

“And during my time in Tokyo Prison, from the 1st to the 15th of this month, I was incarcerated together with Shikura.” “Shortly after we were incarcerated together, Shikura stated: ‘Though I am a Christian pastor, having suffered such disgrace makes it impossible to face society again. I have no choice but to end my life—please overlook this.’” “I told him that would be a problem—if he killed himself while I was asleep and unaware, that would be one thing, but I couldn’t possibly remain silent if he attempted suicide right before my eyes—and that settled the matter for the time being.” “However, even after that, he repeatedly brought up the matter—around the 10th, I think—begging me to take care of things after his death. When I refused, saying that doing such a thing would only add to my crimes, Shikura then said that he had assets of ten thousand yen or twenty thousand yen and would give me a quarter of it if I agreed. Though I believe he likely wrote them in the records room, he drafted a will and a power of attorney and sent them to me.” “They were discovered by the guards on the morning of the 15th.”

Shikura would habitually say that while he had indeed committed theft, he had no recollection whatsoever of arson and murder. He had been deceived by the Police Chief. He said it was vexing. He seemed to be constantly tormented, and since he would immediately say he wanted to die at every little thing, being incarcerated together with him made me feel so uneasy I couldn’t stand it. However, though he kept saying he would die, I couldn’t tell whether he actually intended to go through with it. "If I had to say, I thought he couldn’t be trusted."

Regarding this suicide attempt, it was written that Shikura had already expressed his apologies in the petition, stating "I deeply regret it," but following that, there were still additional phrases as follows. “The will and power of attorney from that occasion were both entirely baseless; though the defendant knew it was wrong, as prisoners are by nature greedy individuals, the defendant sought to allow the other party to take credit in order to achieve his own aims.” "Now that I reflect upon it, I deeply apologize."

Now, on May 30, the long-awaited response from the City Electricity Bureau arrived for Judge Koga.

In response to your inquiry dated the 28th of this month regarding matters necessary for the adjudication of the criminal case of Shikura Kihei, we reported that the streetcar opening dates were as listed below and submitted this response accordingly.

May 30, Taisho 6 (1917) Tokyo City Electricity Bureau Honorable Koga Kiyoshi, Preliminary Judge, Tokyo District Court (The following) From Yotsu no Hashi to Ichinohashi: Opened December 29, Meiji 41 (1908) From Ichinohashi to Akabanebashi: Opened June 22, Meiji 42 (1909) From Furukawa Bridge to in front of Meguro Station: Opened September 18, Taisho 2 (1913) Note: To clearly indicate the locations, a separate streetcar route map has been attached. End

This was the full text of the Electricity Bureau's response that had reached Judge Koga's hands.

From this, it appeared that the Electricity Bureau had also deemed it a significant case; they conducted their investigation with near-immediate speed—one might almost call it same-day—and even attached a streetcar route map. The court’s inquiry seemed to have been dispatched right after questioning the reference witness Ginnosuke about the incident where Shikura had attempted suicide subsequent to his third interrogation.

Moreover, seeing that Judge Koga immediately conducted the fourth interrogation of Shikura upon receiving this response, it appears he too had been eagerly awaiting this reply.

But ah, what bitter irony this response held!

Shikura's last-ditch tactic—the desperate claim that the streetcar hadn't begun operating, which he had finally devised as an escape route in his extremity—was mercilessly crushed. That day when Shikura took Sadako out was September 26, Taisho 2 (1913), while the streetcar's inauguration had occurred on the eighteenth of that very month! It had commenced operations a mere eight days prior. What bitter irony this was! Even granting those eight days, since the streetcar had already been running, Shikura's insistence that there couldn't have been one became utterly groundless. No—not only that—it may have inversely cast a shadow over the judge's perception.

At the fourth interrogation on June 1, Judge Koga cornered Shikura with these words. “When we inquired with the Electricity Bureau, they responded that the streetcar between Furukawa Bridge and Meguro Station had opened on September 18, Taisho 2 (1913). What do you have to say?” To this question, Shikura also gave a painfully strained answer. “Then there’s nothing to be done about it. I don’t ride streetcars, so I thought they hadn’t opened.”

Shikura appeared utterly astonished by this matter, and in the opening of his second petition—meticulously penned across five sheets of hanshi paper and submitted on June 4—he wrote as follows. "The streetcar that had not been opened at that time, the streetcar I did not ride that day—to think it was in operation is astonishing; it feels like a dream." “[..] The streetcar has become my fatal wound—” In any case, regarding this streetcar matter, Shikura’s stratagem had been defeated, and it must be said that he had met with a crushing defeat.

But Shikura was no child—no, far from it; he was a man of cunning far beyond the ordinary. Why would he claim that there had been no streetcars at the time, when it was a matter that could be immediately resolved by inquiring with the Electricity Bureau? Did he deliberately assert something blatantly obvious, hoping to deceive the Judge if possible, while calculating that even if unsuccessful, he could at least delay the proceedings? No matter how cunning he may be, he would not devise such a childish trick. It seems that his assertion about the streetcar not yet operating was not something he blurted out spontaneously but rather something he devised after days of deep contemplation in his prison cell, intending to nullify the validity of his confession made at the Kagurazaka Police Station.

After turning various thoughts over in his mind, he suddenly hit upon the idea that perhaps the streetcars hadn’t yet begun operating at the time. Unless some significant event had occurred, no one could recall whether the streetcars had begun operating four years prior on a date that differed by no more than ten days from the actual day. If that was the case, then it was no wonder that Shikura thought there had been no streetcars at the time. However, on that very day, he had indeed committed the grave crime of murder. Admittedly, there remained some room for doubt here—but if he had committed such a grave crime, unless suffering from amnesia, he could not possibly have forgotten the events of that day. Far from suffering from memory loss, Shikura possessed an encyclopedic knowledge and remembered even the most trivial details. If that was the case, he absolutely must have known—yet to knowingly insist there couldn’t have been a streetcar despite being aware of its existence would be the height of folly, and Shikura was not a man who would make such a blunder.

Thus, as a conclusion, the author thinks that Shikura's memory of whether the streetcar had been operating at the time was likely hazy and indistinct. While imprisoned, Shikura pondered deeply and gradually grew confident there had indeed been no streetcars at the time; he must have slapped his knee in triumph. Because through this contradiction, he could overturn the confession made at the Kagurazaka Police Station. But why didn't he remember the day he committed murder? Was his confession sheer fabrication—had he falsely claimed to have ridden a streetcar he never took, or was his account of taking Sadako out that day a lie?

Here, rather than rushing headlong, it was necessary to apply a detective's scrutiny. Given that claiming a streetcar line one currently remembers riding had not been operational at the time would be immediately exposed as false, it was reasonable to conclude that Shikura's insistence there could have been no streetcar stemmed from complete memory loss, while the argument that he could not possibly have forgotten the events of the day he committed murder remained a sound one. If we then consider how to resolve this contradiction, it would seem that while he may have committed murder, his claim of having taken the streetcar from Kiyomasa-mae might have been false.

Fundamentally, since criminals generally intend to conceal their crimes, when pressed sharply, they resort to all manner of desperate replies. Having built their account on lies from the start, contradictions inevitably arose within its fabric, prompting even more intense scrutiny. I must finally concede this—even when confessing to the fundamental crime at this stage, it remains entirely possible that certain portions of the path leading to that confession still retain lies in their original form. In Shikura’s case, when pressed relentlessly about how exactly he had taken Sadako around on the day he killed her, he had resorted to desperate fabrications under duress—and after ultimately confessing to the murder itself, those incidental falsehoods likely remained uncorrected as they were.

If Shikura had not truly committed murder, he should have been able to present more substantial counterevidence rather than resorting to such ambiguous matters; there would have been no need to trip someone up over trivialities like whether there was a streetcar or not, nor would the mere existence of a streetcar have instantly delivered a fatal blow. If one truly did not ride the streetcar, they should have contested the matter more resolutely. However, what Shikura was attempting to argue was not the question of whether he had ridden the streetcar from Kiyomasa-mae that day, but rather the question of whether he had killed someone or not. In other words, he was attempting to deny the murder by asserting that he had not ridden the streetcar that day. This would not do. Even if he had not ridden the streetcar—in other words, even if his confession about riding it had been a lie—the streetcar issue remained ultimately a trivial side issue unless there was direct evidence proving he had not committed murder. He must not base his argument on such trivial details. When people realize they cannot prevail in fundamental arguments, they attempt to disinter trivial details to ensnare their opponents.

Shikura’s notion seemed to be along those lines, but this was indeed his failure. However, Shikura’s claim that he had not ridden the streetcar seemed rather plausible.

Having lost on the streetcar issue, Shikura at last revealed his true nature. Driven into a corner by the preliminary judge’s sharp interrogation, Shikura at last revealed his true nature. That becomes clear if one reads his third petition.

