Pathway to Japanese Literature

Cursed Letters

Through the glass doors, soft sunlight fell onto the veranda where countless documents lay scattered as if flung about, and amidst them, Mr. Shoji Rikitarao clicked his tongue in irritation while frantically searching for something. He was by nature not one to dwell on things, and during his over-a-decade-long police career up until assuming his current position as newspaper president, he had rarely bothered to jot down events in notebooks or organize documents. He had suddenly needed a certain document today and began searching for it, but even after twenty minutes passed, he still couldn't find it, and being short-tempered, he gradually grew anxious.

He had already decided to stop searching. While recalling 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 couldn't find it. It's not a big deal anyway, so you can just let it go, can't you?" However, since the friend—whose face looked as though he'd bitten into something bitter—seemed unlikely to accept such an explanation, the newspaper president had no choice but to busily sift through the towering stack of documents once more.

Amidst the documents, a large envelope discolored to mouse-gray caught his eye suddenly.

He hurriedly picked up the envelope and turned it over to look. Sure enough, on the back was written in thick, jet-black brushstrokes: Hasekura Kihei. He frowned.

"Hmm, why on earth had this remained?" There was no need to open it. It brimmed with Hasekura's relentless curses. Throughout the decade from his capture by Mr. Shoji and imprisonment until conviction, Hasekura had persisted in sending these cursed letters to his captor. Mr. Shoji recalled how each bore numbered markings—the final count reaching seventy-five. That one such letter now lay rediscovered seemed almost providential. Mr. Shoji found himself abruptly thrust into memory's grip.

Bold and harboring not the slightest doubt regarding the crimes Hasekura had committed, he hadn't so much as flinched at mere cursed letters. Moreover, his strong character and overflowing energy did not permit him to wallow in past grievances or sentimental recollections. However, Hasekura's case remained one of the most significant events throughout his long police career. The hardships of investigation, anxiety over inadequate evidence collection, the clamorous voices of public praise and censure from that time, cursed letters—those things had tormented him considerably.

Before his eyes appeared Missionary Hasekura's ferocious visage; his frenzied figure shouting in court; his wife's imploring face; then the gruesome scene of exhuming the victim's corpse—buried three years prior for evidence collection—each vision surfacing one after another.

A few nights later, three men—host and guests—sat around a table in Mr. Shoji’s reception room. The balding, overweight man was a detective novelist. The small-statured man with a fair complexion and prominent lower jaw was Police Sergeant Ishiro of the Metropolitan Police Department.

“Detective Ishiro here was a detective at the time, you see—the first person to lay hands on the Hasekura case.”

Mr. Shoji’s face shone with the joy of having obtained an opportunity to speak about the Hasekura case to his heart’s content tonight.

"It all began with something utterly trivial, you see." Ishiro began to speak. "If this were a novel, it might start with a terrific murder scene, or some bewildering mystical incident, or perhaps even a lavish ballroom soirée—but real-life cases don't begin that way, you see."

Escape

Late January 1917. The 2:00 PM sun quietly illuminated every corner of Greater Tokyo. The New Year pine decorations had long been taken down, and people were languidly preparing to greet the stagnant month of February with hearts weighed down by post-festivity weariness. Yet along the capital's avenues, those still clinging to holiday spirits—lured by the unseasonable warmth—strolled about here and there. While looking down on those people from above, Detective Ishiro sat next to Detective Watanabe on the Meguro-bound train. The train raced forward with a deafening clatter.

“Hey, Watanabe.”

Detective Ishiro whispered.

“If this were a bit more of a major case, there’d be some real drive to it, but a petty theft like this is just dull.” “Yeah,” Detective Watanabe, who had been dozing off with his eyes closed, gave a half-hearted reply when suddenly addressed.

Detective Ishiro grew slightly irritated. He had called it a trivial theft case, but inwardly, he was quite pleased with himself. For a year since his promotion from uniformed officer to plainclothes detective, the young man's heart had burned with ambition—yet he had unfortunately not encountered any case worthy of the name, always left trailing behind other detectives. This growing impatience now found release in what appeared to be his first substantial case unearthed through his own efforts, and he was thoroughly fired up.

Detective Watanabe glanced at the profile of his tight-lipped colleague—jaw set in silence—and gave a slight click of his tongue, yet spoke in a way to lift his partner’s spirits.

"Not really, you. This isn't ordinary theft we're dealing with. A missionary stealing Bibles—there's layers here. And according to your own report, he's bold enough to do it in broad daylight." "Well, that's true..." Detective Ishiro's mood lifted fractionally.

Detective Ishiro had received a visit from a young Bible salesman named Kishimoto Seiichiro three or four nights prior. Kishimoto had been a delinquent middle school student near the police box back when Detective Ishiro still stood duty in an official uniform at Kagurazaka Police Station. He was a boy with thick eyebrows and sharp features—too promising to leave as a delinquent—so Detective Ishiro had quietly endeavored to guide him toward righteousness. Thanks to those efforts, he became deeply moved, transformed into a different person, embraced Christianity, and began studying earnestly. However, family circumstances made continuing school impossible. Though Detective Ishiro exerted every effort on his behalf, his strength ultimately proved insufficient—Kishimoto had to abandon middle school midway and become a Bible salesman. Even now he hadn't forgotten his debt to Detective Ishiro, occasionally visiting the detective's home. When Ishiro earned promotion to plainclothes detective, none had likely rejoiced more after Ishiro himself than this young man.

That evening, Kishimoto fidgeted awkwardly for a while, but—

"Mr. Ishiro, I truly don't wish to harm my fellow believers, but there's been someone stealing Bibles for quite some time now. We have a general idea of who's responsible, but could you please handle this discreetly to avoid damaging the church's reputation?" According to his account, at a place called the Yokohama Nichibei Bible Company, Ltd., Bibles had been disappearing here and there for quite some time. However, until recently, they hadn't been able to pinpoint definitive details. But two or three days prior, complete editions of the Old and New Testaments—newly printed by the company and left in their warehouse without yet being put on sale—began being vigorously sold at bookstores in the Jinbocho area, finally confirming their suspicions beyond doubt. Detective Ishiro didn't think it was a major case but had readily taken it on.

“According to your account, he’s quite the formidable bastard.” Detective Watanabe repeated.

“Well, it’s not that extreme, but I’ve got this sixth sense—can’t shake the feeling he’s no ordinary thief. In fact, I suspect he might be involved in some serious crime. Watanabe, I’m counting on your help here.” Detective Ishiro answered as though anticipating something momentous ahead.

Just then, the train stopped at Daimachi 2-chome.

The mansion on the elevated ground spanning from Shirokane Sankocho to Fuka Osakicho had its sunlit half vividly standing out while lying as still as uninhabited wilderness.

Detective Ishiro entered a certain alleyway accompanied by Detective Watanabe. "That's the house." Ishiro pointed to a rather large two-story house slightly ahead while saying— "I'll go make contact first—you keep watch here." "And if I don't come out within ten minutes, find some clever pretext to check on me." Detective Watanabe found Ishiro's senior-like posturing and bossy manner irritating. Though called his senior, Ishiro had only become a plainclothes detective slightly earlier—age-wise both were youths still short of thirty. But since Ishiro had spearheaded this investigation while he himself occupied an assistant's role, Watanabe grudgingly acquiesced.

“Very well. I’ll keep watch on the front gate and back entrance from this corner, so make sure you do this properly.” Ishiro sensed Watanabe’s inner discontent, but at that moment he burned with such maiden-case ambition that he couldn’t afford to dwell on such matters. He abruptly approached the target house.

Though aged, the thick gate pillars that demanded an upward gaze and the looming grand entrance visible through dense garden plantings at the courtyard’s far end cast a shadow over his heart, which had been buoyant moments before. The four characters spelling "Hasekura Kihei," written in bold brushstrokes on the nameplate, pierced his eyes with their oppressive force.

The master of the house he was targeting was a missionary. A man of considerable learning and high social standing. Detective Ishiro was about to request this man's accompaniment to Kagurazaka Police Station under the disgraceful suspicion of stealing Bibles from the Bible company—but if he wasn't the culprit, how could one reconcile pitying him with salvaging professional standing? No, he firmly believed this man was indeed the criminal—but what if he refused to comply? Judging by his bold methods, he would surely reject any obedient cooperation. These thoughts occupied Detective Ishiro's mind for some time.

Upon receiving young Kishimoto’s request, Detective Ishiro visited bookstores in Kanda Jinbocho the following day. At two or three bookstores, he confirmed that the Bibles from the distributor in question—not yet released to the market—were being sold, and upon investigating their source, discovered they came from a missionary named Hasekura Kihei. After obtaining detailed information about Hasekura’s physical characteristics, he immediately set out for Yokohama.

As he traveled, he thought. The quantity of stolen books was considerable—far too large to be carried by hand. If they must have transported them by vehicle, then they must have used station vehicles. However, since they might have been sworn to secrecy, he should first make discreet inquiries around the Bible company. Having thought this, he headed straight from Sakuragicho Station to the Nichibei Bible Company in Yamashitacho. Directly across the street from the company was a vehicle rental place. When he made discreet inquiries there—though such establishments usually kept quiet for fear of future entanglements—the drivers all readily came forward to tell him the facts.

According to their account, almost every Sunday a man resembling a missionary would arrive at the company in a station vehicle, force open the locked entrance, go inside, load up a large quantity of books, and return. When they described his appearance, it perfectly matched what had been reported about Hasekura's features from the Kanda bookstores. The drivers' willingness to speak up had been partly fueled by resentment over Hasekura always using station vehicles instead of their own. Ishiro visited the Bible company then and there. The company clerk seemed determined to avoid addressing the issue but grudgingly acknowledged the book theft.

Thinking of his boldness in driving a vehicle in broad daylight to commit theft, Detective Ishiro glared at the nameplate as if confronting Hasekura himself. Detective Ishiro, having fixed Hasekura Kihei’s nameplate with a fierce glare, strode briskly through the gate.

To the maid who came to answer the door, he said courteously. "Is the reverend at home?"

“Yes.” The maid looked up at his face with a squinting expression.

He thought he had him. Without letting any of that triumph show on his face, he presented a title-less business card bearing Ishiro Tomokichi’s name while—

“I am here in this capacity and would very much like to request an audience with the reverend to seek his guidance. Might I inquire if it would be convenient?” The maid bowed and withdrew, soon reappearing before Ishiro as he waited with bated breath. “Please come this way.” The first hurdle was admirably cleared. He let out a sigh of relief.

He was shown to a secluded detached guest room. The compact six-tatami-mat room was adorned in missionary fashion with a hanging scroll depicting Christ's Passion in the alcove, an image of the Virgin Mary on the wall, and thick Bible-like volumes bearing gold-edged leather bindings arranged on staggered shelves. Before long, thudding footsteps announced the arrival of a man of medium build and height, clad in a padded robe—a burly priest with a chestnut-shaped head, his swarthy complexion accentuated by thick eyebrows and large, gleaming eyes that evoked the image of a medieval evil monk.

Even Detective Ishiro, who had formed a rough mental image of the man’s appearance from descriptions at bookstores and vehicle rental places, faltered slightly upon seeing him. If someone were to see him for the first time, would there be anyone who would think him a missionary? "Might you be the Reverend?"

Detective Ishiro asked. “I am Hasekura.” He planted himself in the seat of honor, his piercing eyes gleaming. “Actually, I am a police officer.” Detective Ishiro allowed not a moment’s opening, yet calmly kept his gaze fixed on him, “I refrained from stating that at the entrance because I thought it would cause undue trouble for your maid.” “Ah, what business does the police have here?” Even he showed a flicker of panic as he responded. “Actually, the chief of Ushigome Kagurazaka Police Station has matters he wishes to meet with you and inquire about, so he has ordered me to accompany you to the station.”

Detective Ishiro, though small in stature, radiated fierce vigor throughout his body—his fair face tinged slightly red and round eyes gleaming like a falcon’s—as he fixed his gaze upward at Hasekura’s face, the man’s large mouth set in a defiant downward curve. Hasekura, who had shown a momentary look of panic, immediately regained his usual composed demeanor and appeared as immovable as if rooted to the spot. “I have no recollection warranting a visit to the police station. If there are matters you wish to inquire about, why not come here instead?”

His voice—a deep, rough timbre befitting his physique, further intensified by a thick Tohoku accent—made him appear all the more intimidating. “Most reasonable.” Ishiro gave a nod. “However, as the police chief is a busy man, it would be most convenient if you could come to us.” “What if I refuse?” “That would be very problematic.” “I must insist—” “What exactly is this business about?” “That is something I do not know.” “Hmm.”

Hasekura stared fixedly at the detective for a moment, “I regret to say I must decline." "A man who serves in the holy office cannot lightly go to the police without understanding the nature of the matter." Amid their verbal sparring, time marched on relentlessly. When the appointed time came, Detective Watanabe would arrive. If they were to botch things and he were to get the wrong idea or become obstinate, that would spell trouble. Detective Ishiro 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. Ishiro thought he’d messed up.

Detective Ishiro, hearing Detective Watanabe’s voice at the entrance, was thinking he had messed up when the maid soon came out and whispered something in a low voice to Hasekura. “It appears someone professing to be your associate has come calling.” Hasekura said bitterly.

“Ah, it must be Watanabe, I suppose.” Ishiro said with feigned nonchalance. “We came to the neighborhood together and parted ways, but I wonder if something came up.” “He said he has no particular business, but…” The maid said.

“I see. In that case, since this will still take some time, could you tell him to go on ahead?” “Very well, I shall do so.” As the maid withdrew, Ishiro turned back toward Hasekura, “I do apologize for the interruption. Since he was aware we were here, it seems he simply stopped by to check.” He paused momentarily, “So... what do you say? Could you possibly come?”

Hasekura sat with his eyes tightly closed, deep in thought, but seemed to resign himself to the fact that the police net had closed in,

“Very well. I don’t know what this concerns, but let us go together regardless.”

“Thank you very much.”

Having overcome the second obstacle, Detective Ishiro once again expressed his thanks with relief, yet remained vigilant. “Shall we proceed immediately?” “Yes, let us go at once.”

Hasekura answered with surprising ease. “I’ll just change my clothes, so please wait.”

As Hasekura withdrew toward the parlor, Detective Ishiro immediately stood up, stepped out into the corridor, concealing himself behind a pillar, and peered intently into the parlor. The figure of Hasekura changing his kimono flickered in and out of view. Through his sinewy hands, the edges of his kimono, and the hurried scurrying of his obi across the tatami mats, it all became crystal clear.

Not only did he feel that staring too intently was disregarding Hasekura's personhood, but he was also mentally fatigued from earlier, so Detective Ishiro suddenly turned his gaze to the garden. Before the veranda, a plum branch bore buds swollen like a virgin’s nipple, their softly rounded forms catching his eye. Soon it would be spring, he thought. When he craned his neck to look toward the parlor again, the edge of the kimono had disappeared. Whether due to nerves or some other cause, the place seemed utterly deserted. Detective Ishiro suddenly turned pale and dashed into the parlor.

Just as the ominous premonition had foretold, there was no sign of Hasekura. In front of the chest of drawers stood a petite woman. She appeared to be twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, her strong-featured face pallid, her eyes moist with a pleading intensity.

“Madam.”

The moment he realized she was Hasekura's wife, Ishiro shouted at the top of his voice. "Where has your husband gone?!"

"He just went out front." The wife answered calmly.

Detective Ishiro was relieved. If he went out front, whether through the main gate or the back entrance, he would immediately be spotted by Detective Watanabe lying in wait. There was no need to panic. Having calmed himself with this thought, he swept his sharp gaze around the room one full circuit before giving chase to Hasekura. His eyes caught sight of the staircase leading to the second floor, slightly visible through the suddenly opened sliding door. On top of it lay the blackish sash that Hasekura had fastened over his winter coat earlier, writhing like a snake. In that instant, his sixth sense screamed Damn it! inside his head.

He dashed out of the room like a fleeing hare and raced up the staircase. The glass door on the south-facing veranda of the two connected rooms—one eight-tatami, the other six-tatami—stood open. When he rushed over to peer down beside it, the ground below showed deeply yielding bare earth. Upon that earth, two distinct imprints resembling tabi-clad bare feet lay aligned as though mocking Detective Ishiro.

Mockery. The detective turned pale, rushed down from the second floor and dashed out front. Detective Watanabe, seeing his unusual state, called out in surprise. "You! What's wrong?!" "H-he got away!" "You circle around that side!" The two split left and right, circling along the wall as if surrounding Hasekura's house. They searched everywhere recklessly, but their efforts proved futile. The men exchanged blank stares.

“It was my fault.”

All trace of his earlier confidence had vanished as Ishiro said dejectedly.

“I thought I hadn’t let my guard down at all, but there are still weak spots after all.”

Ishiro briefly explained the circumstances of the escape.

“Hmm.”

Having heard the account, Watanabe was impressed. “He’s one crafty bastard.” But they couldn’t afford to keep being impressed forever. “Watanabe, I can’t go back like this and report to the judicial officer that we let him slip through our fingers with a smug grin.” Ishiro said dejectedly. “I feel the same way.” Watanabe said, half to himself and half to console Ishiro. “I can’t go reporting that the two of us working together let him escape.” “First off, my lookout was poor.”

The two conferred. Then they reported to Judicial Officer Oshima that he had been absent, and working together, swore they would capture him within three days at the latest.

No matter how audacious he might be, he wouldn't dare return home openly in broad daylight. He would inevitably come back stealthily under cover of night. Given the abruptness of his escape and his lack of thorough preparation, there was a chance he might return that very night. Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe resolved to stake out Hasekura's residence starting from when the neighborhood fell silent that evening.

Enduring the cold wind through the depths of a winter night, standing hidden in the darkness unbeknownst to others was by no means an easy task. Both detectives endured breath-freezing cold, encouraging each other as they kept vigil through the night without sleeping a wink, eyes fixed on Hasekura’s house with determination to miss not even a stray kitten.

That night passed without incident.

The following night and the night after that—over the course of three nights—no one came or went from the house.

“Hey, Detective Ishiro... I’m really starting to hate this.”

On the third night, Detective Watanabe voiced his reflections.

“What’s three nights of all-nighters? Nothing.” “I’m not talking about the hardship.” “Does skulking around someone else’s house like a dog for three sleepless nights even mean anything?” “This detective work—it’ll make you sick of it in the end.” “Quit your nonsense.”

While desperately rubbing his frozen hands together, Detective Ishiro answered. “We’re not doing this for any selfish gain. It’s for the public good.” “We’re making a noble sacrifice to preserve society’s peace, I tell you.” “A noble sacrifice? "But those people out there don’t put it that way." “Because they think we’re just amusing ourselves exposing people’s dark sides.” “That’s absurd! What would happen if there were no one doing work like ours? There’s nothing to do but let those fools who say such things keep talking.”

Detective Ishiro spat out the words, but in truth, he too was thoroughly disheartened by the fruitlessness of their three sleepless nights.

On the fourth morning, Detective Ishiro received a thick registered express envelope addressed to himself at the station. It had unexpectedly come from Hasekura Kihei, who was still on the run, written at length on scroll paper in bold, masterful calligraphy. With an oppressive feeling gripping him, Detective Ishiro cut open the seal, whereupon his hands began trembling violently as he bit down hard on bloodless lips. The letter addressed to Detective Ishiro from Hasekura contained the following: Respected Sir, Regarding your recent gracious visit, I must beg your pardon for my discourtesy. Though I should indeed consent to accompany you forthwith, upon earnest reflection I find police interrogations prove unexpectedly protracted affairs. As this humble one currently attends to certain pressing matters I cannot relinquish, nothing would prove more inconvenient than being detained long at your station. Therefore, once the aforementioned matters are concluded, this humble one shall present himself forthwith; kindly acknowledge this arrangement. *Furthermore, this humble one appends an additional note: While you likely presume this concerns the Bibles, those were received from Secretary Oshima and are by no means stolen articles; I humbly entreat there be no misunderstanding regarding the above.* *I earnestly entreat you to cease your inquiries into this humble one's whereabouts; for the likes of you feeble underlings could never hope to uncover me. Know that I shall assuredly announce myself when the time comes, hence this counsel to spare yourselves futile exertion.*

Detective Ishiro gnashed his teeth and seethed with frustration. Detective Watanabe, having been shown the letter, also flew into a rage. “He’s mocking us!”

After a moment، Detective Ishiro said irritably. “He probably isn’t going to mention the Bibles or anything.”

Detective Watanabe asked. "Of course he won't." Ishiro answered roughly, lingering resentment still unsubsided. "So the bastard's already realized we're onto that shame he's hiding, huh? Even so, writing this unsolicited amounts to a confession."

Watanabe took a slight breath and asked, “Did you meet someone called Secretary Oshima?” “I met him,” Ishiro replied sharply, “but his claim about receiving them is a lie. The company wants to avoid making this public—he’s exploiting that weakness.” He said this all in one breath before changing tack. “That issue can wait. We need to capture that bastard immediately—every second counts!”

“Of course.” Watanabe replied without hesitation.

That afternoon, yet another registered express letter addressed to Detective Ishiro came flying in from Hasekura. The letter conveyed, even more mockingly than its predecessor, that all their vigilance around his residence amounted to wasted effort.

"Damn him!"

Ishiro screamed internally. You bastard! Just wait and see! But I must think calmly. By writing and sending such mocking words, he might be trying to obscure our search strategy. It's precisely at times like these that we need to maintain an even stricter watch on that bastard's house.

That night, Ishiro and Watanabe specifically decided to stake out Hasekura’s house starting around eight o’clock. Unluckily, from morning it had been thickly overcast beneath a cold sky, and once night fell, a blade-sharp wind came howling through. The two men walked idly around the house vicinity, hats pulled low over their brows and chins buried in scarves, feigning nonchalance to avoid rousing suspicion from passersby. Through days of fatigue and frayed nerves, they had grown gaunt. Hasekura’s house, devoid of its master, stood deathly quiet.

The wife went without saying; not even the maid ventured out. No tradesmen came and went, nor were there any visiting guests. As the night deepened, the flow of people on the streets ceased entirely, until it seemed as though all things had frozen solid.

“No luck again tonight?”

In a disappointed tone, Detective Watanabe whispered. Detective Ishiro answered with deliberate cheerfulness, as if to console the dejected Detective Watanabe. “It’s too early to despair. He’ll definitely come tonight.” However, despite their anticipation lasting past midnight, Hasekura never materialized. The only person to pass by was what appeared to be a student returning from a banquet, clattering along in his magnolia-wood geta, who merely peered uneasily into the darkness where the detectives crouched before moving on.

Detective Ishiro felt like he wanted to cry. Thinking to say something to Watanabe who shared the same despondency, Ishiro twisted around—and glimpsed a suspicious figure approaching from far down the street. He sauntered toward them.

Detective Ishiro tensed up abruptly.

The suspicious figure steadily drew closer. Completely wrapped in an Inverness coat, the glimpse of a cloth bundle clutched in one hand flickered into view. He wore a hunting cap pulled low over his brows—a fair-skinned young man bearing no resemblance to Hasekura. Detective Ishiro was disappointed. The suspicious man passed right by the detectives without acknowledgment, approached Hasekura’s house, then strode through the gate without hesitation.

Detective Ishiro leapt with excitement.

Detective Watanabe, who had been observing the situation, wore a pleased look as he remarked, “He finally showed up—but that’s not Hasekura, right?” “No,” Ishiro answered with a smile. “But he’s definitely connected.” “Let’s grab him when he comes out. Don’t want a repeat of last time—I’ll watch the garden side.” “Right. Letting him slip now would be disastrous.” Ishiro forced a wry smile.

“Then I’ll leave the garden side to you.” The two men split up to cover the front and back, waiting intently for the suspicious man to emerge.

Waiting aimlessly was both excruciating and interminable, but waiting with purpose—poised for action at any moment—proved even more protracted and torturous. A minute felt like ten, even thirty minutes. Though four nights of grueling effort had failed to capture the crucial ringleader, being able to apprehend a man they were certain was his accomplice made both detectives' hearts race. All the more reason they awaited his emergence eagerly.

In reality just over thirty minutes—though to Detective Ishiro it felt like three hours had passed—when through the shrubbery a faint light shone at the entrance, there came a sense of someone emerging. Detective Watanabe also seemed to have quickly noticed and returned toward the gate. The one who emerged from the gate was indeed the man from earlier. The cloth bundle seemed to have been brought exactly as it was—since he wasn't carrying it in his arms like before but had it swung loosely from his hand—with more than half protruding from beneath his double-layered garment. It appeared to be a flat, angular object.

As he stepped outside the gate and walked five or six meters, Ishiro and Watanabe—who had been lying in wait—approached him from both sides as if to surround him. “Hold it.” Detective Ishiro was the first to call out. The suspicious man started in surprise and jumped up. He nearly dropped the cloth bundle. “Oh, there’s no need to worry. We’re detectives. Just need to ask you a few things.” Ishiro said quietly. “Yes?”

He answered nervously, his eyes shifting between the two detectives’ faces. “Kindly state your address and name.” “Shirokane Sankocho 26 Banchi, Asada Junichi.” “Your occupation?” “Photographer.” “What? A photographer?”

The suspicious man who had come and gone from the Hasekura residence late at night calmly answered Detective Ishiro’s interrogation.

“That’s correct. “It’s just a photo studio nearby.”

“Hmm. And what business brings you here so late at night?” Detective Ishiro asked eagerly. “Since the madam’s photo reprints were ready, I brought them.” “What’s that cloth bundle?” “This? This is a sample book.” He proactively spread out the cloth bundle to show them. As he had said, it was a large ledger with various photographs pasted inside. “Even so, what’s your reason for coming here so late at night?” “First off, the master of this house isn’t even home, is he?”

“I don’t know about the master, but this morning the madam urgently requested photo reprints and insisted I deliver them today no matter how late it got. Since they’ve long been valued patrons, I had no choice but to accept.” His answer flowed without hesitation. Ishiro glanced at Watanabe’s face. The suspicious man they’d apprehended after midnight - certain he was tied to Hasekura - turned out unexpectedly to be a nearby photo studio owner. Detective Ishiro slumped in defeat. With no inconsistencies in his responses and no pretext to bring him to the station, they could only let him go.

Ishiro peered at Detective Watanabe's face, but Watanabe didn't seem to have any particularly good ideas either.

“My apologies for the trouble. I fully understand now.”

Detective Ishiro said to the photographer. He couldn’t conceal the frustrated tone in his voice. The photographer neither looked particularly pleased nor seemed angry; he silently bowed and briskly walked away. Detective Watanabe skillfully and stealthily followed his trail. After a short while, the detective returned. “He definitely went into Asada Photo Studio.”

Detective Watanabe said this to Detective Ishiro. The two of them no longer had the courage to continue their surveillance any further. Unable to wait for dawn，the two of them withdrew to their lodging.

When Detective Ishiro arrived at Kagurazaka Police Station around noon after catching a brief nap, he received a thick registered express envelope. It was yet another recognizable letter from Hasekura. Ishiro clicked his tongue slightly and cut open the envelope. The letter overflowed with mocking words once again, just like before. But since this was the third time, he didn't grow nearly as angry as he had during the first instance. Yet when Detective Ishiro received yet another thick letter from Hasekura the following morning, even he couldn't help being staggered by the man's relentlessness. They naturally checked each postmark every time, but since every single one bore a different originating post office—Asakusa one day, Kanda another, Kojimachi yet another—it yielded no investigative foothold whatsoever.

The letter was lined with the usual taunting remarks. Detective Ishiro was reading with a derisive snort but when he came across the next line, his fury reached its peak.

“O green hunter!” “How could one such as thou, with thy unskilled arm, hope to strike down a great stag such as I?” “Shouldst thou by some chance succeed in capturing me, I shall bestow upon thee one hundred thousand yen.” Under the relentless barrage of insults, young Detective Ishiro could no longer endure. He had no time to consider whether this would play into Hasekura’s hands or whether such an act would prove useless or even detrimental to the investigation—he simply wrote a reply addressed to Hasekura’s unoccupied residence. “I saw thy letter.” “Since I find myself presently in need of funds, I shall gratefully accept thy generous offer of one hundred thousand yen.” “Forget not to have it prepared.”

The letter had been to that effect. Detective Ishiro, who had grown somewhat uneasy about Hasekura Kihei’s audacious behavior, consulted with Detective Watanabe and finally reported all details to Judicial Officer Assistant Inspector Oshima.

“Hmph.”

The red-faced Chief Oshima furrowed his brows, "I see. He's quite a troublesome fellow." "Leaving him unchecked would undermine police authority." "Let's arrest him as quickly as possible and be done with it." "Therefore, Detective Ishiro—not that I doubt your abilities in the slightest—but perhaps we should have Negishi assist us with this matter." "With a shameless rogue like this, we absolutely require a veteran investigator."

The one called Negishi was at that time the most seasoned detective in the station, having been in the police force for nearly twenty years. He had once made a minor blunder at another station, narrowly avoided being demoted to uniformed duty, and been transferred to this precinct—yet even when relegated to a position beneath plainclothes reserves, he had commanded every detective in the station without exception. Ishiro had no particular objection since he was on familiar terms with Negishi.

“An all-night stakeout must have been quite taxing for you.”

Having heard the account, the lanky Detective Negishi spoke to Detective Ishiro while tensing his swarthy face.

“However, stakeouts lose their edge if the target catches on.” “First off, have the neighbors and local merchants keep watch.” “Tricky part is—if the bastard’s well-liked ’round here, that’s a real headache. But if he’s got enemies? Perfect. They’ll trip over themselves to snitch.” “Next—get those photographs circulating to every precinct yesterday.” “And that photographer you collared—Asada was it? Dig deeper on him. Worth every minute.”

Detective Ishiro listened in silent absorption, as if chewing over each of Negishi's words.

From the gloomy early February sky, powdery snow drifted down.

Detective Ishiro walked around the neighborhood near Hasekura’s house in Shirokane Sanko-cho from early morning, requesting surveillance from four or five households.

What came as a surprise was that when he explained the general situation—that there had been signs of Mr. Hasekura returning home or that something unusual had occurred at the Hasekura residence—and requested they promptly inform the police should any further changes arise, everyone readily agreed to cooperate. Judging from their accounts, Hasekura seemed to be disliked by the neighbors for some reason.

While regretting that there had been no need to keep all-night watch for three or four nights like this, and yet rejoicing that things had gone surprisingly well, Detective Ishiro headed toward Hasekura’s house to obtain the photographs. Hasekura's wife made an unpleasant expression upon seeing Detective Ishiro, but she smoothly welcomed him and showed him to a back room. Detective Ishiro commandingly ordered all photographs to be produced. The wife obediently brought thick photo albums and faded photographs before his eyes.

As he flipped through the photo album, Detective Ishiro involuntarily cried out. It was half a cry of frustration and half a cry of admiration. From every section of the photo album, all photographs believed to be of Hasekura himself had been torn out without exception. What a cunning villain he was. From the photo album, not only his solo portraits but also the sections where he appeared in photographs with two or three people or in large groups had all been thoroughly torn out. Needless to say, among the cabinet cards 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 Ishiro asked casually. “Mrs. Hasekura, which of these are your recent photographic reprints?” “Well...” She flusteredly replied, “I sent them to a friend’s place.” Detective Ishiro intently observed the wife’s complexion. Then, after noting down the name of the photo studio remaining on the partially torn photograph 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 Detective Ishiro visited, all the photographic plates he sought had recently been purchased. Undoubtedly Hasekura’s handiwork—Detective Ishiro stood dumbfounded by the man’s preternatural swiftness. But he would not yield. Within his mind lingered the memory of a half-torn photograph. It appeared to show Hasekura posing with four or five fellow missionaries. Though Hasekura’s own figure had been meticulously excised, there at the right edge sat a white-haired foreigner with impeccable bearing. Foreign missionaries were few in number; narrowing the search to those affiliated with Hasekura’s faction further constrained possibilities. That distinctive silver-haired elder—surely such a man could be traced.

He visited two or three churches. Through this process, it became evident that the man in question was Pastor Williamson of Nakano Church in Nakano Ward under Tokyo Prefecture. Detective Ishiro promptly set out for Nakano. The brief winter day was already fading into dusk. After inquiring about Williamson’s whereabouts at Nakano Church and navigating through several narrow alleyways, he arrived at the pastor’s residence—fortunately finding him at home. Upon meeting him, there was no doubt this was indeed the elderly man from the photograph. Though apprehensive about how this foreign missionary might respond, Detective Ishiro explained Hasekura’s escape and requested to borrow their joint photograph. Contrary to his concerns, the pastor readily agreed, declaring, “God does not side with evildoers.”

Having said that, he obligingly lent them the photograph in which he appeared together with Hasekura. After returning to the station and submitting the acquired photograph to Judicial Officer Oshima, Ishiro went home to his residence in Ushigome Saikucho.

His wife Kimiko greeted him briskly but soon presented an envelope. It had come by registered express mail. Taking it up and looking—ah, it was yet another letter from Hasekura. He involuntarily slammed it down onto the tatami mat with all his might. His wife's eyes went round. The contents were laden with mockery as ever. It stated that he would soon pay a visit of gratitude to your home. And yet, how had he come to know the address of my own residence?

After briefly explaining the situation to his dumbfounded wife, Ishiro said. “With a guy like this, there’s a real chance he might actually come to my house." “Of course he’ll come snooping around when I’m out.” “That’s horrible!”

The wife scowled. “You idiot! What kind of detective’s wife would do such a thing?” He gave a wry smile and said, “If he comes, act completely natural, politely invite him upstairs, then make like you’re going out to buy tea sweets and head to the police box. I’ve already informed the police box properly, so you understand?” “Yes, if he comes, I’ll do exactly that.”

“Alright then, I’ll head to the police box for a bit. There’s a chance that bastard’s been lurking around here.”

“Hey you—did this bastard ask anything about me?”

When he went to the police box, Detective Ishiro described Hasekura’s physical features in detail to an officer there whose face he recognized. “Yes, he came by.” “It was morning.” “Right during my shift.” “That’s definitely him.”

The police officer answered.

According to his account, this morning Hasekura had casually visited this police box and, showing his bandaged arm, “I recently fell from a train and sustained these injuries, and was greatly inconvenienced by Mr. Detective Ishiro who happened to be present at the time.” “I would very much like to pay a visit to express my gratitude—might I inquire where that gentleman’s residence is located?” he had asked.

And so, the police officer explained Detective Ishiro’s residence in detail. “He had a bandage, you say?” Ishiro pressed further.

“Yes.” “Did he seem injured?”

“Well now, he certainly appeared injured.” Why was he hurt? When he leapt from the second floor perhaps?

Ishiro considered it momentarily, but there had never been any way to know. “Now then—if that bastard’s spotted loitering around here again, apprehend him immediately.” Having left these instructions, Ishiro returned home.

The following afternoon, when Detective Ishiro arrived at the station, he received yet another thick registered express letter. “Again?”

Detective Negishi asked with a mocking grin. "Persistent bastard isn't he?"

Chief Oshima, who was standing nearby, said. “Ah, yes, yes. “The photographs you brought—I had copies made and distributed them to every station this morning.” “I see.” Ishiro gave a brief reply and calmly slit open the letter. As anticipated, its contents brimmed with scornful phrases. “Many thanks for the postcard. “I’ve prepared 100,000 yen—come claim it whenever you wish.” Upon reading these words, Ishiro tilted his head slightly before abruptly emitting a shrill cry.

“That bastard has been contacting my house while I’m away.” “What did you say?” The chief asked in surprise. Ishiro quickly explained about the 100,000 yen matter and how he had sent a postcard to his home in a fit of frustration. “So that means the reply came through, then.”

Detective Negishi crossed his arms and thought for a while. "We must summon photographer Asada again." "Did you summon him once before?"

Ishiro asked.

“Yes, I summoned him once while you were running around—he skillfully evaded and wouldn’t tell the truth. That guy’s also quite the shrewd bastard. We had our reasons for deliberately letting him return home, you see. As for that bastard’s movements, Detective Watanabe should be keeping tabs.”

“That bastard Hasekura came near my residence, I tell you.” Ishiro said as if suddenly remembering. “He had the nerve to look up my address at the police box.” “He says he’ll be visiting my residence soon, so my wife’s trembling in fear, I tell you.” “Hahaha...”

At this moment, the door opened and a policeman showed his face.

“Judicial Officer, you have a telephone call.”

Chief Inspector Oshima, who had hurried out, returned before long with an excited expression. “From Kitakonya Police Station.” He said hurriedly. “They report that someone matching the photographs distributed this morning has been turning up repeatedly at their station.” “What? What did you say?!”

Detectives Negishi and Ishiro shouted simultaneously. “It is indeed exactly the man you described.”

The young policeman nodded. Detective Ishiro was facing him in a dreary, damp room at Kitakonya Police Station. "I believe he came three times."

The policeman continued. “Apparently, due to the conductor’s negligence, he fell from the train—hence the bandage on his arm—and he even had what looked like a doctor’s certificate.” “So he’s trying to claim damages or something?” At the sheer outrageousness of the behavior, Detective Ishiro bit his lip as he listened. “That’s correct.” “He insisted on claiming damages from the Electric Bureau and was in a fierce rage.” “However, from what I saw, the injury didn’t seem serious enough to warrant making a fuss by filing a lawsuit, so I recommended settling the matter amicably.”

“So what happened next?” “Well, he was truly relentless. He started ranting about how the police lacked sincerity and were bullying the weak—it was downright exasperating. However, once he realized that filing charges would involve all sorts of cumbersome procedures, he reluctantly went home.”

What an utterly audacious bastard. In his position as a wanted man on the run, even if it was a different precinct, he boldly showed up at the police station and even made a loud fuss with a confrontational attitude!

Detective Ishiro was left speechless.