As a matter of order, let us begin with the second petition.

The second petition, as previously mentioned, was meticulously written across five sheets of hanshi paper and began with the words quoted earlier: “The streetcar had been in operation—how astonishing; it feels like a dream.” It begins with these words. His penmanship was quite skilled, with exceedingly rare misspellings or omissions and almost no traces of erasures—testament to the extent of his education. “—At Kagurazaka Police Station, they subjected me to seven days and nights of relentless torture through rotating detectives, forcing me to falsely assert as truth even the fabrication that I had killed someone I did not kill. Sent to court and believing I had escaped the tiger’s jaws, I thought myself safe—a lifelong mistake. The streetcar has become my fatal wound.” All of this stems from having received too much care from Mr. Oshima and having caused trouble for the Bible company—as for the appropriate punishment that God has inflicted upon me, I believe it has now become my fate to fall under false charges. However, on that day, I did not in fact board the streetcar from Kiyomasa-mae. I did not go to Akasaka either. I did not go to Kawa安 in Shinjuku nor eat any tempura rice bowl. I did not actually commit murder. If I were to commit murder, I would not do something like taking the victim out to what could be called my own backyard—my immediate vicinity—to kill them. Even supposing I had gone to Shinjuku that day, if I were to commit murder, there are plenty of rivers and wells in Shinjuku as well. What possible reason could there have been for me to kill her? As the matter had been settled through the mediation efforts of Pastor Kobe, I always kept the Six Codes at hand. I would never commit such grave crimes as those warranting the death penalty or life imprisonment. After being released from Kyoto Prison, I resided in the capital for eight years and went with my wife to both Mitsukoshi and Matsuya. I have never committed theft or shoplifting. As for taking the Bibles from the Bible company, since I had obtained permission from the Japanese manager, Mr. Oshima, that was why I took them out—had I thought I would end up in such a situation as this, I would not have taken them out. This humble one had four prior convictions and was fully aware that Takanawa Police Station had constantly marked me as a person of interest. On two occasions during disasters, I was summoned to the same police station and made to provide written statements detailing the circumstances at the time.

At that time, since there was not the slightest blemish upon me, I calmly presented myself whenever summoned by the police. Had I harbored any awareness of being a murderer or arsonist, even upon receiving a summons, I would not have appeared. I humbly beg your pardon, but I did not visit either Akasaka Juntendo Hospital or Takamachi Hospital on that day. I earnestly beseech Your Honor to conduct a thorough investigation. Regarding the matter I submitted at Kagurazaka Police Station, there exists not a single satisfactory aspect apart from the first hearing document. On that day, I proceeded from Meiji Gakuin through San’ichi Theological School to Asakusa, entered Hanayashiki, dined at Yonekyu Beef Shop, and returned home.

Given that the matter had been settled through Pastor Kobe’s mediation, there was no reason for me to have taken anyone to the hospital. If the mediator had been what people call a thug, that would be one thing—but with an upstanding pastor witnessing the settlement, who could possibly fear being extorted for money afterward? No one would. My wife knew everything about it—would I kill someone out of guilt toward her? Unless one were insane, I would not do such a thing. I could not do it.

Life is impermanent—there are those who die in their teens, and those who pass away in their twenties. I am fifty-six years of age and do not cling to life; however, I lament perishing under false charges while bearing infamy. I have no recollection of requesting laborers to commit arson at Kagurazaka Police Station as stated. I also have no recollection of committing arson either. “Your Honor, most wise and sagacious judge, please render your judgment regarding the circumstances before and after the incident and grant me proof that I did not commit these acts.”

The above constituted the arguments presented in the petition.

The petition Shikura submitted to Judge Koga on June 4, as presented yesterday, was thoroughly imbued with mournful tones—what one might call a lamenting entreaty. However, the subsequent petitions submitted on June 17 and additionally on the 19th showed a complete reversal in attitude, marking the first instance where he formally lodged a complaint about torture at Kagurazaka Police Station. When matters failed to progress as desired, Shikura would abruptly shift his stance—a pernicious habit of his. This tendency risked obstructing even legitimate avenues he might have pursued—a regrettable circumstance for his own sake. Take this torture claim he raised: had he filed it immediately upon being brought before the preliminary court, it might have held merit. But now, after Judge Koga had already devoted two full months to meticulous investigation, suddenly voicing such allegations at this late stage proved futile. Moreover, throughout those two months, he had repeatedly altered his claims—insisting there had been no streetcar service at the time, among other things. Having attempted to retract his confession only to have those efforts founder, this latest reversal rendered his position all the more precarious.

Yet this petition concerning torture became the dreadful starting point of his latter half-life—a life both rare and terrifying in this world—that spanned nearly eight years until June 19, Taisho 13 (1924), when he would hang himself in prison while hurling horrific curses at Police Chief Shōji on the eve of his second trial verdict, reiterating these claims throughout. To escape the torments of prolonged imprisonment and solitary hell, he desperately wrung every ounce of strength from every part of his body. Pain bred curses, curses bred evil, and evil summoned greater evil, transforming him into a living incarnation of wickedness. With a pallid face and blazing eyes, he reviled the world and berated people, shouting vehemently until all who saw him shuddered—a spectacle both unprecedented and dreadful. Therefore, I shall here present its summary and conclude this chapter of condemnation.

This petition, meticulously written across approximately twenty-two sheets of hanshi paper, clearly demonstrated his inexhaustible energy and memory, as well as his bottomless tenacity. Attached to the cover was an additional sheet of hanshi paper, on which was written in bold brushstrokes “Petition,” beside it in slightly smaller characters “A Statement of Defense Under the Designation of a Murder Defendant,” and at the end “Defendant Shikura Kihei.”

“Your Honor, In this Taisho era of sacred benevolence—today—we had believed torture no longer existed within police institutions. Yet this is false; even now, Kagurazaka Police Station preserves vestiges of the Bakumatsu period’s shadow. Truly, this constitutes a most deplorable state of affairs.”

Defendant Kihei—having endured such torture and been compelled to falsely confess to killing someone he did not kill—is now one who has been transferred to the court. Is that skeletal corpse which surfaced from the well near this humble one's residence four years ago truly Kobayashi Sadako without discrepancy? If it were Kobayashi Sadako, was it murder or suicide? Or when and how did death come to them? I do not believe it to be Kobayashi Sadako. If it were Kobayashi Sadako, she should have been much smaller in stature. Though I heard various explanations about that corpse at Kagurazaka Police Station, even now I still find myself adrift upon waves of doubt.

Kagurazaka Police Station Detective Ishiko’s statements. “You killed Kobayashi Sadako, didn’t you?” “I don’t know. I didn’t kill her.” “Liar! This skeleton is Kobayashi Sadako! Your own wife has proven it!” “You saw the geta from that time, didn’t you?” “I saw them, but I do not know whose they were.” “There’s no way you don’t know—your wife says they’re Kobayashi Sadako’s geta.” “And we're even stating that you're indeed the one who killed her.” “Confess!” “No matter what your wife says, you claim to know nothing.” “There's no such thing as not knowing! If you don't understand, we won't let it pass—we won't allow it!” “This bastard won't confess easily through ordinary means—let's put him to torture!”

Shikura’s petition continued at length. “From then on, every single day, I was taken out to the detective room and subjected to prolonged interrogations and physical beatings by detectives working in shifts through the night.”

Shikura’s petition states its appeal in this manner. “Fists rained down from all sides—right, left, front—as I sat in that frigid February air wearing nothing but a single layer, the glass doors thrown wide open. Had that been all, I might have endured it. But then they brought out a skull of unknown origin, declaring, ‘This is Sadako! Kiss it!’” “Lick the skull!” “Once or twice might be one thing, but I was made to kiss it countless times.” “And as long as you don’t confess, we’ll keep detaining you over and over—countless times. We’ll kill you, bastard, so you better believe it.” “Tomorrow we’ll take you to the kendo hall out back, tie you up with rope, and douse you with water from head to toe—so you better believe it.” “That’s not all—tomorrow early morning we’ll go to your house, haul your wife in, subject her to twenty days’ detention, and torment her just like you—so you better believe it.” (My wife was frequently summoned before them, interrogated, and hearing her cries was truly unbearable for me.) “Don’t you care about your wife?” “Don’t you care about that innocent child?” “Are you a beast, you bastard? A wretch worse than any animal!” “You know neither the love of your wife nor the love of your child.” “You’re a hopeless bastard.” “Kiss it!” Once again, I was made to kiss the skull countless times. Kihei too had by this point become physically and mentally exhausted, and thinking that if they were going to torment him this much, it would be better to just die, he then plotted his second suicide. The guards had become so vigilant that it became utterly impossible for him to die. Be that as it may for me, the guilty one, the thought of my innocent wife and child being made to suffer from tomorrow onward was truly unbearable. Even so, I could not bring myself to claim I had killed someone I did not kill; with no other recourse left, I made false statements in an attempt to escape both the torment of the skull and the tiger’s jaws as swiftly as possible, thereby striving to save my wife and child. As Detectives Negishi and Ishiko had previously urged me to do so, I here invoked a certain laborer named Suke from the second interrogation report—though no such person truly existed—and made assertions that appeared convincingly truthful. However, they would not readily accept this.

“You have to say you killed her.” “You mustn’t copy others’ confessions,” they said. No matter how many times I begged the preliminary judge, they refused to forward my case to trial. The torment grew increasingly severe and cruel. Night after sleepless night of being forced to kiss that skull—there remained no choice but to send myself to the gallows. Resolving to sacrifice myself to save my wife and children, I boldly declared here that I had killed someone I did not kill. I made this false confession before the Chief. “I too am a man—spare my family in exchange for my confession.” “If you act like a man and confess, I’ll be a man too—I’ll save your family even if it costs me my position.” “I’ll keep the Bible company from seizing your house—I’ll put it in your family’s name. Rest easy.” “Anything else to say about that?” “If there is, name anyone you want summoned tomorrow.” “Then have my wife brought here.” “And ask Missionary Williamson in Nakano Town to fetch Pastor Kobe.” (Tormented by false charges yet resolved to die...) “Very well—they’ll be summoned tomorrow,” he declared. Thus was born this third interrogation report. Even this report was extraordinary. Since I claimed to have killed someone I hadn’t, I grew confused about how to answer—leaving everything to them, parroting whatever they dictated. Yet despite Detective Negishi and the Chief’s promises, I realized I couldn’t feel secure without seeing what came next.

Though my desire to save my wife and children burned fiercely, what could I do? Condemned by false charges, must I ascend the gallows with anguished cries? Ah—the world is impermanent, impermanent! Life is but a dream! Thus I resigned myself. "I shall not display cowardice now; as a Christian believer, I will resolutely mount the gallows to save my wife and children."

Shikura exhaustively presented the facts of the torture that had occurred at Kagurazaka Police Station. If those claims were true, it would undoubtedly constitute an unforgivable act; however, while I cannot speak to whether confessions obtained through torture hold legal validity, I maintain that one cannot automatically deem such confessions false simply because torture was involved. If anything, I suspect people more often divulge truths when pushed beyond endurance by pain. Though Shikura now asserts his Kagurazaka Police Station confession was false due to torture, should we not consider the veracity of his confession independently from the torture allegations? That is to say—while determining responsibility for any torture remains an institutional matter for Kagurazaka Police Station—the factual existence of crimes must still be weighed separately within the judge’s deliberations. The core question persists: was Shikura’s confession genuine or fabricated? Given how heartfelt his confession appeared at the time, coupled with Kagurazaka Station’s outright dismissal of torture claims, these circumstances placed Shikura at a severe disadvantage.

Moreover, he had lost the opportune time to make such an appeal. He should have stated this when he first appeared before the preliminary court, but thinking to somehow escape the charges, he resorted to various petty schemes—until finally, it was said, he brought forth this matter as a last desperate measure. He repeatedly wrote that his reason for confessing was to save his innocent wife and children, but Shikura was no literary man—having penned this in one breath during his hurried imprisonment, there was ample regret that his intent outpaced his ability to fully articulate it. While “saving his wife and children” might simply have meant wishing to relieve their anxieties sooner, to claim he willingly accepted false charges for their sake defied all common sense. In this enlightened reign of Taisho, guilt could not extend to unknowing family members, nor would Kagurazaka officers utter such absurdities to threaten him. Shikura’s petition continued.

"I briefly considered whether there might be some means by which I could avoid ascending the gallows and somehow save my wife and children." It came to mind. There was a way—there was! As for me, in any case I wanted to see how the Chief and Detectives Negishi and Ishiko would handle things hereafter—I would not be plotted against; rather, I would plot first. If my plot failed midway, I would not ascend the gallows but would instead take my own life to prove my manhood. Until then, I would go to prison, chant "daifuku mochi" over and over to feign mental illness, and for a certain period receive treatment as a mentally ill person. If the house I owned became the property of my wife and children, they would likely not struggle for daily sustenance from this day forth (I would die so that my wife and children might live). Once my mental illness was cured, I would not die but live again. "If my plot were to fail, I would gladly take my own death—I would commit suicide—and thus I spent nearly an entire night preparing the third interrogation report."

This part remains rather unclear in meaning, but in essence, I wished to somehow fully transfer my assets so that my wife and children would not face difficulties in their daily sustenance; regarding this, by feigning madness here—repeatedly shouting "daifuku mochi" over and over—I would first escape the harsh torment and prolong the trial proceedings until my assets were completely transferred to my wife and children. It seemed to mean that if his plan failed, he would have no choice but to commit suicide; indeed, by feigning madness, he caused considerable trouble for the authorities, yet through this, one could perceive just how deeply he cared for his wife and children's welfare. The Kagurazaka officers' so-called quick-wittedness—exploiting the intensity of his concern for his wife and children to force a confession from him—was precisely what earned them Shikura's profound resentment.

It was not uncommon for one to make a false confession out of excessive concern for their wife and children’s welfare; however, in most such cases, this occurred when the family members had committed crimes and the confessor sought to protect them by proclaiming themselves the guilty party. In Shikura’s case, since his wife and children had committed no crime whatsoever, there was not the slightest need to protect them. The notion that one would confess to a murder charge they had no recollection of committing—whether due to being subjected to somewhat harsh interrogation methods by the police or simply to transfer assets and eliminate future concerns—was difficult to accept.

I believe the officers skillfully exploited Shikura's concern for his wife and children to coerce a confession from him. That becomes clear when one reads further into the petition.

The next part of Shikura’s petition states as follows.

"A: Regarding the request from Detective Negishi to this humble one, You must declare that you killed Kobayashi Sadako and take responsibility—if you don’t take responsibility, I won’t be able to face the Chief. “Please take responsibility and go through with it—think of it as helping me, I beg of you.” "You're a man, aren't you?" "If you prove yourself a man by taking responsibility, then I too will act as a man." "I’ll ensure the house you currently own isn’t seized by the Bible company." "And I will sell that house for three thousand yen, use two thousand yen to purchase fields in Kosaka, deposit the remaining one thousand yen in a bank as child-rearing funds, and have them live off the interest." “I’ll save your wife and children.” “You are, in any case, a person who cannot be released from prison even if found innocent, and you were repeatedly admonished to die and save your innocent wife and children.” "It was also said to me." “I’ve done quite a lot for you, haven’t I?” "The other day, when the kitchen chimney at your house broke, since it was said there was no money for repairs, I didn’t tell you, but I took ten yen from your funds and gave it to your wife." "Then there was someone who came to your house recently claiming to have been asked by you to collect eleven yen for advertising and printing fees, attempting to swindle the money." "Even then, I helped your wife." “Haven’t I gone this far in doing everything for you?” "You’re a man, aren’t you? Take responsibility and stand by it!" "You're a man, aren't you? A man of religion? Take responsibility and stand by it! If you do," they repeatedly assured me, "I'll make that house there the property of your wife and children and continue to assist them hereafter"—this was what I was implored to do.

B: Regarding the request from Detective Ishiko to this humble one, "When I went to your house requesting your cooperation, you should have just come without protest. Haven't I done enough for your sake?" "At that time too, out of consideration for your standing, didn't I specially send a personal calling card to your residence?" "And yet because you fled, I can't face the Chief anymore." "I'm now at risk of being dismissed from my post." "You must claim responsibility for killing her even if you didn't." "That's all you need to do." "If you just take responsibility, I can avoid being dismissed." "You're a man, aren't you?" "A man of religion, aren't you?" "They pleaded with me repeatedly—'Help me by saying you killed her and taking responsibility.'"

The above was but one fragment from the petition; without examining Detectives Negishi and Ishiko themselves, the full truth could not be known, yet there could be no doubt that Shikura's claims held some degree of validity. The two detectives likely employed threats and deceptions in their efforts to extract a confession, using his wife and children as shackles to ensnare him. Admittedly, this constituted a listener's trick—a potentially unsavory tactic depending on circumstances—yet those who readily confessed under such ploys did so precisely because they harbored guilty consciences and sought desperately to escape their deeds. Given that the opposing side concealed [the truth], resorting to such stratagems became unavoidable. Compared to infiltrating prisons with spies disguised as allies to exploit trust and extract secrets, merely confronting suspects face-to-face might be considered less culpable.

Now, while it is doubtful whether both detectives truly bowed their heads low and pleaded with Shikura—as he claims—to “shoulder the crime and save us,” given these circumstances, it seems plausible that they played up his identity as “a man” or “man of religion,” imploring him pitifully to confess in order to “save themselves.” Admittedly, what the two detectives meant was a truthful confession, but how did this register with Shikura? Judging by the tone of this petition, Shikura may have swelled with masculine pride and straightened his back defiantly. If so, one might need to reassess one’s understanding of Shikura.