The young policeman said sympathetically. “If we had known he was that sort of man, we would have arrested him without fail—but we hadn’t the slightest idea.” “Even so, for him to come to the police station—he’s truly an astonishing fellow!” Detective Ishiro hung his head and left Kitakonya Police Station.

After returning to the station and reporting all details to the Judicial Officer, the Judicial Officer said regretfully, “If only the photos had reached us a little sooner, we would’ve caught him.”

Detective Negishi remained silent with an expressionless face. Ishiro found Detective Negishi’s cold attitude slightly irritating, but when he thought it through, failing to notice the photographic evidence had been entirely his own oversight—there was nothing for it. He scratched his head in chagrin.

"I sincerely apologize."

“Ah, failure is the mother of success. That just means you’ve gained that much experience. Hahaha...” Judicial Officer Oshima laughed heartily, but immediately changed his tone and, glancing at Negishi, “But here’s the thing. A bastard this audacious is rare. If this bastard were uneducated, one might say he acted recklessly without considering the consequences. But since he’s thoroughly educated, he’s completely looking down on the police. To come to the police as a wanted man and demand compensation just because he fell from a train and got a minor arm injury—that’s some audacity.”

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

Negishi answered as coolly as ever. "He's one audacious bastard who's playing us for fools!"

Detective Ishiro exclaimed as if talking to himself. When he thought of his own pathetic state being mocked by Hasekura, he couldn't contain his fury. Just you wait! He shouted inwardly.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and pale-faced Detective Watanabe staggered in.

"Wh-what happened?" Even the usually unflappable Negishi asked in astonishment.

“I let him get away.” “That photographer—that bastard went to Hasekura’s house again.” “When I tailed him after he came out, he passed right by the front of the house and went striding briskly away.” “But I ended up being skillfully shaken off.” Detective Watanabe sighed and looked around at the group.

Past Crimes

The Hasekura Kihei case became the talk of the station. Judicial Officer Oshima had no choice but to report every single detail to the police chief.

"What an outrageous bastard!" Police Chief Shoji, who had been impatiently waiting for the report to conclude, turned crimson as if steam were rising from his thinning-haired head—unusually sparse for his age—and bellowed in rapid-fire Hokuriku dialect.

“What kinda fool would let that bastard walk free? I ain’t havin’ it! We’ll collar him with every last officer in this station!”

The Police Chief was someone who had transferred from Horidome Station just about a week prior. At his previous post, he had made gambling rings in his jurisdiction tremble—a man of straightforward temperament like splitting bamboo, reasonable yet unyielding, and at times an intensely passionate figure. Those familiar with police history would know the name Shoji Rikitarao. He later occupied an important position at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Though he honorably retired from policing after taking responsibility for an unfortunate incident—before anyone could voice regrets over his departure—this was during his early thirties, five or six years out of university and in the prime of his vigor, when there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish once he set his mind to it.

“That’s precisely your man.”

After a moment, Police Chief Shoji said. “He’s definitely done this kind of thing before. Why don’t we dig into his background?” “I was just about to look into that myself.” Judicial Officer Oshima answered as if acknowledging the Police Chief’s sharp insight. The Chief’s intuition proved right. When they checked Hasekura’s family registry in Yamagata Prefecture, it turned out he was a seasoned crook with three prior theft convictions. There were even doubts about whether he legitimately held missionary credentials.

Detective Ishiro immediately began investigating his actions since arriving in Tokyo. He received taunting letters from Hasekura nearly every day, grinding his teeth at his own ineptitude in being unable to pin down the man's whereabouts while racing from place to place, retracing step after step to sniff out traces of Hasekura's past. Hasekura 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 strange thing was that he had invariably encountered fires at all three of his previous residences.

In Yokohama’s case, the building had been completely destroyed by fire; in Kanda and Takanawa, only partial burns. When residents confirmed through questioning that the Takanawa fire had indeed been contained to a section of the structure, the insurance company nevertheless paid out the full sum under the movable property policy. During the Kanda investigation, an anonymous tipster informed Nishikicho Police Station that Hasekura’s neighbor had set the blaze. This led to the neighbor’s week-long detention at that same station—though with insufficient evidence to proceed, compounded by Hasekura’s own sympathetic petition urging leniency, authorities had no choice but to release him shortly thereafter.

Having pinned down these facts, Detective Ishiro sat in his home parlor for the first time in ages, arms crossed and deep in thought. Was it mere coincidence he kept encountering fires? One couldn't claim it wasn't coincidence, but suffering fires all three times while always receiving substantial insurance payouts—that had to surpass mere chance. Further investigations revealed he maintained a lifestyle of luxury beyond his income. Moreover, the current large house stood as his property, with additional rental holdings elsewhere. The stolen Bibles' total value appeared considerable, yet even that couldn't explain such wealth without other income sources. True, legitimate wealth-building methods existed—venturing into securities markets, for instance—making generalizations unwise. But three fires? That wasn't something to dismiss. Given his established patterns, wasn't this nearly certain proof of arson for insurance fraud?

As Ishiro sat lost in thought before the brazier, the front door clattered open.

“I wonder if it’s the mail.” When the front door clattered open, Kimiko stood up with a shudder and said this. “It wasn’t the mail.” Before long, she entered with a cheerful expression. Behind her followed the young Kishimoto, grinning.

When Ishiro saw him, he cheerfully greeted him.

“Oh, you came!” “It’s been far too long.” Kishimoto spread out the offered zabuton while, “You’re looking rather pale.” "Yeah - that Bible thief case we discussed before." "That bastard’s been giving me hell." “So you still haven’t identified him?” Kishimoto asked through his glasses, charming eyes shining guilelessly. “We know who he is - that’s not the problem! We just can’t pin him down.”

“I see. What sort of fellow is he, anyway?” “It’s a guy called Hasekura Kihei.”

“Huh? Hasekura?” “Yeah. Do you know him?”

“I know him.” “So it was that man after all?” “He’s got quite the poor reputation.” “Young people utterly despise him.” “But the old guard at church? They’re all about keeping the peace.” “Show them some crocodile tears and they’ll swallow any lie—so he escaped then?” “I’m the one who let him slip through. Damned embarrassing.” “The man’s got brass nerves and devilish cunning.” “Between you and me—he’s leagues beyond what I can handle.”

“I doubt that’s the case.” Kishimoto grinned but suddenly turned serious. “Is he truly such a wicked man?” “Wicked doesn’t begin to cover it—he’s an absolute villain.” “I see. If that’s so, there’s something I should mention.” “Regarding Hasekura?” “Yes.” “What sort of matter?”

Ishiro instinctively thrust his neck forward. “As you know, I attended Jōhoku Middle School up to my fourth year. There was a science teacher named Kobayashi—a Christian believer—whose daughter was called Sadako. He sent her to Hasekura’s household as a maid to learn proper manners.” “This was three years ago. The daughter was around sixteen.” “In those days, I was still a delinquent, so we’d make a ruckus by calling him names like ‘Toteshan’ or whatnot, and even sent letters with my fellow troublemakers to worry the teacher.” “She was a shy, lovely young lady.”

Kishimoto blushed slightly but immediately composed himself and turned serious. “That young lady soon ran away from home and remains missing to this day.” “Huh? So this running away you mentioned—was it from Hasekura’s place?”

“No, that doesn’t seem to be the case.” Kishimoto didn’t know the details either, but according to what he’d heard, this Sadako girl had fallen ill while in service at Hasekura’s household, was granted leave for that reason, and had been commuting to the hospital daily from an acquaintance’s residence—until one morning when she left home saying she was going to the hospital as usual and never returned.

Three years had passed since then, yet she remained missing. “Could it be that Hasekura did something?”

Kishimoto said uneasily. At Kishimoto’s words—that the lovely girl had gone missing and whether Hasekura had kidnapped her or something—Detective Ishiro,

“Hmm,”

he said and crossed his arms. If she had gone missing while working as a maid at Hasekura's house, that would be one matter—but given this occurred after she took leave due to illness and returned home, one couldn't rashly suspect Hasekura. However, when considering Hasekura's audacious conduct up to now alongside his various suspicious antecedents, even this seemingly commonplace incident of a maid running away couldn't be immediately dismissed as unrelated. What was the maid's illness? How did she become ill? We would have to investigate the circumstances surrounding her disappearance at the time.

Detective Ishiro released his crossed arms and raised his face. "Is that teacher Kobayashi still at the school?" "Yes, he's still teaching plants and animals while the students make a fool of him." "Where's the residence?"

“Near Edogawabashi.” “I believe it was Suidobata-cho.” “Do you know what illness the girl had?” “Well, you see, there’s a strange rumor about that.” Kishimoto lowered his voice and, “They say it was a venereal disease.” “Hmm—a sixteen-year-old girl, huh?” Ishiro tilted his head. “You’d be surprised where delinquent middle schoolers dig up their information—they know all sorts of things.” “And they were making a fuss about the teacher’s daughter putting on airs, weren’t they?” “Even after going to Hasekura’s place, they kept digging up every action, big or small.”

According to the rumors Kishimoto had heard and his own deductions, it seemed the girl had been violated by Hasekura and contracted a loathsome disease. "There was this awful classmate of mine—he was the son of some prominent figure, a bit dim-witted in his twenties yet still stuck in fourth year. That guy loudly asked Mr. Kobayashi during class, ‘What exactly is your daughter’s illness?’—and I still remember how Mr. Kobayashi’s face twisted as if he might burst into tears right then, that indescribably pitiful expression."

“Hmm, well that’s some useful information you’ve given me.” Detective Ishiro crossed his arms again and sank deep into thought.

The young Kishimoto spoke restlessly to the wife.

“Mrs. Shoji, do you have any interesting stories?” “Well, nothing in particular.” “I’m also being threatened by this Hasekura person we were just talking about.” “What? Why?” “I keep receiving these relentless threatening letters.” Kimiko frowned and, “I’ll come to your house soon to express my gratitude, so wait for me—that’s the kind of outrageous thing written there.” “Whoa, what a horrible guy,” Kishimoto said in disbelief.

“That’s why I’m trembling with fear every single day.” Kimiko looked desolate.

Ishiro remained deep in thought, tuning out the voices of the two.

Three years ago, the maid’s disappearance. Whether she had been kidnapped, committed suicide, or been murdered—if she were dead in any case, a body should have turned up by now. As parents, had a similar corpse appeared, they would surely have gone to see it. The fact that no corpse had surfaced—did that mean she was still alive?

The mysterious disappearance of the maid belonging to Hasekura, that monster of doubt. This was growing more complicated by the minute! Detective Ishiro involuntarily let out a low groan.

The night after hearing from Kishimoto about the maid employed at Hasekura’s residence having disappeared three years earlier, Detective Ishiro visited the home of the maid’s father—Mr. Kobayashi, a teacher at Jonan Middle School.

Mr. Kobayashi—his gaunt face oblong with prominent cheekbones, looking as though life had worn him down—sat with his back to the peeling wall of the tokonoma where a disorderly pile of antiquated books had been stacked. Blinking rapidly, he spoke in fits and starts.

“As you said, it was exactly three years ago that she went missing.” “These days I’ve given up—I try not to think about it as much as possible.”

“Sadako is the eldest daughter.” “There’s an older brother—though this is quite shameful—who’s gone completely delinquent, and I fear he’ll end up becoming your burden.” “The younger brother is presently attending middle school.” “The younger sister remains in elementary school.” “She was of a shy and sickly nature, and as you see we were poor—so we made her leave school midway. Fortunately, someone offered to look after her, so we sent her to Mr. Hasekura’s as an apprentice in manners.”

In the gloomy room with its dim lighting, Ishiro had found it strange that he felt drawn in by something sinister in Mr. Kobayashi’s manner of speaking—until he suddenly realized why. The two upper canine teeth among Mr. Kobayashi’s discolored, misaligned teeth—what people call eyeteeth—were unnaturally long, and each time he opened his mouth, they gave an eerily supernatural impression. “However,”

Mr. Kobayashi remained utterly oblivious to this, his grotesquely long canine teeth still flashing as he spoke. “It was entirely unexpected.” “Admittedly, my daughter was physically mature for her age, but she was only sixteen, and Mr. Hasekura being a missionary in such a respected position—the thought that anything improper could occur never once crossed my mind.” “But that...”

Mr. Kobayashi briefly cut off his words here, speaking with evident loathing. "I heard a little about such matters."

Detective Ishiro, thinking it had indeed turned out as suspected, spoke with deliberate nonchalance to make Mr. Kobayashi speak freely.

“You’d already heard?” “It’s most shameful.”

According to Mr. Kobayashi's account, Sadako had been violently humiliated by Hasekura. Having contracted a vile disease through this violation, she became unable to work and was compelled to take leave, forced to commute daily from an acquaintance's residence to the hospital for treatment. Even Detective Ishiro—normally unshakable—could only listen in stunned silence. "It was late January three years ago," Kobayashi recounted, his discolored incisors glinting in the dim light. "Late that night, a messenger arrived from the acquaintance's house where we'd entrusted Sadako's care—asking if she'd come here instead." He blinked rapidly, the lamplight deepening the hollows of his cheeks. "When they finally pieced together what happened... She'd left that morning saying she was going to the hospital as usual, but never returned. They checked everywhere—the hospital first, then every place she might have gone—but found no trace she'd stopped anywhere."

After that, Mr. Kobayashi's side divided their efforts and searched everywhere, but found no leads whatsoever. There was no farewell note left behind, nor did a single postcard arrive. They even filed a missing persons report with the police, yet her whereabouts remained utterly unknown. "We've resigned ourselves to her being dead."

Mr. Kobayashi blinked rapidly while, “Did that child’s heart feel such shame that she threw herself into the river?”

“What kind of relationship was it with this person referred to as an acquaintance?”

"The person who arranged for Sadako to be placed with Hasekura." "Since Hasekura had agreed to cover her medical costs until recovery, this acquaintance took her in for care." The gloom in Mr. Kobayashi's speech patterns and his protruding canines—giving his face an uncanny, almost grotesque cast—made the dim electric light seem to darken further; yet Detective Ishiro persisted with his questioning. "I must ask directly—did you learn about the violation and disease transmission from Sadako herself?"

“Later we had her confirm it herself, but the first to notice was my brother.” “This bastard’s truly beyond redemption—drinking himself to ruin, he’s become no better than a common ruffian now.” “It’s all utterly shameful matters.” “This guy comes begging to my place every time without fail, and back when Sadako was at Hasekura’s place, he sometimes went there to beg too.” “Well, as they say—a snake knows a snake’s path. Since he’s a bad sort, he quickly catches on to shady dealings.” “He intimidated Sadako and got her to tell him everything.” “Then that bastard started frequently going over to Mr. Hasekura’s place and hitting him up for money, it seems.”

While marveling at the audacity of extorting Hasekura for money—truly proving there’s always someone above—Detective Ishiro leaned forward. "Is your younger brother currently in Tokyo?" “Yes, he’s in Kanda, but...” With the air of someone who’d heard unwelcome news, Mr. Kobayashi grew evasive. “Could you please tell me your address?” Unable to retract his agreement to the detective’s request now, and having urgently pleaded that it not disadvantage his brother, Mr. Kobayashi finally provided the address in detail. Ishiro recorded this and left the house. Unbeknownst to them, the night had grown quite late.

The next morning, Detective Ishiro visited Kobayashi Teijiro in Kanda Misakicho. As he entered an alley that felt strangely cluttered with refuse, there stood a cart inn with sagging eaves.

He was in a room on the second floor there. Creaking the crude ladder steps with a grating noise, he awkwardly descended and, upon seeing Detective Ishiro, gave a deep bow. He had been drinking since morning. “Are you from the police, sir? This here guy ain’t been causin’ any trouble lately, sir.” Though his round, well-fleshed face—bloated and flushed from drink—along with the slovenly exposure of his chest bore no resemblance to his emaciated, sacrum-protruding brother Mr. Kobayashi that might make one doubt they were siblings, when he opened his mouth, two abnormally long canine teeth appeared that seemed to proclaim their undeniable blood relation.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Detective Ishiro said casually. "There's just a little something I'd like to ask you privately." "That so? "Well then, 'scuse me 'bout this, but come on up." "Dirty ain't the half of it—place is downright foul, so mind your step."

The single room at the back of the second floor was so cramped that standing up would immediately make one hit their head. The exposed, twisted rafters had accumulated about an inch of dust. "So it's about that bastard Hasekura?" As soon as Detective Ishiro broached the subject, he immediately raised his voice. "Sir, there's no villain like him, I tell ya. That he's one of Jesus's missionaries—I couldn't believe it, I tell ya!" "I hear a relative's daughter who was with Hasekura went missing." "Yeah, that bastard took advantage of my niece when she'd barely turned sixteen, then in the end lured her out somewhere and did her in, I tell ya!"

Detective Ishiro was also taken aback by Teijiro’s outburst. “Hey! Keep your voice down! Don’t go spouting nonsense like that!” “Oh, I’m sorry.” “Truth is, I ain’t got no solid proof myself neither, so like you said, can’t go shoutin’ about it.” “If there’d been even a shred of evidence, I wouldn’t’ve kept quiet this long.” “It’s all because my brother’s got no backbone—letting his own daughter suffer such humiliation while he spouts nonsense about it being fate or how making a scene would disgrace the family. Are all middle school teachers really such spineless creatures?” “So I just couldn’t sit back and watch, see?” “So I went to confront him, sir—told him he’d better give my niece back in one piece.” “That bastard Hasekura gave a curt greeting, but his wife—she wasn’t one to back down—arranged for the medical treatment by having my niece first taken in by someone who’d look after her, then made sure she went to the hospital regularly.”

“And then?” “And then—as that apology token—two hundred... Ha ha ha! Did my brother say anything?” “You said you extorted two hundred ryō from Hasekura.” “Th-that’s a joke, sir! Extorted? I didn’t extort anything at all—didn’t get a single coin! The very next day after we settled things with just talk and two hundred ryō, that niece of mine vanished without a trace.” “Hmm. And what about the money?”

“I figured that bastard Hasekura must’ve killed her for being a nuisance, so I barged right in,” “But that scoundrel stayed cool as a cucumber and turned the tables on me instead.” “There’s no doubt you’re the one who hid Sadako when she vanished!” “Bring her here now!” “If you don’t, I won’t pay a single copper!’, I shouted—but get this—he’d flipped the whole thing around on me!” “Hmm. Then what happened?” Detective Ishiro pressed rapidly.

“I wasn’t about to stay quiet either, y’know, sir.”

Teijiro, getting carried away, exhaled alcohol-tinged breath as he “Me hidin’ Sadako? That’s unthinkable! But when it comes to talking, I’m no good at all. In the end, Hasekura cornered me, and I ended up slinking back home with just a paltry consolation payment.” “Hmm.”

Detective Ishiro crossed his arms. "So you're saying you've got no leads on Sadako?" "Completely clueless—not a single lead, I tell ya." "But she was sixteen too—if she meant to kill herself, she'd have left at least a note. And if she's alive, there's no way we wouldn't have heard a peep in three years." "I'm tellin' ya—no matter what—it's Hasekura!" "Sir, you'd better collar that no-good bastard."

Teijiro’s account only served to deepen suspicions against Hasekura while proving utterly useless for proactive measures. Detective Ishiro left the grimy carriage house with his head hanging limply.

After stepping outside, he considered returning straight to the station to consult Detective Negishi, but an idea struck him—he would visit Hasekura’s unoccupied residence once more to confront the man’s wife. He boarded the national railway train from Suidobashi Station. Hasekura's house still remained deathly silent. Within about ten days, the plum tree in the garden—unaware of its master’s absence—had begun to bud a blossom or two. When Detective Ishiro was shown to the guest room and looked up at the plum branches, the events of that day he had let slip away came back to him with vivid clarity. The four grueling nights of all-night vigils that followed, and the various hardships endured until today—all of it seemed to him as though it had been continuing since time immemorial.

Hasekura’s ashen-faced wife sat quietly before Detective Ishiro with her head bowed. They had met twice since the incident began, but he had never truly looked at her until now—this composed woman whose quiet dignity seemed ill-suited to her brutish husband appeared both virtuous and beautiful. She looked younger than her widely reported age of twenty-eight. The name Shizuko suited her perfectly. “Have you received any word from your husband?” Detective Ishiro asked with measured sympathy for the downcast woman.

“No, not in the slightest.” “You must be worried. However, I too am in a difficult situation. Since this isn’t some grave offense, it would go much better if you came forward willingly. But maintain this attitude, and you’ll only bring great harm upon yourself.” “Yes, I deeply apologize for causing such trouble to the authorities.” “Is there no way you could persuade him to turn himself in as soon as possible?” “Yes—were his whereabouts known, there would be no need for your request. I would have him present himself promptly, but as I have not the slightest idea where he may be, there is nothing to be done.”

She answered without hesitation. “Quite reasonable.” Though she was a woman, she had considerable education—she even taught Sunday school—and having resolved not to speak for her husband’s sake, Ishiro determined she wouldn’t open up to gentle questioning. He shifted the conversation toward another objective. “I hear there was a case some two or three years back where a maid who worked here went missing.” “Yes.” The wife replied, flustered. “Do you know their subsequent whereabouts?”

“Yes, it seems I don’t know.”

"I hear she fell ill while working here." "Yes." For the first time, she raised her face slightly and looked up at Ishiro with a probing gaze. She had beautiful eyebrows, Ishiro found himself suddenly thinking. "What was the illness?" "Yes." She bowed her head again and remained still. "I’ve heard it was a venereal disease."

The detective pressed relentlessly.

“Yes, well...”

She looked up at Ishiro imploringly, “You may have already heard—though to speak of it would bring shame upon my husband—he did engage in certain mischief—” Her voice trailed off into silence. “I hear your uncle and his associates made quite the fuss.” “Yes.”

She resignedly, “The father I speak of was a middle school teacher—a truly gentle man—but the uncle I mention, though his brother, was quite an incomprehensible person.” “What was the maid like?”

“She was a quiet girl with good looks who worked quite diligently—truly an invaluable person.” “When she fell ill and was sent to stay at an acquaintance’s house, even when she began commuting to the hospital from there, she showed no signs of resenting us.” “Since her parents were not wealthy, for outings she always wore a black silk crepe obi that was modest for her age and a merino haori adorned with peony patterns.” “On the day she disappeared, she supposedly left cheerfully as usual, saying she was going to the hospital in that same outfit—I can still picture her so clearly.”

She said this while quietly wiping her eyes.

Pursuit While Detective Ishiro had been rushing about for four or five days investigating Hasekura's past activities, under Detective Negishi's direction Watanabe and numerous other detectives had been tracking Hasekura's whereabouts. Though there remained no signs of flight, their painstaking efforts went entirely unrewarded as they could grasp not a single clue in the darkness. The mocking letters he addressed to Detective Ishiro continued flying into the station via registered express mail nearly every day. At Kagurazaka Police Station, both the chief and all staff members found themselves growing increasingly impatient.

"Well now, there's nothing for it but to make that shady photographer cough up a confession." "If only I could devise some clever scheme..." Even veteran Detective Negishi—having exhausted all avenues and mulling over such thoughts—crossed his arms. Having pieced together fragments of Hasekura's past misdeeds through his investigations, Detective Ishiro finally returned to duty at the station after an extended absence. A pleasant morning sun streamed through the detectives' office window.

“Hmph.”

Having listened to the detailed account, Detective Negishi pondered deeply while—

“Given how old the arson case is, we’ve no choice but to make him confess to that himself. As for the maid—yes, she’s certainly suspicious—but without a corpse turning up, there’s nothing we can do. She might still be alive after all.” “But you know, Detective Negishi,”

Ishiro said. "Having moved three times and suffered fires all three times—isn't that suspicious?"

“Yeah, it’s certainly suspicious.” “The fact that it happened all three times is too coincidental.” “But here’s the problem, Detective Ishiro—you can’t definitively say such coincidences are impossible.” “They must suspect everything at least once—this is what’s called the detective’s eye, and being detectives, they should naturally act accordingly—but this very thing becomes one reason why detectives get ostracized by society. It’s a real problem.” “Occupation is sacred.” “Detective work is also a profession.” “Those who are detectives must constantly doubt others; therefore, for detectives, doubting others is a sacred duty.” “Ha ha ha,” he laughed dryly.

“You’re right.” “Ha ha ha.” “But you know—even if one weren’t a detective—with Hasekura’s way of doing things—you’d have to suspect him, wouldn’t you?” “Absolutely.”

Negishi nodded. "Then why don't we start by scrutinizing those three fires?" Negishi crossed his arms and sank into thought—but after a moment, he declared brightly:

“When there was a fire in Kanda during his time there, didn’t someone inform [the authorities] that Hasekura’s neighbor was the culprit?” “That’s right.”

“Criminals often tend to point out innocent people as culprits.” “That, you see, is extremely effective for avoiding suspicion.” “With such a trivial method, people are quite easily deceived.” “So you’re saying the informant is suspicious, right?”

“Now then,” “Among those defending a man branded as the culprit, you’ll often find the real criminal.” “You mean…” Detective Ishiro remained slightly baffled.

“Didn’t Hasekura go take in that neighbor who got informed against?” “Yeah.”

“Pay close attention now,” Detective Negishi said. “To commit insurance fraud, he sets fire to his own home. Then informs on the neighbor. After making that report, he goes to collect them with an innocent face, declaring ‘I’m not the sort who’d do such things.’ What do you think? Isn’t that a cunning way to deflect suspicion?” “I see. So Hasekura was—” Just as Ishiro pressed forward with this thought, a detective burst into the room white-faced.

“They just got a call from Hasekura’s neighbor—apparently luggage was being loaded out from his house.” “What?!”

Detective Negishi leapt to his feet. Upon hearing the neighbor’s report that luggage was being loaded out from Hasekura’s house, Detective Negishi sprang into action. “You—tell them to make absolutely sure they note down the transport company’s name.” After issuing this command to the detective who had received the phone call, Negishi turned toward Ishiro. “Detective Ishiro, we’re tracking the luggage.” “First, we pinpoint the transport company.” Negishi’s officious remarks about even the most obvious matters were anything but pleasant, but Detective Ishiro had no time to dwell on such things. He headed out to Sanko-cho with Detective Watanabe—who happened to be present—their steps brisk and resolve steeled: this time, they wouldn’t let him escape.

When they inquired at the neighboring house, they learned that the luggage removed consisted of four or five pieces—a Chinese-style suitcase and wicker trunks—transported via handcart. But when it came to identifying the transport company, there were no leads whatsoever. 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’s unlikely the luggage was transported far. “Don’t you remember anything? “Even something small would help.”

Ishiro listened earnestly.

“Anything will do. Was there anything that could serve as a distinguishing mark?” The maid made a face as if about to burst into tears and stared fixedly in thought, but eventually answered plaintively in a thin voice. “The back of the workman’s coat didn’t have characters—there was something like a red pictorial design drawn on it. He was a short, stocky, plump man.” “From which direction did he come, and to which direction did he go?” “He came from the Ōsaki direction. He went that way.” The maid pointed toward the city area.

The maid pointed toward the city area.

“It can’t be helped. Let’s check every transport company in the Ōsaki area one by one.” “He might not have returned yet, but...”

Ishiro turned toward Detective Watanabe and said.

The two men began separately combing through transport companies.

Detective Ishiro, who was in charge of the Ōsaki Station area, first entered a large transport company.

“This is who I am,” Ishiro produced a business card bearing his official title while “Didn’t you dispatch a cart to Sanko-cho today?” The workers—who had been noisily packing goods—stopped mid-action and stared at Ishiro. “Wasn’t our outfit.” One of them finally answered bluntly. “Any transport companies around here with a short, stocky fellow?” “Dunno.”

The workers answered curtly as ever. The workers stopped packing, then each found a spot to sit down, facing outward as they began smoking cigarettes. “Don’t you know?” Ishiro looked dejected, “This is troublesome... There’s something I need to look into.” “Well, why don’t we take a breather here?” Muttering to himself as if in soliloquy, he sat down in a corner of the dirt-floored area. The workers stole glances at him with hostile eyes. “It’s not much, but could you buy some tea sweets with this?”

Detective Ishiro took out a one-yen bill. As a poorly paid detective with meager allowances, handing over even this much pained him, but it was an effective method to get them talking—one he’d used successfully many times before. Forming a circle, they sipped weak, oversteeped bancha and nibbled on the mochi sweets Ishiro had treated them to. As they chatted idly, they gradually began to open up. “A short, stocky transport worker… Nah, don’t know anyone like that.” “How ’bout you?”

One of the workers said. "There doesn’t seem to be anyone like that around here." One of them answered after a moment’s thought. Warmed by Detective Ishiro’s treat and his easygoing manner of speaking, the transport company workers told everything they knew and even tried to recall details about the short transport worker. But when it became clear nobody recognized him, Detective Ishiro had to leave without gaining a single lead. He then painstakingly visited every transport company one by one, but by nearly noon, his efforts had yielded nothing.

Detective Watanabe, who had been making inquiries from Meguro Station toward Gotanda Station, had also been wasting his time until around noon.

But this time, luck was with Detective Watanabe.

As he dragged his heavy feet back from Gotanda in dejection, there was a small transport company in a cramped alley so narrow one might easily overlook it if not paying attention. He peered into the dimly lit storefront. “Wasn’t it your place that had a short, sturdy young man?” From the back, a man who appeared to be the owner emerged grim-faced and looked at Detective Watanabe suspiciously. “Are you referring to Kaneyoshi?”

“Right, right, it was Mr. Kaneyoshi, wasn’t it?”

“Is there some matter requiring attention?”

“Well, actually…”

Detective Watanabe lowered his voice. “I was asked by Mr. Hasekura to come here.” “Ah, I see.” The owner suddenly became amiable. “Thank you very much for your generous offering earlier.” “The package arrived without any issues, I presume?” While inwardly leaping with joy at having succeeded, Watanabe said with an unaffected demeanor. “Yes, I have indeed delivered it.”

“Has Mr. Kaneyoshi already returned?” “Ah yes, is there something you require?” “Ah, yes. Just a small matter.” “Hey, Kaneyoshi.” The owner peered into the back and called out. The one who emerged was a short, sturdy-looking man, with a vivid red butterfly pattern dyed on the back of his workman’s coat. “Is there something you need?”

“I want you to tell me where Hasekura’s luggage was taken.” “I am this sort of person.” Suddenly changing his attitude, Watanabe glared threateningly at the young man named Kaneyoshi while presenting his business card. The young man glanced briefly at the business card Watanabe held out, made an unpleasant face, pursed his lips into a へ shape, and turned away. “Hey.” Slightly flustered by the young man’s attitude, Detective Watanabe barked again. “Aren’t you going to 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 Kaneyoshi had perhaps been gagged, a gentle questioning approach wouldn’t get him to talk, Detective Watanabe had tried coming on strong—but faced with this countermove from his opponent, he found himself at a loss for words. “No—my fault. Old habits die hard, you know?”

Detective Watanabe said with a wry smile, “Now, don’t take offense, I beg of you. My apologies, but please tell me the delivery address for the luggage.” The young man’s temper had subsided somewhat, but he still refused to speak readily. “Hey, Kaneyoshi, the gentleman here says as much. “It’d be best if you just told him now.” The owner chimed in.

“It’s the Takayama residence in Iikura Itchome.” He finally spat out the words. Having tracked down the transport company and extracted the delivery address from its young employee, Detective Watanabe returned triumphantly to the vicinity of Hasekura’s house. As agreed, Detective Ishiro had been blankly waiting. When Watanabe conveyed his success, he leapt for joy with delight.

The two detectives immediately returned to the station and reported the circumstances to Judicial Officer Oshima. “Good.” The Judicial Officer was in high spirits. “Take five or six officers with you and go arrest him immediately.”

“Well...”

Detective Negishi said while making his sunken eyes glare. “Wouldn’t it be better not to make too much commotion? It’s better not to startle birds.” “How can you suggest such a leisurely approach?”

The Judicial Officer’s mood soured slightly. “If we keep dawdling around, he’ll escape again!” “That’s right.” Ishiro declared with vigor. “Given the substantial amount of luggage he transported, we can safely assume he intends to lay low for the time being. He’s definitely there. I want to arrest him without a moment’s delay.” “Hmm, that might be for the best.”

Negishi formed an ironic wry smile as he said, “But you see, if a bird flees naturally, it will return to its nest, but a threatened bird never comes back.”

“You speak in riddles.” Ishiro smirked in response to Negishi’s sardonic smile. “It’s no riddle. I simply cannot approve of raiding that Takayama residence.”

“Why?” “It’s too crude for Hasekura.”

"What did you say?" Ishiro demanded. "So you're saying Hasekura isn't incompetent enough for us to uncover his hideout." "To put it another way - you claim we're incapable of locating his actual hiding place at all." "I must object to this distortion of my meaning." Detective Negishi replied coldly in his characteristic tone. "At any rate, let's proceed according to my plan." "Then by all means do so!" Detective Watanabe interjected sharply from the side. He'd been simmering with irritation ever since Negishi began disparaging the Iikura Itchome residence he'd worked so hard to identify.

Detective Negishi shot a sharp glance at Watanabe but said nothing.

Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe, having secured five or six reinforcements, set out for Iikura Itchome. The target house was a two-story latticework structure built at the corner of a T-junction. Stationing two colleagues at the back door and one colleague each at key intersections, Ishiro and Watanabe finalized their plan to enter through the front entrance. Judging by the sunlight, it appeared to be nearly four o'clock. The cold spell had ended two or three days prior, but since morning, it had been a bone-chilling cold. Before the poorly sunlit Takayama residence lay chunks of thick ice, likely a child’s prank—hauled up from the gutter and smashed upon the channel stones—now shattered into two or three pieces and scattered about.

When he suddenly looked up, the dull western sun was shining on half of the second floor, and on the roof’s eaves hung a weathered wind chime—likely forgotten since summer—looking forlorn in the cold.

“Excuse me.”

Ishiro called out. “Yes.”

The one who came out from the back was a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl who looked like a maid. "I’ve come from Shiba no Sanko-cho and would like to see Mr. Hasekura."

“Yes.”

The young maid withdrew inside without even asking for names. Ishiro thought he had him. Before Detective Ishiro—who stood swallowing dryly in anticipation of a response—appeared not the maid, but a refined woman nearing forty with the air of a lady of the house. "Um, are you here on behalf of Mr. Hasekura?"

She looked up at Ishiro with an unconvinced expression.

“Yes, that’s correct.” “Have you come to retrieve the luggage?” The words were unexpected. Even Ishiro was at a loss for words. “Huh? To get the luggage?”

“Is that not why you’re here?” The wife said as if she regretted it. “A cartload of luggage arrived from Mr. Hasekura earlier. Since he said someone would come to collect it eventually and asked us to keep it here, I thought you might have come to retrieve it already.”

“So, Mr. Hasekura isn’t here, then?” Ishiro was dejected.

“Yes, he isn’t here.” “I really must meet Mr. Hasekura.” “Where might he be now?” “Well, that we do not know, but if you would kindly inquire at your own establishment...” “We inquired at your place and came here, but please wait a moment.” Ishiro called out to Watanabe, who was standing outside. “You—Mr. Hasekura isn’t here, apparently.”

“That can’t be right.” Watanabe lumbered in. He bowed slightly to the wife while,

“The luggage arrived earlier, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” The wife’s eyes sharpened warily. “Then there’s no way Hasekura isn’t here.” Watanabe intensified his tone. “No, we have merely taken custody of the luggage.” “Just who are you all?” The wife also seemed slightly flustered.

“No, it’s nothing—we merely have some business with Mr. Hasekura.” Ishiro turned toward Watanabe, “You—if he’s not here, there’s nothing we can do.” “Why don’t we come back later?” Watanabe shook his head. Perhaps because he himself had tracked down this house, Watanabe deeply believed that Hasekura was hiding within.

“Then what is it, ma’am?” Watanabe persisted sharply. “Hasekura has been coming to your house lately, hasn’t he?” “Yes, he came once two or three days ago.” “He’s been staying here since then, hasn’t he?”

Emboldened, Watanabe pressed further. “No.”

The wife’s face clouded with displeasure. “Just who are you?” “I am a detective.”

“What?!” The wife’s face paled. “Ma’am, Hasekura is currently wanted by the police.” “It would be unwise to harbor him.” “I haven’t hidden anything at all.” She declared firmly, but there was an air of unease about her.

“You.”

Watanabe turned toward Ishiro. “Anyway, let’s have them show us the luggage.” Ishiro had thought Watanabe was overstepping for some time now. Whether due to inherent disposition, his methods differed from Watanabe’s in key respects. But with matters having reached this point—a tiger-riding momentum—there remained no alternative but to follow Watanabe into the tatami room. The wife offered no resistance as they ascended.

The luggage from Hasekura was piled up in the four-and-a-half tatami mat space beside the entrance. Every room was immaculately organized. The two men scanned every corner with sharp eyes, determined not to overlook a single thing, but there was no sign of Hasekura himself, let alone any traces suggesting he had been hiding there. "Hmm, I wonder if what Negishi said was true after all." Ishiro thought that if Hasekura had been there, "See? Half-hearted efforts like yours won’t cut it."

Ishiro whispered into the ear of the fervent Watanabe, cutting off what would have been his triumphant remark.

While Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe were storming into the Takayama residence in Iikura, over in Sanko-cho at the Hasekura household, his wife Shizuko was listlessly preparing to go out.

She had graduated from Hakugin Academy’s women’s department and gone on to complete its theology course; though a young woman of twenty-seven, she had opened a Sunday school at her home where she taught—so Hasekura’s recognition among theology students had come largely through her efforts. Since her husband had fled under ominous suspicion, she had endured frequent detective visits while surveillance seemed to perpetually watch the house—the Sunday school students withdrew, she too grew reserved until now no visitors came—and she lived in strict seclusion, scarcely going out. Yet today, after sending luggage that morning to the Takayama residence in Iikura 1-chome—a household of fellow believers—she sat motionless in one room, face buried in her collar as if unwell.