What kind of man was Shikura?

Upon closely examining his words and deeds, he proved to be a man remarkably thorough in his wrongdoing, yet as a common trait among those of criminal bent, he remained prone to sudden changes in disposition. Beneath this mercurial disposition lay an unyielding tenacity that no lever could budge. Even when the other party had long since forgotten and could no longer comprehend why they were resented, he continued to harbor that grudge. In other words, he engaged in actions that had lost their purpose. He repetitively returned to the same matter. Such a person might appear to be an extraordinarily bold and daring villain, but upon suddenly awakening to realization, they might shed tears. Wasn't Shikura exactly that kind of man?

In his petition, he redundantly repeated the same matter, pleading and imploring, yet there was no conclusion whatsoever. At first glance, his penmanship and characters appeared quite steady, but when it came to composition, there were parts that failed to cohere. While reading, one suddenly sensed he might be what you’d call an “easy” man—the type readily swayed by flattery. Especially when reading the subsequent section containing his exchanges with police officers, there was a remarkably whimsical quality—one would hardly think this was a man fighting at the critical juncture of whether he would face execution or not, whether this constituted a false charge or legitimate conviction. On one hand, combined with his rather sinister features, he appeared a bold and daring villain mocking the court; yet on the other, one wondered if there wasn’t some defect in his intellect. Whether viewing Shikura as a bold and daring fool or, conversely, as a surprisingly gullible man easily swayed by flattery held significant bearing on ascertaining his confession’s veracity. As this writer, who knew nothing of him personally, could not lightly pronounce judgment, I urged esteemed readers to peruse his petition’s entirety and render an impartial verdict.

“I have not committed murder. “Because the police were unreasonably ordering me—someone who had done nothing—to confess to being a perpetrator through their demands at headquarters，it proved truly exhausting to make statements distinguishing truth from falsehood.” “I responded precisely according to Your Honor’s questioning.” Police: “Where did you ambush Sadako Kobayashi on her way to the hospital?” Answer: “I don’t know.” Police: “You must know—wasn’t it around Kiyomasa-kōmae?” Answer: “Well... Perhaps.” “At Kiyomasa-kōmae—at the foot of that slope—I lay waiting.”

“How many hours did you wait?” “Well...”

“Did you wait about an hour?” “Well... I waited in ambush for approximately an hour.” “I see. What kind of kimono was Sadako Kobayashi wearing at that time?” “Well...” “I didn’t really notice.” “There’s no way you didn’t notice—was it striped or splashed pattern?”

“Well...” “I thought it was striped.”

“It wasn’t striped—it was a splashed pattern, wasn’t it?” “That might be the case.”

“What kind of splashed pattern was it?” “I didn’t properly notice the design.”

(Since I never met her, there was no way I could have known.) Police: “Alright, then where did you take her?” (Perplexed) In my mind, I still believed trams hadn’t yet begun running past Kiyomasa-kōmae at that time. Upon the case being transferred to court, I found a path to substantiation and thus claimed to have ridden a tram I’d never boarded. Who could have imagined it? That the tram had indeed been operational then—what utter astonishment! Answer: “I rode the tram.” Police: “Where did you take her?” Answer: “I took her to Akasaka’s Junten-do.”

On September 22, Taisho 2 (1913), I handed over one hundred yen to Pastor Kobe, and on the evening of the 25th, exchanged documents at Pastor Kobe’s residence, thereby concluding the settlement. Moreover, Shikura had no reason whatsoever to take Kobayashi Sadako to the hospital. Here, after the case was transferred to court, I found a path to substantiation. Police: “Then where did you go after leaving the hospital?” Answer: “Completely perplexed, after some deliberation, I stated that I had gone to Shinjuku.” Shikura’s petition, when converted to 400-character manuscript pages, amounted to approximately forty-four or forty-five sheets. Considering he had handwritten this on hanshi (traditional Japanese paper) with a brush, even the sheer labor involved was no ordinary feat. It maintains consistency from the character forms to the layout of the lines, all properly arranged. As previously stated, there are almost no errors or omissions. Confined in the detention center, he wrote it out of sheer boredom—one cannot help but be astonished at his perseverance. Furthermore, that he has memorized in detail the proceedings of the interrogation at Kagurazaka Police Station is nothing short of astonishing.

What follows is the continuation of the petition. “After going to Shinjuku, where did you eat lunch?” “I stated that I had eaten a twenty-sen tempura rice bowl at a certain soba restaurant in Shinjuku 2-chōme.”

In reality, there was no such soba restaurant. Kagurazaka Police Station immediately investigated this claim but found nothing. Moreover, given that I was suffering from an illness at that time, there could have been no reason for me to eat a tempura rice bowl. Greasy foods are a mortal enemy of gonorrhea.

Police: “Then what did you do?” Answer: “I considered claiming I took her to Kawayasu, but if I said I went there and detectives would immediately find out I hadn’t, it would lead to the skull-kissing and so on. This posed a problem, so after some deliberation, I stated that I had taken her to Shinjuku Station.” Police: “I see. You took her to the station—then what did you do? ‘It’s still too early to go home, isn’t it?’” Answer: “That’s correct. ‘I had her wait at the station and went to run an errand.’”

If I were to kill her, there would be no reason whatsoever for me to leave such a precious jewel waiting alone at the station.

Police: "Then what did you do?" Answer: "I returned to the station and boarded the Meguro-bound Yamanote tram." "And then I returned home." Police: "Where did you decide to kill Kobayashi Sadako?" Answer: "The intent to kill arose within me on the tram." I am no child—even if some demon were to conceive such a sudden, terrifying intent to kill someone on a tram, while one might comprehend how such a thought could arise, it is not something that should ever occur. This statement of mine is quite childishly constructed. Such are the false claims in their entirety.

“Why did you decide to kill?” “Utterly perplexed—after some deliberation—I stated something like: ‘Well, since my wife was present, I couldn’t take her back home, nor could I send her back to Kobayashi’s residence.’” I had nothing left to conceal from my wife at that point. Since my wife was fully aware of all matters, even had I taken her out again, there would have been no reason for her to lodge detailed complaints at the Kobayashi residence and have her brought back. When the settlement had already been concluded on the evening of the 25th, why on earth would I have taken her out?

“Did you put stones in [the body]?” “Did you make her take poison, wrap her in a straw mat, and put her in [there]?”

“I don’t know.” “There’s no way you don’t know. You put tree stumps in there, didn’t you?” “I don’t know.” “That’s not true—you’ve put two tree stumps in there, haven’t you?” “Since I didn’t put them in, there’s no reason I could know. I know absolutely nothing about these so-called tree stumps.” “I didn’t put them in, but let’s say I did.”

“Alright, why did you put in the tree stumps?” “Did you put them in to keep the corpse from floating up?” “This is quite troublesome.” “Very well.” “Let’s go with that.” The police interrogation transcript—spanning roughly eleven pages of manuscript paper—was recorded in a bizarrely comical fashion. At every impasse in responses, phrases like “utterly perplexed” were inserted; mentions of “skull-kissing” or mere repetitions of “kiss-kiss” were rendered with such deft absurdity that readers couldn’t help but snicker. Was this calm composure or reckless resignation? The man showed no resemblance to someone facing an inescapable murder charge.

As previously cited, on June 19, Taisho 6 [1917], Shikura devoted all his energy to submitting a lengthy petition meticulously penned on hanshi paper to Preliminary Judge Koga, wherein he complained of torture by the Kagurazaka Police Station and repeatedly pleaded that he had absolutely no recollection of killing Sadako. (Here, what strikes one as peculiar is that Shikura ultimately committed suicide by hanging in prison on June 19, Taisho 13 [1924]—the exact same month and day as this petition’s submission.) While the petition contained irrefutable sections that even Judge Koga could not outright dismiss—such as Shikura’s feigned madness through incessant shouts of “Daifuku! Daifuku!” in pretrial detention, his written promise to pay a fellow detainee 5,000 yen to kill him (interpreted as suicidal posturing), and his abrupt reversals of testimony—none of these actions earned him any favor with the preliminary judge. Consequently, the outcome of the pretrial investigation grew increasingly hopeless.

Moreover, he had repeatedly asserted in his petition that after reaching a settlement on September 25, Taisho 2 (1913), he absolutely had not met with the Kobayashi brothers thereafter—yet when Prosecutor Kozuka confronted him with evidence and pressed him eight days after submitting the petition, he immediately capitulated, "I must clarify that my previous assertion about the hundred-yen exchange occurring on September 25 stemmed from a misunderstanding; the fact remains it indisputably took place on the night of September 26."

he stated. As a result, in his second petition, he provided an extremely detailed account of his movements on September 26—the day Kobayashi Sadako went missing—stating: "On that day, I proceeded from Meiji Gakuin through San'ichi Theological School to Asakusa, entered Hanayashiki, dined at Yonekyu Beef Restaurant, and returned home."

he now had to immediately correct what he had been asserting. Namely, he answered Prosecutor Kozuka as follows: “I did not intentionally move the date of the monetary transaction to the 25th to use as material for my defense. I stated that on the 26th, since the matter with Sadako had been settled the previous evening, I went to Asakusa with peace of mind, spent the entire day leisurely, and returned home. However, this too came to differ from the facts—but I did not intentionally make false statements. It was due to that misunderstanding that I made erroneous claims.”

In other words, Shikura, having once confessed to murdering Kobayashi Sadako, later reversed his position; yet the three crucial points he had asserted to prove his confession was entirely fabricated—that the tram had not yet commenced service at Seishōkōmae on that day; that Sadako’s case had been resolved on September 25th, after which he had not met with the Kobayashi brothers; and that he had spent the entire day of the 26th in Asakusa—all were ultimately retracted by his own hand. Perhaps Shikura, finding himself unable to shake off a grave crime he had no memory of committing, had in his extreme panic attempted various incoherent excuses. However, these aforementioned facts by no means gave the judge a favorable impression.

Prosecutor Kozuka finally summoned Pastor Kobe and questioned him about the circumstances surrounding Shikura’s confession at the time. "I was summoned to Kagurazaka Police Station before Shikura was transferred to the authorities." Pastor Kobe answered. "I met with Shikura, but he appeared genuinely repentant and asked me to take care of his affairs." "I told him that if he would only repent in his heart, he should forthrightly submit to his punishment, and that if there was no one else to entrust his affairs to, I would take responsibility and look after them—whereupon he shed tears in gratitude."

After concluding the final interrogation, Prosecutor Kozuka’s resolve did not waver in the slightest. He submitted to Preliminary Judge Koga, “Opinion Statement Regarding the Preliminary Examination Decision” titled as such, along with a statement of reasons expressing his view that the decision had been made to refer eight charges—including arson and murder—to the Tokyo District Court for public trial.

On July 2, Taisho 6 (1917), Shikura Kihei was found guilty, and with this, the preliminary hearing concluded. While it constituted the grave crimes of murder and arson, physical evidence other than his own confession remained scarce. And yet the accused himself was attempting to deny his confession.

Is Shikura truly guilty? How will the trial unfold?

Karmic Retribution

Shikura's wife Shizuko sat watching over the peacefully sleeping face of her child, lost in deep thought. Her tears had long since been exhausted, and both parched eyelids were swollen grotesquely. The electric light, feeling particularly dim tonight, hung from the ceiling of the bare room, casting her lonely figure and making its shadow cling to the slightly soiled tatami mats.

It was a humid evening.

Without a moment's respite for her heart, while she was consumed by tears, the world had already, unnoticed, turned to summer. Through the gap of the single opened rain shutter, past the aged bamboo screen hanging limply from the eaves, she could see a star or two twinkling in the crisp, clear sky that had broken free of the rainy season.

Since that unexpected raid by detectives in February of this year, what a succession of misfortunes had followed in less than half a year. She felt as though she had aged ten years in that brief span. The seven years of married life with Kihei had been like a dream. At nineteen, having offered him her virgin purity as her parents advised, though her life had not been filled with happiness since then, she had been able to maintain a life of faith while holding love for her husband. Moreover, while her husband’s affection toward her had at times felt obsessive and at other times hollow, it was by no means ordinary. To put it in general terms, she had been able to walk a fairly happy path with her husband, centered around the child they had soon after their marriage.

That unexpectedly collapsed in a single day after seven long years.

She had never even dreamed that her husband had already accumulated four prior offenses before marrying her. Though she hadn't investigated thoroughly because he was a Christian believer—and though even with prior convictions one could be reborn as an upstanding person through repentance—when the Kagurazaka Police Station laid out her husband's criminal record, she felt it more excruciating than if her naked body had been exposed.

She had realized soon after their marriage that her husband’s conduct was not entirely proper. She had heard that during times when they had temporarily lived apart due to his academic commitments, or when she had returned to her hometown, there had been rumors of him being involved with one or two women. Particularly when she learned that her husband had contracted a loathsome disease and transmitted it to their underage maid Kobayashi Sadako—even if, as the maid’s uncle claimed, he had not actually assaulted her—how utterly wretched she had felt. However, she had not forgotten that even in these misdeeds of her husband, she had to share part of the responsibility. While forgiving her husband, she went through various hardships to ensure the matter did not leak to society.

But what was this? They say Kihei took Sadako out, drowned her in an old well, and killed her? Although she had suffered through harsh questioning by demon-like detectives at Kagurazaka Police Station, and although she had heard all manner of terrible rumors about her husband, she still did not cease to believe in him. She could not bring herself to believe he had committed such a grave crime. When she heard from the Police Chief’s own mouth that Kihei had made a full confession, all the blood in her body instantly froze. Her effort to barely keep herself from collapsing was nearly superhuman.

However, by the time she was informed by the Police Chief of her husband’s confession and permitted to meet him, she had completely regained her composure. She steeled herself completely. She and her husband already had a child. No matter how great a villain her husband might be, it would be shameful for her, now walking the path of faith, to become distraught at this late hour; she would comfort and encourage him so that there would be no cause for future concern. In this way, she resolved. And so she was able to calmly look up at her husband’s figure, drenched in tears of remorse.

Shizuko continued thinking without moving a muscle, like a mounted doll.

The hardships she had endured since her husband had been detained as an unconvicted prisoner were anything but ordinary. She was frequently summoned to the preliminary court and subjected to harsh interrogations by judges; met with mocking gazes from neighbors; and faced both swindlers exploiting her vulnerability under pretense of kindness and those who came to extort her. Not a single relative came to her aid, and even when such occasions were rare, none could provide material assistance. Though photographer Asada occasionally visited to console her, given past events and his seeming ulterior motives, she couldn't bring herself to welcome him wholeheartedly.

For this reason, what caused her the greatest suffering was securing funds. Even if their day-to-day living expenses didn't require much, the costs for provisions to her husband in the detention center for unconvicted prisoners and the fees paid to legal scriveners and lawyers were by no means small. How could she possibly generate that sum by a woman's efforts alone, especially now when society shunned her and no one would come near? She had no choice but to sustain herself by selling off her personal belongings one by one.

Her greatest reliance was the house she now lived in. She thought that if she sold it, she could obtain a lump sum of money and hire a capable lawyer, so when she discreetly consulted a broker, she was told there was a buyer willing to pay fifteen hundred yen. And so she tried bringing up the matter during her meeting with her husband.

“About the house... There’s a buyer offering fifteen hundred yen. I thought we could sell it off and use the money for your legal fees and representation costs. What do you think?”

"I have no objection to selling the house." Shikura answered while rolling his large eyes.

“That house—Detective Negishi assured me he could sell it for three thousand yen.” “I have no intention of using that money for myself.” “Use that money as capital. If you can secure enough income to never be in need for the rest of your life and raise our child properly, that would be ideal.” “In any case, fifteen hundred yen is absurdly low.” “Surely we can get two thousand yen for it.” “Have Asada look into it.”

Consulting Asada was something she had been reluctant to do, but Shizuko, so as not to oppose him, "Very well, I shall do so."

Having said this, she left the visitation room; then, within two or three days, an unexpected calamity occurred. It was that the Toyo Fire Insurance Company had provisionally seized the house. When Shikura was indicted and the preliminary hearing had determined guilt, two civil lawsuits were filed against him using those criminal records as evidence. One was a claim for damages of approximately seven thousand yen from the aforementioned Bible company for stolen Bibles, and the other was a claim for damages of approximately three thousand yen from the insurance company mentioned earlier, for fraudulently obtained insurance payments. As for the insurance company—while one might expect the Bible company, being a Christian organization that sold Bibles as humanitarianism's treasured scriptures, to follow "hating the sin but not the sinner" and refrain from tormenting Shikura further with civil lawsuits at this late stage—matters clearly would not proceed so smoothly, for they promptly initiated litigation. However, true to form, while the Bible company refrained from property seizure, there the nimble insurance company immediately applied for provisional seizure.

This house was supposed to have been registered under Shizuko's name through Asada's efforts, but whether the procedures had not been completed or there had been another means of provisional seizure, in any case, the house had now become beyond their control.

With the house that had been her sole remaining hope now provisionally seized, Shizuko was left utterly bewildered. At their next meeting, she dejectedly told her husband of this.

“I thought about selling the house, but it was seized by the insurance company. It’s hopeless.”

“What?! It was seized?!”

Shikura's countenance changed abruptly. His fierce eyebrows shot up, his eyes blazed with a fierce light, and the look of bitter resentment on his face was such that even the usually composed Shizuko found herself faltering. "Th-that... Is that true?!" Upon hearing that the house had been seized, Shikura’s fury was no ordinary matter. Shizuko was intimidated by his bluster, but she could no longer conceal the matter now.