The house, already too spacious for their small household, now echoed hollowly with only the young woman left behind—as if dwelling in an abandoned home. After lunch, she remained seated in the same spot, vacantly gazing at the thawing garden where faint sunlight filtered through. But once three o'clock passed, she rose listlessly and began changing her kimono with evident reluctance.

She had dressed properly and was bowing her pale face when she stepped outside the gate—it was nearly 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 was mistaken. When she began walking away reassured, a man suddenly stood up from behind a large pile of dust left by the kitchen entrance of the neighboring house. He was a short-statured middle-aged man wearing a double-layered workman's coat who at first glance resembled a tenement manager, his tanned face mostly concealed beneath a hunting cap pulled low over his brows and a muffler, though his sharp eyes darted about restlessly. He began trailing Shizuko with a nonchalant expression.

She remained completely unaware of being followed; upon reaching the streetcar line, she walked toward Meguro rather than boarding a train. Naturally, the suspicious man gave chase. When she arrived at Meguro Station and approached the ticket window, he pressed close behind her—mouth gaping like a toad lying in wait—ready to pounce. "A round-trip ticket to Nakano, please." She spoke while peering into the small window. After receiving the ticket, she briskly moved toward the ticket gate. Had he maintained his position directly behind her for just a moment longer,

“Nakano one-way, one ticket.”

She might have noticed the suspicious man calling out, but she was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice a thing. From when she stepped onto the platform to wait for the train, through boarding it, and even during the transfer at Yoyogi Station, the suspicious man maintained an appropriate distance while keeping her under sharp observation. When the train stopped at Nakano Station, Shizuko hurriedly got off. Of course, the suspicious man also disembarked right after her.

Shizuko quickened her pace. The short winter day was already waning, and the cold evening wind blew with a chill that stiffened cheeks. She entered an alley from the main street, turned left, then right, weaving through what appeared to be a newly developed district—narrow lanes lined with modest houses and vacant lots occasionally strewn with clouds of dust. Soon she came to a stop before a Western-style wooden building of some prominence but promptly disappeared inside. The suspicious man came to an abrupt halt in front of the house.

The nameplate read Nakano Dōjin Church and Williamson. The suspicious man paced idly back and forth before the church, peering inside. Unfortunately, the sun had not yet fully set, and with a fair number of passersby still around, avoiding suspicion required considerable effort. Yet there was nowhere nearby to conceal himself.

"Damn it, and on top of that, it's a crude Western-style building—I can't see a thing inside." "Should I just call Nakano Police Station and request backup?" the suspicious man muttered. He was none other than Detective Negishi from Kagurazaka Police Station. When he heard that luggage had been moved out from Hasekura’s house, he tilted his head slightly. If done secretly at night, that would be one thing—but bringing out a cart in broad daylight was bound to draw eyes; Hasekura surely knew the destination would be sniffed out immediately. However, if Hasekura was assuming they were letting their guard down and planned to quietly move the luggage to stash at an acquaintance’s house, then retrieve it after confirming they hadn’t noticed—in that case, the wiser strategy would be to feign ignorance themselves, lull them into complacency, discreetly keep watch on the house, and apprehend them when they boldly came to retrieve it. He thought rushing in immediately would be unwise, but since Detective Watanabe, eager for results, seemed unlikely to heed caution, he instead went to keep watch at Hasekura’s residence. Just as one must watch a magician’s left hand when their right hand moves, if they tried to draw attention by moving out the luggage, he had deduced that the real suspicion lay with the house itself. Just as he had deduced, his wife went out—but being thorough, he had prudently stationed another detective to keep watch on the house while tailing her. He had thought that by using the luggage as bait and then the wife as bait, Hasekura might calmly enter during their absence.

Detective Negishi continued pacing before the church while weighing his options. Requesting reinforcements from Nakano Police Station seemed prudent enough, but it would all mean nothing if they escaped in the meantime. Storming in without concrete evidence—especially into a foreigner’s residence—would only invite future complications. What exactly had Hasekura’s wife come here to do? The most logical assumption was that she intended to meet Hasekura himself. Did that mean the man was hiding here? Had he arranged a rendezvous with his wife? Or was her purpose entirely unrelated? They’d need more time observing to know for certain. Ideally they’d catch him either entering or exiting, but this cramped thoroughfare offered no hiding spots—a genuine dilemma. Even the seasoned Negishi found himself stumped.

As he pondered in despair, he suddenly glanced at the church’s back entrance and saw a suspicious figure wrapped in an Inverness coat stealthily approaching. In the blink of an eye, it slipped inside and vanished. Detective Negishi tensed up. He quietly approached the back entrance. However, even the usually astute Detective Negishi failed to notice that the moment he crept up to the back entrance, the culprit had already slipped straight through the house and dashed out the front. At the entrance, the culprit scolded Shizuko, who had followed behind, in a hoarse voice.

“Idiot! You’ve been followed! There’s a detective-looking guy at the back entrance. There’s no helping it—I’m leaving now. Give the registered seal to Asada. Do you understand?” “Oh, you... Please stop running away.”

Shizuko hurriedly grabbed his sleeve, but the culprit shook it off and dashed out the front, vanishing without a trace into the gathering dusk.

Amateur detective

From Azabu Ichinobashi heading toward Shirokanedai, along a cramped street where modest shops stood packed shoulder-to-shoulder under dense eaves, there stood in one corner of Sanko-cho—reached by veering slightly into a side alley—a photo studio as aged as the town itself.

The lingering chill of winter's ice had not yet departed on that mid-February midnight. Though the sky stood crisp and clear with pale stars flickering listlessly, shadows pooled into an impenetrable darkness where nothing could be seen even an inch ahead. The photo studio's facade featured a dusty display window decorated with an imposing large photograph of a general in full military regalia, what appeared to be a geisha in clothing fashionable several years prior, and two or three other photographs. A dim electric light, added as a mere formality, cast a hazy glow over the entrance.

While gazing up at the sign reading "Asada Photo Studio" above its entrance, a suspicious-looking man stood motionless for some time; without entering inside, he quietly circled around toward the back entrance from the side path, groping his way through the darkness.

The suspicious-looking man who had circled around to the back entrance stealthily approached, relying on the faint light leaking through the door, and began knocking—knock knock. A streak of white light suddenly cascaded like a waterfall, and a man rushed out from the opened door. As the door closed again, the momentarily illuminated scene of the cluttered, shabby back entrance vanished, plunging the surroundings back into pure darkness. “Is everything all right?”

The man who had knocked on the door from outside said in a low voice. “Everything’s fine. He’s already gone to sleep.” The man who had emerged from inside whispered. “Have you found any leads?” “It’s nothing major, but the owner here has been frequenting the notary office lately.” “I think he was probably asked by Hasekura.” “Do you know the notary’s name?” “A man named Kanda Daigoro.” “Kanda’s quite a well-known notary.” “And then, Mr. Ishiro...”

The man who had emerged from inside called out. It was a youthful-sounding voice.

“There’s been an active exchange of letters with a man named Matsushita Ichiro.” “Matsushita Ichiro?”

“Yes, I think that must be Hasekura’s alias,” he said. “The handwriting closely resembles that threatening letter you showed me before.” “And you still don’t know the location?”

“I don’t know. The ones coming from him don’t have an address written on them, and the ones we send out always seem to be posted by Asada himself.”

“Hmm, that’s suspicious.” “Kishimoto—put in the effort one more time.” “Understood.” “I’ll find a way to track down the location.” “Remember—our opponent’s sharp-witted. You must stay alert.” “Even Negishi’s having trouble handling him.” “Understood.” “What about your end?” “We’ve hit nothing but dead ends.” Ishiro—as astute readers will have surmised—was the shadowy figure who’d crept up to Asada Photo Studio. The one who emerged from within was none other than young Kishimoto Seiichiro—he replied bitterly.

“It’s always blunders. When we track down where they brought in the luggage and rush in, it turns out to be nothing more than a temporary storage spot—not where he actually is. That’s how he diverts our attention while calling out to his wife. But even Negishi—who saw through that scheme and tracked down their secret meeting spot—ended up having him slip away somehow, left standing outside Nakano Church in the freezing cold for five whole hours.”

After continuing their hushed consultation a while longer, the two men quietly parted ways, going left and right.

“Kishimoto—wait a moment.” The owner of Asada Photo Studio called out with a stern expression. “Yes.” Kishimoto stood deferentially before him.

“I’m going out for a bit now. Take care of these enlargements, and mount this onto the backing board. Handle the film rolls properly.” “Yes, understood. What should I do about today’s development?” “No development needed. It’s still too risky to let you handle it alone yet.” “It’s fine, Master.” Kishimoto sharply raised his elegant eyebrows. “Hahaha!” Asada laughed as if branding him a cunning little upstart. “Let’s leave it at that. There’s no recovering from botched development.”

“Is that so...”

Kishimoto said discontentedly.

“Hey, Oshino.”

Asada called his wife. “Well, I’m off then.” “Take care.”

From the next room, Oshino answered in a loud voice. After finishing the bromide exposures and exiting the darkroom, Kishimoto was diligently pasting the completed photographs onto backing boards when Oshino came to his side.

“Mr. Kishimoto, you’re working quite vigorously.” “Not at all, ma’am—my mounting work remains clumsy.” “Nonsense, this is perfectly adequate.” “Do you think so...” “Mr. Kishimoto, you must find my husband’s nagging tiresome, don’t you?”

“Not at all.” “My husband’s rather particular, you see—that’s why we can never keep live-in students for long.” “Please stick it out here for a long time, Mr. Kishimoto.”

Oshino peered at Kishimoto’s profile while lowering the corners of her eyes and spoke.

“Yes, ma’am—please let me stay here for a long time.” “Of course I’ll let you stay.” “Where did Master go?” “Who knows where—he’s probably gone to see that Hasekura’s wife again or something.” “Huh? Mr. Hasekura?” “Do you know about him?” “Yes, I used to be a Christian believer, so I only know his name by reputation.” “Is that so. Come to think of it, Mr. Hasekura is a Christian.” “I hear Mr. Hasekura’s wife is quite an impressive woman.”

“What do I care whether she’s impressive or not?” The landlady’s mood soured at once. “Just because her husband’s away, she keeps summoning mine for consultations. She’s mocking us!” “Is Mr. Hasekura away?” “He’s run off somewhere.” “Oh? Did he do something wrong?” “That’s how it seems. Get mixed up with someone like that, and I tell you—you’ll end up worse for it in the long run.”

“Oh... Is he really that bad of a person?” “He has an unsavory look about him.” “You can tell just by looking—he’s got a downright sinister face.” “Though it’s not like having a face that wouldn’t hurt a fly like his wife does means a thing.”

“Does he really have such a sinister face?” “Wait a moment—I’ve got photos here.” Oshino rummaged noisily through the desk drawers before pulling out a bag of old photographs. “What do you think? These’re all Mr. Hasekura’s.” “There’s so many, aren’t there?”

“Because we’ve been acquainted for so long.” “This one’s Mr. Hasekura.” “I see—he does have a frightening face.” “Is this the wife?” “That’s right.” “That’s why you can’t let your guard down around someone like that.”

Fiddling with the many photographs before him, Kishimoto suddenly let his eyes fall upon one picture and gasped in surprise. While handling the Hasekura family photographs, Kishimoto abruptly had his gaze land on a single photo and gasped aloud. That was Kobayashi Sadako’s photograph. “What’s wrong?”

Oshino asked suspiciously.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” “Oh, seems like you prefer the young ones after all.” When the landlady saw the photograph Kishimoto was holding, she grinned slyly and said.

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Kishimoto, that girl is already dead.” “Huh? She’s dead?!” Kishimoto stiffened. “You’re quite shocked, aren’t you?” Oshino glared sharply at Kishimoto while, “It’s not certain, but I think she died. “That was Mr. Hasekura’s maid, you know.”

“Ah, she was the maid?”

“Well, three years ago she went missing and that was the end of it.” “Huh?!” “It seems they still haven’t found out, but well, she’s probably dead.” “Well, if she’s been missing for three whole years, she might be dead. Why did she disappear?” “Well, even though she’s just a young girl, you can’t let your guard down—it seems Mr. Hasekura made advances on her.” “Men are all like that.” “Because of that, she was once demoted from her position at the inn—but well, being just a child, she probably grew to hate the world and ran away over something like that.”

“That’s so sad.” “Do you really think it’s pitiable?” “I do think so.” “Hmph, you’re all talk. Men do such things without a second thought and then promptly forget all about them.” “That’s not the case, Madam.” “Madam.”

“Yes, Mr. Kishimoto, you might not be like that.” “So what is it, Madam?” Kishimoto deflected Oshino’s words while, “Do you not know where Mr. Hasekura is?” “I don’t know.” “Though my husband might know.” “Since they’re exchanging letters and he seems to be getting all sorts of requests.” “Madam, if he’s such a bad person, hiding someone like that isn’t right.”

“I think so too, but this is one of those worldly obligations that can’t be avoided.” “Are obligations really that important?” “You’re still young—it’s only natural you wouldn’t understand. Obligations are bitter things.” “If letters come so often, Madam must know where he is.”

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

Oshino stared intently at Kishimoto while, "You're not some police plant, are you?"

“Don’t be absurd!” Kishimoto stiffened but hurriedly retracted his reaction.

“I detest crooked dealings—I can’t stay silent when hearing such things.” “Of course everyone hates crookedness. But when getting by in this world, you can’t just cling to principles.” “Is that truly how it works...?”

“They say that not getting your way is the way of the fleeting world. I’m also troubled by not getting mine—it’s maddening.” “So Mr. Hasekura—”

“Oh, Mr. Hasekura again? That’s strange, isn’t it.”

Oshino glared at Kishimoto.

Having asked too much about Hasekura and aroused the landlady’s suspicion, Kishimoto flusteredly, “No, it’s not like that at all. Because I have a nature where I can’t stand stopping halfway once I start digging things out, I end up prying into every detail. If I’ve offended you, I apologize.” “I don’t particularly mind, but well then, ask away until you’re satisfied.”

“That’s quite all right, Madam.” “Madam.”

“You’re a strange one, aren’t you? When I tell you to ask freely, you say ‘that’s enough already’?” “Well then, shall I ask?” Kishimoto was grinning, “So, what business does Master have going to Mr. Hasekura’s house?” “Hohoho.”

Oshino laughed. “You’ve come up with quite an outlandish question. Well, apparently Mr. Hasekura wants to transfer a house or something to his wife, so he was asked to handle the procedures.” “Oh?” “You see?” The landlady lowered her voice. “It seems Mr. Hasekura has been involved in some fraud or something. If he’s caught, this would be taken back. If they leave it as is and it gets seized, that’d be a problem—so they’re probably rushing to change the name on the deed.” “And his wife is a beauty.”

Kishimoto smirked mockingly,

“So Master is working hard for that reason, huh?” “What are you saying?”

The landlady’s eyes instantly narrowed sharply. “If my husband were to pull such a stunt, I wouldn’t let it slide.” “What are you going to do?”

Kishimoto asked maliciously. “What do you mean, ‘what am I going to do’?!” The landlady raised her voice. “There’s no way I’d stay in this house!” “And then what will you do, Madam?” “Madam.” “What do you mean, ‘what am I going to do’?!” Flushed crimson with jealousy, Oshino shouted. “I’m not some man-crazy woman, and I can manage on my own just fine.” “What’s with Master? Is he that close with Mrs. Hasekura?” Oshino, who had long been displeased with her husband frequently visiting Hasekura’s vacant house to act as a confidant to his wife, was further provoked by Kishimoto into a state of agitation.

“He’s really belittling me.” “Let him try some pathetic scheme!” “I’ll go drown myself and make you regret it!” The provocative tactics had proven too effective, leaving Kishimoto struggling to formulate a proper response.

He said in a placating tone. “Madam, it’s all right. There’s no way Master would ever do such a thing.” “Hohoho.”

Oshino, too, seemed to regret having gotten overly worked up, “Mr. Kishimoto，there’s no need to worry.” “It’s a joke.” “Who would ever do something like drown themselves?” “Drowning oneself? Ugh—just thinking about it makes me shudder.”

Oshino seemed to remember something and shuddered violently.

She hesitated for a moment, torn between whether to speak or remain silent, then eventually turned to Kishimoto and said, “Mr. Kishimoto, have you ever seen someone who’s committed suicide by drowning?”

“No.”

Kishimoto shook his head.

“I’ve seen it once before, you know.” “Let me see... one year, two years—so nearly three years now.” “You know that Osaki area up ahead? There’s a place called Ikedagahara. These days they’ve built lots of houses there, but back then there was an old well right in the middle of that field. I think it was definitely June or July.” “A suicide by drowning had been pulled up.” “It must’ve been submerged for ages—the eyes swollen so horribly you couldn’t bear to look, the face completely unrecognizable. If you touched any part of it—even a hand—it would just crumble away.” “Disgusting doesn’t even begin to describe it.” “Ugh, how revolting.”

The landlady grimaced.

The decomposed corpse pulled up from the old well—though that story was three years old now—left Kishimoto with an uneasy feeling. "That's awful. So it was a woman?" "Yes." "Did they ever find out who she was?" "No way they could've known." "You see how terrible the police are, Mr. Kishimoto?" "That horrible corpse lay abandoned for two or three days straight." "Turns out that field marks the border between Takanawa Police and Shinagawa Police." "They'll fight over credit for good arrests, but for nasty jobs like this? Just kept passing the buck—neither station would send anyone for the inquest." "In the end Takanawa handled it—did the inquest and buried her. Never did learn who she was." "Shows how many people vanish without a trace in this world."

“About how old was she?” “From looking at her, it was clear she was young, but I couldn’t make any guess at all.” “The doctor determined she was around twenty-two or twenty-three—it was in the papers, you know.”

Kishimoto, growing excited, asked if it might be O-Sada’s corpse, but since the age didn’t match at all, he was disappointed. “When I went to see—”

Oshino said as if she remembered. “Mr. Hasekura was right there then.” “What? Mr. Hasekura was...?” “That’s right. We both talked about how she looked young from what we saw—how pitiful it was that she’d done such a thing.” “Did Mr. Hasekura come specifically to see it?” “Well, whether he came specifically or just happened to be passing by—I don’t recall such details.” “Anyway, drowning oneself is such a dreadful business.” Fearing his excessive questions about Hasekura might give him away, Kishimoto deliberately deflected the conversation.

“Really such an awful thing.” The landlady grimaced but,

“Ah, this is terrible! I’ve been chatting away and need to get ready for the evening.” Kishimoto was alone again, working diligently, when the master returned. He glanced briefly at Kishimoto working and retreated straight into the inner living room. “Welcome back.” Oshino called out from the kitchen. Asada sat down heavily before the brazier and, “Oshino.” he called in a displeased voice. “What is it?” Oshino appeared, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

“Be cautious around the new student lodger.” Asada said in a low voice thick with intensity, staring fixedly at Oshino’s face.

“What do you mean?” “When I’m away, don’t go chattering nonsense to that guy.” “Wh-what do you mean?” Oshino’s face changed color.

“When did I ever chatter nonsense?” “I didn’t say you did—I’m telling you not to talk.” “You’re making a fool of me!”

Oshino burst out shouting. “You’re the one who goes over to Mrs. Hasekura’s place without any real business and does nothing but chatter away!” “Hey, hey! Don’t raise your voice!” “Why do you do things that shouldn’t be spoken of loudly?” Oshino still did not cease her angry shouts. “And you’re always going on about others! What exactly are you saying I did?” “Hey, hey! Don’t go misunderstanding things here.” Asada made a troubled face and tried to placate her.

“I’ve only ever said to watch out for Kishimoto.” “Thanks ever so much for your concern.” “Whatever I do—” Oshino puffed out her cheeks.

With a wry smile, Asada somehow managed to appease Oshino, finished his dinner, and went upstairs to the second floor. Then he turned to a desk in the corner and began writing something. When he finished writing, he placed it in an envelope, wrote the address, and lumbered downstairs. Downstairs, Kishimoto called out as if he had been lying in wait. “Master, are you going out?” “Ah, just heading out for a bit.” Kishimoto keenly noticed the letter Asada was holding and, “Master, if that’s mail, I’ll take care of posting it for you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Asada dismissed him with those words and went outside. The moment Kishimoto saw that his master was out of sight, he whirled around like a startled hare and bounded up to the second floor. He approached his master’s desk and began frantically searching for something. He examined every unlocked drawer on the desk one by one, then carefully restored them to their original state.

Eventually, he muttered in disappointment. "Hmm, he's a cautious one." "I can't find it anywhere." In the midst of this, he suddenly noticed a sheet of blotting paper on the desk. When he looked closely, the characters spelling "Matsushita Ichirō-sama" faintly appeared as mirror writing. The address in the title also appeared legible in scattered fragments. "Jackpot!"

Kishimoto muttered happily.

"The first character was definitely 'Hon'." Hongō? Honjo? Ah—the second character remained illegible... Then maybe 'kome'? Or perhaps 'Hayashi'—but with that smudged upper stroke, impossible to confirm. "The next resembles 'kawa'... The 'machi' stands clear enough... And this last one—'kan'! A photography studio! So Matsushita Ichirō's hiding in a photography studio." Which studio though? "Ah! This 'Uchi' character comes through—Yamanouchi? Ōuchi? Hmm... 'Hon'-'Kawa'-'Machi'-'Uchi Photography Studio'... Damn—why won't this blotting paper yield clearer traces?"

As Kishimoto restlessly scrutinized the blotting paper, Oshino’s voice called out from downstairs.

“Mr. Kishimoto! Mr. Kishimotoooo—” "This is troublesome." Kishimoto stamped his feet, glared sidelong at the blotting paper, and muttered irritably while distracted by the landlady’s calls.

“Mr. Kishimoto.” Oshino called out while making sewing machine noises and appeared to be coming upstairs. Unfortunately, Kishimoto abruptly left the desk’s side and approached the top of the staircase.

“What is it, landlady?” “What are you doing, Mr. Kishimoto?” “Nothing at all.” “Is that so?”

Having finally reached the top, Oshino looked up at Kishimoto’s face while asking, “Did my husband say anything?” “No, nothing at all.” “Is that so?” “Well, if you say so...” “What is it, landlady?” “The Master’s acting a bit suspicious.” “Why?” “How? Because he’s secretly exchanging letters!” “Really?”

“It’s absolutely true! The letters come addressed to ‘Matsushita Ichiro,’ but the replies are definitely thrown into the postbox by the Master himself. All other letters he has me post, but those replies he always mails himself.” “Damn it!”

Oshino snarled. “So he really has been deceiving me after all.”

Just then, Asada came into view on the main street, so the two hurriedly went downstairs. Asada entered the house and, without a word, thudded up to the second floor. After carefully surveying the room, he plopped down into a chair and let out a loud yawn—then suddenly noticed the desk. “Hmm?” he muttered.

The desk remained exactly as he’d left it after tidying up—not a single item out of place—yet he couldn’t shake the sensation, what one might call a sixth sense, that someone had touched it. “Hmm?” With his arms crossed, he glared at the desk with sharp eyes when his gaze suddenly caught on the blotting paper. Whether due to nerves or something else, its position seemed slightly askew. He picked up the blotting paper and held it up to the electric light overhead to examine it. “Damn it!”

He muttered softly, raised his head, bit his lip, stared fixedly into the distance, and sank into thought.

Before long, he began examining the blotting paper closely again. A smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. For some reason, he took out an envelope and placed it on the desk next to the blotting paper. Then he took up a pen and, still deep in thought, moved it over the envelope. "Honjo Ward, Kikukawa-cho 23, Ouchi Photo Studio... Yeah, that’s right." He gazed at the addressed envelope with a spiteful grin, then pressed it against the blotting paper, ripped it neatly in two, rolled the pieces into tight balls, and tossed them into the wastebasket at his feet.

He pressed the call bell. With a creaking sound, Kishimoto came upstairs. “Master, do you need something?” “Yeah, I’m thinking of doing some developing. The chemicals are all prepared, right?” “Yes, they’re all prepared.” “In that case, be so kind as to tidy up around here.”

“Yes, sir! Understood.” Asada entered the darkroom but did not immediately begin developing. Instead, he peered through the small window fitted with red glass to admit light, quietly observing the room. Kishimoto was diligently cleaning the room. As he worked, 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, pretended to tidy up the desk, and carefully unfolded the envelope.

Kishimoto's countenance visibly crumbled. He could not conceal his delight and, like a child, opened his eyes wide. Before long, he crumpled the envelope into a tight ball again, shoved it into the wastebasket, and resumed cleaning with an innocent expression.

In the darkroom, Asada rocked the developing tray while thinking. “Hmm, so he really is a plant after all. This requires constant vigilance. But that guy being an amateur works in our favor.” Having finished developing and placed the dry plate into the fixing tray, Asada lumbered out of the darkroom. Kishimoto had finished cleaning and sat vacantly by the window. “You may go downstairs once you’ve finished cleaning.” Asada said. “Yes.” When Kishimoto disappeared from view, Asada plopped down at the desk and muttered.

“Assuming that guy leaks to the detectives by tomorrow, and they waste their time chasing shadows the day after... Hmph. That gives us two or three days’ leeway.”

Arson Incident “What the—? You’re the one who crashed into me!” In the bitter cold, a burly red-faced man dressed like a laborer—wearing nothing but a grimy half-coat over patched leggings that left him staggering—grabbed the jacket of a slight-statured salaryman likely earning around a hundred yen a month and bellowed. “Don’t screw with me! You bumped into me first!” The salaryman barked back with forced bravado. Yet his eyes darted about uneasily.

The streetcar line running from Ogawamachi to below Surugadai—the sky hung heavily overcast, more like the oppressive gloom of impending snow than anything else—but tonight being both the fifteenth, a craftsmen’s day off, and the day of the Goju Inari Shrine’s festival, there was a fair number of pedestrians about. The lanky drunkard on the right, swaying with what’s commonly called a drunken stagger—eager for a quarrel—had pedestrians furrowing their brows and steering clear of him, until he collided head-on with the unfortunate salaryman.

“What the—you’re saying I bumped into you? You’re mocking me, aren’t you? I ain’t drunk!” As the drunkard kept up his slurred ranting, the salaryman finally snapped and tore his jacket free from the grasping hand. The drunkard reeled sideways, nearly toppling over before catching his balance—and now his temper flared white-hot. “Oh ho! Fancy move there, you bastard! Let’s see how you handle this!” He squared up to the salaryman in a boxer’s crouch.

Before they knew it, a crowd had formed around them. Yet not a single soul stepped forward to intervene. Some frowned and watched with evident distaste, while others smirked in amusement as they observed, but none made any move to mediate. Detective Ishiro happened upon the scene. Having received Kishimoto’s report, he had spent the morning combing through Honjo—but of course, no photography studio called Ouchi could be found in the target district or any other. Disheartened and on his way back to his home in Ushigome, he had disembarked at Ogawamachi station and now wandered through the bustling festival crowds, half-hoping to stumble upon some quarry.

“A fight?” After muttering this, he pushed through the crowd, but being small-statured, he couldn’t easily see inside. “What’s this? A fight?” He asked the person beside him. “The drunkard’s picking a fight with someone who looks harmless.”

“That’s unfortunate.” “I’ll step in to mediate.” “Please let me through for a moment.”

Having said that, Ishiro steadily pushed forward, but when he saw the face of the ranting drunkard, he gasped in surprise. He was Kobayashi Teijiro, the uncle of Hasekura's missing maid. “Hey, that’s enough!” Ishiro grabbed Teijiro’s shoulder.

Teijiro, swaying unsteadily with bleary drunken eyes, stared at Detective Ishiro’s face and shouted joyfully. “Oh! Boss!” Instead of calming down, he suddenly perked up and became even more boisterous.

“Oh, Boss! You’ve come at just the right time!” “Look here, bastard! The police boss is here!” “No matter how much you squirm, it’s no use!” “We’ll have them properly judge which of us is innocent or guilty!” “What the hell are you laughing at?”

He started shouting at the onlookers. “This boss here’s gonna collar that bastard Hasekura for you! Oh, you’re still laughing, huh? Don’t you lot know Hasekura? That bastard scoundrel Hasekura!” Teijiro’s speech grew increasingly slurred. In the middle of the thoroughfare, before a large crowd of onlookers, Teijiro—thoroughly drunk—began shouting “Hasekura! Hasekura!” repeatedly, leaving Detective Ishiro shocked. “Hey! Quit spouting nonsense! Shut up already!” “Shut up already!”

However, Teijiro only grew even more emboldened.

“What’s this ‘Hasekura’ nonsense? What’s this ‘Hasekura’?” “You think this here guy’s gonna sit quiet after being licked by a bastard like that?” “Come on!” “Ugh, what’s Hasekura even…?” Teijiro finally collapsed on the thoroughfare. Just then, a patrol officer happened to pass by, so Ishiro showed his detective’s notebook and— “This guy here—I know him a bit. “He’s in Misakicho, but—could you please take him into protective custody?”

The patrol officer dispersed the onlookers while leading Teijiro away. The man who had been provoked into a fight by him remained rooted to the spot even as the onlookers gradually dispersed, then resolutely approached Ishiro.

"Excuse me, but might I ask—is the Hasekura that man mentioned referring to Hasekura Kihei?" "Yes, that’s right."

Ishiro looked at the man’s face in surprise.

“You’re with the police, aren’t you?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m from Kagurazaka Police Station.” “In that case, regarding Hasekura, there’s something I’d like to bring to your attention.”

“Oh, so you know Hasekura?” “Yes, I know him well.” "I went through something terrible because of him." “I think Hasekura may have committed arson.” “Huh? Wha—?” Detective Ishiro was visibly delighted by the unexpected breakthrough. "Such matters shouldn't be discussed in the middle of the street. Hmm... Why don't you come to my house instead?" "It's in Ushigome."

“My house is just over there.”

The man in Western clothes said. “Would you be so kind as to come to my humble home?”

From what they discussed along the way, his name was Tanida Yoshizo, and he worked at a certain trading company in Marunouchi. The house was located on a back street in Awajicho.

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

“It’s been rebuilt now, but this was Hasekura’s house.” His house was a compact single-story home that appeared meticulously kept, and they were ushered into an orderly room. “Well, it’s quite an old matter.” “Must be nearly ten years now.” “As I mentioned earlier on our walk—the fire started at the neighboring house.” According to his account, the blaze had consumed half of Hasekura’s residence before being contained, while his own home narrowly escaped catching fire. But when authorities deemed it arson, he found himself unexpectedly suspected—detained at the police station for an entire week.

“On the seventh day, Hasekura came and interceded on my behalf, so I was finally released. “It was truly an utterly absurd experience. “But back then, since he interceded for me and showed me all sorts of kindnesses, I felt grateful to Hasekura. However, now that I think about it, it seems I was thoroughly deceived.”

On the night before the day the fire broke out, when he visited Hasekura’s house in Toriwatari, Hasekura was busily maintaining books in a back room. Having neglected them for a long time, he claimed mold had grown on the books and was diligently wiping them with cotton soaked in volatile oil.

“But here’s the strange part.”

Tanida let out a brief sigh. “Admittedly, these were all things we realized afterward—even the fact that he began tending to his books on that first night becomes suspicious if you think about it.” “Moreover, he changed the cotton soaked in gasoline almost every single time.” “As you know, cotton needn’t be changed so frequently at all.” “While I was watching, the cotton soaked in gasoline scattered all over the place.” “After returning home, I told my wife, ‘Ah, scattering cotton like that is terrible for fire prevention.’” “If only I had realized that when I went to the police! But being so utterly overwhelmed, I completely forgot about it.” “At the police station, I was subjected to quite insulting interrogations.” “Because I happened to have some movable assets to my name, you see.”

The amiable-looking Tanida made a frustrated face as though it had happened just yesterday. “As I mentioned earlier, at the time I didn’t suspect Hasekura in the slightest—in fact, I appreciated his kindness. But later, based on what I learned from others, I became absolutely convinced that Hasekura had set fire to his own house, quietly written an anonymous accusation, and filed a complaint against me to shift suspicion away from himself.”

“What other stories did you hear from outside sources?” Ishiro listened with admiration for his perspicacity, as Tanida’s account aligned precisely with what Detective Negishi had deduced beforehand.

“Soon after this fire, Hasekura moved to Takanawa, but within two years or so, he was hit by another fire.” “At that time as well, it was only partially burned, but he gave a two hundred yen bribe to the insurance salesman, you see. They reported it as a total loss and managed to obtain the full insurance payment.” “How did you know that?” Ishiro leaned forward.

“I heard it directly from the man who took this bribe.” “It seems he’d done other shady things too—soon got forced out and wound up working at my company for a spell.” “Being that sort of fellow, he didn’t last long honest work and quit last year. But when he dropped by my place and heard Hasekura was next door, he spilled everything in confession.” “That man reckoned the Takanawa fire was arson too.” “Through all that, I finally saw clear how wrong I’d been trusting Hasekura.”

The account he had been anticipating also turned out to be mere conjecture, so Ishiro was disappointed. However, at least the charge of insurance fraud seemed certain. "Do you know that man's address?"

Ishiro asked. “Well, I do know... but since it’s already been settled privately—” Tanida faltered.

“It’s okay. If the company has no intention of pressing charges, that person won’t be found guilty.”

“Is that so?”

Tanida was half-convinced and half-doubtful.

“But that’s strange,”

Ishiro said as if he had suddenly remembered. “Since the insurance company would review the police report, they should be able to determine whether it was a partial loss or total loss.” “Well, you see...” Tanida said haltingly, “Apparently, they even bribed a police detective or patrolman for ten or twenty yen.”

“I see.”

Ishiro gave a wry smile. "It's truly problematic—occasionally even among our own ranks, people lose sight of their duty." "Though I mean no disrespect," Tanida ventured, "considering how officers risk their lives in these perilous times, the compensation seems woefully insufficient." "That's true." Maintaining his strained smile, Ishiro added, "That's part of it, certainly. But fundamentally, working society's underbelly exposes us to constant temptation." "Wrongdoers waste no time offering bribes, you understand."

"Amateurs always exaggerate their speculations as if they're certain—it's such a nuisance."

When leaving Tanida’s house, Detective Ishiro involuntarily muttered to himself. What he had said had certainly become valuable reference material, but there was neither eyewitness testimony nor solid evidence—and though suspicion against Hasekura had grown thicker, ultimately that was all there was.

"The man himself skillfully concealed his tracks and kept sending taunting letters," Ishiro thought. "And while he was under suspicion for theft, fraud, arson, and murder alike, not one shred of solid evidence had surfaced. This was the first time I'd come across such an outlandish case."

After spending a whole day walking around the Honjo area to no avail, Ishiro had unexpectedly met Tanida in Kanda through an introduction by the drunkard Teijiro. He thought this chance encounter might compensate for his earlier failure, but when that too came to nothing, he trudged home through the streets pondering these matters with fading resolve. At home, Kishimoto was waiting in dejection. Kimiko, his wife, said with a laugh, “I hear Mr. Kishimoto got the boot.” “Why?” Ishiro was surprised.

“It was a complete failure—amateur detectives are no good.”

Kishimoto scratched his head. "What's the matter?" "I didn't do anything wrong. Today—well—I was being really careful, but I ended up breaking a developing tray. Then that guy flew into a rage and told me to get out right away. Truth is—I think he'd had his eye on me for a while. The landlady tried her best to smooth things over, but it was no use. He wouldn't hear a word of it. I'm sorry—even though you warned me against it, I pushed ahead anyway and messed everything up."

“Hmm, well, can’t be helped.” Ishiro said in a dismissive tone, “By the way, that photography studio in Honjo’s a dead end too. There’s no such house as the one you described.” “Wait, really?”

Kishimoto was surprised. "I was really looking forward to hearing that, but I guess it didn't work out after all?" "How in the world did you manage to uncover that?"

“There was a misfiled envelope thrown into the wastebasket.” “Hmph. You said he’s being extra careful not to leave a trail, but isn’t it strange that a misfiled envelope was tossed into a place like a wastebasket where anyone might look?” “That’s right. Even I wouldn’t easily believe it if it were just a misfiled document, but before that, I saw it imprinted on the blotting paper.” “Hmph. Did you really figure it out that clearly?”

“No, it’s extremely unclear. I could only make out the character for ‘book,’ an unclear character that looked like either ‘rice’ or ‘woods,’ the character for ‘river,’ and then something like ‘Uchi Photography Studio.’” “So you saw that before the misfiled envelope, then?” “That’s right. When he finished writing the letter and went to mail it himself as usual, I immediately rushed upstairs to check the blotting paper—that’s how I found out what was written.” “And then?” “While I was desperately trying to decipher it in more detail, the landlady came upstairs. After managing to fob off the landlady and heading downstairs, he came back, went straight up to the second floor, then after a while called me and said, ‘Tidy up around here—I’m about to start developing,’ before going into the darkroom. While tidying up, the envelope in the wastebasket caught my eye.”

“He told you to clean up and went into the darkroom, didn’t he?”

Futility Ishiro, who had been listening, said reproachfully.

Kishimoto answered in surprise at Ishiro’s reproachful tone.

"That's right." "You'd figure it out if you just thought for a moment, wouldn't you?"

Ishiro snapped. “Listen here—a man who’s usually extremely cautious throws a botched letter into the wastebasket and then tells you to clean up? Isn’t that strange? I mean, first he specifically calls you in to tidy up—there’s no way he wouldn’t notice there’s an important letter in that wastebasket, right?” “Oh, right! I was had!” “Hmph, he was watching from inside the darkroom. He killed two birds with one stone—figuring out who you really are and making me waste an entire day.”

“I’m truly sorry.”