"Yes, it was seized the day before yesterday." "Hmph." Shikura's eyes glowed ominously.

“I was deceived! The Police Chief framed me!” Shizuko tried to calm her husband as his agitation intensified, but the jailer who had been monitoring this unusual scene promptly separated them, abruptly concluding the visitation and leaving her unable to offer even a single word of consolation. From the insurance company’s standpoint, having been defrauded of their funds, they likely felt compelled to recover them by any means necessary. Yet the seizure of this property—Shikura’s sole remaining asset—undeniably became a catalyst for his moral deterioration.

He wrote of this matter in his written appeal as follows.

Two days later, my wife again came seeking to meet me. At this time, my wife wore a withered face and declared despairingly that all was lost. "The house has been provisionally seized by Toyo Fire Insurance Company," she said dejectedly before returning home. "Ah! Though I made false claims of killing those I did not slay—all to save my wife and children—I could not save them. Was I deceived? This is my end then! Most regrettable! Endlessly resentful! Deceived, must I now mount the gallows beneath false charges?"

It appeared that Shikura began denying his confessions and feigning madness only after this incident, suggesting that the provisional seizure of his house may have been a major cause for his denial. Later, during the second trial hearing, when questioned by the Chief Judge about why he had initially confessed during the preliminary hearing only to immediately retract it, he stated: “I made a false confession at first to save my wife and children, but I realized that unless I eventually told the truth, it would disadvantage me in subsequent trials and cause me to miss any chance of escaping false charges—so I declared that my confession was fabricated.” Given that he did not explicitly state that having his house seized and realizing for the first time that he had been deceived at Kagurazaka Police Station were reasons for exposing his false confession, it may not have been such a significant issue after all.

However, the one who suffered most from the immediate problem was Shizuko. The husband she relied on was confined in the pretrial detention center; with not a single penny in savings to her name, her sole remaining asset—the house—had been completely seized. As mentioned before, she had managed to get by temporarily by selling off one or two personal belongings she had on her, but now even those proceeds had run out. The date of her husband’s trial was approaching. Now that the trial was finally at hand, she would have to formally request a lawyer. But now, she couldn’t even think of hiring a lawyer—she didn’t have food for the next day. Moreover, she would soon have to vacate this house. Then, even her immediate means to shelter from the elements would be hindered.

Her brooding shifted from one worry to the next without end. Each time she gazed upon her child's face—peacefully lost in innocent slumber—tears she believed had dried completely, their very source exhausted, would begin to seep out anew. This, she realized, must be what they meant by tears of blood.

Ah, what am I to do about tomorrow? How will I raise this child? But more than that—how can I save my husband who will soon face trial? My husband keeps insisting he's innocent of the crime. Though his earnest confession at Kagurazaka Police Station hadn't seemed false at the time, she couldn't bring herself to believe he was lying now either. I must somehow secure a capable lawyer and rescue my husband from that agony.

Shizuko's mind was in utter turmoil, but exhausted both physically and mentally from the day's fatigue, she collapsed limply beside her child's pillow and fell asleep.

Suddenly, a cold wind brushed against her body, rousing her from sleep. She had no idea how much time had passed; the night seemed to have deepened profoundly. Peering outside through the one shutter left open, she found the sky had turned pitch black, thickly clouded over without her noticing. Shizuko hurriedly got up to close the shutters when a dim figure appeared in the depths of the garden.

When Shizuko spotted a suspicious figure at the garden's edge, "Ah!"

With that cry, she froze in place. The figure approached her unsteadily. "Oh... You." Shizuko let out another cry of surprise. The suspicious figure she had thought to be an intruder was her husband, Kihei. He silently shuffled into the house. He looked as he always did and was in relatively good spirits.

Shizuko frowned slightly in suspicion, wondering why her husband, who should have been in prison, had come home at this hour, but without harboring deep suspicions, she welcomed him in. "You managed to return home, didn't you?" "Yeah, I went through hell."

He spoke casually. "You’ve had it rough too, haven’t you." "Oh no, it’s nothing at all for someone like me." "But you were quite mistreated at Kagurazaka Police Station, weren’t you?" "Oh, just a bit." "It wasn’t just a little. "I know damn well. "I heard your sobs many times."

Shikura said firmly, but soon lowered his tone, “I went through hell too. The detectives took turns interrogating me through the night. And then they made me kiss an unidentifiable skull.” “Wh-what?!”

Shizuko looked up at her husband with eyes filled with fear. “I’d resolved never to confess to anything I didn’t do, no matter what they did to me. But hearing your sobs hurt worse than being cut by a blade, and those endless night interrogations left me completely spent." “Fine—I’ll be the sacrifice,” I thought to myself. The Police Chief said he’d sell this house so my wife and children wouldn’t starve, and I believed there’d be no more worries. That false confession became the mistake of a lifetime. “I was utterly deceived by the Police Chief.” “Now there’s no way left to undo it.”

“Do you truly have no memory of it?”

Shizuko looked at her husband with probing eyes. "No. "I truly have no memory of it at all." "Th-then..."

Shizuko could no longer bear it and sobbed. “Wh-why did you make that confession?” “That’s as I was saying—” “No, no.” Shizuko fiercely interrupted. “No matter what the reason was, claiming you killed someone you didn’t kill is absurd.” “You... you...” Shizuko was unable to speak. “I was wrong. “So I’ve resolved to climb the gallows.” “No, no, there’s no need for that.” “If you truly have no memory of it, you will be found not guilty in court.”

“But I can no longer explain it away.” “I’ve been framed by the Police Chief and rendered completely helpless.” “Rather than be punished for a crime I didn’t commit, I’ve tried to kill myself any number of times to get it over with once and for all.” “But every time, it’s a failure.” “Once, I thought of asking the Gokan Tailor to kill me, but that also failed.” “I can’t die.” “I just can’t die.” “So I’ve made up my mind.” “I’ve resolved that I absolutely will not die.”

As he spoke, Shikura’s countenance gradually grew fearsome. He clenched his fist and gnashed his teeth fiercely. “Y-you...”

Shizuko, overcome with pity, tried to cling tightly to her husband.

Shikura shook her off and continued to roar. “I won’t die! “I absolutely will not die. “I will curse them all. “I will curse every last one of those who tormented me. “From this day forth, I shall give my soul to the devil and be done with it. “Evil spirits and goblins that fill the realm between heaven and earth, and all other wicked beings—hear me! “Shikura swears that from this very day forth, he shall do nothing but evil. “Through this, I shall achieve my great revenge upon this detestable society—this world filled with scheming and stratagems, deceit and traps—that has tormented me until today!”

Shikura’s wide-open eyes narrowed and shot upward as though yanked by invisible strings, his mouth splitting open to his ears while his crimson tongue seemed to drip with blood. Shizuko trembled in terror before collapsing heavily to the ground.

Shikura, now transformed into a demonic form, continued his roaring tirade. "I won't die! I absolutely will not die! I'll become a demon while still breathing! I'll curse every last one of those bastards who tormented me—curse them till there's nothing left!"

“Ah, you...” Shizuko strained her voice in desperation and shouted. “P-please stop such a terrible thing! If it’s something you didn’t do, it will surely be cleared up someday. Those who die under false charges can go peacefully and without any pain to the Lord’s presence. Please, I beg you, stop siding with the devil!” “No! No! I will curse them! Myself! Shōji! Kobe! You detectives from Kagurazaka Station! You will surely suffer my curse and see! Shizuko, this will be our last meeting as husband and wife.”

Having declared this, Shikura suddenly turned around and attempted to leave for some unknown place. Shizuko clung desperately to her husband while,

“Oh, please wait!” “Please reconsider once more.” “What will you do about our boy?” “And what about our boy there, sleeping so soundly?”

“What? Our boy… Hmph, I too was once bound by bonds of affection and even felt unmanly.” “The Shikura of today has no use for such things.” “Yes! As a sacrificial offering for my departure into becoming a demon while still alive today, I’ll crush that thing underfoot!” With his hair standing on end and eyes blazing fiercely, Shikura opened his mouth wide and suddenly swung his leg to kick the sleeping child. Shizuko, in surprise, clung to that leg and let out a loud cry.

“Ah!” “Someone, please come!”

But somehow her voice refused to emerge as she willed it. The hands desperately restraining her husband—betrayed by a woman's fragility—gradually lost their strength, until she and the child together seemed on the verge of being trampled. Writhing in torment, she barely managed— “Ah—”

She could only moan.

“Excuse me, Madam. What’s wrong?” When she heard a familiar deep voice near her ear, she opened her eyes with a start to find Asada looming there. Shizuko had been dreaming while dozing off until now. Startled, she jumped up and tidied her disheveled appearance from sleeping.

“What seems to be the matter?” “You were moaning quite terribly there.” “I called repeatedly at the entrance, but when there was no answer, I came up here.” Asada said with a smirk. “While fretting over various matters, it appears I dozed off from daytime exhaustion.” “And because I had a dreadful dream.” Having straightened her posture, Shizuko answered as a chill ran down her collar. Since Asada had been providing her with extraordinary support of late, she found herself unable to sternly reprimand him for his discourtesy in entering the living room unannounced.

“I see.” Asada nodded while,

“Being so careful as you’ve been lately is only natural.” “Speaking of which, I hear Mr. Shikura’s case is finally moving to trial.” “Yes, it seems matters are proceeding that way soon.” “Couldn’t they have dismissed the charges during the preliminary hearing?” “Yes, it was indeed ruled guilty.” “Moreover...”

Shizuko looked up at Asada resentfully while, "The insurance companies filed what they call a civil lawsuit, and this house has been placed under provisional seizure." "What? Provisional seizure?"

Asada appeared with an expression of profound shock as he said, “Th-that can’t be possible...”

“But there’s nothing to be done.” “It was completely seized the day before yesterday.” “Hmm.” Asada stared fixedly at the corner of the ceiling while,

“I don’t think such a thing should be possible, but I’ll investigate immediately.” “You mustn’t let them seize this house.” “Mr. Shikura had placed such great faith in this property – his sole concern was ensuring it would pass safely into your hands as soon as possible.” “Yes.” Shizuko bowed her head. “Without freeing this house, I can’t engage legal counsel.” “That’s precisely the problem.”

At Shizuko’s words, Asada seemed to notice for the first time, “If it goes to trial, you must hire a lawyer without a moment’s delay.” “Very well.” “I’ll take care of that.” “If I have you do everything from start to finish, my conscience would never allow it.” Though terrified by his kindness, Shizuko—with the desperation of a drowning person grasping at straws—steadfastly suppressed her urge to leap at Asada’s proposal, the only lifeline available to her who had nowhere else to turn, and quietly voiced her refusal.

“There’s no need for such reserve.” “Mrs. Shikura, isn’t it rather cold of you to say such things now after all this time?”

Asada's smirking face appeared even more contemptible than usual. Though she wanted to refuse this man's help if at all possible, she couldn't imagine anyone else who would handle her husband's affairs. Tormented by these thoughts, Shizuko wordlessly lowered her head.

“Mr. Nosei would be a good lawyer.”

Asada kept talking without showing any concern for Shizuko's state. "I know that gentleman to some degree myself—he's precisely suited for matters like these." "He won't pester you about fees and always champions the underdog." "Shikura mentioned wanting to ask Mr.Nosei for something too."

Shizuko finally raised her head. “Is that so? Then Mr. Shikura must have heard about his reputation as well. In any case, let’s decide to entrust this to Mr. Nosei alone.” Lawyer Nosei was a man widely known to harbor strong aversion to what was called the tyranny of official authority, and whenever facts suggested that said authority had inflicted oppression, he would thoroughly denounce them with his signature tenacity. Young judges would involuntarily make bitter faces at his sarcastic defense tactics to such an extent that he became a powerful ally to the militant oppressed class. On the other hand, he sometimes opposed things merely for the sake of opposition, earning him criticism from some quarters as a self-promoter. Indeed, having become famous for championing the weak, it couldn’t be helped if he was called a fame-seeker—though in this day and age, using advocacy for the weak as a means to build one’s reputation was the height of folly. It would have been smarter to serve the bourgeois class and gain both fame and profit instead. This inability to engage in such cleverness stemmed from one’s inherent disposition, and Lawyer Nosei was likely thought to be a stubborn eccentric with some peculiar aspect about him. In any case, he had an established reputation for thoroughly reading every last detail of related records and digesting them well—a practice that seemed to differ markedly from trendy lawyers who had their assistants skim through records to grasp only the essentials or hastily flipped through documents on trains. Whether Shikura, knowing this, had actually desired Mr. Nosei’s defense remained unclear, but the fact that he became involved in this case only served to further complicate and publicize it. For Chief Shōji and the Kagurazaka station staff, who had not anticipated that Shikura would later switch sides and thereby entangle the case so thoroughly, this proved an exceedingly troublesome matter.

Shizuko knew nothing about lawyers' circumstances, and since hiring one would still require Asada's assistance for the time being, she had no choice but to bow her head despite her reluctance.

“I humbly request your continued assistance.” “Very well. I’ll take care of that.”

Asada accepted the task with apparent reliability. "Um... does this mean Shikura will be acquitted?" Shizuko asked haltingly. "Well..."

Asada tilted his head slightly, "I don't know." "Let's properly hear the lawyer's opinion."

If her husband were found guilty as things stood, what was Shizuko to do? With not a single penny saved and a child to care for, she could no longer serve as a Sunday school teacher and had no choice but to wander the streets destitute. When she thought of her sorrowful fate, fresh tears came to Shizuko’s eyes and she bowed her head. “Mrs. Shikura, you mustn’t lose heart.”

Asada edged closer to Shizuko with a worried look.

The night had grown quite late.

The early evening was quiet, but wind seemed to rise at some point, and the trees in the garden rustled noisily.

TRIAL

On September 25, 1917 (Taisho 6), the first trial session of Shikura Kihei was held in the Criminal Division of the Tokyo District Court.

The chief judge was the young and capable Judge Miyaki Kanetarō, with Mr. Kozuka as the attending prosecutor, Mr. Nosei and three others as defense lawyers, and agents from the two companies that had filed civil lawsuits—all having taken their designated seats. Shikura Kihei sat in the defendant’s seat with bold-faced defiance in his countenance, showing not a trace of apprehension. At the time, he was thirty-six years old. The chief judge quietly commenced the examination, inquired into his status, occupation, full name and other details in accordance with legal procedure, and proceeded to examine the criminal facts.

Kihei answered the chief judge's questions without hesitation as if fully resolved, proceeding to systematically deny each criminal allegation in turn. He fearlessly asserted that all confessions made at the police station had been false. While nodding, the chief judge conducted a meticulous interrogation that left no stone unturned before declaring a temporary recess. Earlier, Lawyer Nosei had submitted a request to continue proceedings for evidence preparation purposes.

The continued trial session was held on October 4th. There was no change in the composed expressions of the chief judge and others present. The chief judge conducted detailed questioning regarding Shikura's relationship with Kobayashi Sada. Lawyer Nosei applied for four items: an inspection of the old well in Kamiosaki's vacant lot; an appraisal of the skull excavated from the communal cemetery; procurement of investigative records from the local police station during the fire at Shikura's former residence; and summonses for twenty-four witnesses including Pastor Kobe. After deliberation, the chief judge permitted the skull appraisal, record procurement, and summonses for eight witnesses including Pastor Kobe, rejected the remaining requests, and adjourned the session.

Judge Miyaki was at the time a young and capable judicial officer. After presiding over this case, he traveled extensively through Europe and America to study their judicial systems firsthand. Upon returning to Japan, he came to occupy an important seat within the Ministry of Justice—as evidenced by his concurrent role as a foreign ministry secretary—and was known as a man of striking presence who interacted with others through gentle demeanor, naturally articulate without pretense, possessing both keen intellect and insight that penetrated beyond surface appearances. Yet his tenure presiding over criminal trials both began and ended with this Shikura case. Was it his misfortune—or perhaps his fortune—that in his sole criminal trial, he encountered this case, one of the most formidable criminal proceedings since the judiciary's establishment? Moreover, Chief Shōji of Kagurazaka Station, who served as the accuser in this case, had been his longtime acquaintance. The trial proceedings demanded caution layered upon caution. Judge Miyaki had indeed exhausted every ounce of his judicial wisdom on this case; that he managed to adjudicate it effectively stemmed precisely from his crystalline intellect and overflowing discernment. That both Chief Shōji and Judge Miyaki—each being upright and dauntless champions in their field—converged on this case marked the point where Shikura's fortunes met their end.

Judge Miyaki pondered day and night on how to resolve this case. The gravest of Shikura's crimes was murder, but to confirm this, he first had to determine whether the victim's corpse was indeed Kobayashi Sadako. If the victim's corpse were not Kobayashi Sadako, the entire issue would be overturned from its foundation. Even if it were determined that the corpse was Kobayashi Sadako, various problems would still remain—whether it was suicide, homicide, or accidental death—but in any case, confirming the corpse's identity was of foremost importance. As presented in the preliminary investigation records, it could not yet be definitively stated. Thus Judge Miyaki thought. Just then, as Lawyer Nosei—sharing the same concern—had submitted a request for appraisal, he promptly approved it and assigned one expert for the skull and two experts for the fabric portion of the clothing.