Kishimoto apologized. “Well, you’re an amateur—can’t be helped.”

Ishiro gave a bitter smile.

“That’s simply impossible for you.” Kimiko mediated from the side. “Now, about the blotting paper—let me get this straight: he goes out, you rush upstairs, and did you check the blotting paper first thing?” “No—after searching through drawers and such first.” “Didn’t you check the wastebasket?” “The wastebasket—ah, yes! I did check it! I did!” “There wasn’t an envelope there at the time, right?” “There wasn’t any.” Kishimoto made a face that said he was appalled at himself.

“See there! He threw that envelope in as bait after coming back— Wait—”

Ishiro crossed his arms and stared intently. Kishimoto looked up at Ishiro’s face with a worried expression.

After a while, Ishiro said cheerfully. “Right! I’ve figured out quite a bit. The blotting paper is genuine. Even that bastard slipped up and failed to notice this. However, there are signs that the blotting paper was examined. Right? You moved the blotting paper from its original position, didn’t you?” “Well, I carefully put everything else back in place, but with the blotting paper—since the landlady came up from downstairs just then—I panicked and left it on the desk, so it might’ve shifted from its original position.”

Kishimoto explained.

“There it is. Listen here—put yourself in that guy’s position and think about it. The text on the carelessly left blotting paper only has two or three clearly legible characters, but since it’s an address within Tokyo city, a bit of thinking would quickly unravel it. Now this complicates things. So he devised a plan—making it appear exactly like the remnants left on the blotting paper, concocting a completely different location, crafting it to seem genuine, and deliberately letting it fall into the enemy’s hands. That way, even if someone sees through the scheme, it’s no loss—and if the enemy foolishly takes the bait, the real location—the one they’d infer from the blotting paper—remains hidden. A splendid tactic for an enemy, I must say.”

“I see.”

Kishimoto marveled. "That bastard’s quite something, but Mr. Ishiro, you’re amazing too!" "Don’t go getting impressed now."

Ishiro, having slightly regained his composure, “By the way—what were those characters that remained on the blotting paper again?” “‘Hon’ must refer to 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 ‘kawa’—river.” “And then—what was it? Anyway, it’s something-something photo studio.” “Hmm, Hongo then—if not Honjo.” “So, ‘Mori’—if it’s ‘Mori’, then Moriokachō, or if it’s ‘Hayashi’... Hmm, Hayashichō—wasn’t Hayashichō in Koishikawa?”

“Isn’t there a Hayashichō in Hongo too—Komagome Hayashichō, maybe?” Kishimoto said. “Hmm, but Komagome wasn’t attached to it, was there?”

“Yes—it seemed to be just the town name.”

Detective Ishiro set out for Hongo the next morning.

First, he headed for Morikawachō, but by good fortune quickly discovered a photo studio called Takeuchi. It was on the right side after turning left just before Ichikō and descending a gently sloping hill. Compared to Asada Photo Studio, it appeared much more prosperous, with its display window adorned with photographs of modern young ladies and stylish young men in bust portraits.

Detective Ishiro stood before the display window for some time, peering inside. Then he went to the police box in front of Ichikō, showed his detective’s notebook, and placed a call to Kagurazaka Station. He reasoned that if he were to rashly charge in and let them escape through the back door again, all his hard work would end up being for nothing—so he requested backup. Ishiro had been waiting with agonized anticipation for five or six backup detectives to arrive. The moment he spotted them, he immediately assigned each their positions and pushed open Takeuchi Photo Studio’s entrance door to go inside. Even he found his breath coming fast under the extraordinary tension.

Upon entering, immediately facing them was a wide staircase, with a sign conspicuously propped up that read, “Customers, please proceed directly upstairs.” Beyond that, the interior was utterly silent. Detective Ishiro 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 Ishiro stood hesitating by the window-side bench, wondering what to do, a student emerged from the next room.

“Welcome.” “Today, I would like to meet briefly with Mr. Matsushita.”

Ishiro said politely, “I would like to meet briefly with Mr. Matsushita.” “Mr. Matsushita is not here,” replied the student, his voice tinged with surprise. “Where has he gone?” “Mr. Matsushita rarely comes over here.” The student answered with a puzzled expression.

“I came here because I heard he was staying here, but...” “Well, he *is* supposed to be here, but...”

The student looked troubled,

“Please wait a moment.” Having said that, he withdrew, but as he slid back, a fortyish, presentable man who appeared to be the studio’s proprietor emerged through the sliding partition. “Welcome,” “Do take a seat.”

He said amiably.

“Thank you.” Ishiro bowed his head lightly and replied. “What exactly does this Mr. Matsushita do for a living?” The owner posed an unexpected question. Ishiro was taken aback. “What do you mean, ‘what does he do’? He’s been imposing on you here, hasn’t he?”

“Well, you see—he’s truly a peculiar man.”

The owner frowned and,

“It seems he’s supposed to be staying at my place, but he rarely shows his face.”

“Hmm, I thought he’d been here all along.” Ishiro peered at the owner’s expression. “It seems he’s been keeping up that appearance.”

The owner said with a wry smile, “Mail comes occasionally. And Matsushita comes to collect it about once every three days.” “What exactly is his relationship with your establishment?” “He’s supposed to be a live-in student, but...” The owner’s answer grew ever more unexpected. “It was about two weeks ago, I suppose—he just strolled in without any introduction and said he wanted to study photography, so he asked to become my student. At my studio, we have two types of arrangements: those who stay here as live-in students, doing various chores in exchange for a small salary while studying, and those who commute to study while paying some tuition fees.”

According to the Takeuchi Photo Studio owner’s account, the man calling himself Matsushita had promptly paid the enrollment fee and joined as his student. However, he made no effort whatsoever to study photography; as previously mentioned, he would come every third or fourth day solely to collect mail addressed to him. “Since he’s practically turned my house into a mail relay station, I became rather irritated and considered refusing him—but having already accepted three weeks’ payment upfront, I found it rather awkward to bring up the matter before the term’s end.”

“The man named Matsushita is a thirty-six or thirty-seven-year-old with a deeply tanned complexion and a sturdy build—large eyes, eyebrows so thick they’re unsettling, and a loud voice with a heavy Tohoku accent—isn’t he?” “That’s correct.” The owner’s account didn’t seem like a lie. Ishiro felt utterly dejected, as though he had been cast down from the highest peak into a nine-fathom abyss. “Is there any mail now?” “The day before yesterday, was it? He already took everything.” Ah—once again, we’d been outmaneuvered by the slimmest margin.

“To tell you the truth, I’m with the police.” Ishiro presented his business card and said,

“The man called Matsushita goes by his real name Hasekura and is a suspect in a criminal case. If he comes again this time, please detain him and hand him over to the police.”

The Takeuchi Photo Studio owner received the business card and, blinking his eyes as if startled, replied. “Understood.”

Detective Ishiro exited dejectedly. Given how frequently this had happened, he couldn’t bear to face his colleagues who had been keeping watch. He gave a brief account to his colleagues and returned to the station while gritting his teeth. Detective Negishi, who had been expecting that this time would finally be the one, ended up disheartened upon hearing Ishiro’s account. “He certainly knows how to maneuver skillfully.” “Truly, I’m getting sick of myself.” Ishiro answered shamefacedly. “Even just dealing with Hasekura is more than enough, but with someone like Asada—who’s not an easy mark—attached to him, it’s no wonder this is such a slog.” “But with that much evidence, we can finally slap some sense into that Asada bastard and make him spill the truth.” “We already gave him a taste of the carrot once before and sent him packing.” “This time, I’ll show him a taste of real pain!”

Negishi was unusually excited. "But will he come out willingly? Do we have a solid pretext?" "Right—what sort of arrangement did you have with that informant of yours, Kishimoto?" "That’s not exactly an informant situation. He owed me a small favor and knew something about the missing maid—volunteered to move into Asada’s place himself. Given how risky I thought it’d be, he held up better than expected... Still came to nothing in the end." "No formal contract or anything involved." "He just enrolled as a live-in apprentice."

“Hmm, well we can’t exactly use Kishimoto and claim breach of contract or something.” “We can’t pin him for harboring criminals either, and there’s no business violation—this is truly vexing.” “The public often accuses us of inventing flimsy pretexts to detain upright citizens.” Detective Negishi resumed his customary detached manner: “If we can’t even apprehend and interrogate a man actively aiding someone under such grave suspicion as this case presents, how can we possibly make any arrests? Even when we do mistakenly trouble innocent people—that’s simply their misfortune for being in suspicious circumstances. No different from falling into street holes or getting caught in tram collisions.” “We’re never acting maliciously here.”

“But such arguments won’t sway the public.” Ishiro gave a bitter smile. “In other words, it’s like this.”

Detective Ishiro continued. “Even with misfortunes—like falling into holes or getting hurt on trams—there’s usually some way to get compensation.” “But anyone who ends up in our hands is a criminal suspect anyway—we can’t handle them gently.” “After suffering all that humiliation and coming away empty-handed... it’s got to sting.” “Let them offer compensation then.” “These cases aren’t exactly everyday occurrences.” “Newspapers make it seem absurdly common by only writing about those stories, but that’s not reality.”

“But when that happens, our performance metrics take an immediate hit—keeps us walking on eggshells. Can’t make decent arrests then.” “If only all the troublemakers would just vanish.” “Then we’d be out of work for good, man.” “Ha ha ha.” “Ha ha ha.”

The two of them exchanged glances and laughed, but when they considered the reality of their situation, they couldn't afford to indulge in such carefree banter.

“Anyway, I’ll haul Asada in.”

Negishi said. “I see. Then I’ll leave it to you. I’ll try digging a bit more into Hasekura’s past misdeeds. What pretext will you use to bring him in?” “Call it a plan with no plan or charging head-on—we’ll try it without any pretexts. Since he’s a slippery customer, better not show our hand with careless talk.”

Negishi and Ishiro headed separately toward Shirogane and Takanawa. The reason Ishiro went to Takanawa was to visit the police there and investigate the arson case in detail.

“Well, the records certainly exist, but tracking down a single half-burned house from five or six years ago would be quite the chore, I suppose.” The officer in charge tilted his head. “There’s a damn lot of old inquiries today.”

The officer next to him said with a sly grin.

“Mine concerns an inquiry about a temporarily buried corpse from three years ago.”

“Huh? Three years ago?”

Hearing this might be valuable information, Detective Ishiro turned toward the officer and listened. "What do you mean?" "Well, three years back, see... A woman's corpse turned up in an old well at Ikedagahara in Osaki. Since we couldn't identify her, we buried her in Osaki's communal cemetery. Today we got an inquiry from out of town—shows you a parent's love never gives up, eh? They've got a daughter who ran off three years ago and never came home. Must've spotted the temporary burial notice somewhere, 'cause they jumped right to asking about it."

Three years ago! Ikedagahara! A runaway daughter! What an uncannily similar story this was. Detective Ishiro's chest pounded. “About how old was the girl?” “Twenty-two or three.” “I see.”

Ishiro was discouraged. "Well, I finally found it." The neighboring police officer called out. "The fire originated from Hasekura’s residence—a partial burn. This must be it."

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

The world was gradually growing springlike. The eager plum tree facing south of a wealthy-looking house had begun to bloom with one or two blossoms peeking over the fence. Even the cold wind striking his face seemed to carry an invisible, surging ethereal vitality.

As Ishiro listlessly made his way back to the station, his mind churned with the vortex of bizarre incidents that had erupted around Hasekura’s disappearance.

The Devil’s Hand “Madam, with this, all procedures have been completed.” Asada said composedly. “Thank you very much for everything.” Shizuko politely bowed her head.

This was the detached guestroom of Hasekura’s unoccupied residence. A hanging scroll depicting Christ’s Passion, a thick gold-edged Bible, and other furnishings remained exactly as they had been on that day. If Detective Ishiro were to see this, he would be overwhelmed with emotion. The man and woman sitting across from each other were Shizuko, Hasekura’s wife, and Asada, the photographer. In the garden, the afternoon sun seemed to pour down warmly. “With this, both this house and the rented one in Takanawa have all become yours.” Asada brushed up his thinning hairline and let out an eerie laugh.

“I’ve truly put you through so much trouble.” Shizuko did not appear particularly happy, “I truly don’t know how to express my gratitude.” Even after completing the necessary procedures, Asada showed no sign of getting up. Instead, he lit a fresh Shikishima cigarette and began glaring around at their surroundings. Shizuko sat at loose ends, fervently wishing for him to leave at the earliest possible moment.

“You must be lonely.”

After a while, Asada said. “Yes.” “How is your child’s illness?” “Thank you. The illness has long since improved, but—” Shizuko trailed off. The six-year-old boy Taichi, born between her and Hasekura, was of a somewhat delicate constitution; as he would immediately catch colds and develop fevers when winter came, he had been entrusted since the beginning of January to a kind believer living on a warm coast. They had been scheduled to retrieve him by the end of January, but precisely when the detectives raided, the retrieval became indefinitely delayed; exposing the child to such circumstances held no appeal, and fortunately, as he himself showed no desire to return, he had remained entrusted there as matters stood.

“Mr. Hasekura also wanted to see the young master.” “—”

Shizuko silently lowered her head. Tears welled up. The desire to see her child was no different for her; she wanted nothing more than for the three of them to reunite as soon as possible and return to their former peaceful life. The thought that perhaps even now the child was crying for his parents left her unable to find peace. She resented her husband, who was evading their home due to a momentary lapse in judgment. She could not quite grasp why her husband was evading capture and rushing to transfer the property to her.

Shizuko raised her face. Eyelashes glistened with small dewdrops.

“What could it be? Will my husband now surrender himself to the police?” “Well, I don’t know.” Asada curled a malicious smile as he,

“Oh, I doubt he’ll do something like surrendering. After all, no one in their right mind would want to go to prison.” “Um—” Shizuko paled. “Then... has he done something that would be considered a crime?” “Well...” Asada wore a troubled expression as he replied, “Well, I suppose so.” “What could he have done?” “Don’t you know, ma’am?” “If it’s concerning the Bible...” Shizuko faltered,

"He absolutely did not steal that." "He stated that he had rightfully acquired it." "I see." "Then there must be something else."

Asada smirked. Asada smirked and continued. "There must still be something else." "Ahh—judging by how he keeps running—" "No." "It isn't that he's fleeing."

Shizuko grew desperate. "I believe that once these transfer procedures are completed, he will willingly surrender himself to the police."

“But here’s the thing, Mrs.”

Asada wore a sly grin as he said, “Mr. Hasekura still plans to keep running. You see—that photography studio in Hongo where he receives letters? Since that’s about to be exposed, he’s supposed to send instructions for a new hideout any day now.” “What became of the Hongo situation?” “Ah… I may have slipped up there.”

Asada stroked his jaw while, “Detectives started poking around my place.” “I thought they were just errand boys and left them be, but I carelessly let them almost uncover the Hongo studio.” “So I deliberately fed them a fake location and kicked them out yesterday. Now those detective bastards are probably running around searching the wrong places, wearing out their shoes as we speak.” “Ha ha ha ha!” “I wish he’d stop taking such risks and just surrender already.”

Shizuko let out a sigh of relief. "But Mrs., this isn't something you can take so lightly." "What?" "Though I wouldn't say it's worth such alarm either."

Asada deliberately cut off the conversation and stared fixedly at Shizuko’s face. Shizuko avoided Asada’s unsettling gaze while,

“What could this possibly mean?” “Well, I’m not entirely sure myself. If Mr. Hasekura were innocent, there would be no need for him to flee about or for you to hastily transfer the property. The fact that he’s still hiding suggests he may have committed some grave crime, wouldn’t you agree?” “There can be no such thing. There is no concern that he has committed any crimes that would necessitate such evasion.”

Shizuko said flatly.

“I see. Then that’s acceptable.”

Asada smirked. “It was quite some time ago, but there was an incident where a maid from your household went missing, wasn’t there?” “Yes.”

Shizuko looked up resentfully at Asada while answering. "That maid—it’s not right for me to say this—but Mr. Hasekura must have done something to her." “Yes?” “Wouldn’t something like that get him summoned by the police?”

“I don’t believe that’s possible. Because that matter from back then has been properly settled.”

“Ah, so it’s all been properly resolved then?” “Yes, we had Pastor Kobe step in as mediator and concluded everything properly.” “I heard there was an uncle—some sort of ruffian—wouldn’t a man like that have filed a complaint?” “Well, I don’t believe that’s the case, but that uncle was rather an unreliable sort—”

“It seems that was the case. I think hiding that maid must’ve been that guy’s doing too.” “Your husband had said the same thing.”

“However, if it’s just about the Bible matter, it seems he wouldn’t need to go into hiding like this...” Asada muttered as if to himself, then as if reconsidering, changed his tone and said.

“Hey, Mrs.”

Asada changed his approach and broached the subject. “Hey, Mrs. “I really shouldn’t say this, but Mr. Hasekura isn’t someone you can rely on.” “――――”

Shizuko remained silent, looking up reproachfully at Asada. "You may think me cruel for saying this, but Mr. Hasekura's recent methods are truly fearsome. It was around late January, wasn't it? When detectives came, he escaped through some clever trick. They say he spent that whole night in the garden of the old gunpowder factory ruins. Under a large pine tree there, apparently." "Drawing from Hideyoshi's story of taking the name Kinoshita Tōkichirō after sheltering under a tree, he came up with the alias Matsushita Ichiro—'Ichiro Under the Pine.' Using that name, he infiltrated Takeuchi Photo Studio in Hongo as a live-in student. Though that was just a front—he actually turned it into a letter relay station. That's not something an ordinary person would come up with." "And he keeps sending mocking letters to the police. When you put it all together, Mr. Hasekura becomes quite a terrifying figure."

Shizuko remained silent as ever. “This may be presumptuous of me to say,”

Asada continued. “Ma’am, how about making a clean break now? Fortunately, the property has also been transferred to your name, and—” “Thank you for your concern, but...”

Shizuko cut him off in a manner that suggested she could no longer endure it. “Please refrain from such talk.” “Of course you would say that.” “Given your position as his wife, your anger is entirely justified.” “However, Mrs.” Asada’s eyes gleamed unnaturally. “Please listen to what I have to say.” “I truly admire you, Mrs.” “You’re educated and resolute.” “The lack of education in my Oshino is such a problem.” “I’ll just end up driving that wretch out anyway. What do you say, ma’am? Will you grant my wish?”

“When you speak of a ‘request’...” Shizuko turned pale. “Mrs., you needn’t feign such ignorance—haven’t you realized most of it already? I’ve gone to considerable trouble this time myself. If not for me, Mr. Hasekura would have been caught long ago. Depending on how matters proceed, I might even be guilty of a crime. Why do you think I’ve taken such risks? Mrs., isn’t it simply that I want one single wish fulfilled? Listen—nothing good will come from clinging to someone like Mr. Hasekura.” Asada was, after all, conducting legitimate business openly. “Mrs., please consider this carefully.”

“I cannot respond to such matters.”

Shizuko said with resolve.

“This may be rude of me, but please take your leave. Though she may be young, there is a maid present here.” “Ma’am.” Asada flushed with anger.

“Then are you going to dismiss my proposal out of hand?” “I must decline.” “Then what is it? You won’t even acknowledge that I’ve gone so far as to break the law for your sake?” “I am deeply grateful for that. However, that and this are entirely separate matters.” “Then are you saying you intend to remain loyal to Mr. Hasekura to the bitter end?” “Yes.” “I see. Even though I, a man, have come to admire you this deeply, you refuse to acknowledge my feelings. I am an unremarkable man. But Asada is also a man. If you insist on speaking so coldly, then I must warn you—I’m prepared to act.”

“What sort of resolve are you speaking of?” At Asada’s threatening words, Shizuko—who had desperately mustered her courage—responded with a retort, her pallid face showing a faint flush of color. “With a single word from me, Mr. Hasekura will be sent to prison.” “It’s no minor crime in any case.” “If he goes to prison, when will he ever get out? Mrs., do you wish to see Mr. Hasekura wearing a red prison uniform and groaning in his cell?” “If Hasekura is guilty, then there is nothing to be done.”

“Mrs., my, what resolute things you do say.” Asada’s voice trembled. “Don’t say such cold things—please grant my wish. “I’m not speaking out of mere caprice. “I care for you from the bottom of my heart. “Please—if you reject me, my life won’t be worth living. “Mrs., please grant it.” “Mr. Asada. “That you would think so highly of me is a most unexpected blessing, but... “There is a maid. “Please take your leave. “Moreover, first and foremost, you have someone as splendid as Ms. Oshino, don’t you?”

“Ms. Oshino is no concern at all.” “That uneducated, clueless fool—I’ll have her thrown out by tomorrow.” “Mrs., please respond that you will grant it.”

“Mr. Asada—” “It’s just as I said, Mrs.” Asada pressed his forehead against the tatami as if to grind it into the mat, placing both hands on the floor and bowing his head. “Oh my, if you do such a thing, it would be most troubling.” “I cannot go on living if you reject me.” Asada let out a sob. “Please, Mrs.—it’s the wish of a lifetime.” “That is simply impossible.”

“Please don’t say such things—” “Please leave now.” Shizuko involuntarily retorted sharply. “Then what is it?” Asada changed his demeanor. “Even after I’ve said this much, you still refuse to grant my wish?” “There is nothing to be done.” “Mrs., you’ve really gone and humiliated me, haven’t you? “Now that it’s come to this, Asada is a man, after all.” “I won’t slink away in disgrace.” “———”

Shizuko was struck by intense anxiety and, shrinking in on herself, peered at Asada’s demeanor. “Please reconsider carefully.” He said, his breath ragged. “There is nothing to reconsider.”

Asada wordlessly stood up straight. Shizuko trembled all over and braced herself. Asada closed in on her slowly, like a wild beast approaching its prey. “What do you think you’re doing?” Shizuko mustered all her strength and screamed.

“I-I’ll raise my voice if you do something improper!”

However, such efforts only served to add fuel to the fire. The moment she cried out, Asada lunged. Shizuko writhed desperately. But ultimately, it was nothing more than the sad, futile struggle of a mouse caught by a cat. Asada relentlessly pinned her arms behind her back. From her delicate feminine disposition and fragile heart—compounded by the fact that her assailant was none other than Asada, who until now had shown her kindness—Shizuko hesitated to raise her voice and call for the maid, continuing to writhe in silence; Asada seized this chance to try forcing her down. She could no longer endure it silently. The instant she thought to cry for help—though from somewhere distant—footsteps echoed.

Asada, startled, released his grip on her. Seizing the moment, she fled. Asada immediately gave chase. A struggle erupted. The sliding door tore free with a thunderous crash. The clatter of hurried footsteps approached. Shizuko writhed desperately to escape Asada's devilish grasp—their unintended scuffle sending another crash through the room—when suddenly, charging through the din came Oshino, her features contorted like a wrathful demon's.

Asada, startled, released the hand that had seized Shizuko. Shizuko, startled, leapt back and gathered her disheveled hem. Oshino suddenly sank her teeth into Asada like a lion.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Oshino wrenched out a tearful voice while adopting a warrior’s stance against Asada. Asada tried to shake Oshino off, but even as a woman, she had channeled desperate strength into her grip—he couldn’t break free through half-hearted attempts. He raised his meaty fist and smacked Oshino’s cheek. Punches flew, kicks landed, teeth sank—the brawl raged on. Oshino choked through frustrated tears as she keened: “How infuriating! Y-you mock people! Sneak in when the master’s gone—what’s this madness?!” “I’ve been hollering at the entrance this whole time! Even with the geta properly removed, you didn’t answer! I thought something was wrong—then heard that racket from the back rooms! Came running and find this?!” “How could you commit such shame?!” “Infuriating! So infuriating, I tell you!”

“Shut up!” Asada’s eyebrows arched up like those of a wrathful demon. “Keep blathering that nonsense, and I won’t let you off easy!” “What the hell? ‘Won’t let me off easy’—how rich! You’re the one pulling this shameful stunt! What exactly do you plan to do with me?” “If you’re going to kill me, then kill me!” “Shut up!” Asada bellowed. “Who the hell would kill trash like you?” “We can’t talk here—go home!” “Who do you think would go home like this? “I ain’t budging an inch from this spot until you sort this mess out proper!”

“When I tell you to leave, why don’t you just go?!” “No! Mrs. Hasekura—do something about this mess!” Shizuko stood pale-faced, her shoulders heaving with each labored breath as she watched the couple’s disgraceful brawl in mounting frustration—but there was nothing she could do. Asada at last twisted up Oshino’s arm and dragged her away forcibly.

“Madam.” As he was leaving the room, Asada fixed Shizuko with a fierce glare and said: “My deepest apologies.” “This courtesy shall be repaid in full.”

Shizuko shuddered violently and bowed her head. Firmly tucking the wailing Oshino under his arm, Asada froze in shock upon reaching the entrance.

There stood Detective Negishi, wearing a cold smile. Since being interrogated once by Detective Negishi—whom he had come to view as having an unsettling undertone—Asada’s shock was no small matter when that very Negishi now stood abruptly before him at such an inopportune moment. He involuntarily released the hand holding Oshino. “Look at you now!” Oshino began to shout. “Because the police officer said he had business with you, I figured you’d probably be hiding here, so I brought him along.” “You didn’t even know that, went ahead with your ridiculous antics, and made me suffer like this!” “Huh, you didn’t notice the detective waiting at the entrance, did you?” “Serves you right.” “Come on, officer! Haul this bastard off and get him out of here right now!”

“Starting a marital spat in broad daylight—quite something.” Detective Negishi smirked. “This isn’t any marital spat! This bastard was trying to—” Asada restrained Oshino as she tried to shout. “Negishi-san, do you require my assistance?”

“Yes, there are a few matters I’d like to ask about, so I’ll need you to come down to the station.” “Understood. Then I’ll accompany you at once.”

The grave was exhumed.

In a secure room at the Ushigome-Kagurazaka Police Station, four men—Chief Shoji Rikitarao, Judicial Officer Oshima, and Detectives Negishi and Ishiro—sat with tense expressions, deep in discussion over some matter. “So what are you saying?” Judicial Officer Oshima addressed Detective Ishiro.

Judicial Officer Oshima said to Ishiro. “So you’re claiming the corpse retrieved from that ancient well in Ikedagahara, Osaki, could be Kobayashi Sadako—the woman who once worked as a maid in Hasekura’s household before vanishing three years ago?” “That’s correct.”

Detective Ishiro answered. "The corpse had been dead for six months, meaning the time of death coincides exactly with when that woman disappeared." "Since Sadako hasn’t been heard from in three years now, we can reasonably assume she’s dead. And given that the woman pulled from that well remains unidentified, it’s plausible they’re the same person." "Moreover, the well’s location in Osaki—near Hasekura’s residence—makes it an ideal spot for him to have lured her out and disposed of her. I can’t help but think it must be her."

“I see.”

Judicial Officer Oshima nodded deeply.

“However, you see, the age doesn’t match.” “According to the police doctor’s report at the time, it was determined to be 22 or 23 years old.” “But in reality, she was fifteen or sixteen.” “Hmm.” Judicial Officer Oshima sank into thought. “Despite the discrepancy in age, the reason I still insist it must be her is due to the following facts.” “Not only did I incidentally learn about this unidentified drowned corpse while investigating Hasekura’s arson case at Takanawa Police Station, but remarkably, Kishimoto—the young man who voluntarily became my spy and infiltrated that photographer Asada’s studio—uncovered similar information.”

“Was that information obtained at Asada’s residence?” “That’s correct. Asada’s wife, Oshino, claims she went to see the woman’s corpse when it was retrieved from the well in Ikedagahara.” “What?!” Judicial Officer Oshima leaned forward intently.

The Judicial Officer leaned forward. “So—are you saying someone recognized the corpse?” “If that were true, there’d be no problem. But...”

At the Judicial Officer’s hasty words, Ishiro forced a wry smile,

“After all, having been in the well for six months, identification would be impossible.” “Then what’s your point?” “According to Oshino, when she went to see the corpse, she ran into Hasekura at the scene.” “Hmm.” “And they apparently discussed how she looked young but met a pitiful end.” “I see.” “Doesn’t it strike you as significant—Hasekura going to see that corpse?”

“That’s right.” Judicial Officer Oshima nodded. “Given our investigative maxim that criminals inevitably revisit their crime scenes, Hasekura’s act of going to view the corpse at the old well in Ikedagahara becomes a fact we cannot possibly overlook.” “And from a criminal psychology standpoint, it’s particularly telling that Hasekura remarked to Asada’s wife, ‘I don’t know whose woman this was, but what a pitiful end,’ don’t you think?”

Detective Negishi, who had specifically attended after excusing himself from Asada’s interrogation, interjected. "I think so too, but..."

Detective Ishiro answered reluctantly.

“It’s just…the matter of age.”

“The age of a drowned corpse that’s been dead six months can’t be determined accurately.”

Police Chief Shoji Rikitarao, who had been listening in silence until now, spoke up for the first time. "So, has that corpse been officially labeled a homicide, or is it considered a suicide?" "It has been determined as suicide." Ishiro answered the police chief's question. "However, since no judicial inquest was conducted, you see—it was merely given a formal examination by the police doctor." "What was the condition of the well at that time? Was it in such a state that someone could have fallen in by accident?"

“Well, you see...”

Ishiro flinched slightly under the Police Chief’s relentless barrage of questions, “After all, it happened three years ago, and the well was filled in afterward, so it’s rather unclear.” “However, according to our investigation, there does appear to have been a proper well wall, so it’s thought that accidental falling would be unlikely.” “Hmph.”

The Police Chief blinked busily while,

“So what are you suggesting—that this girl might have killed herself with some grand resolve? You’re telling me there wasn’t a single suicide note found?” “Not a single note exists. Moreover, she was only fifteen or sixteen years old—from what we’ve heard, rather absent-minded and not the type to dwell on heavy thoughts. It’s hard to believe she’d commit suicide.” “Then if it’s neither accident nor suicide, it must conclusively be murder—isn’t that right?”

"Yes, even assuming that corpse must indeed be the girl called Sadako..." "The age difference holds no validity." The Police Chief pressed.

“In my opinion，I need to examine that corpse once.”

“However, Chief,” Judicial Officer Oshima called out. “The corpse has been classified as a suicide.” “That isn’t definitive either, is it?”

Negishi interjected. "If we're dealing with a drowned corpse six months post-mortem, it's not easy to definitively determine whether it's suicide or homicide." "That's a fair point." The judicial officer nodded, but— "It's quite an oversight that Takanawa Police Station settled for a routine administrative inquest on the corpse instead of conducting a judicial one." "Well, you see..."

Detective Ishiro said. “It’s what happened when Takanawa Station got locked in a jurisdictional spat with Shinagawa Station. That field sits right on the border between their jurisdictions, see? So when Takanawa ended up stuck handling it, I reckon they thought ‘What a pain’ and just went through the motions with the inquest.” “Blaming other stations comes second.”

The Police Chief said.

“How about we examine that corpse?”

“Well...”

Chief Oshima surveyed the faces of the two detectives. "Exhuming the corpse would be troublesome, and if that's not the case..." Detective Ishiro said hesitantly. "I think it would be good to give it a try."

Detective Negishi said. "Given Hasekura's past methods, he'd likely go that far. If it were just about stealing some trivial Bible, there'd be no need to hide or mock the police so relentlessly. His mastery of wicked cunning is downright astonishing. The man'd kill without blinking." "I agree with that assessment," I said, "but that's separate from whether this corpse is Kobayashi Sadako or not."

"But according to your account, isn't this corpse ninety-nine percent likely to be that missing maid?" "I do think so, but there's the age discrepancy. Moreover, since it was found six months post-drowning and has been buried for nearly three years now, even if we excavate it, I doubt we'll be able to determine whose remains these are." "From the standpoint of the age discrepancy, that's truly problematic." "If it turns out wrong, it would raise questions of responsibility." "Why don't we just try it?" The Police Chief raised his voice and slammed his fist on the desk.

“If we’re wrong, that’s simply how it ends. I’ll bear full responsibility alone.” “Approved.”

At the Police Chief’s words about shouldering responsibility, Judicial Officer Oshima tensed his ruddy face.

“Let us proceed with the exhumation.” “I’ll take responsibility—there’s no need to trouble the Police Chief.”

“I concur.”

Detective Ishiro said. “If even the Police Chief says so, I can rest assured. Let’s do it.”

Detective Ishiro said, putting force into each word’s ending.

“Then we’ll have Detective Ishiro handle the excavation site and other arrangements.”

The chief said.

“Understood.”

Once the discussion was settled, Detective Ishiro eagerly set off for Osaki Communal Cemetery. However, the problem was not so simple.

The temporary burial of unidentified corpses was conducted in a plot of land just over thirty tsubo (approximately 33 square meters) at the edge of the cemetery; however, there were no markers whatsoever—not even tombstones—to begin with. There was simply no way to tell exactly where the corpse that had been pulled from the well three years prior was buried. But even if they were to dig up every last one, there would be no way to determine which corpse was which. In short, there was no choice but to rely on the knowledge of someone who knew that the corpse had been buried there.

Detective Ishiro was suddenly at a loss. In any case, he searched for gravediggers who had long been working at this cemetery. Fortunately, he managed to locate two or three laborers. However, when told it was a three-year-old corpse, they all responded as if in unison— “Well...” they tilted their heads slightly. Detective Ishiro grew desperate. After he himself had gone out of his way to propose it, and even the Police Chief and Judicial Officer had actively agreed to the exhumation, it would be inexcusable if they couldn’t locate the burial site when the time came. He zealously inquired around the communal cemetery for any leads. And so, that evening, he finally managed to track down a gravedigger and, albeit dimly, learned of the circumstances at the time.

“Hmm...” The gravedigger tilted his deeply tanned, deeply wrinkled face with an air of earnest consideration,

“That’s right—it’s already been three years now.” “It was during the hot season.” “There was this girl’s corpse—puffed up like a balloon from being pulled out of a well, so swollen you couldn’t bear to look twice—that we buried.” “She was wearing a kimono with large floral patterns and had a darkish obi fastened around her waist, I recall.”

“Wh-what did you say?” Detective Ishiro asked again, as if doubting his ears. According to what he had once heard from Hasekura’s wife Shizuko, the maid Osada had been wearing a peony-patterned merino kimono with a black satin obi at the time of her disappearance—or so it was said. “Well, about the kimono—I know all the details because…”

The laborer, taken aback by Ishiro’s intense reaction, spoke in a defensive tone. “Well, you see…” “The kimono was flashy and childlike, while the obi was dark and aged-looking.” “And despite her body looking childlike... heh heh.” The laborer laughed lewdly. “In front of you, sir, but... you see, she was fully developed and quite the grown woman.” “So we colleagues made a bet about how old she was.” “That’s why we remember it so clearly.”

As he listened, the dark shadow that had been weighing on Detective Ishiro’s mind gradually cleared like morning mist. The issue of age he had worried about now seemed to have a plausible explanation. The conviction that this was indeed Osada’s corpse grew firm.

The next morning, a large automobile roared its engine vigorously in front of Kagurazaka Police Station. In the car sat Judicial Officer Oshima; detectives Ishiro and Watanabe; four or five other detectives; uniformed officers; and a gravedigger guide—all with faces drawn tight with tension. They were headed to Osaki Cemetery to exhume a corpse discovered six months after death, buried for three years, and under suspicion of murder. Soon the automobile began speeding away with a deafening roar.

The sky hung heavily overcast, beneath which mouse-gray clouds of eerie shapes stretched and contracted like sinister creatures, driven by the northeastern wind as they streamed southwestward, ever southwestward.

On a spacious, slightly elevated hill, hundreds of gravestones—large and small intermingled—were irregularly crowded together, among which wooden stupas inscribed with Sanskrit characters—some darkened by wind and rain, others still fresh with the scent of wood—stood interspersed with half-torn white paper lanterns. The reddish-black soil around the gravestones had swollen grotesquely under the lingering harshness of the late-winter cold. From the crematorium chimney across the distant valley rose faintly yellowish, heavy-looking smoke—likely residual fumes from burning corpses throughout the night. There was almost no trace of people in the cemetery.

Just then, as if to startle the spirits resting eternally beneath the gravestones, a large automobile let out a thunderous roar and charged headlong toward Osaki Town’s communal cemetery. Soon, the automobile came to an abrupt halt at the cemetery entrance. The people who noisily disembarked from inside were the Kagurazaka Police Station group that had come on an excavation mission to the cemetery. In one corner of the cemetery lay a flat area measuring about ten tsubo (approximately 33 square meters). To someone who happened to pass by, it might have appeared as nothing more than an empty lot. However, this was the place where unclaimed, unidentified corpses had been provisionally buried. There were no gravestones—not even grave markers—and the slight mound of earth raised during burial had been washed away by rain and weathered by wind until it had lost all form before anyone knew it.

The group of officers, led by the guide laborer, stood before the empty lot.

Though born as human beings sharing the same mortal fate to enter eternal sleep, some erect towering tombstones in walled stone cemeteries where descendants tenderly enshrine them. Even lacking such grandeur, a single gravestone would ordinarily merit at least an offering of incense and flowers. What misfortune could compare to this? Those buried in this corner were interred as heedlessly as stray dogs or cats, their very names forgotten. These were not souls who expired upon tatami mats. Yet few standing in this cemetery corner would indulge such sentimental musings. Urban dwellers live too frenziedly to spare thought for such matters. Least of all these visitors—Judicial Officer Oshima and his police cohort—who had come to exhume an unidentified corpse buried three years prior under murder suspicion. With faces taut as bowstrings, they naturally lacked leisure for trifling sympathies.

“Where’s the spot?” Judicial Officer Oshima looked back at the guide laborer and barked.

“Here it is.” The laborer pointed to the middle of the empty lot.

“Very well—dig it out.”

When the chief’s order was issued, the two or three laborers who had been waiting with shovels in hand clustered together and moved to the designated spot. Before long, the shovel blades struck the soft red earth with a crisp thud. Strike after strike, the hole was dug deeper in the blink of an eye. The police officers were staring fixedly in silence. Somehow having caught wind of the commotion, more than ten people from the neighboring tenement—landladies and children in disheveled states—had loosely formed a distant ring around the scene.

Scattered raindrops fell intermittently from the sky. A cold wind seeped deep beneath the skin as it swept across the exposed field. The excavated earth gradually formed towering mounds around the pit. Given the grave's shallow depth, the laborers' shovels soon struck something solid. Peering into the hole in unison, they abruptly ceased digging and signaled to the officers. Detective Ishiro, who had been waiting with barely restrained impatience, lunged forward to gaze into the cavity. There at the bottom lay a portion of bleached bones.

When a portion of the skeleton began to appear, the laborers started moving their shovels carefully. Before long, a complete human skeleton had been excavated. The corpse must have been placed in a crude coffin at the time of burial, but now it had decayed so thoroughly that not even fragments remained recognizable. Not even what appeared to be part of the clothing had been retained. The skeleton was immediately placed into a prepared unpainted wooden box and loaded into the automobile. When the chief and his subordinates boarded, the automobile once again let out a thunderous roar and drove off triumphantly, as if sounding a triumphant fanfare.

The skeleton was transported directly to the Metropolitan Police Department’s Forensics Division. Even with drowned bodies or those murdered in gruesome ways—close relatives often struggle to identify them. Moreover, the corpse they had now exhumed had already spent six months submerged in the well when first retrieved, making it nearly impossible to determine its identity. Was it not likely that Hasekura Kihei—under suspicion of having thrown this woman into the well—had calmly gone to inspect this corpse at the time, verifying that no one recognized her as having been a maid in his household?

After three years had passed since its burial, how could they possibly determine who or where it was from—this corpse that had completely turned to skeleton?

When they placed the skeleton at the Forensics Department, Detective Ishiro decided to stay until the analysis concluded, while the rest of the group once again boarded the automobile and headed back to the station for the time being. Police Chief Shoji had been waiting to learn what results would emerge.

“Well? Did you manage to unearth it properly?” He called out as soon as he saw Judicial Officer Oshima’s face.

“Yes, there was a skeleton that had apparently been buried for quite some time exactly where the laborers indicated.” “I see. So you sent it to the Forensics Department, then.” “Yes.” “I wonder if they can perform the analysis properly.” “I believe it should be fine. Since we have a considerable understanding of Kobayashi Sadako’s skeletal features and have managed to obtain part of her clothing as well.” “I see.” The police chief had been thinking for a while, but “What on earth has become of Hasekura’s arrest? It’s making no progress at all!”

“My deepest apologies.” Judicial Officer Oshima bowed his head and continued, “Since Detective Negishi has summoned and is interrogating that photographer Asada, I believe it won’t be long before Hasekura’s hiding place is uncovered.” “That Asada fellow seems to be quite a tough nut,” said Police Chief Shoji. “But do you think Negishi can handle him?” “If it’s Negishi, I don’t believe there’s any cause for concern. Though depending on developments, I will take over the interrogation myself.” “I assure you this matter won’t require troubling yourself, Chief.” “Very well—I’ll leave it to Negishi for now.” Shoji leaned forward. “And when can we expect the forensics results?”

“Since Ishiro is remaining there, it has been arranged that he will return to the station and report as soon as it’s determined.”

Just then，there was someone knocking repeatedly at the door.

When Chief Oshima stood up and opened the door, Detective Ishiro—his face as pale as a corpse—staggered in.

“Wh-what’s wrong with you?”

Chief Oshima exclaimed in surprise.

“Chief,”

Detective Ishiro gasped painfully and forced out his voice as if wringing it from his throat. "I-I'm resigning."

“What’s the matter?” The police chief gazed suspiciously at his face while demanding, “Pull yourself together—this sudden resignation makes no sense. Give me your reason.” “The corpse was different,” he gasped. “Completely different.” “What?!” The police chief and judicial officer exclaimed in shock simultaneously.

“It’s completely different. The corpse we exhumed this morning is that of an old man.”

Detective Ishiro said with an anguished expression, his words stumbling out.

The police chief and the judicial officer exchanged glances involuntarily. At Detective Ishiro’s unexpected report, the police chief involuntarily exchanged glances with the judicial officer but soon spoke calmly. “You mustn’t get so worked up. Calm yourself a little more and try to explain it in detail.” “Yes.” Ishiro was slightly ashamed of his own overly flustered appearance, “Earlier, I exhumed a skeletal corpse from Osaki Cemetery and took it to the Forensics Department—I trust you have already heard this from the Chief. I remained alone and waited for the results. The doctor who happened to be present tilted his head slightly and,

“Something’s off here. “This isn’t a female corpse.” Since he had said this, I was growing somewhat concerned when Dr. Oi of Tokyo Imperial University, who had come for another matter, arrived and stared intently at it for a while— “You—these are male bones. “And what’s more, an old man.” he said. “Unlike others, since it was Dr. Oi who analyzed it, there’s no hope.” “Hmm, I see.” The police chief nodded. “In other words, the corpse we dug up was the wrong one. It doesn’t mean that the corpse recovered from the Ikedagahara well was male, does it?”

“Yes.” “If that’s the case, then the female corpse recovered from that well must be buried somewhere in the cemetery.” “Yes.” “That’s right.” “If Takanawa Station’s records are correct, it should be buried somewhere in that cemetery.”

“There’s no way Takanawa Station’s records could be incorrect. Didn’t the laborer who guided you admit handling such a corpse three years ago?” “Yes. But when we dug where he remembered, an old man’s corpse came up.” “But—”

The police chief said, cutting in. “It’s not like the laborer remembered the location so accurately. He could be off by a couple of meters in either direction—you’d never know.” “That may be so, but…”

Ishiro wore a perplexed expression as he

"With such random digging methods, proving whether it's actually the corpse in question will become extremely troublesome." "No matter how troublesome, if it's buried there, we'll dig until we hit it." "And we already have a general idea of the location, don't we?" "That may be true, but..." "We'll dig again." "What do you say, Mr. Oshima?" "I agree." The judicial officer replied. "We have no alternative but to dig again." "We can't possibly stop at this point."

"There’s no reason to say the buried corpse doesn’t exist." "We’ll keep digging until we hit it." "Or are you—" The police chief turned toward Ishiro, "Are you saying you’ve given up?"

"No, that isn't the case at all." Ishiro answered with slightly more vigor. "If you'll permit it, Chief, I'll dig however many times required." "But should we ultimately fail to identify the target corpse through this process, it would create complications. Therefore, I thought it preferable to take responsibility now and offer my resignation."

“Resigning isn’t that big a deal, is it? You’re in the middle of investigating a major case where nearly all evidence from a three-year-old murder has been destroyed, aren’t you? What’s the point of losing heart over something like this?” “Yes.”

"A mistake remains a mistake," declared the Chief. "Carry it out vigorously." "Hearing you say that makes me feel truly reassured," Ishiro responded. Filled with resolve, he answered firmly: "I will proceed." "I will proceed with full vigor."

Ishiro wore a look of determination on his face, bowed once, and approached the doorway with a stride full of valor.

The police chief was watching the scene contentedly but called out for some reason. “Ah, you there—Detective Ishiro, pray wait a moment.”

Detective Ishiro, who had been about to exit through the doorway when called back, returned with a faint look of unease coloring his expression. "Is there something you need?" "Hmm, I'll come along for the cemetery exhumation." "What?"

Detective Ishiro looked up at the police chief's face in surprise. "I'll go and observe in person. That's for the best." "But Chief..."

The judicial officer interjected. "If you go, and if—" "You're saying that if we err this time, we'll be left with no room to maneuver." "No matter what, I'll take full responsibility." "I can't do something as cowardly as blaming my subordinates for failure." "So whether I go or not makes no difference." "The fact that I'm coming along should serve to encourage Detective Ishiro as well." "That's true."

The judicial officer nodded.

“Well then, let’s all head out tomorrow.” “But...”

The judicial officer still seemed reluctant, "If we fail this time, this case will be buried in obscurity forever, making any arrest impossible." "You're fixated solely on failure, aren't you?" The police chief said reproachfully. "Even a corpse buried three years ago must have been interred properly - there's no reason we can't prove its identity." "Police officers cowering in hesitation won't suffice." "We bear the mission of eradicating evil from this world." "To fulfill this, we must apprehend criminals and deliver them to justice." "So long as evildoers refuse to provide clear evidence indefinitely, we must sometimes dare to take risks." "Proactive searches naturally come with a certain degree of danger." "But can we really wait until evidence becomes irrefutably clear before making arrests?"

“That is precisely as your argument states.”

The judicial officer answered quietly.

“Well then, let us proceed with conviction to collect the evidentiary items that will prove Hasekura’s past misdeeds.”

“Understood.”

Judicial Officer Oshima answered. “It’s not that I’m advocating for a passive approach without reason. If the Chief has shown such resolve, then I am greatly reassured. We will certainly find the corpse.”

“Very well—then tomorrow I shall go to the cemetery.”

The Police Chief declared firmly and, following his words,

“And you—we must apprehend Hasekura as soon as possible. It has already been three or four weeks since his escape. Moreover, he still sends letters to the police nearly every day—letters brimming with mockery and derision—doesn’t he? The man’s insolence knows no bounds. We must capture him without delay.” “Please rest assured on that count.”

The judicial officer said.

“The interrogation of Asada is proceeding well,” said Judicial Officer Oshima. “We should pinpoint his location soon. Truthfully, I’d prefer to have Detective Ishiro join that effort immediately, but he’s been held up by the critical exhumation operation.” “I’m equally eager to focus on apprehending Hasekura,” Ishiro interjected, his voice tightening. “The man’s done nothing but hurl insults my way.”

“Yeah, that’s right. You must catch him, or you’ll never make your name as a man. I’m counting on you.” The police chief gave a deep nod before straightening up decisively. “In any case, tomorrow we’ll all go to the cemetery and excavate the target corpse.”

“Understood.” “Then I will make all necessary preparations.” “And you—” Judicial Officer Oshima turned to Detective Ishiro,

“The corpse we dug up today must be buried back in its original place tomorrow, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Ishiro answered. “Let’s take it with us when we depart tomorrow.”

Judicial Officer Oshima and Detective Ishiro bowed to Police Chief Shoji and stood up. The two men’s faces were filled with firm resolve. Ah—would they indeed exhume the corpse buried three years prior and uncover Hasekura’s past misdeeds?

The night gave way to dawn amid the anxiety and impatience of Judicial Officer Oshima and Detective Ishiro—who had failed to exhume the corpse—along with all Kagurazaka Police Station staff.

The next morning was another gloomy day, with dark clouds scudding low and pale sunlight occasionally filtering through. In the large automobile from the previous day, Police Chief Shoji Rikitarao—newly seated at the center alongside the erroneously exhumed coffin containing skeletal remains—sped toward Osaki Cemetery, alternately kicking up sandstorms and splattering mud in their wake. Having been chastened by yesterday’s failure, Detective Ishiro briefly explained the circumstances to the laborer serving as their guide and ordered him to thoroughly re-examine the burial site.

“I do believe it’s around where we dug yesterday, but...” The laborer’s face—wrinkled like creased persimmon-tanned paper—showed bewilderment as he...

“It might have been slightly further left… Ah well—let’s try digging here again.”

Having said that, the laborer moved to the middle of the cemetery and pointed to a spot right next to where they had dug the day before. "Let's try digging around here this time." Detective Ishiro, who had been following behind the laborer, turned toward Police Chief Shoji as he came striding up a short distance behind.

“Let’s try digging here once more.” “Very well.” The police chief nodded deeply. With a thud, the laborer thrust his shovel into the soft red earth.

The police chief and three or four officers stood around silently watching the laborer's hands move. The hole gradually widened.

When a clump of dark reddish-brown soil was vigorously flung from the shovel, a scattering of small yellowish clods tumbled into the hole in its place.

Before long, a portion of the skeleton emerged at the bottom of the hole, just as it had the day before. Detective Ishiro held his breath, watching 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 of leaving almost no trace. Only on the part of the corpse’s back that appeared to have been directly underneath it were a few tattered fabric fragments left. Detective Ishiro carefully spread out the fabric fragments on the ground to examine them. The fabric fragments were doubled over, with what appeared to be part of an obi serving as the underlayer and what seemed to be part of a kimono on top. The item believed to be an obi was a blackish color and appeared to be part of something relatively wide. Detective Ishiro’s face lit up with visible delight as he examined the fragments, and he called out to Chief Oshima, who was staring uneasily at the skeletal remains.

“Judicial Officer, sir, this appears to be part of a woman’s obi.”

“I see, it does appear to be as you say.” Judicial Officer Oshima stared fixedly at the fabric fragments,

“This one appears to be part of a kimono, though the color has completely faded and it’s hard to make out, but there seems to be some sort of pattern here.” “The base fabric also appears to be merino, doesn’t it?” “Yes, that does seem to be the case.” “Then—” Detective Ishiro’s face finally lit up with a radiant expression as he declared: “The clothing matches that of the corpse in question. Hey, you!” He turned toward the laborer. “You said the woman was wearing a patterned merino kimono with a black satin obi, didn’t you?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” The laborer nodded. “That exactly matches the clothing Kobayashi Sadako was wearing when she disappeared.” Ishiro said to the Judicial Officer. “Well then,” The police chief, who had been silently listening to Ishiro’s explanation up to this point, smiled slightly for the first time and— “This must be the one.”

“Yes.”

Ishiro turned back toward the Police Chief. "I believe this matches without doubt." "Mhm." The police chief looked satisfied, "Judging by the skeleton's measurements, it appears to be that of a girl." "Very well, let's conclude with this." Under the Police Chief's orders, yesterday's old man's skeleton was returned to its original hole, and the newly excavated skeleton was placed inside the coffin.

Dawn.

As for whether the skeleton exhumed during the second excavation had been confirmed as Kobayashi Sadako or whether suicide or murder had been determined—the discussion of those forensic results would be left for later; instead, attention turned to the detective room at Kagurazaka Police Station.

The detective squad room—a bare ten-mat space with a sturdy three-foot doorway that allowed no passage in or out—was relatively bright from the light streaming through windows on two sides. Yet anyone brought into this room, surrounded by burly men with fearsome eyes and bombarded with sharp questions, would surely be overcome with fear. All the more so, anyone with even a shadow of guilt would cower and be utterly overwhelmed by fear. However, there existed tenacious individuals who, at times, stubbornly refused to yield even to the detectives' harsh interrogations. In the case of photographer Asada, he was one of those individuals.

“Then what’s this? Are you persisting in claiming you don’t know Hasekura’s whereabouts?”

Detective Negishi fixed his gaze with those cold, piercing eyes that would make most people tremble under their glare. "I don't know." Asada, surrounded by Detective Watanabe and two or three other officers, answered calmly despite his swarthy face having lost some color. "Enough games!" Detective Negishi pressed on as if cornered, "How long will you keep hiding it? There's no way you don't know where Hasekura is."

“No matter what you say, I don’t know anything.”

“Hmph, still holding out, huh? You were corresponding with Hasekura nearly every day, weren’t you?” “I did exchange letters with him. But that was through the Ohuchi photo studio as an intermediary—it wasn’t direct correspondence.” “Exactly.” Detective Negishi pressed harder, “Then name the studio serving as intermediary now!” “Since Ohuchi was discovered, we agreed to arrange a new location and inform them, but there’s been no communication since. So I genuinely don’t know where he is now.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. That arrangement should have been properly settled. You must have a rough idea of what kind of crimes Hasekura has committed. Don’t you know that harboring a criminal is a crime?!” “I know that.” “Then hurry up and tell us where Hasekura is.” “Since I don’t know, I can’t tell you.” “Well, you're one stubborn bastard. Hey, you—just how many days do you think it’s been since you were detained?”

"That’s something you ought to know better than anyone." Asada said with a bitter look on his face.

“Hmph.”

Negishi sneered, "You’ve been detained for three days now. At first, I started off being polite, trying not to rile you up so you’d confess without a fuss. I generally dislike rough methods and have never used such harsh language with anyone I’ve investigated, but I can’t handle dealing with someone as stubborn as you. If this Negishi here snaps, you’ve got no idea what’ll happen." It wasn’t exactly a loud voice, but there was a certain underlying force in Negishi’s interrogation that struck deep into the core. And the uncanny glare of his eyes. Even Asada shuddered violently. However, he too was no ordinary scoundrel. Asada drew power from his core, deflected Detective Negishi’s threatening words, and declared firmly.

“No matter what you say, I don’t know anything.” “What on earth are you—” Detective Negishi softened his demeanor slightly as he pressed, “What sort of obligation makes you protect Hasekura’s interests like this?” “It’s not like I have any obligation at all.”

“Hmph, is that so?”

Negishi sneered, “Then you must have some motive.” When Detective Negishi asserted there was purpose behind his scheming for Hasekura’s benefit, Asada stiffened internally yet kept his composure. “There’s no motive.” “Is that so?”

Negishi smirked. “The fact that you’ve been visiting Hasekura’s vacant house so frequently—I can’t help but think you had some scheme in mind.” “————” Asada remained silent and bit his lip. “When your wife took me to Hasekura’s residence, there seemed to be some sort of commotion, didn’t there?”

“————” “Your wife—Mrs. Oshino, was it?—was absolutely furious, wasn’t she?” “That woman is utterly uncouth—she shouts wherever she pleases, and it’s a real nuisance.” Asada answered haltingly. “You can’t just say that. Seems like you were the one at fault back then, huh?” “Why do you say that?” “Hey, Asada.” Negishi stiffened. “If you think confessing will settle everything, you’re sorely mistaken. I know everything, you hear?”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘everything’?” Asada sneered. “What you did to Hasekura’s wife.”

Negishi continued to shout. “What do you mean by that?” “Fool! Are you still spouting such shameless lies?!” “Did you underestimate Negishi, you bastard?” “Do you know what kind of man Negishi is?” “You’d better come clean before you meet a painful fate.”

“————”

Asada did not answer.

“Alright—what you did at Hasekura’s empty house while he was away—we’ll know soon enough when we summon Oshino.” “Oi—Watanabe.”

Negishi called Detective Watanabe. “Bring Oshino here at once.” “Understood.”

Detective Watanabe stood up energetically.

“Wait a moment.” Asada, flustered, called out. “What’s the matter?”

Detective Watanabe answered mockingly. “Please wait before calling Oshino.” “If you say wait, then I might wait—” Watanabe stared fixedly at Asada while,

“What’s your reason for asking us to wait?” “She’s rather dim-witted, you see—shouting things out without any sense of discretion—” “What’s the harm?”

Watanabe pressed down on him. "No matter what she says, it shouldn't matter if you've got nothing to feel guilty about." "But the thing is..." Asada hesitated. "She babbles about things that happened and didn't happen without telling them apart." "If none of it's true, then there's nothing to fear." "That may be so, but—"

“Watanabe.” Negishi called out impatiently.

“How long do you plan to keep dawdling over the same question?” “Hurry up and summon Oshino.” “Understood.” Watanabe answered energetically. “I’ll go right away.” “W-wait a moment, please!” Asada panicked. “Calling that good-for-nothing won’t do any good.”

“Hey!”

Negishi glared sharply at Asada and, "You’ve been up to no good—something your wife might’ve let slip." "That’s not the case." “If you’re merely aiding Hasekura’s escape, there’s no reason to fear your wife.” “I knew you weren’t straightforward, but you’re mixed up in something big.” “There is absolutely no such thing.” “It must be so.” “We’ll lay everything bare—steel yourself.” “Huh? I don’t recall anything like that.”

Asada spoke resignedly.

“Now that it’s come to this, there’s no helping it.” “I will tell you everything.” At Asada’s declaration of “I will tell you everything,” Detective Negishi felt intense satisfaction inwardly but kept his face expressionless as he—

“If you come clean honestly, there’s no need for any trouble. Depending on circumstances, we might release you immediately.” “Then what? If I tell you everything properly, will you send me home right away?”

Asada leaned forward slightly. “That’s been clear from the start, hasn’t it? I have no intention of slapping you around any further or stirring up pointless dust.” “If you had told me that from the start, I would’ve immediately shared everything I know.” “Haven’t I been saying that from the start?” “What? You never said any such thing. I was just being needlessly threatened all the time—” “There’s no use bringing that up now.”

Negishi smirked. “If you’re ready to talk, why don’t you tell us everything properly?” “I’ll talk.”

Asada answered with a serious expression. "By the way, Mr. Negishi, I truly don't know where Hasekura is right now." "What?!" Negishi raised his voice. "It's the truth. Why would I lie at this critical juncture? I truly don't know."

“Hmph, so you truly know nothing at all?”

Negishi softened his tone slightly and spoke in a skeptical manner.

“I truly don’t know. However, I was supposed to be informed soon. Therefore, depending on how things went, there might already be a letter at my house.”

“Shut up.”

Detective Negishi barked. "You think this Negishi would swallow that sweet talk? We've already verified whether any letters from Hasekura reached your place. Don't imagine I'll let you off lightly with such smooth words!" "Then what?" Asada eyed Negishi suspiciously as he asked, "Hasn't a letter addressed to Matsushita Ichiro arrived at my house?" "It hasn't." "That's odd."

Asada was deep in thought, "That shouldn't be the case, but it must have arrived by now." "Then it should arrive sometime today." Asada’s demeanor didn’t seem entirely like a lie, so Negishi felt somewhat suspicious while— "So then—it’s arranged that a coordination letter will come from Hasekura’s side?"

“That’s right.” “Then word might come soon.” Negishi was deep in thought. “Then could you agree to this? We don’t know what alias Hasekura might use to send it, but if it comes under Matsushita Ichiro, would you consent to us opening that letter?” “Very well, there’s no helping it.” Asada reluctantly said. “I consent. But I’d be troubled if you opened every letter indiscriminately.” “You needn’t worry about that. Even we understand common sense.”

“Very well then.” Asada nodded deeply, “Then you’ll let me go home, won’t you?” “Well...” Negishi answered reluctantly. “If we were to release you, any letters would go directly into your hands. There’s a risk you might hide anything coming from Hasekura.” “I’ll never do such a thing again!”

“Yeah, that may be so, but we’ve got to keep our guard up on our end.” “So what is this? You get me to talk and still won’t let me go?” “Do you people not keep your promises at all?” “Didn’t you promise in the first place to let me go?”

Asada flared up. “No need to get worked up—we’ll let you go.”

Negishi said calmly. "But there's a condition." "What kind of condition is it?" Asada asked back uneasily. "It’s nothing complicated. We’ll have one detective stay over at your place. And you’ll show us every piece of mail as it arrives." "That’s quite a harsh condition." Asada pondered for a moment,

“There’s no helping it. I consent. If I don’t do that, I won’t be let go home anyway.”

“Very well.”

Negishi nodded in 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 interrogation. Out of loyalty to Hasekura and attachment to his wife, he had resolved to maintain stubborn silence about Hasekura's whereabouts—but the detectives' relentless questioning in that interrogation room had nearly broken him. When Negishi casually revealed he knew about Asada's attempt to seduce Hasekura's wife during her husband's absence, even this hardened man surrendered completely, letting Negishi dictate every term.

“Now then, Watanabe.”

Negishi called out to Detective Watanabe. “Watanabe, could you go with Asada and stay at his place until a letter from Hasekura arrives?” “Alright.”

Watanabe nodded. Urged by Detective Watanabe to be escorted out, Asada reluctantly exited the gate of Kagurazaka Police Station. At home, Oshino sat dejectedly, keenly feeling the loneliness of her husband being detained at the police station for three days without returning. Though she had sent him to the police in a momentary fit of anger, as the days passed, Oshino found herself missing her husband after all. By now, she could no longer sit still or stand still, so forgetting all shame and pride, she had resolved to go and retrieve him. Just then, her husband unexpectedly returned safe and sound, so Oshino welcomed him with a leaping heart.

“My, you managed to come back.” “———” Asada glared at her sullenly in silence.

“Are you angry?” Oshino said uneasily, “Please forgive me; it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have said such petty things in a fit of anger.” Oshino, who had looked up resentfully at her husband—unyielding despite her desperate pleas—suddenly noticed for the first time an unfamiliar man standing behind him.

“My, there’s someone here.” “How utterly wicked!” Oshino said irritably, “Who on earth are you?” “Another detective, I suppose?” “That’s right, ma’am.”

Watanabe smirked slyly. “The police are quite persistent these days.” Oshino began raising her voice steadily. “Have you come again looking for another letter from Mr. Hasekura? Twice in one day now?” “Hey! Keep quiet!” Asada spoke in a low scolding tone before turning toward the detective. “Please pay her no mind, sir—she’s always like this.” “But isn’t this man a detective?”

Oshino looked up at her husband’s face anxiously as she asked. “He’s a detective here on business.” “What business?” “To intercept the letters from Mr. Hasekura, like you said.” “My!” Oshino widened her eyes. “Then you should’ve just refused and been done with it.” “But that’s no longer possible. The detective will be staying here until Mr. Hasekura’s letter arrives.” “My!” “Hey, don’t just stand there gawking—make some tea.”

Asada sat down heavily in front of the long charcoal brazier after saying this.

When Detective Watanabe stormed into Asada’s house to seize Hasekura’s incoming letter, Detective Ishiro was trudging along Kuramae-dori. The corpse from the second exhumation had fortunately been identified through expert analysis as that of a young woman. Moreover, two sharply protruding canine teeth on the skull—resembling fangs—perfectly matched those of the deceased Kobayashi Sadako. When Detective Ishiro met Sadako’s parents, he had immediately noticed their abnormally prominent canine teeth; her uncle Teijiro likewise possessed such teeth—a dental feature that could indeed be called a distinctive trait of the Kobayashi family. Yet this alone could not conclusively identify the skeletal remains as Kobayashi Sadako. Compounding this was one troubling finding: the analysis indicated the skeletal frame was slightly too large for a girl of fifteen or sixteen. The missing maid had been of average size for her age—by no means large—making this discrepancy an unfavorable factor in definitively identifying the corpse as hers. Thus, their sole remaining clue lay in fragments of clothing around the waist area—preserved only because they had been pressed beneath the corpse. They had promptly sent these tattered cloth fragments to the Higher Industrial School for analysis. With the results due today, Detective Ishiro was now making his way to the school to receive them.

For Detective Ishiro, this marked a career-defining juncture. The skeleton exhumed from the grave could be conclusively identified as Kobayashi Sadako based on the Dyeing Department professor's analysis. Should this prove true, it would mean not merely recovering the remains of a woman missing for three years, but potentially furnishing decisive evidence of Hasekura's heinous crimes. Yet if the results defied expectations, the work into which they had poured days of desperate effort—body and soul—would dissolve into nothingness. Worse still, he would face utter humiliation before Police Chief Shoji and his colleagues, while the maid's disappearance case slipped back into impenetrable shadows, stripping them of any means to prosecute Hasekura. Since letting the suspect escape, Ishiro had known no peace of mind; now, with the analysis results looming over him like storm clouds, he trudged onward, his heart leaden and footsteps dragging through the weight of his anxieties.

He finally reached the gates of the Higher Industrial School. He informed the gatekeeper of his business and walked along a narrow ditch flowing into the Ōkawa River for about half a chō (55 meters) on a stone-paved path. The area around the school buildings was near the Ōkawa River, where the water, full to the brim, flowed and lapped incessantly against the bank. The warm March sun glittered on the wave crests creating irregular ripples. From somewhere, the clanking sound of a one-sen steamer resounded. The young professor of the Dyeing Department, his face bearing the gravitas befitting a scholar, greeted Detective Ishiro while suppressing a smile.

“It is rather old, you see.”

The professor began to speak haltingly.

“I cannot state this definitively, but the darker item is indeed satin obi fabric. “As for the other one...” The young professor paused briefly. Ishiro, who had been listening with bated breath, suddenly raised his face and braced himself to catch every word. From here, the Ōkawa River spread out before them in a single vista, and at that very moment, a lone sailboat—its sails billowing with wind—could be seen gliding leisurely upstream. Having paused mid-sentence while gazing out the window at the scenery, the professor suddenly cast his eyes down at the tense Ishiro and, flustered, resumed speaking.

"The other piece has a pattern on merino fabric. The pattern appears to be part of a large flower—likely a peony—and though the color has completely faded, it was definitely red originally." As he listened, Ishiro's heavy heart gradually unfurled like a bud bathed in spring sunlight. An irrepressible smile of joy rose to his face.

“Thank you very much.”

Having obtained the desired results, Detective Ishiro bowed his head to the young professor with evident delight while, "Thanks to you, we were able to obtain a valuable clue." "I see. That's excellent news." The young professor bowed graciously. Detective Ishiro walked out of the school gates with a triumphant stride. The corpse they had excavated as anticipated almost certainly matched that of Kobayashi Sadako. Whether it was suicide or murder remained unclear, but given the location where the corpse was found and the surrounding circumstances, it could first and foremost be deemed Hasekura's doing. Now all that remained was to gather as much evidence as possible and force Hasekura to confess.

Still, where could Hasekura be? When this thought struck him, Detective Ishiro’s bright face suddenly darkened.

Detective Ishiro’s mood darkened once again, but he tried his best to shift his spirits, bolstering his despondent heart with today’s success as he hurried to Kagurazaka Police Station to report this good news to the Police Chief and others.

Detective Watanabe, who had taken over the pursuit of Hasekura from Detective Ishiro and lodged himself at photographer Asada's residence, faced hardships beyond ordinary measure. He could not step outside the house even once. He had all three meals delivered from a nearby caterer and kept watch day and night without a moment's lapse in vigilance. All mail was received directly from the postman, and any suspicious-looking items were ordered to be opened by Asada. He also had to scrutinize every single letter Asada sent out. Like a scout in hostile territory, he made his entire body into eyes and ears, never permitting himself to lower his guard for even a single minute.

If they bungled this and let Asada and Hasekura resume correspondence, it would spell disaster—both men were far from ordinary. For they possessed astonishing cunning, making it no easy task to unearth new leads should that occur. Asada feigned submission on the surface, but given an opening, there was no telling what schemes he might hatch. Detective Watanabe’s extraordinary efforts persisted fruitlessly for three days and nights. To call it merely three days and nights—but sustaining such grueling tension defied ordinary endurance. Even the formidable Watanabe grew gaunt, his body wasted away, nerves honed so sharp he’d leap at a pin’s drop.

Had Hasekura already discerned their movements? Could Asada have informed him through some unnoticed method? Judging by how Hasekura’s mocking letters still flooded the police station daily, he likely had not fled the city. True, he once sent a letter feigning imminent escape, prompting station-wide alerts—soon revealed as pure mockery of the authorities. He showed no inclination toward flight whatsoever.

He seemed to take endless delight in mocking the police while skillfully evading them. Apparently, he gave no thought to the fact that his crimes were being exposed one after another and that he was being pursued under such dreadful charges. If he had noticed such a thing, he would not send mocking letters to the police almost daily or boldly appear at Kitakonya Police Station to demand compensation from the city tram company; instead, he should flee without a moment’s delay. What purpose on earth could he have for running around while baffling the police? Does he not consider in the slightest that such bold actions might plant seeds of suspicion regarding his own past?

The questions kept arising one after another, with no way to unravel them. The immediate practical issue for Detective Watanabe was that for three days and three nights, not a single word had been heard from Hasekura.

Detective Watanabe had already ended up completely discouraged. On the fourth morning since Detective Watanabe had lodged at Asada’s house—utterly exhausted from continued futile efforts—the deliveryman shouted “Mail!” and tossed several letters inside. Detective Watanabe—who had already moved to the next room and lain in wait upon hearing the deliveryman’s approaching footsteps—darted out and scooped them up. As he did so, the bold handwriting on one envelope abruptly caught his eye. Gasping at the familiar script, he flipped it over, where the four characters spelling “Matsushita Ichiro” struck his vision like lightning. He involuntarily clenched the letter and thanked God.

Summoned by Detective Watanabe and handed a letter from Matsushita Ichiro to open before his eyes, Asada turned pale and sliced open the envelope, his hands trembling violently. The letter requested that Asada bring a ring and watch. No specific location had been indicated.

“The location isn’t written here.” Detective Watanabe said, fixing Asada with a piercing gaze.

“It isn’t written here.”

Asada answered while presenting the letter before Watanabe. "You've arranged a meeting place somewhere, right?" "No, nothing like that." Asada shook his head. "Then you don't know where to take it? There's no use lying now—just tell me the truth." "We haven't made any arrangements at all." "Then how do you deliver it?" "We arrange it each time."

“If you’re saying you arrange meetings, that means you know where Hasekura is, right?” “No, that’s not it.” Asada blurted out. “Then how do you arrange them?” “We send a letter back to the post office where this one was postmarked, addressed to be held for pickup.” “What?” Detective Watanabe found himself thoroughly impressed by their cunning and meticulous caution. Asada fell silent with an air of resigned surrender. “Hmph.”

Detective Watanabe crossed his arms and thought intently. Should they apprehend Hasekura when he came to collect the held mail? No—given his well-known caution, would he actually come himself to retrieve it? Moreover, the post office was situated in a rather bustling district with a tangle of main roads and back alleys; if they failed to capture him there, it would prove quite troublesome. Far better to lure him out to some quiet location where they could easily take him into custody. Detective Watanabe decisively raised his head.

“You—write the reply immediately. The wording shall be as follows: ‘I will bring the requested items to Sakamoto Park in Ryogoku at 10 a.m. the day after tomorrow. If there are any inconveniences, please notify me immediately.’ Got that?” “Understood.” Asada obediently composed the letter addressed to Hasekura exactly as instructed by Detective Watanabe in his presence. Watanabe meticulously reviewed the letter, thoroughly ensuring there was no room for Hasekura to harbor any suspicions, placed it into an envelope, sealed it himself, had Asada write the address, and took Asada with him to the postbox to mail it. And so, he strictly monitored Asada to prevent him from sending any follow-up letters that might outmaneuver them.

That afternoon, Watanabe told a colleague detective who had come to visit all the details and requested that thorough arrangements be made for the day after tomorrow. Delighted that his plan was falling into place, Detective Watanabe kept a vigilant watch on Asada’s movements while eagerly awaiting the arrival of the day as though each moment stretched into an eternity. Even the ever-daring Hasekura 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 was drawing closer.

Would the enigmatic Hasekura truly be caught so easily in Detective Watanabe’s trap?

The long-awaited day arrived. Today, at 10 a.m., Hasekura would be arrested by detectives lying in wait at Sakamoto Park. Preparing for any contingency, Detective Watanabe—who maintained unrelenting vigilance over Asada while keeping watchful eyes—had been glancing at the clock repeatedly since morning, waiting restlessly for ten o'clock to draw near.

When the clock’s hands had just passed nine, a piece of mail arrived. When Detective Watanabe hurriedly picked it up and examined it, it was a letter from Hasekura addressed to Matsushita Ichiro, written in thick, bold characters. Startled, Watanabe tore open the seal without even having time to call Asada and scanned the contents with such urgency that he seemed to read two or three lines at once. The letter stated that the requested items were to be delivered to Sakamoto in Nihonbashi, but since Sakamoto was an unknown and unreliable person, he had written that he wanted Asada himself to bring them to the grounds of Fukagawa Hachiman Shrine at 10 a.m. the day after tomorrow.

Detective Watanabe dropped the letter in a daze. What an impeccably cautious man! He hadn’t trusted even the letter that Detective Watanabe had gone to such pains to have Asada write without arousing suspicion—dismissing it outright from the start. If one were to say he’d felt uneasy about being lured to a place like Sakamoto Park in Ryogoku, then perhaps he had—but ultimately, out of an abundance of caution, he had sent another letter to Asada. If the letter had been written in Asada’s forged hand or composed under coercion, this second letter might reveal the truth. Still, to deliberately feign misreading "Sakamoto Park in Ryogoku" and write such insincere nonsense about not knowing anyone named Sakamoto—what a cunning devil he was!

Detective Watanabe was so enraged his eyes burned. But when realization struck him, he froze in horror. Given Hasekura's cunning nature, he might still slip into Sakamoto Park after sending that refusal letter. Even if he didn't come personally, he might send someone to scout the area. If he caught even a whiff of heightened police activity there, it would spell disaster. Hasekura would never trust Asada's letters again. Once that happened, there'd be no predicting when they might capture him. They had to withdraw the park surveillance immediately. Detective Watanabe fidgeted impatiently. Yet he couldn't risk leaving carelessly himself. There was no telling what tricks Asada might try in his absence. Ah—what should he do? The appointed ten o'clock crept ever closer.

Just then, the front door clattered open. Detective Watanabe let out a breath of relief. The one who entered was none other than Detective Ishiro—a complete surprise.

“You came!”

Watanabe said, grabbing Ishiro’s hand as though to seize it. “Please look at this.” “Did Hasekura send something?”

Ishiro shouted the moment he saw the letter Watanabe had thrust forward with a frantic look. He snatched it up and began reading in one breath. “Yeah, we’ve been outmaneuvered again.” Watanabe said dejectedly. “Damn it!”

Detective Ishiro bit his lip after finishing reading. "I can't fathom how deep this bastard's cunning runs." "We must have the park surveillance lifted immediately."

Watanabe shouted. “That’s right. If he figures it out, it’ll be disastrous. I’ll make the call right away and have the surveillance lifted.” Ishiro agreed immediately but added dejectedly.

“Ah, I was sure we wouldn’t let him get away today…” “I thought the same and have been restless since this morning.” Watanabe said dejectedly.

“Anyway, I’ll go make the call. Well, there’s still hope. After all, it’s not like Hasekura’s caught on yet. Just wait here a moment. We’ll work out some countermeasures.”