On October 25th, at the very outset of the continued trial session, the aforementioned expert witnesses were summoned. One was Medical Scholar Tomonaga, an assistant in the Tokyo Imperial University Medical Department with profound academic and practical experience in this field who had been ordered to appraise the skull; the other was the renowned Ms. Tanabe, principal of a sewing school for girls in Hongo who had been tasked with appraising the fabric.

The appraisal items for the skull were as follows.

Appraisal Items

1. Regarding the skull designated as Item 28 (Taisho 6 Case No. 288), conduct an appraisal of the individual’s sex, age, facial characteristics, nutritional status, and to the extent possible, cause of death. Specifically, whether the upper central incisors protrude somewhat forward; whether the lower canines are longer compared to those of ordinary people; and whether the canines correspond to what are colloquially referred to as "demon teeth."

Whether the lower canines protruded beyond the upper dental arch during occlusion; and the presence or absence of wisdom teeth. The above. The appraisal items ordered to Ms. Tanabe, principal of the sewing girls' school, were as follows.

Appraisal Items 1. Regarding the fabric material and base color of Item 15 (Taisho 6 Case No. 288). Does there exist a fabric fragment used in an obi?

If this fabric fragment constitutes an obi, what would be its width as determined by said fragment? If this constitutes an obi, is the fabric fragment part of an abdominal-wrapping obi or not? If it is indeed [an obi], what would be the imagined original form? Does it not correspond to a remnant of an obi made of mohair shusu folded over with merino sewn onto one side (whether the entire side or not is unclear)? The above.

All the expert witnesses indicated their acceptance and exited the courtroom. There was yet another expert witness—Professor Satō of Tokyo Institute of Technology—who had been summoned to the October 29th court session four or five days later; for convenience, we have included this information here.

This appraisal item was straightforward and

The appraisal item was as follows: "1. Regarding Item 15 (Taisho 6 Case No. 288), determine the material, dye, pattern, etc., of the fabric."

Now, regarding the October 25th court session: once the expert witnesses summoned at the very outset had withdrawn, the witnesses were now called in one after another. The first to enter the courtroom was the laborer who had dredged the well, and as the chief judge questioned him, he gave answers largely consistent with those he had given during the preliminary hearing. Next to be called in was the doctor who had conducted the examination when the corpse was retrieved from the well. He too made a statement similar to that given during the preliminary hearing and exited the courtroom.

Next to be called in was Pastor Kobe.

Pastor Kobe set his mouth in a tight line and raised his thick eyebrows sharply as he took his seat in the witness stand.

He did not find being summoned to the courtroom in this manner pleasant at all. Of course, unlike the defendant, he had committed no crime and felt not the slightest shame; however, under Japanese customs, the very act of appearing in court was already an unpleasant matter. Moreover, the judge would interrogate him authoritatively, and if he made even the slightest error, he would be subjected to severe scrutiny. There were also times when sarcastic questions would be hurled at him by defense attorneys from the opposing side. As a pastor, he could not help but feel that experiencing such treatment was a form of insult. Moreover, the testimony itself pertained to Shikura’s private conduct—an utterly repugnant matter involving whether he had raped a woman or not.

There was likely no one else who had been as greatly inconvenienced by this case as Pastor Kobe. In the Shikura case, quite a number of people were troubled, but all of them were either involved in an official capacity or directly connected to the incident. As for Pastor Kobe, he had merely taken on the role of mediator between Shikura and Sadako’s uncle regarding her matter—and even that was done at someone’s request out of unavoidable obligation. However, from a legal standpoint, his testimony was truly significant. Even if the corpse retrieved from the well was confirmed to be Sadako’s, when it came to determining whether Shikura had actually pushed her into the well and killed her, there remained no irrefutable evidence. Thus, whether Shikura had any compelling reason to kill Sadako became a critical issue—and on this matter, the testimony of Pastor Kobe, who knew the details of Shikura’s relationship with Kobayashi, carried substantial weight. Moreover, he had been present during Shikura’s confession.

From Pastor Kobe’s perspective, having taken the stand as a witness, he could not distort the facts in his testimony. Moreover, he was neither the sort of person who would deliberately distort facts in his testimony, nor was he capable of doing so. Yet every single word from Pastor Kobe would immediately exert a decisive influence on Shikura’s fate. Given the nature of the case, there was likely no other witness as troublesome as this. Pastor Kobe audibly gulped down the lump in his throat, clenched his lower abdomen, and looked up at the Chief Judge’s face.

After asking routine questions, the Chief Judge composed himself and inquired about the relationship between the witness and the defendant.

Pastor Kobe stated his shallow association with Shikura as he had during the preliminary hearing, and explained how he had come to mediate between Shikura and Kobayashi regarding Sadako. "Shikura initially kept his relationship with Sadako completely secret and would not speak of it, but ultimately, with shame and remorse, he gave a detailed account of everything in my presence." Having said this and closed his mouth, Pastor Kobe fell into stony silence and said no more.

The Chief Judge seized the moment to raise his voice. “At that time, did the defendant confess to you that he had violated Sadako using violence?”

This response was significant. The entire courtroom held its breath and stared intently at the pastor. Shikura had consistently and thoroughly denied committing violent assault and rape. He maintained that it had been consummated through mutual consent. Whether it was consensual or done through violence—this was the question that would determine Shikura's fate. In later years, Shikura came to harbor deep resentment toward Pastor Kobe's testimony since the preliminary hearing—the same pastor he had once revered, who had rendered him exceptional assistance during Sadako's incident, and toward whom he had even expressed profound gratitude in his petitions by emphasizing how "the matter was resolved through the mediation of an upstanding pastor." For years afterward, Shikura showered the pastor with every manner of abuse, denounced him as a false clergyman, accused him of conspiring with Chief Shōji to lead him to ruin, and ultimately resorted to hurling terrifying curses.

The fact that this Shikura persistently shouted, with curses, that Chief Shōji and Pastor Kobe were colluding to frame me had some basis in reason. This was because both Chief Shōji and Pastor Kobe had graduated from a certain high school in the northern region, though they were not classmates in the strict sense—Pastor Kobe being the senior alumnus—and having occasionally met at alumni gatherings in the capital, the two men were not complete strangers to each other. Upon learning this, Shikura began to roar that Pastor Kobe had given unfavorable testimony against him in order to protect Chief Shōji.

There was no reason why someone in the position of a pastor would distort courtroom testimony—concerning a matter that gravely involved a human life—merely due to a connection as trifling as having attended the same high school. This was presumably Shikura's spiteful delusion.

Now, regarding their shared background of graduating from the same high school, there existed a somewhat interesting anecdote that I shall record here.

Long after the Shikura case, readers might still vividly recall the incident where Yamada Ken—a former ministry official—bludgeoned a government purveyor to death with a baseball bat. This Yamada had attended the same high school as Shōji Rikitarō, though as a much junior alumnus. Though Yamada later strayed from respectable society, he appeared to have been a well-meaning man of chivalrous disposition who frequently helped friends resolve their troubles. On one occasion when a friend’s drunken misconduct led to police detention and complications, Yamada visited Mr. Shōji—then serving as Chief of the Metropolitan Police Department’s Secretariat and his senior alumnus—to request assistance. Mr. Shōji, considering the matter merely a case of drunken excess gone awry, spoke to the police chief involved and secured the student’s release.

Some time later, Yamada once again visited the Metropolitan Police Department with an ashen face, requested an audience with Chief Shōji, and explained that his friend had committed murder and was on the verge of being exposed. Therefore, he desperately pleaded to let him flee to Manchuria and turn a blind eye.

Of course, Mr. Shōji shook his head. “Don’t be absurd.”

Later, Mr. Shōji recounted to someone. "Do you think letting a drunkard go free and covering up a murder are the same thing? Ha ha ha!" The same would presumably apply to Pastor Kobe as well. How could one possibly equate framing people for murder with protecting friends who merely shared one's alma mater?

In response to the Chief Judge’s question—whether the defendant had stated that he had committed violent assault—everyone held their breath awaiting a reply, but Pastor Kobe deliberately opened his mouth and declared unequivocally: “I cannot speak to that matter.”

It was an unexpected reply. The entire courtroom erupted in murmurs.

For a witness to boldly refuse testimony in open court was unprecedented. Chief Judge Miyaki, startled by Pastor Kobe's words, immediately deepened his solemn tone and demanded: "What reason do you have for this?" Pastor Kobe answered without flinching: "Shikura approached me as a pastor to disclose his secrets." "That is to say, he did not make a confession but performed an act of repentance." "He merely used me as an intermediary for his admissions before God." "I cannot lightly divulge in public forum the sins of one who has repented before the Divine."

“Then, the witness—”

The Chief Judge showed a slight look of perplexity at Pastor Kobe’s reasonable words while— “Do you intend to refuse testimony in this court?” “I am both a servant of God and—”

The pastor answered. "I am fully aware of what weight should be accorded to the law. If compelled by its decree, then I have no recourse." "Is that so?"