With those words, Ishiro briskly headed outside. Detective Watanabe stood dazedly gripping Hasekura’s letter, devoid of coherent thought, when soon enough Detective Ishiro came hurrying back. “You needn’t worry anymore.” The moment Ishiro saw Watanabe’s face, he spoke.

“The surveillance will be lifted immediately.” “There’s no longer any risk of him catching on.” “And we’ve left one man at the park to watch for anyone matching his description.” “I see. That’s a relief,” Watanabe said with genuine relief. “Now for our second precaution.” “I don’t think Hasekura fully believes that letter we made you write to Asada.” “I agree.” “That bastard’s paranoid by nature—he probably sent this to test us before changing locations.”

“That must be it, but if we proceed this way, we need to send a reply immediately to put his mind at ease.” “Right—we’ll make Asada write the response right away.” “Do that. I thought for sure today would be the day, but given who we’re dealing with, I started worrying—what if...? So before going to Ryogoku, I dropped by here first. Good thing I did.” “You’re right.” Detective Watanabe nodded.

“If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have been able to inform everyone about this letter—it would’ve caused major trouble.” “We’ve pieced together most of his past misdeeds now.” Ishiro’s face darkened as he added, “If we don’t arrest him soon, it’ll undermine the police’s authority—and worst of all, I can’t look the Police Chief in the eye anymore.” “I’m right there with you,” Watanabe replied. “Seeing the Police Chief’s impatient expression cuts deeper than any blade.” “We’re both utterly pathetic.” “To receive those mocking letters daily yet still fail to catch him…”

“That’s right—we can’t keep our cool like Negishi can.”

“It’s an age thing after all. We might end up like that when we get older, but right now, there’s no way we can imitate him.”

Watanabe nodded in agreement but, as if struck by a thought, "So, has that corpse finally been confirmed as Kobayashi Sadako?"

“Yeah, it’s confirmed.” Ishiro’s face suddenly brightened. “Right—since you’ve been staking out this place nonstop, you wouldn’t know.” “The skull had distinctive features, and remnants of clothing matched what she wore when disappearing. That settles it.” “They say the frame’s a bit large, but I doubt that’ll matter much.” “Good work nailing that down.” “Let’s shelve that for now and make Asada draft a response.”

“That’s right.”

Detective Watanabe called out loudly from the foot of the stairs. “Hey, you—come down here for a moment.” Asada descended the stairs with a sullen face, his footsteps heavy. He shot a sidelong glare at Ishiro.

“We’ve received this reply from Hasekura.” Detective Watanabe showed Asada the letter from Hasekura.

“Who opened this?” Asada took the letter and snapped bitterly.

“I opened it. It was an emergency—there was no other way.” Watanabe said in a pressing tone. “Is that so.” With just that single remark, Asada fell silent and stared at the unfolded letter for a while. “I need you to write a reply stating your acknowledgment.” Watanabe said solemnly. “Very well.”

Asada gave a surprisingly compliant reply.

“Mr. Hasekura’s luck has run out. To be caught in Hachiman Shrine’s precincts—I suppose you could call that divine punishment.”

A fish in the net

On a certain day in March of Taisho 6, the spring rain that had begun falling softly in the afternoon of the previous day intensified through the night. Though worries persisted about how the weather might turn that day, come dawn the skies cleared completely, leaving a morning where puddles dotted the still-damp roads here and there, with deep wheel ruts remaining as traces. The beautiful morning sun glittered brilliantly, sending heat hazes shimmering languidly upward from roofs, roads, and bridges alike. The spacious precincts of historic Fukagawa Hachimangu Shrine exuded the moist fragrance of rain-soaked earth, its carefully raked sand standing out vividly as if deliberately swept clean. Paper fragments beaten down by the rain and pressed into the damp sand were visible here and there, their presence paradoxically enhancing the scenery's charm.

With midday still some time away, there were only a handful of street vendors—just shops selling cheap sweets for children or inexpensive toys, listlessly tended by elderly women and middle-aged wives. Not a single itinerant peddler could be seen hawking dubious medicines or flimsy books promising secret arts. The shrine entrance was steeped in silence. On the paving stones before the worship hall, female and male doves mingled together, basking in the spring sunlight as they joyfully foraged for something. The spirited young woman paused from tending her bags-and-sundries shop and gazed at the adorable little birds she saw every day as if beholding them for the first time. A few worshippers passed by the entrance here and there.

Everything was tranquil.

The old woman tending the toy shop, the merchant-like man bowing at the shrine’s altar, the young man casting glances at the girl from the bags-and-sundries shop—all of them, like doves sent by God, blessed spring’s bounty without a care, their hearts untroubled. To them, even in this very instant, there existed those who defied God to commit sins, and the notion that police officers might be desperately chasing such criminals lay utterly beyond their imagination.

In fact, at this very moment, detectives from the Kagurazaka Police Station were beginning to stream into these peaceful grounds. One of them had the air of a newly arrived rustic. Another wore a square cap and pretended to be a college student. Another wore a hanten workman’s jacket, appearing every bit the lifelong craftsman. They maintained expressions of feigned ignorance, skillfully blending into the tranquil atmosphere on the surface as they mingled among the other worshippers, each vigilantly keeping watch over their assigned posts without a moment’s lapse.

Among them, Detective Ishiro—dressed in a lightweight Western suit and looking every bit the young gentleman—was under no small strain. For he was the only person who knew the face of Hasekura they were to apprehend that day—this suspicious figure whose capture now hung in the balance. Though Hasekura’s distinctive features were thoroughly imprinted in the detectives’ minds, none could say what disguise he might have adopted. This was a man who remained vigilant even at the rustle of dry grass; should he sense even a flicker of suspicion, he would undoubtedly flee at once. Moreover, they had deliberately left Asada behind today, fearing he might send some signal—precisely why Asada’s absence now risked arousing Hasekura’s wariness. Should Hasekura catch sight of Ishiro’s figure, disaster would follow. Whether Hasekura would spot Ishiro first or Ishiro would spot him—this alone would decide their contest. Though their net of detectives meant Hasekura could not easily escape even if detected first, this mattered little—Ishiro absolutely had to be the one to find him first. It was he who had first grasped the thread leading to Hasekura’s secrets; he too who had first let him slip away. The days and nights of torment since had been truly harrowing. There was no chance he’d let him escape today. With every drop of blood coursing through him, Detective Ishiro roamed without fixed position, his unassigned body moving restlessly through the grounds.

Ten o'clock in the morning drew steadily closer. Before anyone noticed, the number of street stalls increased and the crowd of worshippers gradually grew, as the shrine precincts began 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 now began to wander about restlessly, as if they could no longer afford such leisurely idleness.

Detective Ishiro had been vigilantly surveying this scene when something occurred to him; he quickened his pace and hurried outside the torii gate. At that moment, a deeply tanned middle-aged man who had been squatting nearby—his rustic appearance glaringly obvious—tapped his greasy pipe with a clink, slipped it smoothly into the grimy tobacco pouch at his waist, then rose lankily to his feet. He approached Ishiro and gave a quick bow. “Excuse me, might I trouble you for a moment?” he said, but immediately lowered his voice and,

“What’s wrong? Has he come?”

he asked rapidly. “Not yet.” Ishiro also answered in a low, sharp voice.

“Why are you going outside?” He pressed again. This man with the air of a country bumpkin was Detective Tanuma—a third-degree judo expert known as the strongest officer in the station, specially chosen for today’s operation. At the given signal, he would immediately spring into action to use physical force. “Here’s the thing.”

Ishiro answered. “It just occurred to me—that bastard Hasekura’s too cunning to come all the way into these shrine grounds. He’s likely lying in wait near the approach to Hachiman Shrine, trying to spot Asada. That’s why we’re going around his flank—staking out the tram street to catch him the moment he shows himself on the conductor’s platform trying to get off the tram.”

“I see, that’s an effective method.” Tanuma nodded. “But first off—we haven’t confirmed he’ll come by tram at all. If he notices us first, we’re done for.” “That part’s just luck anyway.” “Bring that up and we can’t even be sure he’ll show today.” “I’m giving it everything—not one slip in ten thousand chances. But even if I bungle it, ten men have got the net ready. It’ll hold.” “Right then—I leave it to you.”

“Well then, I’m counting on you.” Ishiro threw out those words and briskly headed toward the tram street. He quietly glanced at his watch—it was fifteen minutes before ten. Pressing a hand against his pounding chest, he hid in the shadow of a utility pole slightly ahead of the tram stop and fixed his gaze on the tram hurtling toward him, its front and rear cars swaying violently. If Hasekura harbored suspicions that Asada’s letter might be a police trap, he too might be peering vigilantly from the tram at his surroundings. Yet observing the outside from a speeding tram would prove difficult, and when disembarking through the crowded exit, one would hardly have presence of mind to remain alert. Inescapably, they would fully expose themselves to whoever lay hidden in the shadows. If Hasekura lacked such preparations, then Detective Ishiro lying in wait would inevitably gain the upper hand. Detective Ishiro had factored this into his calculations and begun monitoring tram passengers from the utility pole’s shadow—but putting it into practice proved far less straightforward than imagined. From the front and rear exits of packed trams that kept arriving one after another, passengers were disgorged in considerable numbers all at once.

Since this was already near the terminal, the relatively small number of boarding passengers did somewhat reduce the congestion, but keeping track of each and every one of them was no simple task. Ten o'clock was drawing steadily closer.

Hasekura's figure remained nowhere to be seen. Ishiro grew increasingly uneasy. As ten o'clock drew near with still no sign of Hasekura, Detective Ishiro's impatience mounted. Had he once again gauged the situation and made a clean escape? Or had he infiltrated the shrine grounds through some other means? If he had entered the precincts, his colleagues swarming about with their net would surely have caught him—yet no word had come from within. Could he have altered his appearance beyond what their single photograph showed, rendering him undetectable? While these thoughts churned through his mind, Ishiro kept unwavering watch on the endless procession of trams.

The trams had stopped coming for a while. Ishiro let out a sigh of relief and looked around. Before him, people of all sorts bustled about in confusion. Pulling the reins of a horse hitched to a cart loaded with heavy-looking cargo, the carter passed in front of him, humming a carefree tune. The cart lurched forward heedless of puddles or mud, sending clods of earth flying in all directions like gravel. A middle-aged woman in geta fitted with stylish leather straps cautiously picked her way through the gaps, shooting resentful glances at the mud splattered across her kimono.

Such a dizzying spectacle unfolded before Ishiro's eyes, but his vision—still fixed on the distance—couldn't abruptly adjust focus, rendering the scene like a blurry film projection without explanation. He suddenly snapped back to awareness and hurriedly looked toward the tracks. A tram was just speeding into view. After the temporary service suspension, the conductor's platform overflowed with passengers leaning perilously outward. With a shrill clatter, the tram rushed past Ishiro—and there, in that instant, he spotted a man with vicious features frantically shoving through the packed doorway toward the platform. Ah! There stood his nemesis Hasekura—the man who'd haunted his waking hours and dreams throughout this month-long pursuit!

Ishiro involuntarily— “Got him!”

he shouted.

The tram stopped at a stop about twenty ken (approximately 36 meters) away from Ishiro. The passengers scrambled off like an avalanche. Amidst the jostling crowd, Hasekura’s figure—vigilantly scanning his surroundings as he descended—came clearly into view. He wore a dark Inverness coat and high wooden sandals.

"Seeing him wearing those high wooden sandals and moving about so leisurely, it looks like he's completely unaware of our plan." Ishiro emerged from the shadows to follow him while muttering this, careful not to lose sight of his target. Though his heart throbbed with excitement, he forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor as he steadily closed the distance without being detected. Hasekura lumbered toward Hachiman Shrine's torii gate where ten detectives lay in wait. From behind, Detective Ishiro kept up his relentless pursuit. The man was truly a fish caught in their net. Even the cunning Hasekura appeared oblivious to the trap hidden within Asada's letter. Like a puppet guided by invisible strings, his lanky figure slipped through the shrine entrance. Had fortune's wheel finally turned against him?

When Hasekura’s foot took a step into the shrine precincts, Ishiro let out a breath of relief. There remained a distance of about eighteen meters between them, making it unclear whether his fellow detectives had yet spotted Hasekura, but they would soon notice Ishiro himself. Once they did, a signal would immediately be given to apprehend him without difficulty. At any rate, having thoroughly driven him into their net, there was nothing left to worry about. The moment Detective Ishiro relaxed his guard with a sigh, Hasekura abruptly turned around. Before he could even gasp, Ishiro found himself spotted. With an unearthly shriek, Hasekura kicked off his wooden sandals.

Captured When Hasekura suddenly turned around and saw Detective Ishiro, he immediately went barefoot and dashed into the torii gate. Ishiro, who had been completely at ease, hurriedly gave chase in response to this unexpected turn of events.

The distance between Hasekura and Ishiro closed—then Hasekura nimbly spun around, circled once, crossed paths with Ishiro, and dashed off toward the tram street. Having driven him into a corner like a rat in a sack toward the shrine grounds, Ishiro suddenly grabbed his Inverness coat—but he swiftly shed it, leaving Detective Ishiro flustered. In that moment, he pounded away. In that split second, Hasekura had already grasped everything. Realizing that fleeing into the shrine grounds would spell disaster, he deliberately lured Ishiro close—then at the last moment spun around and dashed off toward the street.

Though it would take a long time to describe in writing, all of this happened in an instant—Detective Tanuma, stationed near the torii gate, hadn't even a moment to grasp the situation. "Dammit!" Even as he screamed inwardly, Detective Ishiro immediately blew his police whistle with a shrill blast. At the whistle's signal, four or five detectives in varied outfits came spilling out from the shrine grounds. They saw Ishiro chasing a suspicious man. Without an instant's hesitation, they joined the pursuit.

Hasekura ran off, his bristly head shaking violently. The fastened obi had come undone unnoticed, its long trailing end tangling in the hem. Though Hasekura possessed a robust physique and considerable vigor, being thirty-eight years old at this time meant he couldn't run as well as one might expect. Those chasing him were professional detectives, half of them sturdy young men in their twenties brimming with vitality. He was gradually cornered. Near the tram stop, Detective Ishiro, leading the chase, touched his arm. While passersby stood startled wondering what was happening, four or five detectives who had come running from behind piled onto him haphazardly, and the arrest rope was swiftly fastened.

And so, the enigmatic Hasekura Kihei was apprehended—pitifully so—by Kagurazaka police officers at Fukagawa Hachiman Shrine on a clear blue March morning, over a month after his flight. He, who had fled under suspicion of Bible theft, now took his first accursed step toward atonement—a decade-long lament behind iron bars under the weight of future terrible charges. At the moment of his capture, his attire consisted of a brown fedora and a striped padded kimono, over which—as previously described—he wore a blackish double-looped loincloth and high wooden sandals. However, concealed within his pockets—apart from a wallet containing over eighty yen in cash—were a pair of new hemp-lined sandals, a Benkei-striped hunting cap, and a small vial of strychnine sulfate. The hemp-lined sandals and hunting cap were, needless to say, for making an escape when the moment came, while the poison was likely intended for his final reckoning. Even from this, one could glimpse his meticulous preparation and resolve.

I have now recounted at length the path of Hasekura Kihei’s flight leading to his capture. How layered with dramatic twists and turns it was—this, dear readers, you must have fully grasped even through my clumsy pen. Taisho 6 was precisely ten years prior to the present, but that in this era, a villain as audacious and cunning as if he had stepped straight out of an Arsène Lupin novel—one so steeped in guile—could have truly existed was something even I, who indulge in all manner of imaginings to write detective stories, could scarcely have dreamed. Dear readers who have followed this tale in detail up to today, you must already fully grasp—even without further elaboration—the cunning schemes he wielded.

With his capture as the dividing line, the first part of this tale concludes.

The middle part of this tale—spanning from the interrogations yet to come to his final conviction—will unfold even more bizarre truths before your very eyes, dear readers, when combined with the cursed obsession that constitutes its latter half.

Interrogation

Before recounting the bizarre words and deeds of the captured Hasekura Kihei, there was one matter I needed to briefly clarify. This might prove tedious and troublesome for you, dear readers. However, as this bore significant relation to subsequent events, I had to ask you to endure it just this once.

Now, regarding Hasekura Kihei’s appearance—to put it kindly, he was imposing; to put it harshly, one might say grotesque or sinister. In any case, he had an exceedingly sinister countenance. He was neither particularly tall nor heavily built—what one might call of average height and build—but his sallow complexion, coupled with strikingly thick eyebrows and large eyes that darted about fiercely, gave him a fearsome appearance. His cheekbones jutted prominently, and his body looked robust at a glance; combined with the way he would rant in his naturally booming Oshu dialect and his fearsome bristly head, it was as though one were beholding an evil monk from Mount Hiei straight out of a painting. Those who knew him almost unanimously declared that their first impression was that he could only be perceived as a villain.

However, just because he had an exceptionally grotesque and sinister countenance did not definitively mean his heart was that of a villain. In the Biographies of Confucius' Disciples from the Records of the Grand Historian, Confucius stated: "I judged people by their words and erred with Zai Yu." He continued: "I judged people by their appearance and erred with Ziyu." Zai Yu, as recorded in the Analects, was a man scolded by Confucius for napping during daylight hours—eloquent in speech but petty in character. These words expressed Confucius' regret at having been momentarily deceived by Zai Yu's eloquence. Ziyu, whose true name was Dantai Mieming, possessed such a grotesque appearance that Confucius secretly rejected him and took no pleasure in accepting him as a disciple. Yet this man became an admirable figure who later gathered three hundred disciples and gained renown among feudal lords. Thus did Confucius regret having misjudged people by their appearance, admonishing his disciples by citing both Zai Yu's case and his own error. However, a differing account exists—according to Kongzi Jiayu, Ziyu's appearance was quite gentlemanly while his heart remained worthless. This text recorded precisely the opposite: that Confucius had been misled by Ziyu's gentlemanly mien and bungled his judgment. In essence, even a great sage like Confucius had moments of judging people by appearances—and that Confucius' tales of failure both began and ended with this single incident made it all the more remarkable.

Now, regarding Hasekura Kihei—he indeed had a sinister countenance, but beyond that, he was actually committing wicked deeds. Having already accumulated three prior convictions, he now committed Bible theft and assaulted the girl who had come to work as his maid. All of these had clear evidence and were manifestly criminal, and he was now further suspected of the grave crime of arson and murder. Given this, even those outside police authorities must first regard him as a villain. Then, his actions—from fleeing when Detective Ishiro visited his residence to being arrested—were nothing short of mockery toward the police; one could not help but be astonished at their audacity, meticulous preparation, and cunning. During his flight, he attempted to appear at the Kitakonya Police Station to sue the Municipal Electric Bureau, and even apprenticed himself at a photo studio to use it as a letter relay point—none of which were within the realm of what an ordinary person would conceive.

Why did he flee about so much? Why did he repeatedly send taunting letters to the police? His own defense would be presented later, but it proved exceedingly ambiguous and failed to compel third parties' assent. Such points, I think, clearly indicated that he was indeed a person of abnormal character. Thus, under these circumstances, it was only natural that Kagurazaka Police Station deemed Hasekura a major criminal. The detectives—already incensed beyond measure by his mockery—likely filled the station with triumphant cries when he was finally arrested and transported there.

Now, once Hasekura was transported to Kagurazaka Police Station, he was immediately brought before Judicial Officer Oshima.

What kind of interrogation would he face? Would he make a frank confession or not? Hasekura Kihei was brought before the Judicial Officer. On both sides, detectives were stationed.

If permitted an exaggerated description, Judicial Officer Oshima and the detectives directly involved in the case—Negishi, Ishiro, and Watanabe—must have been eager to confront him. Given that Hasekura was clearly not a man to be easily subdued—and with a considerable amount of evidence already gathered—it was certain that each of them harbored, if not openly expressed, a resolute determination to make him confess at all costs.

Though it was a problem of his own making, there was something pitiable about Hasekura being perceived in such a manner by the police from the very start of the interrogation.

“Name?” The Judicial Officer stared fixedly at him and declared solemnly. “Hasekura Kihei.” He answered in a hoarse voice without hesitation. “Age?” “Thirty-eight.” “Address?” “Shiba Shirogane Sanko-cho XX-banchi.” “Occupation?” “Evangelist.” “Hmm.” Judicial Officer Oshima nodded deeply, tightening his lower abdomen. “When this station sent an officer to request your accompaniment, why did you deceitfully flee?” “I didn’t flee.” Hasekura rebuffed the Judicial Officer’s words as if—

“The police and such institutions call people out over trivial matters and arbitrarily detain them for three or four days.” “I simply didn’t appear because being subjected to such insulting treatment was beyond my tolerance.”

“Hmm.” The Judicial Officer seemed somewhat offended by his brazen reply and showed signs of irritation. “Did you know why you were being summoned?” “I think it’s probably about the Bibles.” He raised his thick eyebrows and answered in a loud voice. “If it’s about the Bibles, I’d never trouble you all—since I came by those through proper transfer, wherever I sell them off is entirely my prerogative.” “Then all the more reason you shouldn’t have gone running around. Then you must have some other shady business to hide.”

“That’s absolutely not true.” “During your flight, you repeatedly sent letters filled with mockery to the station and detectives—what’s your explanation for that?”

The Judicial Officer slightly changed his tone and began eliciting information on other matters. “That was because the detective who came to question me was so insolent—I found it extremely insulting—so I wrote those letters in retaliation.” “I see. So that was your reasoning.” Judicial Officer Oshima nodded lightly but suddenly changed his tone,

“Hey—now that we’re here—why don’t you do us all a favor and confess everything cleanly?” “This station has already completed its full investigation.” “What could you possibly mean by that?” “I haven’t the slightest inkling.” Hasekura scoffed dismissively.

“I see. Then I’ll ask—you haven’t forgotten employing a maid named Kobayashi Sadako three years ago, have you?”

“Kobayashi Sada?” Hasekura’s sharp eyes darted. “I do recall employing such a maid.” “Do you remember assaulting that woman?” “I have no recollection of that.” He denied it outright. “Don’t spout such bald-faced lies.”

The Judicial Officer snapped.

“A formal accusation of assault has been filed by the victim’s uncle, Kobayashi Teijiro.” “That cannot be.” Hasekura began to panic slightly. “That matter has been properly settled.”

“What do you mean by ‘settled’?” “At the time, a pastor acquaintance in Kobe mediated—after proper arrangements were made, there should’ve been no further issues.” “I see. So you’re admitting to the assault then.”

“———” Hasekura remained silent and did not answer. When Hasekura fell silent, Judicial Officer Oshima pressed on triumphantly. “Keeping quiet won’t make anything clearer.” “For that matter, please ask Pastor Kobe.” Hasekura answered as if he had given up.

“I see. Very well, let’s set that aside for now.” Judicial Officer Oshima grinned with satisfaction but immediately turned serious again,

“The maid named Kobayashi Sada has since gone missing, but you must know where she is. “You’d better speak plainly without hiding anything.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” Hasekura shook his head vehemently. “There’s no reason I would know.” “Don’t talk nonsense!” Judicial Officer Oshima barked. “Don’t you dare say you don’t know!” “The whereabouts of Sada must be known by her uncle Teijiro.”

Hasekura shot back with equal fervor, his voice rising.

“Since Teijiro kept demanding money for medical treatment, when I told him to bring her to me once, he ended up hiding her—thinking he wouldn’t get any more cash if he actually showed her.” “I see. So you’re saying you told Teijiro to bring her to you and you’d give him money.” “That’s correct.” “Then there’s no other conclusion—you’re the one who hid Sada!” “Why would that be?” “If Sada doesn’t appear, there’s no need to pay the money—isn’t that right?”

“That may indeed appear so, but I have not the slightest recollection of hiding Sada.”

“I see. Now, another thing—you have been caught up in fires three separate times, haven’t you?” “I have.” Hasekura nodded. “Don’t you think it’s strange for the same person to be caught up in fires three times in a row?” “I don’t find it particularly strange. I consider myself extremely unlucky.”

“But this isn’t just a matter of bad luck, is it? Every time there’s a fire, you collect insurance money and move to an ever larger house—wouldn’t you agree?”

“I shan’t answer such impudent questions.”

Hasekura firmly pursed his lips. "You can't get away with not answering."

Judicial Officer Oshima sneered. "You know full well that every one of those fires was arson."

“I don’t know whether all three were arson, but I heard the Kanda fire was deliberate.” “You set the fires, didn’t you?” “That is preposterous. I lost all my precious books in that fire and was greatly inconvenienced. I must ask you to keep your jokes in check.” “Shut up!”

Judicial Officer Oshima roared as if his pent-up irritation had burst all at once.

“You’re gravely mistaken if you think spouting nonsense will settle this.” “Every claim I make has concrete evidence behind it.” “I’m not fishing for baseless rumors here.” “Evidence?” Hasekura remained utterly unshaken. “Though ignorant of its nature, I’d dearly love to examine this evidence of yours.” “So you persist in feigning ignorance?” “I know nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Very well—we’ll leave it at that for now,” said Judicial Officer Oshima. “But I’ll interrogate you again later. Make sure you think hard about this until then.” Hasekura pressed his lips together. “Thinking won’t make me know what I don’t know,” he retorted. “These incessant summons are intolerable! If you’ve no further questions—release me at once.”

“What?! Let you go?”

Judicial Officer Oshima glared resentfully at Hasekura. “How could I possibly let scum like you go? Stay put in the detention cell.” “So you mean to detain me?” Hasekura’s face twisted in outrage. “This is an egregious violation of human rights! On what grounds are you holding me? I’m engaged in lawful work. I’ve done nothing illegal. There’s no justification for this detention!”

Hasekura shouted. While disregarding Hasekura’s outcry, Judicial Officer Oshima declared coldly: "You are hereby placed under twenty-nine days’ detention for obstructing road traffic." "Huh? Obstructing road traffic?"

Hasekura was dumbfounded.

At that time, under police authority, no matter how strong the suspicion against someone was, they could not detain them in custody for interrogation. Thus, it was common practice for the police to detain such suspects under fabricated charges. In Hasekura’s case, having nearly exhausted legitimate reasons, they ended up charging him with something like obstruction of traffic—a desperate last resort that amounted to human rights violation. However, since allowing suspects to return home each time risked flight or evidence destruction, they often detained them under such pretextual charges, a practice that even judicial authorities seemed to tacitly condone.

“Throw this guy into the detention cell and keep him there.” Judicial Officer Oshima commanded the detectives beside him. Hasekura was roughly taken away by two detectives.

The two detectives who remained behind—Ishiro and Watanabe—directed accusatory eyes at the Chief. “Chief,”

Ishiro said vehemently. “With such half-hearted methods, there’s no way that guy will confess!” “Now, don’t act rashly.” The Chief answered in a restraining tone. “This isn’t something you can rush through.” “We’ll all have to take turns grilling him relentlessly.”

"That may be so, but..." "I'll handle it once more this afternoon, so next I'll have Negishi and you take over." "I suppose so." Negishi had been thinking for a moment, but "I will assist the Chief, and let's have Detective Ishiro and Detective Watanabe handle the more vigorous aspects." "That should be acceptable as well." The Chief nodded.

“And then there’s that pastor called Kobe or something that guy mentioned. We’ll need to investigate him once.” “That’s right.”

The Chief, as if he had remembered, “Let’s summon him immediately.” “No.” Negishi glared sharply with his sunken eyes, appearing deep in thought, “There’s no telling whether he’ll come even if summoned.” “Perhaps we should have Detective Ishiro go instead.”

“Let’s go.” Ishiro interjected. “Then Ishiro, go to Pastor Kobe’s place. After I conduct my investigation this afternoon, Detectives Negishi and Watanabe will need to thoroughly redo it.” “Understood.” The three detectives bowed their heads.

“Well then, shall we have lunch or something?” Judicial Officer Oshima cheerfully tried to stand up. At that moment, a detective came running in a flurry.

“Chief, Hasekura has started writhing in agony. He’s thrashing around the cell!” “What?!” Everyone looked at each other in surprise, but the Chief turned swiftly to Ishiro. “You did confiscate all his personal effects, right?”

"Yes." Ishiro nodded. "You mentioned he had poison—" "We confiscated the poison first, of course."

“Then it appears he’s developed a sudden illness.” The Chief turned to the detective who had come running, “Summon a doctor immediately!” “Understood.” As the detective left, the Chief stood up abruptly. “Hey, let’s go take a look.” When the group was led and stood before the solitary cell, in the dim, filthy box, Hasekura, his face drained of color, was moaning while flailing his limbs. “What’s wrong with you?” Chief Oshima peered into the solitary cell and called out.

“Uuugh...”

Hasekura, however, did not attempt to answer and continued groaning. Detective Ishiro entered the cell and lifted Hasekura up, but he merely lay there with a pale face, writhing in agony, showing no signs of having vomited blood. "What's wrong?"

Ishiro shouted.

“Ugh... It hurts... I’m going to die.” Hasekura answered while panting.

At that moment, the police doctor rushed to the scene upon receiving the urgent report. The small-framed elderly doctor gripped Hasekura’s pulse firmly, “What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt?” he asked gently. “Yes...” Hasekura answered limply. “I see. It’ll get better on its own." “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 a copper coin.” “I—I intend to die.”

“What? You swallowed a copper coin?”

Ishiro shouted. “Where did you hide something like that?” Hasekura, looking pained and remaining limp, did not answer. Ishiro asked the doctor with a worried look. “Will he be alright?” “He’ll be fine.” The doctor nodded.

“Swallowing a copper coin won’t kill him. His pulse is steady—there’s no need to worry.” “I see.”

Ishiro, as if relieved, “He’s such a nuisance.” “The bastard swiped a copper coin when we weren’t looking.” “He’s still hiding something, isn’t he?” With these words, Ishiro gave Hasekura an annoyed look and began thoroughly searching his pockets and kimono sleeves while shaking him. “It hurts! Don’t be so rough!” Hasekura shouted.

“Could you give me some medicine?”

The supervisor asked the doctor while glancing sidelong at Hasekura. “Yes, let’s give him some digestive medicine.” “Is it really alright?” “Yes, you’ll be fine.” “Hey, Hasekura.”

The supervisor turned toward Hasekura and scolded him in a booming voice.

“Don’t play these foolish games. Trying to delay the interrogation with such a stupid stunt won’t work, I tell you!” When Hasekura heard the supervisor’s scolding, he glared fiercely but then fell completely silent.

The supervisor glared at Hasekura for a while but soon withdrew from the room with the detectives in tow, their footsteps heavy. “He’s such a troublemaker.” The supervisor was still fuming. “Supervisor, let’s bring him out right now and take him down!” Ishiro also said excitedly. “That’s fine. Alright, I’ll go bring him out.”

The ever-impatient Detective Watanabe stood up and tried to leave.

“Hey, hey, don’t rush like that.”

Detective Negishi called out to stop Watanabe, who was trying to leave. “No matter what you say, interrogating him now would be too harsh. And there’s no need to worry about questioning him now anyway. It’d be best to leave him in solitary for tonight. No matter how stubborn someone is, leaving them alone makes them overthink things—gets them anxious enough to talk.” “That depends on the man.” Watanabe reluctantly took his seat while adding, “With that guy, such half-hearted measures won’t work.”

“Well, whether he goes or not, let’s just leave him be for now. Instead—” Negishi looked toward Oshima, “Let’s summon his wife once and question her—she might know something, I tell you.”

“Hmm, right.” “Let’s do that.” Judicial Officer Oshima nodded. Shizuko, Hasekura’s wife, was ordered by police to appear under Detective Negishi’s recommendation and underwent interrogation. Prior to this arrangement, Detective Ishiro had visited Pastor Kobe in Shiba Imazato-cho. Pastor Kobe—then thirty-five or thirty-six years old and entering his prime—was an elegant clergyman trained abroad. Hasekura’s wife became acquainted with him through her work as a Sunday school teacher within their shared denomination; through this marital connection, Hasekura himself began frequenting the church community. It was Pastor Kobe who facilitated placing Kobayashi Sadako in the Hasekura household. Through these ties came Hasekura’s discipleship under Pastor Kobe.

When Detective Ishiro presented his business card, he was immediately ushered into a room on the second floor. The pastor appeared—his pale face framed by somewhat thick lips pressed tightly together—gave a brief nod to Ishiro, sat down, and spoke with evident displeasure. “Do you have some business?” “Ah, there are certain matters I wish to inquire about regarding Hasekura.” Ishiro replied respectfully.

“Hasekura?” “Hmm, what would that be about?” “The truth is, Hasekura is currently being detained at Kagurazaka Police Station on suspicion of certain charges.” “Hasekura...?” Pastor Kobe seemed slightly startled but quickly regained his composure, “Hmm, what sort of suspicion are we talking about?” “Due to various charges that I cannot disclose here at this time, what I wish to inquire about pertains to a woman named Kobayashi Sadako who was residing at Hasekura’s home.” “Hmm.”

“It’s about Hasekura having committed assault against a girl named Kobayashi Sadako.”

“Are you asking me about that?” Pastor Kobe asked with a hint of sharpness. “Yes. That’s correct. Hasekura says he wants us to ask you.” “So Hasekura said you should ask me?” “Yes.” “I see.”

Pastor Kobe remained silent for a moment. "If Hasekura said that," he finally spoke, "there might be no objection on my part." "But after all, this concerns someone's honor—I find myself unable to speak of it." "That may well be," Ishiro countered, "but if the truth remains obscured, it could disadvantage Hasekura." "We too wish to grasp the full truth of this matter," he pressed, hands clasped formally on his knees. "I assure you we'll cause no undue trouble—please share what you know."

“I fully understand what you’re saying,” “After all, this is a serious matter.” “Well, I must decline to speak about it.” “Then could you tell me only what’s unproblematic?” “What exactly do you require?” “Let me ask you this.” “I’ll answer what I can.”

“I heard that Kobayashi Sadako was placed at the Hasekura residence for etiquette training through your mediation—is that correct?” “It wasn’t exactly mediation. Her parents suggested having their daughter stay at Mr. Hasekura’s house, and I simply agreed it seemed reasonable.” “Is it true that Hasekura did something to that girl?” “I cannot confirm whether it’s true or false.” “Then is it true she was granted leave due to illness?”

“Yes, that was the case.” “For what reason did she become ill?”

Ishiro looked up intently at Pastor Kobe’s troubled face. In response to Detective Ishiro’s questioning, Pastor Kobe’s already troubled expression darkened further, “I cannot answer that.”

“I see.” Ishiro pondered for a moment, but since the pastor’s attitude remained unyielding and showed no sign of softening, he seemed to resign himself. “If you put it that way, there’s nothing to be done. However, as I am making this inquiry in my official capacity, it would be gravely problematic for me to return to the station without obtaining any meaningful information from you.” Seeing Ishiro’s dejected appearance, Pastor Kobe—perhaps moved by pity—slightly softened his tone. “If you frame it as official duty, then I suppose I must disclose what I know. Let us proceed thus: Should there be a formal summons from either a prosecutor or the police chief, I will consent to make my statement before them. I detest carelessly discussing matters that might cause others trouble.”

“Then what?” Ishiro said energetically. “Would you speak before the Police Chief?” “Very well. If you deem it necessary, we shall proceed accordingly.” “Thank you.” Ishiro bowed his head.

“Then I must ask you to put up with the inconvenience. I’ll return to the station and begin formal procedures at once.” Though Detective Ishiro regretted not obtaining any solid leads about Hasekura directly from Pastor Kobe, he returned to Kagurazaka Police Station with a bit of momentum from the pastor’s agreement to comply with a police summons and speak before the chief.

Ishiro returned to the station when it was already nearing evening.

In the detectives' room, the interrogation of Hasekura's wife Shizuko had begun. She wore a modest striped kimono layered with a dark haori bearing a family crest, her knees neatly aligned as she kept her head bowed motionless, responding to the detectives' blunt, piercing questions only with faint "Yes"s and "No"s. Occasionally, she would raise her pallid, bloodless face and cast resentful, indignant glances at the detectives from beneath her long eyelashes.

Shizuko’s interrogation continued for three days starting on this day. According to police authorities’ reasoning, they believed Shizuko must have known about Hasekura’s various crimes—the three arson incidents spanning before and after, and the murder of the maid Kobayashi Sadako. Convinced that making this woman talk would resolve everything, they conducted this interrogation with considerable severity. Hasekura’s interrogation proceeded in parallel with his wife’s; though he maintained complete denial throughout his own questioning, he appeared deeply troubled by hers. The fact that he later began madly proclaiming himself “the Taisho-era Sakura Sogoro” likely stemmed from this very period.

Her interrogation continued for three days as previously stated. However, she endured it admirably. Since she was reasonably educated, Hasekura appeared to hold her in considerable respect, and their marital relationship seemed harmonious, the detectives reasoned he would likely confide most matters to her—or at least she would have inferred some degree of his activities—and therefore must have known about Hasekura's deeds. Thus they took turns interrogating her with escalating severity. Yet contrary to their expectations, they could extract nothing from her lips. They had presumed she wasn't the sort to lightly divulge her husband's grave affairs, but faced with her unyielding silence even under such pressure, they had no choice but to concede she truly knew nothing.

“Hey!” By the third day, even the seasoned Detective Negishi had finally thrown in the towel. “She’s a stubborn woman. But it seems she actually doesn’t know anything.” “I don’t think there’s any way she doesn’t know.”

Detective Watanabe said resentfully. "I wonder if she actually doesn’t know anything." Thus, all that emerged from Shizuko’s mouth was solely the truth about Kobayashi Sada’s assault incident.

The story went back three years.

The intense fragrance of pure white daphnes blooming profusely in the garden wafted into the study, marking a twilight hour that seemed to evoke the restlessness of youth. The young pastor, Mr. Kobe Genjiro, had slid open the shoji screens facing the garden and sat upright, deeply engrossed in a religious text. The mantel clock on the desk—brought back from Switzerland—ticked quietly through the spring evening, each moment said to be worth its weight in gold.

Just then, the sliding door opened quietly, and his wife appeared gracefully. “That Mr. Hasekura says he absolutely wishes to see you.” Mr. Kobe turned around and looked at his wife’s face, his expression slightly darkening as he posed a question in return. “Hasekura?” “Yes.” Hasekura had visited Mr. Kobe’s place several times through introductions from his wife Shizuko, but as the saying goes—there was just something about him that grated on people’s nerves—and Mr. Kobe found himself unable to muster any goodwill toward the man. As a religious leader charged with saving sinners and straightening what was crooked, he ought to have refrained from letting personal feelings color his treatment of others—but being no deity, he could not help but experience human antipathies. To be clear, Pastor Kobe did not hate Hasekura. He simply found him faintly disagreeable for reasons he couldn’t articulate. Yet he could hardly reject someone who came seeking spiritual guidance of his own volition.

He snapped shut the book on his desk. “Please show him in here.” Hasekura Kihei entered the study, his face—bearing a peculiar intensity—tinged with faint unease. “It’s been some time.” He prostrated himself.

“It is I who should say so. I’m glad to see you in good health.” “Now, do have a seat.”

The pastor offered him a futon.

“Thank you very much.” Hasekura made no move to lay out the futon and continued fidgeting. Dusk crept stealthily into the room. The surroundings grew hazy as the clock’s sound suddenly rang out. Pastor Kobe abruptly stood up and twisted the switch of the overhead electric light. A warm, yellowish light streamed down, illuminating the tatami mat’s weave with vivid clarity. The twilight retreated to the room’s corners. Hasekura—still fidgeting—snapped his head up resolutely when Pastor Kobe quietly returned to his seat, only to let it droop weakly moments later.

An oppressive silence persisted. The fragrance of daphnes crept into the nostrils of the host and guest, making the atmosphere even more oppressive.

Hasekura firmly raised his face again. “Pastor.” He cried out painfully.

“Please laugh at me.” “Please punish me.” “Hasekura is a pitiful person.”

“What’s wrong?”

Pastor Kobe looked at him with pity. “Please go ahead and tell me.” “Pastor, I am a despicable person. “I am a weak person.” Having rapidly declared this, Hasekura paused to catch his breath for a moment, then continued with a pained expression,

“Pastor, please look at my nose.”

Pastor Kobe stared intently at the enormous nose in the very center of his jet-black, rugged face. The pastor earnestly observed his nose. His earnestness left the pastor no room for even a smile. “Pastor, my sexual desires are overwhelming. My large nose here proves it.” Pastor Kobe did not offer any particular reply and steadfastly watched his pitiful, agitated face. “Pastor, please punish me. Please forgive me. And please save me.”

Hasekura pleaded earnestly, almost on the verge of tears. Mrs. Kobe, who had brought the tea, had been standing outside the fusuma door all along.

“Please don’t get so agitated. Speak calmly.” Pastor Kobe said soothingly to Hasekura.

“Pastor，I have committed a terrible sin.” “It is a defiled sin.”

“There is no sin too defiled to be atoned for.” “Please go ahead and tell me.” “Pastor, I have violated a woman.” “An innocent girl.” “As I said before, I am an ugly slave to lust.” “The truth is, my wife returned to her hometown of Akita about a month ago.” “In the loneliness of her absence from our bed, I made advances toward our maid Sadako and ultimately used violence to satisfy my bestial desires.” Hasekura began speaking haltingly and with difficulty, and when he finally finished confessing his sins, he lowered his face and kept it down.

Pastor Kobe was slightly taken aback by Hasekura’s unexpected confession, “That is an unthinkable thing to have done.”

"My sins do not end there." Eventually, Hasekura raised his face and said pitifully.

“I ended up transmitting a loathsome disease to the woman.” “Wh-what?” Even the pastor, who had been listening calmly, involuntarily raised his voice at the extremity of it. Was he really afflicted with such a loathsome disease? Could this truly be the act of one who had placed himself within the religious community, even if only nominally? “There is nothing I can say. Please have pity on me, who must come before you to speak of such shameful things.” “You have confessed properly. I believe you will surely be saved.”

“Thank you very much. Pastor, my despicable deeds were not left unpunished. It ended up being discovered by my wife and the woman’s parents. The woman’s uncle is an incorrigible ruffian. I am constantly being threatened.” Pastor Kobe felt as though he had been somewhat deceived. He averted his eyes from Hasekura’s utterly dejected figure and glanced briefly at the garden before them. In the dusk, clove flowers floated white. Pastor Kobe had thought that Hasekura had been confessing his sins with a sincere attitude all this time, but now, hearing this, he could not help but think that Hasekura had come to him seeking help out of fear of being threatened by the maid’s uncle. The tears he was shedding were not necessarily those of repentance, and the one who had come seeking salvation might have been his flesh rather than his spirit.

“Pastor.”

Hasekura looked up anxiously at the pastor, who had fallen silent, “I am repentant from the bottom of my heart. Please save me.”

Was Hasekura’s repentance genuine? At this moment, his sincere feelings—even if they stemmed not from fear of divine punishment but from dread of the ruffian’s threats—could indeed be recognized as true contrition. There was likely none who could cast stones to condemn him for this confession. Pastor Kobe straightened his posture. “Then what should I do?” “I would ask you to mediate between me and the uncle.”

Hasekura answered with a sigh of relief.

“Of course, I swear I shall never repeat such wrongdoing.” “What understanding have you reached with this uncle?” “He does nothing but clamor wildly, demanding I restore his niece to her former condition.” “I see.”

Pastor Kobe thought for a while, “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 hers. By the way, what about the father?” “Of course, there’s no doubt he’s angry—but my father hasn’t said anything directly about it.” “As for the father, I believe I may have met him at least once. Even setting aside the father, there’s no reason for the uncle to be making such a fuss. In any case, I will try to speak calmly from my side.”

Hasekura repeatedly bowed his head in gratitude to Pastor Kobe’s compassionate words and then left.

Afterward, Pastor Kobe exerted various efforts until finally the maid Sadako was taken back by her parents, and under the condition that Hasekura would pay two hundred yen as consolation money while also bearing the treatment costs until the woman’s illness was cured, a provisional settlement was at last reached.

Finally, when it came time to hand over the promised money to the uncle Teijiro, Pastor Kobe was startled by Hasekura’s attitude. When Hasekura, threatened by his uncle Teijiro, found himself in a desperate situation, he tearfully appealed to Pastor Kobe. At that moment, his state of mind was truly pitiable, with signs of repentance overflowing—surely no one could have brought themselves to chastise him further then. It was precisely this that led Pastor Kobe to take on the role of mediator out of pity; yet when the matter was finally resolved and it came time to hand over the money, his attitude had completely changed.

He could not bear the regret of having had the money taken from him. “I handed over the money.” When he reported this to Pastor Kobe with such a resentful look, even Pastor Kobe was taken aback.

In short, he appeared to be a type of miser.

In some cases, he would begrudge spending money with a mad intensity. His numerous crimes could also be said to have arisen from this extreme love of money. The sincere feelings he had when he confessed from the heart and sought salvation from Pastor Kobe abruptly faded into the shadows when it came time to part with money, laying bare his other half—ugly, base inclinations. In this regard, he could be said to be a person with dual personalities. As the case was superficially resolved, Pastor Kobe withdrew from it. It seemed that Teijiro, the uncle, continued to occasionally go to Hasekura’s house to extort money even after that. Not long after that, Kobayashi Sadako disappeared on her way to the hospital.

When Pastor Kobe heard that Sadako had gone missing, he thought that greedy uncle might have sold her off somewhere and felt pity for her, but having neither obligation nor curiosity to investigate further, he left it at that. After that, Hasekura occasionally visited Pastor Kobe.

The above were the main points that Pastor Kobe presented when he appeared before the police. The account given by Hasekura's wife, Shizuko, regarding this matter was largely the same. Hasekura, who for three days since his arrest had stubbornly denied any knowledge no matter what he was asked, was once again brought to the interrogation room this afternoon and questioned by Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe. “Hey, stop playing dumb! Where did you hide Kobayashi Sadako?” “Spit it out!” The short-tempered Detective Watanabe roared.

Hasekura remained silent as ever, looking up at the detective with cold eyes. "The evidence has accumulated sufficiently!"

Detective Ishiro said through gritted teeth. "The longer you stay silent, the more you lose out." "If you make a proper confession, there can be extenuating circumstances." "Because of your obstinacy, even your blameless wife suffers - isn't that so?"

"What? You're saying my wife is being questioned?" Hasekura flinched. "That's right." "Your innocent wife has been interrogated nonstop for three days and three nights." Ishiro deliberately exaggerated his threats while speaking mockingly. "That's terrible." "What could my wife possibly know?" Hasekura said while trying to conceal his look of anguish. "We're investigating whether she knows anything or not."

Noticing Hasekura’s flinch, Ishiro pressed harder, but Hasekura abruptly fell completely silent. The three-foot door to the detectives’ room swung open with a clatter. It was Judicial Officer Oshima and Detective Negishi who appeared. “Still not confessing? Alright, we’ll take over the interrogation.” When Ishiro saw Judicial Officer Oshima’s face—the man who had come out declaring “I’ll take over”—he cried out in surprise. “Chief! You look dreadfully pale!”

“Hmm,” Judicial Officer Oshima answered while furrowing his brows. “I’m feeling a bit unwell.” Judicial Officer Oshima’s complexion was deathly pale. Outwardly, he had a stout and robust-looking physique, but as he was inherently weak of heart, whenever he became overly excited or immersed in investigations, he would often suffer from cerebral anemia. “We aren’t tired yet, so why don’t you rest for a while?”

Detective Watanabe said worriedly. When the detectives grew weary from questioning, it appeared they would switch to a fresh team. If Hasekura, being interrogated, was never to be granted rest, then no matter how robust he was, it seemed inevitable that the time would come when his strength to resist would finally be exhausted. “No, it’s nothing.” Judicial Officer Oshima said firmly. “I cannot rest until Hasekura confesses.” “I tried my best to stop him too, you know.” Detective Negishi said.

“The Chief just wouldn’t listen.”

“I see. Then we’ll leave it to you.”

With those words, Ishiro left the room together with Detective Watanabe. “Hasekura.” The chief stared fixedly at him and said.

“Are you still not going to confess Kobayashi Sada’s whereabouts?” “I cannot answer what I don’t know, however much you ask.”

Hasekura answered falteringly. “So be it! Fine, then I’ll tell you where the woman is!” the Chief roared. “What?” Hasekura looked up at the Chief with a look of disbelief.

“Kobayashi Sada is in the old well at Osaki!” “Wh-what?”

Hasekura jumped up. "Do you think the police know nothing?!" When Chief Oshima mentioned the old well in Osaki, Hasekura - whose face had momentarily paled - instantly regained his look of feigned ignorance and spoke mockingly. "If you already know where Sada is, then what's the problem?" "What was the point of questioning me all this time then?" "What?! You dare mock this officer?!"

Chief Oshima reached the peak of his fury but could no longer utter another word and began to stagger unsteadily as if about to collapse. “Ah! What’s wrong? Stay with us!” “Stay with us!”

Negishi, startled, grabbed the Chief to support him. "N-now, it’s... it’s nothing. I’m fine."

The Chief bit his bloodless lips and said. “Now, please rest.”

Negishi forcibly restrained the Chief and turned to Hasekura. “Now, Mr. Hasekura, you’re causing us trouble. There’s no sense in angering the Judicial Officer. I think it’s best if you simply tell us everything you know.” “I don’t know anything, so there’s nothing to tell.” Hasekura answered somewhat gently while remaining as blunt as ever.

When reading a certain treatise on suspect interrogation methods, it listed as primary principles: not intimidating the suspect, not becoming angry with the suspect, and not revealing the content of suspicions to them. The police officers currently interrogating Hasekura Kihei—starting with the Chief—were all seasoned investigators and veterans in their field; they could not possibly have been unaware of such basic matters. Naturally, they had begun by interrogating him according to standard procedures, but since Hasekura was never one to be easily cornered, their lenient methods proved utterly ineffective. Growing increasingly frustrated, they now sought to bludgeon him into confession through sheer force.

True to his reputation as a seasoned veteran, Detective Negishi still maintained some composure and pressed forward methodically with his investigation. After having been berated relentlessly, Hasekura showed signs of being somewhat swayed. “Hey, you.” Detective Negishi proceeded with the interrogation, his sharp eyes gleaming ominously as he pressed forward methodically. “As we’ve told you repeatedly, we aren’t making baseless accusations. But now, beyond whether evidence exists or not, I want to appeal directly to your conscience. You were supposedly engaged in religious work, after all. There must have been times when you urged people to repent of their arrogance. Look—if you’ve done anything you consider wrong, why not come clean about it now? Our duty isn’t merely to uncover facts unfavorable to suspects. We thoroughly investigate anything beneficial too, attach an advisory report, and send it to the prosecutor’s office. If you simply confess honestly, we won’t bear any grudge—we’ll even ask the Police Chief to arrange for a lighter sentence. There’s no falsehood in what I’m telling you. If you keep resisting like this, it’ll only end up being your loss.”

“I’m not resisting in the least.” In response to Negishi’s exhaustive litany of words, Hasekura answered while slightly softening his expression.

“However, I cannot respond to things I don’t know, and when questioned too overbearingly, naturally even I cannot just stay silent and withdraw—that’s how it is.”

“I see—what you say is reasonable. However, we find it impossible to believe you don’t know.” “That’s just a difference of opinion—in other words, a pointless back-and-forth.” “Then you deny that during the Takanawa fire—though it was only partially burned—you paid off the insurance agent to have it treated as a total loss?” “I did pay money to the insurance agent. But that was merely a token of gratitude—I have no recollection of having them treat a partial burn as a total loss.” “On the night of that fire, you paid and hired what’s commonly called a ruffian—what was that for?”

“No reason at all.” Hasekura, who had inadvertently let something slip, hurriedly continued.

“No—I have no recollection of hiring such a person.” “Hmm, well, putting that aside—you must’ve been worn down by Teijiro, Sadako’s uncle, threatening you so often, right?” “That bastard is truly despicable.” Hasekura appeared vexed, “That bastard really put me through hell.” “Hmm. So around what time was it that you took Kobayashi Sadako out on her way back from the hospital?” “I know nothing of such matters.” Hasekura wasn’t falling for Detective Negishi’s tactics. Though spring days are said to be long, under Negishi’s relentless interrogation, the day eventually sank into dusk.

“Detective Negishi.” The Judicial Officer, who had been listening intently with a pained expression,

“This won’t do… I’m feeling dizzy.” “I need to rest, so I’ll leave the rest to Ishiro and the others.”

With those words, the Judicial Officer exited feebly. Before long, Ishiro and Watanabe barged in roughly. “Hey, Hasekura.” Ishiro suddenly called out. “Still not confessing? You’re one stubborn bastard.”

“If you keep up this stubborn act, we’ll make you suffer!”

Watanabe shouted. “Mr. Hasekura.”

Detective Negishi said. “These two are young—you never know what they might do to you.” “Wouldn’t it be better to speak now rather than endure such needless suffering before talking?” “After all, you’ll have to talk eventually—it’s in your best interest to do so now.” “Whether it benefits me or harms me, I cannot say what I don’t know at all.” The night grew steadily deeper. In the center of the desolate detectives’ room where Hasekura sat, only a single dim electric lamp hung high above his head—its light casting stark shadows across his sunken eyes, jutting cheekbones, and large nose, the uneven planes of his face making him appear all the more fearsome.

“Alright then, I’ll show you something!” With that shout, Ishiro took out something white—but when Hasekura caught a glimpse of it— “Ah!”

he shouted. What caused Hasekura to let out that "Ah!" before he could even get a proper look? What Detective Ishiro had taken out was a white, weathered skull.

“Hasekura, take a good look at this skull.” Ishiro thrust the eerie skull before Hasekura’s eyes. “What is this?” Hasekura shouted. “Don’t you recognize it? Look at the teeth of this skull. This is the skeleton of Kobayashi Sadako, whom you killed.”

“Uh... uh...” Hasekura showed a look of terror and tried to turn his face away.

“Hey, there’s no need to be so scared.” Detective Watanabe, while receiving the skull from Ishiro, “Isn’t this the bones of that woman you doted on?”

It was not yet what could be called the dead of night. But this was a detectives' room so dreadful that merely hearing about it would terrify one, with desolate surroundings. Surrounded by hardened detectives and having a skull thrust before his eyes, even the formidable Hasekura must have been startled. If he had killed Kobayashi Sadako, how terrified would he have felt? It was not difficult to imagine. However, the bold Hasekura revealed only a momentary glimpse of disarray before swiftly returning to his usual detestable manner of treating people as unworthy of regard.

“I don’t know anything about that thing! Don’t spout such absurd nonsense about me killing Sada!”

“The corpse of Sada was recovered from the old well in Osaki, you know.”

Detective Negishi said quietly.

"I hear you went to see it at the time—what did that feel like?" "There was an incident where a woman’s corpse was recovered from the old well in Osaki." "I remember going to see that." "But that was absolutely not Sada." "That’s not true." "It’s unquestionably Sada’s corpse." "No—the corpse they recovered was completely decomposed, so there’s no way to identify whose body it was." "In fact, even the coroner at the time couldn’t determine a thing about it." "Mr. Hasekura, you seem remarkably well-informed about the details."

“――――” “You must have paid close attention to the autopsy results because something had occurred to you.” “Right? Isn’t that so?” “――――”

“Hasekura.”

As if unable to bear it any longer, Detective Ishiro shouted. “No matter how you try to hide that you threw the woman into the old well, it’s useless.” “Just say it straight already!” “You can’t keep hiding it forever.” Negishi continued in a persistent tone. “I’ve questioned all sorts of criminals over the years.” “Some were stubborn and wouldn’t confess easily, but they all cracked in the end.” “You can’t keep claiming ignorance about a crime you actually committed until the bitter end.” “If you’ll have to tell the truth anyway, sooner’s better.” “It’d work in your favor even if this goes to trial—and the longer your confession drags on, the longer your wife and children will have to suffer.”

“I understand perfectly well what you’re saying.”

Hasekura nodded while, “If I had any recollection of it, I would naturally say so.” “Being kept in a place like this forever is agony, and thinking of my wife and children is more painful than being cut to pieces.” “Since I truly know nothing, no matter how much you ask, I won’t say anything more.” “Hurry up and send me to trial.” “So, you’re going to keep insisting you know nothing to the bitter end, then?” Negishi changed his tone and glared sharply at Hasekura. “That’s right.” Hasekura, pierced by Negishi’s penetrating gaze, answered as if snapping back.

“Very well!”

Negishi stood up abruptly. “I have nothing more to say. From now on, I don’t care what hardships you endure. If you happen to recall anything I’ve said, have them inform me that you wish to speak with Negishi. Then we’ll meet again.” Having declared this dismissively, Negishi left the room.

Detective Watanabe, who had been inching closer all along, edged up to Hasekura with the skull in one hand.

The night wore on.

This place was a world apart from the mundane realm. A detective's room whose very name would make the timid tremble in fear. From around Detective Watanabe - pressing toward Hasekura with a skull in one hand - a ghastly aura indeed gushed forth.

“Hasekura! No matter how calmly you pretend or how stubbornly you cling to this ignorance act, it won’t work! If you had nothing to feel guilty about, why didn’t you come forward from the start to clear your name? Your very flight proves your guilt! And even while fleeing, you committed such atrocities that no one could see you as anything but a villain! We’ve got irrefutable evidence—Bible thefts, arsons, assaults! You want to escape the murder charge most of all? Now that we’ve recovered the victim’s immovable corpse, no excuses will save you! Why not confess this obvious crime at once and beg mercy from the authorities? Are you truly claiming you don’t recognize this skull?!”

Hasekura, who had grown agitated under the relentless barrage of questioning, bellowed in his characteristically gruff voice. "I don't know! I don't know! No matter what you say, I don't know!"

“How could there be something you don’t know?!”

Detective Watanabe roared. "This is the skull of the woman you doted on." "Go on, take a good look!"

Detective Watanabe pressed the skull firmly against Hasekura’s face. Just as Hasekura was about to shout something, the door to the room clattered open, and someone slipped inside. That was Police Chief Shoji. Police Chief Shoji moved his tall, judo-honed frame with heavy, deliberate steps, his blankly vacant demeanor showing no trace of emotion as he casually addressed the detectives.

“Hey - what do you intend to do? Haven’t you finished settling this matter yet?”

“Yes.”

Ishiro stiffened while, "He still hasn't confessed." "Is that so."

He gave a slight nod but turned toward Hasekura, “Hey, you. It seems you still haven’t settled this matter yet.”

The night was now quite late. Though still too early for flowers, it was springtime. Even Kagurazaka Street, which had been bustling through the evening hours, now showed only scattered night stalls and few passersby. The wind itself had stilled, but a deep-rooted chill permeated the air, seeping into one's very bones. In that fireless icy room where interrogation dragged on hour after hour, Hasekura—though one might say he'd forged his own shackles—cut a pitiful figure. "Hey you. Why not just speak the truth and end this?"

The Police Chief urged the silent Hasekura. Hasekura looked up intently at the Police Chief, who appeared seven or eight years younger than himself. Later, upon reading the diary Hasekura had written in prison, one was reminded of the interrogations at Kagurazaka Police Station, "When the bell boomed twelve, the Police Chief would lumber forth like a demon from hell tormenting the damned." he had written.

Regarding this matter, in the report submitted by Kagurazaka Police Station to the court, "Due to investigative necessities, interrogations were at times continued into the night, with some instances extending past ten o'clock," it stated. There was no way to know which account was accurate, but in any case, it appeared that interrogations had indeed been conducted late into the night at Kagurazaka Police Station during that time. Hasekura,

"When the twelve o'clock bell boomed," The phrase he wrote—"and so on"—was somewhat stylized; it shouldn't be taken to mean the Police Chief literally appeared at the bell's toll. Whether Hasekura had actually committed murder remained for the sacred judgment of the court to decide, but there could be no doubt he had perpetrated other evils. Given his arrogance, it was inevitable that his interrogation attained such severity.

Now, how did the Police Chief conduct his interrogation?

“Hey you, where did you hide Sadako? Still can’t come up with an idea, can you?” Police Chief Shoji blinked his small eyes rapidly from behind thick nearsighted glasses on his ruddy, round face as he began the interrogation unhurriedly, neither pressing nor rushing. “Since I have no recollection of hiding her, there’s no reason I would come up with such an idea.” Even Hasekura had adopted a somewhat more polite manner of speech when facing the Police Chief. “Even if you claim you don’t remember hiding her, that won’t do. The fact that you were being extorted for money because of that woman and grew annoyed by it cannot be concealed. Then—why do you think that woman went missing?”

“I’m not entirely sure about that, but perhaps Uncle Teijiro might have done something.”

“What do you mean by ‘done something’?” “He must’ve sold her off somewhere.” “Ha ha ha, you say such strange things.” "That man Teijiro had secured himself a steady source of money through that woman, hadn’t he?" “You don’t think he’d go selling off such a reliable income stream for petty cash, do you?” “More than that, you’re the one who considered that woman a nuisance.” “You must’ve kidnapped her on her way back from the hospital and sold her off somewhere.” “I would never do such a thing.” “Think it over carefully.”

The Police Chief stared fixedly at Hasekura, “You won’t leave here until you’ve told everything you know.” “Look, the evidence that you stole the Bible is already irrefutable.” “With just that, you will be sent to the prosecutor’s office and are certain to be indicted.” “So, how about you just come clean about the rest and get it over with?” “There’s no concern that the preliminary judge will overlook this, and it would be far more honorable as a man to confess here and now.”

"I will confess to crimes I have committed, but I cannot speak of things I know nothing about." Hasekura answered harshly. "Hmph, that's precisely what makes this unacceptable."

The Police Chief slightly intensified his tone. “There’s no way you don’t know. As long as you keep resisting like this, even your blameless wife will be investigated alongside you.” “If you won’t talk, we’ll have no choice but to make your wife talk instead.” “My wife knows nothing!”

Hasekura shouted. “You just said your wife knows nothing, didn’t you?” The Police Chief pressed insistently: “That might be the case. But you did say your wife doesn’t know anything. Since she claims such thorough ignorance, you must obviously know something yourself. Speak up quickly. I’ll send your wife home immediately.”

“――――”

Hasekura firmly pursed his lips and made a terrifying expression. Now that things had reached this point, he would not open his mouth readily.

“Hey, if you stay silent, we won’t understand anything.” “Why don’t you just tell the truth quickly so you won’t have to endure these annoying interrogations again?” “Wouldn’t it be better to have your case sent to trial as soon as possible and make an honorable confession?” “As part of my duties, I’ll do everything I can to lessen your charges, and given that you have considerable assets, your wife and children left behind won’t be in any particular hardship.” “Well, what do you say?” The police chief patiently exhorted. There’s a saying about changing tactics and approaches, but when dealing with a stubborn offender like Hasekura, they had to do exactly that. Determined to make Hasekura talk, the police chief pressed him with questions—deceiving and coaxing him like a child. The police chief had no ulterior motive from the start. At the time, even as Hasekura stubbornly denied any knowledge, he must have been considerably impressed by the police chief’s interrogation. That could be seen even from his later confession.

However, how he—having since transformed into a cursing demon—seized upon the careless fragments of words uttered by the Police Chief during this interrogation and exploited them. Dear readers, there will be times when you are struck with astonishment.

“I have fully grasped your words.” Hasekura abruptly raised his head.

“I will consider this thoroughly, so please allow me to sleep today.” “Hmm.”

At Hasekura's words asking to be allowed to sleep, the Police Chief thought for a while, then said: "Very well, we'll conclude today's interrogation here. We'll question you again tomorrow, so you'd better think carefully." The lengthy interrogation that had continued since afternoon ended at last.

Hasekura was left to weave fragile dreams in a lonely solitary cell.

The next morning also dawned with skies hinting at spring. People visited lingering plum blossoms in the suburbs and cherry trees still holding tight buds, laughing in cheerful groups. Even those busily moving through the shopping district carried an air of unforced ease.

For Hasekura Kihei, confined in his solitary cell, however, spring never arrived. The detectives, who were single-mindedly striving to extract a confession from him, had no leisure to savor the spring either.

Inside the square gray police station building, things were hectic.

That morning, the interior of Kagurazaka Police Station was somehow shrouded in gloom.

Judicial Officer and Assistant Inspector Oshima had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

It had been previously mentioned that he pushed through his illness and devoted himself to interrogating Hasekura, but yesterday, despite feeling particularly unwell, he forced himself to come to the station—and once there, he could not help but interrogate Hasekura. So, ignoring the detectives’ attempts to restrain him, he began the interrogation, but soon grew agitated and severely aggravated his chronic heart condition. Upon returning home, he collapsed immediately.

“Chief Oshima seems to be in critical condition.” Detective Ishiro, his face deathly pale, entered the chief’s office and spoke while staring at the Police Chief.

“What?!”

Even the usually unflappable Police Chief could not help but show a look of shock and abruptly stood up.

On that afternoon when Judicial Officer Oshima lay unconscious in a comatose state, barely clinging to life through saline injections, Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe once again brought Hasekura out from the detention cell. This was their battle of vengeance for their fallen comrade.

The two were filled with murderous intent from the very beginning. “Hey, Hasekura! You still won’t talk?” Detective Watanabe snapped furiously.

“Now that it’s come to this, it’s a battle of endurance. Will you be the first to break, or will I collapse? We’ll just keep interrogating you for as many days as it takes.” “Hasekura, as I’ve told you many times—” Detective Ishiro snarled, barely restraining himself from lunging. “What you’ve done is clear as day. Even if you keep insisting ‘I don’t know a thing,’ it’s useless!” However, Hasekura showed no inclination to confess. The afternoon sun gradually sank until dusk finally arrived, yet the interrogation showed no sign of stopping. Through the tightly shut door of the detectives’ room, their angry bellows occasionally leaked outside.

When the sun had sunk low and dusk had fallen, the door to the detectives' room opened, and Hasekura, his face pallid, abruptly appeared. Behind him followed both detectives maintaining vigilant watch. He had been permitted to visit the restroom.

What must have been going through Hasekura's mind at this moment? He was now under suspicion of a horrific crime and was being interrogated day and night. His actions were fully sufficient to warrant such suspicion. As you readers are already aware, considerable evidence had been gathered. Yet while this evidence served to deepen suspicion, it could not yet be called irrefutable and definitive. This was precisely why they had to extract a confession from him. But Hasekura, perhaps sensing the fragility of this evidence, stubbornly refused to speak. The detectives who had until now handled even notorious toughs like children found themselves thoroughly outmaneuvered. Now they sought to pry open his mouth by any means necessary - much like General Nogi's relentless assault on Port Arthur. Even the indomitable Hasekura entered the restroom utterly exhausted.

Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe stood guard motionlessly outside. Hasekura, who had entered the restroom, did not emerge for quite some time. Since detained suspects sometimes attempted escape through restrooms, the windows were fully covered with wire mesh; moreover, given that this was an especially crucial suspect, the two detectives kept watch with blazing eyes, rendering any escape utterly impossible. Was he now seeking a moment’s respite in that wretched restroom, his mind filled with relentless urgency? Even so, it lasted a bit too long.

Detective Watanabe, unable to wait any longer, called out from outside. A groan answered him instead of words from within. With that, the door opened and Hasekura staggered out. Blood was smeared thickly around his mouth, while a steady stream dripped from his right fist onto his kimono. "What happened?!" Detectives Watanabe and Ishiro shouted in unison and restrained him from both sides. "Ugh."

Hasekura gasped in pain. Since he had previously attempted suicide by swallowing a copper coin, they had maintained strict vigilance to prevent such an incident from recurring; thus, the detectives could only stare at this scene in bewildered astonishment.

Due to the urgent report, the police doctor immediately rushed to the scene. As a result of the investigation, it was discovered that Hasekura had broken the restroom window glass and swallowed its fragments. After conducting a preliminary examination, the doctor declared that, just as when he had swallowed the copper coin before, there was no serious harm done.

Such a thing could never be honestly accepted by detectives in such a furious state. “Damn it!”

Detective Watanabe shouted.

“The bastard pulled another fake suicide stunt!” “You think swallowing something like glass would kill you?” Detective Ishiro also said bitterly. “You keep pulling these stupid stunts to delay the interrogation.” “No matter what anyone says, it’s certain that you committed arson and murder.” “Do you think we’ll let you get away without confessing?”

However, the two of them were unable to continue the interrogation that day. Hasekura was also weakened, and that night, Judicial Officer Oshima finally died. The death of Judicial Officer Oshima may not have been due solely to the Hasekura case. However, it was certain that this case had been a significant contributing factor. And the fact that the chief had died during Hasekura’s interrogation became a major upheaval for the entire police station.

The person appointed to replace Judicial Officer Oshima was a police inspector named Sato. This man was known for persuading others through patient earnestness and compassion. Moreover, since he was unaware of the initial circumstances, he held no preconceived biases or resentment toward Hasekura. He could approach him with a completely blank slate. This blank-slate approach apparently proved truly effective in eliciting Hasekura's confession. Police Inspector Sato and Detective Negishi patiently explained to Hasekura the benefits of confessing and advised him to plead with the police chief for a reduced sentence. During this period, Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe and the police chief naturally took turns continuing the interrogations. However, as Hasekura's questioning had already dragged on considerably, they decided to stop repeating such nitpicking examinations at this stage.

However, there remained one matter that could not be omitted—the question of why Hasekura, who had been so obstinate until now, came to make this dramatic confession. I believe this was ultimately because he was persistently persuaded through the use of his wife and children as shackles. Given that this relates to subsequent matters, we cannot omit the final interrogation conducted by the Police Chief.

"Hasekura, why don't you moderate your obstinacy and settle your resolve?" This was Hasekura's so-called "When the twelve o'clock bell goes BONG, he appears." The Police Chief spoke in a wheedling tone.

“Don’t you care for your wife and children?” “Since I too have children, I understand how dear they are—but you don’t mean to keep tormenting your wife and children forever.” “The longer your confession drags on, the more your wife and children will be needlessly worried.” “You should think carefully about this.” “You don’t truly intend to cause your wife and children unnecessary hardship.”

The police chief’s admonishment continued persistently. “I haven’t told you to confess to things you have no memory of.” “Since you must eventually confess to what you remember, I’m saying it’s better to do so sooner rather than later.” “You must be worried about what comes next, but since you have a proper rental property like that and I intend to do everything I can, I don’t think your wife and children need worry at all.” “Rather than stubbornly enduring painful interrogations forever, wouldn’t it be better to confess like a man and be done with it?”

“Now, Mr. Hasekura.” Detective Negishi took over after the Police Chief and said. “I think you’ve mostly understood by now.” “As we always say, if even you on your part would honestly confess, we intend to do our best for you as much as possible.” “Since the Police Chief has assured you there’s no need to worry about your wife and children in that manner, why not cleanly confess now instead of causing us further trouble and pointlessly working against your own interests?”

Judicial Officer Sato and Detective Negishi pressed their attack from the flank, using familial bonds as shackles. Meanwhile, Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe barked head-on. In the intervals between these assaults, the indefatigable Police Chief Shoji conducted interrogations without rest. Even Hasekura—that paragon of stubbornness who had vowed never to speak once resolved—now found himself utterly broken. Moreover, thoughts of his wife and children gnawed at him. Even were he to slip free momentarily, he could no longer cling to feigned ignorance—some admission must be made. The Police Chief, sensing this fragile shift in resolve, would never let such an opening pass.

“Now speak straightforwardly.” “Where did you take Kobayashi Sada?” “I’ve truly caused you great trouble.”

Hasekura bowed his head while, "It was indeed I who kidnapped Sada." "I see." The police chief widened his eyes. "What did you do after kidnapping her?"

After Hasekura Kihei was arrested by the Kagurazaka Police Station, even when interrogated day and night, he stubbornly maintained his ignorance; but after a week of questioning, he finally broke his silence regarding Sada’s whereabouts. Both Police Chief Shoji and Detective Negishi felt like soaring with excitement, yet maintaining an unaffected demeanor, they waited intently for his next response. “I’m terribly sorry. I sold her off.” Hasekura answered with 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. It must have gone through someone’s hands—where and who is this person?” “I’ve forgotten.” “What? Forgotten? That can’t be. Try to remember.” “After all, it’s something from three years ago—I’ve completely forgotten.” “How could there be such nonsense? You, with your exceptionally good memory, couldn’t possibly have forgotten such a major event. Since you’ve started talking, you might as well speak plainly.”

“I really can’t recall.”

He reverted back to his former self as Hasekura; no matter what he was asked, he began to insist that he knew nothing beyond that. However, triumph had already shifted to the police's side. If he had kept his mouth completely shut, that would have been one thing; but once he let slip even a fragmentary word about the crime he had committed, it was all over. From there, through relentless pursuit—exposing contradictions wherever they appeared—it was certain that any criminal would be cornered.

“Hey, Hasekura.” Negishi played his trump card.

“Just saying you sold her off to Shanghai doesn’t clarify anything.” “Now that you’ve resolved to make an honorable confession, spare us the runaround and speak plainly.”

Confession

Relentlessly interrogated in turns by the Police Chief and detectives, Hasekura now had no choice but to speak. He answered that he had sold Sada off to Shanghai, but as the questioning intensified from one point to the next—shifting from the Police Chief’s hands to Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe—his testimony grew incoherent, riddled with contradictions, until even his claim of selling her to Shanghai began to seem dubious. Finally, when it once again became Detective Negishi’s interrogation and he was pressed on every critical point, and in the end, as usual, was earnestly admonished that it would be best to confess as soon as possible and throw himself on the Police Chief’s mercy, he appeared deeply moved, placing both hands on the floor and bowing his head.

"You have me cornered. I will conceal nothing more. I will confess everything completely. Please take me before the Police Chief." When considering the psychology of criminal confessions, it becomes complex, but it is said that criminals tend to want to confess before someone of higher status whenever possible. Whether class consciousness operates even in such matters, or whether one simply wishes to convey the confession more accurately, it remains a fascinating psychological phenomenon. When Hasekura stated he wanted to confess before the Police Chief, Detective Negishi—being deeply experienced—far from finding this displeasing, felt great satisfaction inwardly and immediately reported this development to the Police Chief.

The Police Chief rejoiced as if he might leap for joy and rushed over without even taking what he needed. Having already steeled his resolve, Hasekura here showed no hesitation as he methodically confessed each and every one of the sins he had committed. The horrific details of his crimes, if dramatized, would indeed form a complete novel; however, as we must now hasten onward, we shall confine ourselves to recording his confession exactly as it was given. The autumn of Taisho 2, on a morning when the sky stood clear and high. Kobayashi Sada, who had been infected with a shameful disease by Hasekura, received treatment at a certain hospital in Izarako while enduring her humiliation and trudged toward home—but when she suddenly noticed a man standing by the roadside,

“Oh!” She stopped in her tracks. There stood Hasekura Kihei, smirking. “Sada, I’ve been waiting here for you.”

Hasekura gazed at her surprised face, “So that your illness heals quickly, I’m thinking of taking you to a better doctor. Come with me.” The girl named Sada was, as had been stated repeatedly, merely sixteen years old at the time—a gentle and meek girl who could not assert herself clearly, and who some might even call timid. Since it was her former employer Hasekura making the request, and since she knew nothing of his terrible scheme, she could not bring herself to refuse outright. Wordlessly, she followed him.

Hasekura first took her to Akasaka Juntendo Hospital to reassure her. However—having no intention of having her examined—he made Sada wait in the chaotic waiting room before taking her outside again under pretext of hospital inconvenience. Then he accompanied the girl to Shinjuku. There he entered a moving picture theater with Sada and waited for time to pass. Unaware even in dreams of the demonic hand drawing near behind her—guiding her moment by moment toward death’s brink—she watched Lavshin’s film with childlike delight: what cruel irony fate had wrought.

By the time they left the moving picture theater on that autumn day when dusk comes early, the surroundings had grown dim. For dinner, Hasekura had Sada eat a tempura rice bowl. Watching the girl innocently eating her tempura rice bowl, what must Hasekura have felt? He deliberately chose the Yamanote Line train for their return from Shinjuku. At the time, the acquaintance’s house where Sada was staying wasn’t very far from Meguro Station, so Hasekura was able to invite her without arousing suspicion.

By the time they disembarked at Meguro, the sun had already sunk completely below the horizon. After disembarking at Meguro Station, Hasekura deliberately chose back streets and led the woman toward Ikedagahara. Nowadays Meguro Station teems with passengers coming and going, showing considerable congestion; however, around Taisho 3 [1914], it remained an extremely quiet station where even daytime saw at most four or five passengers boarding or alighting, let alone at night when there were virtually none. The road leading to Osaki naturally lacked the rows of houses seen today; while houses stood scattered along the main street, the area behind immediately opened into what was then called Ikedagahara. Though early evening still, not a soul passed through.

Hasekura advanced into a vast field overgrown with thick grass. Sada followed along without suspicion. As they neared the old well at the center of the field, Hasekura deliberately slowed his pace. The moment he drew alongside the girl, he lunged at her without warning, strangled her with a hand towel he had prepared in advance, and finally threw the corpse into the old well. The corpse resurfaced after six months had passed, was buried as an unidentified suicide victim, and then three years later in February of Taisho 6 [1917], it was exhumed by the Kagurazaka Police. The corpse had been confirmed as Kobayashi Sada through part of its clothing and the peculiar development of its canine teeth, as previously stated.

Needless to say, Sada’s father had searched frantically for his daughter’s whereabouts. Furthermore, that her uncle Teijiro had suspected Hasekura and repeatedly confronted him was already known to you, esteemed readers. However, naturally, Hasekura feigned innocence and refused to engage. At that time, glimpses of these circumstances could be seen in letters Hasekura had sent to Pastor Kobe: “Regarding this matter, I most humbly accept your various kindnesses—though words fail to express my gratitude—and believe without doubt that the Lord shall surely act in this humble one’s stead to repay you even a ten-thousandth part of your devoted efforts.” [Omission] “Ah, Reverend—though they accuse me of making her flee the hospital or hiding her now, not once but twice—I shall defer to your earnest counsel and close my eyes to pay one hundred yen.” “Beyond that, nothing more can be done.” “O wise Reverend, I humbly beseech you to arrange matters as you deem fitting.”

Regarding the aforementioned letters, Pastor Kobe found it suspicious why Hasekura kept sending him repeated and detailed missives about an already resolved incident while going out of his way to profess complete ignorance of Sada’s whereabouts—yet he never imagined, quite the opposite, that Hasekura had already murdered Sada by that time. Furthermore, at Kobayashi Teijiro’s urging, the Takanawa Police Station dispatched two detectives to conduct a preliminary investigation into the circumstances, summoning Hasekura for interrogation. However, this proved largely perfunctory; after extracting a brief deposition, they released him. This matter is recorded here because Hasekura 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 with the aim of insurance fraud and skillfully succeeded. Emboldened by this success, when he moved within Kanda, he planned arson once again.

One evening, under the pretense of tidying up books, he soaked cotton waste with volatile oil and threw them behind the bookcase. And then, at midnight, he set fire to it. Once his house had burned down, he devised a diabolical scheme. In other words, he secretly drafted an anonymous accusation and filed a report with the Nishikicho Police Station, claiming that his neighbor Yoshizo Tanida had planned the arson with the aim of insurance fraud. By doing this, even if the arson came to light, he could redirect suspicion toward his neighbor. What a terrifying plan this was! The one who suffered was Tanida.

It was said that even for highly experienced police officers, distinguishing accidental fires from arson could prove difficult depending on the circumstances. Even when arson was confirmed, identifying the perpetrator remained notoriously challenging. The police station’s initial suspicion falling upon Tanida due to the anonymous accusation was perhaps inevitable. Whether Tanida had been positioned in a way that naturally drew suspicion, or whether his unfamiliarity with formal interrogations had only compounded the doubts, he wasn’t quickly released. He ended up being held in custody for nearly a week.

On the seventh day, Hasekura appeared before the police with a commendably earnest expression and pleaded on Tanida's behalf. This too was an exceedingly cunning method through which he fully exploited his position. The police, believing him to be a pastor, kept him entirely beyond suspicion. With a thoroughly sympathetic countenance, he fervently defended Tanida as a man who would never commit such acts—and even the police, despite their shrewdness, were completely deceived in the end.

The third arson was executed with even greater ingenuity and audacity than before. This third arson occurred within the jurisdiction of Shinagawa Police Station, where he hired a vagrant—commonly known as a layabout—to set fire to his own house. And then, that very night, he calmly shared a quilt with his wife and slept soundly beside her. The Shinagawa Police Station were completely deceived and did not cast even a shred of suspicion upon Hasekura. This time, it resulted in only a partial burn, but Hasekura gave 10 yen to Shinagawa Police Station officers to falsify the documents, gave 300 yen to the insurance company agent to report it as a total loss, and skillfully received the full insurance payout. One could only be astonished at the layers of villainy.

He had naturally confessed in full to the assault on Sada and indeed to the theft of the Bible that had precipitated the incident. Given his heinous crimes, persistent evasion, and stubborn denials—all rendered more striking by how smoothly and flawlessly he laid everything bare once he began confessing—this display of candor left Police Chief Shoji and all officers involved thoroughly impressed. When his lengthy confession concluded, Police Chief Shoji let out a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted and spoke with a radiant expression of joy.

“Good—you’ve confessed.” “With this, I have fulfilled my duties, and you must surely feel unburdened as well.” “All that remains now is to receive the judgment of the sacred judge.” “Sins committed will be erased if you repent.” “However, you must be punished according to the laws established by the country.” “You’re prepared for that, I trust?” “Yes.”

As if transformed into a different person altogether, Hasekura—slumped over and choking back tears—finally lifted his face, “I am resolved to accept this.” “I must profoundly apologize for the great trouble I’ve caused you all this time.” “For your devoted efforts until now, I can offer nothing but deepest gratitude.” “Regarding what comes next, I most earnestly beg your continued benevolence.”

“Hmm, that goes without saying.” “Now then, we’ll prepare the deposition of your confession—affix your seal.” “With our station’s work concluded here, we’ll send you directly to the prosecutor’s office. But if you wish, we could arrange one meeting with your wife and children—how does that sound?” “Thank you very much.”

Hasekura looked up at the Police Chief with a moved expression.

“I would like to meet my wife once… but as for the children—” He stammered, “I do not wish to see the children.”

“Hmm, I see.”

The Police Chief, now a father himself—weighing parental affection as might be expected—nodded somberly and said: "Then I'll have your wife come right away." "Additionally, I would like to take you up on your kind offer and humbly request an audience with Pastor Kobe once," Hasekura continued. "I wish to make a complete confession without reservation before the pastor." "Very well."

The Police Chief readily agreed to Hasekura’s earnest request. “I’ll handle the procedures right away. You should get some good rest until then.” That night, Hasekura—relieved at having fully confessed his crimes—slept soundly, free from the anxiety of concealing guilt, the agony of interrogation, and the pangs of conscience that had until now left him unable to form even dreams in the depths of night. The next day, when he rose, he was immediately bathed, and through the Police Chief’s kindness had his unkempt, overgrown hair completely cut by a barber who had been waiting. He felt refreshed and waited intently for the time of confession to arrive.

At this time in the chief’s office, Pastor Kobe—who had received a police summons and appeared while harboring suspicions—was told of Hasekura’s numerous crimes by the police chief and could only stand utterly astonished and appalled.

“He fully confessed last night.”

The Police Chief said quietly. "So he says he wants to make his confession before you—won't you meet with him?"

Recalling this time, Pastor Kobe stated as follows.

"—This was Mr. Shoji's explanation." We were astonished as we heard each detail. As I mentioned before, since we had been convinced until then that Hasekura had absolutely no reason to hide Sadako, this tale was nothing short of the most sensational news imaginable. Yet thinking back, there were indeed signs—his constant grumbling from those days and his lingering resentment now stood out vividly. That afternoon. Police Chief Shoji, now that he was finally preparing to transfer him to the prosecutor’s office, asked us to meet with him once. “We reluctantly agreed to this and waited for the appointed time.”

You, dear readers, may find yourselves suspicious of Pastor Kobe's final phrase—"reluctantly and so on"—as he put it. This is because pastors are supposed to save people from sin, and especially since Hasekura—whom he had regularly mentored—wanted to confess—shouldn't he have willingly listened?

However, I think this: The phrase "reluctantly" had likely been written inadvertently, expressing a vague sense of disinclination—a slight reluctance. As you all know, Pastor Kobe had been unable to feel any goodwill toward Hasekura from their very first encounter. Though he had reluctantly mediated in the Kobayashi Sadako incident, he had undoubtedly frowned upon Hasekura's conduct—unbecoming of someone in religious circles—and his attitude surrounding the case, feeling quite strongly that he no longer wished to be associated with the man. Religious leaders engaged in the grand work of saving humanity cannot possibly wallow in sentimentalism—no, rather, do not such spiritual guides require transcendent rationality above all else? I must apologize for wearying you with such reasoning, dear readers, but I shall briefly note these matters as they bear some relation to later events.

In any case, when Pastor Kobe heard of Hasekura’s sincere confession, he neither grew needlessly agitated nor surrendered from the outset to sentimental pity for Hasekura. While exercising full rationality, he attended the scene of Hasekura’s confession with what might be termed a reluctant demeanor. This not only revealed an aspect of his character but also later became a significant factor in Hasekura’s conviction. Even so, Pastor Kobe was truly pitiable. For this mere half-hour meeting with Hasekura, he would have to endure unspeakably unpleasant experiences over several long years to come. Was it perhaps some foreboding that made Pastor Kobe reluctant to meet Hasekura?

In front of the desk, the Police Chief sat calmly in an armchair. In another armchair placed alongside it, Pastor Kobe was seated. Beside them, a foreign missionary named Williamson, who had been summoned as a witness, sat on an ordinary chair, furrowing his brows in apparent perplexity. That alone left little room to spare in the cramped police chief’s office. The distinctly spring-like afternoon sun streamed gently through the window. Outside the window lay a modest garden where several spindly trees stood, their branches alive with small birds fluttering noisily from limb to limb. From time to time, faint chirping sounds drifted into the room.

The three waited in silence.

Before long, the door opened, and Hasekura’s wife Shizuko, her face pale and haggard, entered with her head bowed low, accompanied by detectives. She entered the room and immediately dropped to sit on the wooden floorboards, keeping her head lowered and remaining perfectly still like a posed doll. Stray hairs trembled faintly upon her white neck. Pastor Kobe found himself staring vacantly at those trembling strands. The detectives who had accompanied her left at once, but soon restlessly entered again, surveyed the scene inside, then exited once more. These restless movements somehow carried an ominous weight, foreshadowing the impending event until an eerie silence settled over everyone present with suffocating tension.

A maddening silence continued for several minutes.

The soft, steady sound of stealthy footsteps could be heard approaching.

Before long, the door slid smoothly open, and Hasekura, bound with a rope around his waist, entered dejectedly. Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe were following behind him.

He sat down in the chair before Police Chief Shoji and Pastor Kobe as commanded and kept his head bowed motionlessly.

“Hasekura.” The police chief called out gently. “You must be pleased to finally meet Pastor Kobe, whom you’ve always respected.” “You may speak freely about anything without reservation.” Along with the police chief’s words, Pastor Kobe leaned forward slightly in his chair and fixed his gaze upon Hasekura.

Regarding this moment, Pastor Kobe recalled and wrote as follows. "In the center of the small police chief's room were two armchairs." Mr. Shoji occupied one of them, and I occupied the other. Next to me sat a missionary named Williamson, who had come as a witness by chance. Across the desk was Hasekura’s wife, Shizuko. Before long, a detective went in and out of the room. A few minutes later, Kihei entered the room with a rope still tied around his back. Of course, the two detectives were accompanying him from behind. When Kihei sat down on a chair, Mr. Shoji showed the kindness of introducing us to his long-time friend. "I was the first to admonish him."

Pastor Kobe fixed his eyes on Hasekura’s face and earnestly admonished him. “I hear you’ve been anxious about facing me this morning, but there’s truly no need for that. “They say you’ve finally confessed to all your past crimes—this is most admirable. “Now that you’ve laid bare from the depths of your heart the sins hidden for years, there remains nothing to shame you. “If anything, today should bring you profound relief. “This is especially true for Christianity in such circumstances. “Christ came for sinners and died among sinners. “Now is precisely when you must understand what it means to depend on this compassionate Savior. “Proceed resolutely to the prosecutor’s office with faith.”

Williamson also spoke next. “Even the thieves on both sides of Christ’s cross were saved by Christ. Please reflect deeply on that.” Admonished by both Pastors Kobe and Williamson that his sins had already been forgiven through confession and that he should enter a life of pure faith and resolutely accept legal judgment, Hasekura kept his head bowed low, tears streaming from both eyes as he wept in silence. Shizuko abruptly raised her pale face, wet with tears.

Biting back the sobs that threatened to burst forth at any moment, she wrenched out a voice as if her very entrails were being torn apart—pleading with her husband, urging him on, imploring him with desperate fervor. “You.” “Did you hear what those two have just taught?” “That is exactly how it is.” “I have nothing more to say.” “Please go forward now with the resolve those two have shown you.” “Never trouble yourself about what comes after.” “I will raise our child with utmost care.” “I will hold proper memorial services for Sada in the afterlife too, so please don’t worry about anything that follows.”

Hasekura finally raised his face. His cheeks were thoroughly drenched with tears that fell like scattered beads, his features twisted into an unnatural expression mingling remorse, shame, and gratitude. His body trembled violently as he uttered a heartrending cry. "I deeply apologize for the trouble I've caused everyone." "Even when we're parted, I shall never forget your kindness, Police Chief." "I have committed unspeakable crimes." "There is no excuse for my actions."

The gathering fell completely silent.

The glorious day was still reflected in the glass window. The twittering of small birds remained serenely peaceful. Yet those confined within this narrow room experienced something akin to being severed into another world—transcending time and space, shedding their ugly flesh—quietly witnessing spirits joining with spirits. Hasekura remained choked by fresh tears for some time before finally turning back toward his wife as if reconsidering.

“Shizuko, forgive me.” “I was an indescribably terrible villain.” “You must surely resent me.” “You must regret having a husband like me, right?” The thin, faltering sobs—resembling screams on the verge of ceasing yet persisting—continued endlessly, as though plunging all present into boundless sorrow and uncanny terror. Shizuko tried to answer her husband’s question, but her voice was stifled by sobs that welled up like a spring—uncontrollable by sheer will—leaving her unable to speak easily.

Even the stern police officers could not help but look away. Finally regaining her composure, she shook her head vehemently and answered her husband’s question. “No, that isn’t true.” “I haven’t the slightest regret.”

Hasekura was struck by an intense impulse from his wife’s resolute words, his body trembling violently. His face brimmed with profound emotion. “Do you truly mean that?” “Yes.”

The wife’s reply was brief yet carried an unassailable power. “You’ve spoken well,” he said. “How deeply your words must fortify me.” “I am truly blessed.” Hasekura stared at his wife with eyes gleaming intensely before suddenly appearing struck by realization. “Ah yes,” he continued. “You must be facing difficulties presently.” “I currently hold about eighty yen.” “As it should be in the Police Chief’s keeping, twenty yen would suffice for me.” “The remaining sixty I leave to you—use them as you see fit.”

“No, no.” Shizuko pressed a handkerchief to her eyes and shook her head vehemently while— “There is no need for such concern on your part.” “I do not require money or anything.” “You are the one who needs it.” “Please keep it just as it is.” “No.” Hasekura stopped his wife as she insisted she did not need any money, “I have no need for money anymore.” “Right—if you truly don’t need it, then at least build a grave for the deceased Sadako.”

“Oh, truly, that was the case.” “If that is your intention, then I will humbly accept it.” “I do not want it in the slightest, but I will build a grave for the deceased Sadako as you have commanded and hold a sincere memorial service.” “Ah—!” Hasekura finally broke down in a man’s sobs. “Ah, I need nothing more now.” “I have no regrets left.” “The money in the Police Chief’s custody—I’ll give all of it to you. I’m counting on you to handle things from here on out.”

The group felt a kind of unutterable pressure.

Outside, both the guilty and the innocent were basking in the spring sunlight of the season, walking about freely and lightly with joy.

Yet in this cramped, cold single room, the husband—bound by ropes behind his back under the weight of a dreadful crime—choked back tears of remorse, while the wife sat with her knees pressed together on bare floorboards without even a mat, weeping over her cruel fate. When confronted so starkly with this inescapable underside of human existence, who could behold such a scene without being profoundly moved?

With both hands placed on her knees, biting back sniffling sobs while her shoulders shook violently—at the pitiful figure of Shizuko, overcome with grief, even the formidable Police Chief Shoji could not help but involuntarily blink his eyes. Pastor Kobe was thoroughly overwhelmed by the solemnity. He wrote about this moment as follows. "The approximately thirty-minute scene in the Police Chief’s office at that time was something we several people closely observed, and its solemn and dignified state along with our collective satisfaction remain a beautiful memory we cannot forget even now."

Pastor Kobe, moved by Hasekura’s admirable attitude and no longer concerned about any trouble, instinctively turned toward him and spoke. “If there is something you wish to ask, please do not hesitate to tell me. I will see it through no matter what.” Hasekura turned toward the pastor. His eyes glistened with 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 all of you for your kindness.”

Hasekura's splendid confession scene thus came to an end.

He was immediately to be sent to the public prosecutor’s office.

What proved regrettable here was that while Police Chief Shoji Rikitarao at the time—being young and vigorous—had managed to uncover such a major case, he regrettably still lacked sufficient experience; without collecting substantial evidence based on his confession, he had sent him to the public prosecutor’s office too hastily. However, that was only natural. This was because Hasekura’s confession had been so impeccable that, as Pastor Kobe—who had been present as a witness—acknowledged in his aforementioned statement, there remained not the slightest room to doubt the truth of his admission. Not only that, but he repeatedly expressed his gratitude to the Police Chief. This was because the Police Chief’s interrogation had fully extended goodwill and skillfully struck at the core of human emotion, so deeply moving Hasekura that he never even dreamed of attempting retaliation against the Police Chief in the future. For that reason as well, he did not engage in prompt evidence collection and merely sent him to the public prosecutor’s office based solely on his confession.

This became the great underlying cause that plunged the case into chaos over many long subsequent years, transformed Hasekura into a living cursed fiend, and struck terror into multitudes of people.

Some people attacked Police Chief Shoji, arguing that in his excessive pursuit of glory, he had framed an innocent man, and thus claimed that Hasekura was a pitiful victim; we shall now examine the validity of this assertion. Did Police Chief Shoji indeed coerce Hasekura into confessing to a crime he did not commit? As the Police Chief, he must have felt immense pride in having uncovered the horrific crime committed three years prior that had nearly been buried and forgotten. Especially since the culprit was a slippery adversary who required days of relentless interrogation—employing every trick in the book, working tirelessly day and night—before they could finally extract a confession, one can well imagine how elated he must have felt in his heart. If, when later passing judgment on Hasekura, an insufficiency of evidence came to light, it should rightly be seen as carelessness born of excessive joy—and in that, can we not perceive him as human? If he had been an inhuman, cold-blooded individual who acknowledged even the slightest trace of coercion in Hasekura’s confession, he would likely have considered the possibility that the confession might be retracted in the future and thus embarked on gathering irrefutable evidence. Or perhaps he might have resorted to underhanded means in gathering evidence.

However, he had done no such thing—nor had there been any need to—for Hasekura’s confession came from the heart, showing not the slightest trace of coercion; indeed, Hasekura had repeatedly expressed gratitude toward the Police Chief.

In later years, Pastor Kobe wrote the following in reminiscence regarding the scene of Hasekura’s confession: "—These details and this exchange came to be recalled as all the more valuable after the case began causing public outcry, yet why did his heart change as if turning a palm from that moment of his beautiful repentance?" Nevertheless, one could not help but wonder whether his repentance at that time had held a different meaning.

In particular, his statement—"Even from my limited funds, I will set aside money for funeral expenses"—seemed an unlikely sacrifice for one who had not committed murder. Yet viewed differently, could it not also be that without having killed, he had been moved by compassion and his wife's heartfelt sympathy, letting those words slip through his tears? These ambiguous facts remain as an unresolved mystery to this day. But from our perspective—though it may be an antiquated notion—the ancient adage holds true: *"A bird about to die sings mournfully; a man about to die speaks kindly."* Even he, a repeat offender now charged with multiple crimes—theft, arson, fraud, rape, and murder—had uttered words of repentance and gratitude through his choked voice and tears during those brief minutes. Why should it be wrong to view him too as a child of humanity? "Even if he does not confess each crime in court, is not the honest confession welling from his spiritual core a far nobler declaration?"

Indeed, Hasekura’s confession scene was solemn in this manner—it was to be regarded as a heartfelt truthful confession, and there was not the slightest indication that it should be thought of as a forced false admission. In this sense, we can assume that the police chief at the time 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 filled with anguish—as if each word were spitting blood—and so eerily intense that they ultimately become unreadable. If one were to know nothing of the surrounding circumstances, they might believe he is an innocent man, just as he himself claims.

We will discuss those matters in detail later; in any case, Hasekura Kihei was sent to the public prosecutor’s office under eight charges: fraud, theft, document forgery, assault, bodily injury, bribery, arson, and murder. Hasekura Kihei was escorted to the public prosecutor’s office under eight horrific charges including murder and arson. What felt unexpected here were the words spoken by Police Chief Shoji and his detectives when extracting Hasekura’s confession—their repeated promises to seek charge reductions. When considering arson, murder, and assault—crimes where even one offense would guarantee severe punishment—how could any sentencing leniency remain possible with additional charges piled atop these? The Police Chief likely never believed from the outset that mitigating circumstances existed for Hasekura. Had he deceived him?

However, it would be somewhat harsh to blame the Police Chief over such an issue. When it comes to maintaining public order and safety, as those tasked with apprehending and prosecuting criminals must do, it is necessary to persistently persuade hardened criminals and those with clear antisocial ideologies with compassion. At times, even when no other path seems available, it is perhaps unavoidable to suggest that confessing may lead to a reduction in what would otherwise be severe punishment. However, it is somewhat regrettable that when indicting Hasekura, they exhaustively listed all his crimes and attached as many as eight charges. This was done partly to establish the impression that Hasekura was an utterly wicked man, and partly out of fear that even if the police station chose to overlook matters, should criminal facts emerge at the public prosecutor’s office or preliminary court, it would not only render their efforts futile but conversely expose the police’s blunder. In any case, the police authorities must to some extent accept criticism for having been overzealous in pursuit of glory.

The arrest of Hasekura and extracting his confession to heinous criminal acts was, by all accounts, a major success for the police authorities. Moreover, it would not be an overstatement to say that this was accomplished precisely because the police chief at the time was Mr. Shoji Rikitarao.

A robust physique, nerves of steel, and an indomitable will—these very qualities brought the heinous Hasekura completely to heel. One might think that had Police Chief Shoji not been at the helm, Hasekura’s crimes would never have surfaced. In this light, Police Chief Shoji Rikitarao stands as a hero of the judicial police. His triumph deserves to be proclaimed far and wide. Thus swept up in the fervor, he charged Hasekura as an arch-villain. Needless to say, he harbored no intent to seek personal glory.

In Police Chief Shoji’s eyes, Hasekura must have indeed appeared as a heinous criminal. Moreover, there was likely no one who would dispute that Hasekura was a villain. Had Police Chief Shoji acted with slightly more composure and taken appropriate measures immediately following Hasekura’s confession—a time when Hasekura would have shed tears of gratitude for the Chief’s leniency and repeatedly proclaimed it before all—then Police Chief Shoji would undoubtedly have achieved a flawless conclusion to the matter, with no risk of future retaliation from Hasekura. Yet it was regrettable that his lack of foresight here later provoked immense complications, leading some—albeit a small minority—to claim he had sacrificed Hasekura as a stepping stone for his own career advancement.

I wish to address the criticism that Police Chief Shoji schemed for his personal advancement by making Hasekura a victim. Since any police chief must consider the apprehension of criminals as one of their crucial duties, it could be said that every chief has used criminals as stepping stones for advancement; if they are criticized for such a thing, there would be no one willing to become a police chief. The crux is that if there were points such as harsh interrogation methods, coercion of the innocent, or use of underhanded tactics, they would likely be attacked—but do such elements exist in the Hasekura case?

Given the nature of the case and the character of the criminal, there may have been some regrettable aspects to the interrogation methods. However, witnessing the fairness of the criminal’s confession scene dispelled any such doubts entirely. No one could have anticipated that Hasekura would later completely overturn his confession.

These rather tedious arguments may continue, but I must elaborate further on how this all began. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to make accurate judgments regarding the complex incidents that later arose. The issue lies in whether Hasekura’s confession was true or false. As readers already know, his confession was truly admirable—no one could have considered it false at the time. It became problematic precisely because he later retracted it, but claims that they immediately subjected him to torture at Kagurazaka Police Station or pinned nonexistent crimes on him are unfounded. Though Hasekura himself later detailed various terrible ordeals he had endured, he had at the time wept while praising Police Chief Shoji’s virtue—whatever moved him—making it disadvantageous for him to later voice such accusations.

As for Police Chief Shoji himself, at the time he was just past thirty and burning with lofty ambitions. Japanese education has always been structured to instill a fierce combative spirit from childhood. They are taught to strive for advancement and success. To achieve this, one must push forward even slightly, at times going so far as to exclude their peers. If someone ahead falls, all the better—they advance by stepping over their corpse. In the vanguard competition at the Battle of Ujigawa, Sasaki deceiving Kajiwara had come to be regarded as nothing remarkable.

Nowadays this may not be the case, but ten years ago, graduates of Imperial University—the pinnacle of state-sponsored education—were indeed an impetuous lot, hellbent on climbing the social ladder by any means necessary. One reason lay in students' pure-hearted nature—their inability to grasp society's complexities made them view their seniors' methods as tedious, while their own floundering upon entering the workforce struck them as utterly exasperating. I would never resort to such underhanded tactics! They believed that once unleashed into the world, they could simply rub their hands together and seize prestigious positions. Having wearied of their protracted academic lives, they approached societal engagement with boundless anticipation. Thus, the fervor and professional integrity of freshly minted graduates were truly remarkable. Anyone recalling their own early career days would surely recognize this phenomenon. These qualities of zeal and conscience held immense potential—if properly harnessed, they might have achieved greatness. Yet tragically, flawed systems within government offices and corporations prevented their unadulterated adoption. Consequently, newcomers' enthusiasm gradually eroded, their vitality sapped until only shriveled husks remained. Ultimately, they became regarded by subsequent student cohorts as spineless has-beens.

Now, regarding Police Chief Shoji Rikitarao—the man in question—he had not yet spent much time outside academia at that period. He possessed remarkable enthusiasm while maintaining what I can affirm was sufficient professional conscience. Rather, this man Shoji stood as an exceptional case; I believe he remained someone who would never abandon his boundless drive and moral compass, regardless of age.

Whether the investigative strategy for the Hasekura case was misguided or the interrogation methods flawed—such questions remain secondary. While I do not advocate the absurd argument that any action becomes permissible if done sincerely, at the very least, it cannot be said that Police Chief Shoji bent his conscience in handling this matter.

However, on the other hand, Hasekura Kihei’s heartfelt claims of wrongful accusation, which he repeatedly made in prison, were truly pitiable; one could not read his prison writings without tears and a shudder. For him as well, it was only natural that numerous sympathizers emerged.

I have tediously elaborated on these unpleasant matters, but unless you fully grasp all these circumstances, you will not comprehend the impending struggle between Hasekura and Police Chief Shoji that is about to unfold. Moreover, without fully grasping these circumstances, one cannot comprehend what becomes the most intriguing aspect of this main narrative—the emergence of Mr. Nosei, a formidable figure once hailed as 'the man' of the Tokyo Bar Association, creating a three-way struggle between himself, Hasekura, and Police Chief Shoji.

How would the case take a turn?

Condemnation Having cleanly completed his confession at Kagurazaka Police Station, Hasekura was sent to the Prosecutor’s Office seemingly delighted. While describing this as "delight" might lean toward exaggeration, at minimum he felt wholly unburdened. Whether this liberation came from escaping days of grueling interrogation at Kagurazaka Police Station or from unshackling himself from guilt’s torment through confessing accumulated evils—thereby finding mental repose—only Hasekura himself could say. Yet he appeared oddly exhilarated, like a scolded child who rebounds into boisterousness; even as he faced transfer to the Prosecutor’s Office under horrific charges, he displayed no trace of shame—if anything, he seemed positively agitated.

The prosecutor in charge was the distinguished Mr. Kozuka. Prosecutor Kozuka—whose gentle demeanor belied his years handling criminal trials—methodically conducted the interrogation, his penetrating gaze seemingly piercing through to Hasekura’s very core. Hasekura readily confessed to his crimes. After evading police for nearly a month while mocking their efforts, he had been detained at Kagurazaka Police Station where—by his own account—seven days and nights of relentless interrogation failed to break him. It was on March 18th that he first claimed to have sold a woman to Shanghai, then under unyielding pressure, confessed every criminal detail on the 19th. With Prosecutor Kozuka’s interrogation concluding on the 20th and his indictment that same day, one could grasp how thoroughly subdued he had become—choking back tears of remorse as he laid bare the facts.

He said the following to Prosecutor Kozuka. “I absolutely will not tell any lies. Moreover, since I have committed other serious crimes as well, I will absolutely not conceal one or two of them. Admittedly, while detained at Kagurazaka Police Station, I did tell lies. At that time, I intended to commit suicide without confessing my crimes—attempting to swallow stones, glass, copper coins, or pierce my skull with an old nail—but failed to achieve my suicidal aim. Amidst this anguish, I resolved that in today’s circumstances, it would be better to state the facts cleanly so my innocent wife and children would not face repeated court summonses. Thus, on the previous 19th, I requested the police chief to let me entrust matters concerning my family, had Pastor Williamson of Nakano summoned to meet and receive my final instructions, and was permitted to see Pastor Kobe and my wife to settle my conscience. Having done so before coming here, I absolutely will not lie anymore.”

With that premise established, he confessed in detail not only to the Bible theft but also to three instances of arson committed both before and after, and regarding the murder of Sadako, he made the following statement. "I believe the time was evening, but I have no recollection of whether it was indeed September 26, 1913." "If Sadako's disappearance was on the same day, I cannot recall whether it was that day or what time it was." "However, on the day Sadako went missing, around nine in the evening, I pushed her into an old well located in a vacant lot in Kamiosaki and killed her."

Prosecutor Kozuka quietly observed Hasekura. He then lowered his eyes to 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 stacked high. Mr. Kozuka focused his mind intently. Outside the window, at that very moment, a group of young ladies of refined appearance—bathing in the spring sunlight, their translucent gauzy shawls fluttering long—walked past, ignoring the imposing brick building.

Before long, Prosecutor Kozuka picked up his pen and signed the pretrial request document. And then,

"Prosecute all criminal facts listed in the judicial police officer’s opinion document." he added.

Once Hasekura Kihei was indicted by Prosecutor Kozuka, he underwent his first pretrial examination on the same day by Judge Koga Kiyoshi. After conducting the customary inquiries into his address, name, and occupation, the judge solemnly commanded him to state his prior convictions. Since there are accurate official records regarding Hasekura’s prior convictions, let us briefly outline them here.

He had accumulated four prior convictions in total. His first offense was in Meiji 36 (1903), when he was sentenced by the Yamagata District Court Tsuruoka Branch to three months of heavy imprisonment with hard labor for theft. At that time, he was twenty-two years old. The second offense occurred the following year in Meiji 37 (1904), where he was again sentenced at Yamagata District Court to three and a half months of heavy imprisonment with hard labor for theft; the third offense in Meiji 39 (1906) at Nara District Court resulted in six months of heavy imprisonment with hard labor again for theft; and the fourth offense in Meiji 40 (1907), once more for theft, saw him receive two years of heavy imprisonment with hard labor at Kyoto District Court—though for some reason, the Kyoto court recorded this as a first offense. From this, it could be seen that he committed the next crime almost immediately upon being released from prison.

Next, when the preliminary judge questioned him about the Bible thefts, he admitted to having stolen the Bibles from the company for himself, but claimed that since there had been a tacit agreement with the clerk, it did not necessarily constitute theft. Next, the proceedings moved to the examination of the arson charges, but he acknowledged all the facts without exception. Question: “Did you set fire to that vacant house around 4:00 a.m. on October 4, 1914?” Answer: “I did not set the fire.” “I had laborers whose names I didn’t know set the fire.” “I requested a man around thirty years old from the Yamaniwa-beya laborers who had entered the nearby reclaimed land, making the request three or four days before setting the fire.”

Question: Did you instruct them on how to set the fires? Answer: I did not instruct them. “Could you set fire to the vacant house?” “I told them that if a fire broke out and my house burned down, I could collect insurance money, which would be convenient.” “I did not see those laborers set the fire.”

Question: “Did you realize it when the fire broke out?” Answer: “My wife and I were sleeping on the second floor, unaware of the spreading flames. Laborers from the neighboring knitwear workshop broke through a gate or fence to wake and rescue us—this happened around four or five in the morning.” Question: “By what method did you set the fire?” Answer: “I don’t know. There was volatile oil at my place, but I didn’t set the fire myself. I don’t know whether they used the volatile oil.” Question: “To what extent did it burn?”

“The one house I owned burned down completely.” “Did you receive the insurance money?” “I received approximately 1,800 yen.” When the arson matter concluded, the interrogation abruptly shifted to the matter of Sadako’s murder. At the very outset, he denied the fact of rape, stating that while he had committed the act, he had not used violence. “Did the defendant ask someone to arrange a settlement?” “I requested Pastor Kobe to arrange a settlement by paying one hundred yen on the condition that nothing would be said. I do not remember the date when I handed the money into Pastor Kobe’s hands.”

“Then, did the defendant resolve to kill Sadako?”

“I resolved to kill her in the heat of the moment. Though I’d given her one hundred yen, she was still suffering from a venereal disease—I’d meant to have her hospitalized. But upon proper reflection, I realized my own misdeeds would come to light. So instead of going to the hospital, I took her to Shinjuku, took care of some business there, boarded the Yamanote Line train from Shinjuku, got off at Meguro Station, and on my way home, pushed Sadako into an old uncovered well in a field about three chō from my house.” In this manner, he smoothly confessed to the facts of his crimes even before the preliminary judge.

Judge Koga Kiyoshi promptly issued a detention order. The judge slowly wrote that defendant Hasekura Kihei was to be detained at Tokyo Prison under eight charges including arson and murder, and finally affixed his signature. It was twenty minutes past 9:00 p.m., and Hasekura entered Tokyo Prison at 10:00 p.m. the same day.

Judge Koga Kiyoshi of the Tokyo District Court was poring over the investigation records concerning Hasekura Kihei that had been sent from the Ushigome-Kagurazaka Police Station in his home study, scrutinizing each document in turn. The more he examined these records, the more they exuded an uncanny quality. There could be no doubt about Kihei's theft of Bibles or his violation of Sadako—a young woman—and subsequent infection of her with venereal disease. Yet despite his thorough confession to other grave crimes of arson and murder, a lingering shadow of doubt hung over these matters. Were all his confessions entirely truthful, he would stand as a villain unparalleled in modern history. Still, no hasty judgment could yet be rendered. This demanded painstakingly meticulous examination. Such was Judge Koga's initial assessment. Kihei had accumulated four prior convictions.

When handling a defendant, a judge needed to avoid fixating on criminal history as much as possible; moreover, particularly in Hasekura's case—as he had converted to Christianity and devoted himself to religion to such an extent that some regarded him as a pastor—his humanity had to be recognized to the fullest extent possible. However, upon closer examination: from Meiji 36 (1903) to Meiji 40 (1907), he had committed four counts of theft almost consecutively; after receiving a two-year sentence and being released from prison in Meiji 42 (1909), he became a Christian believer in Meiji 44 (1911). Yet the theft charges brought against him had been committed successively in Taisho 5 (1916) and Taisho 6 (1917), the murder in Taisho 2 (1913), and the first arson in Meiji 45 (1912)—all demonstrating nearly continuous criminal intent without showing the slightest sign of repentance. As for the eight charges for which he had now been indicted, it seemed almost certain he had indeed committed them.

Judge Koga had finally formulated a plan to address this case after deep contemplation. He let out a relieved sigh and gulped down the stone-cold bancha tea beside him. The following day after being released, Judge Koga immediately ordered the clerk to summon the defendant's wife Shizuko as a person of reference and two witnesses—Kobayashi Teijiro and Pastor Kobe. Meanwhile, procedures were immediately initiated to search Hasekura Kihei's residence in Shiba Shirakane. On the afternoon of March 26, 1917, an automobile carrying Judge Koga and a court clerk came to an abrupt halt before Hasekura's residence.

Shizuko was out with her child and thus absent. At the house were Shizuko’s elderly mother and Kihei’s nephew, left behind to keep watch; the judge, using the two of them—bewildered by the imposing proceedings—as witnesses, conducted a full search of the entire residence, seizing one copy each of a Bible inventory and pawnshop ledger, one copy each of divorce papers and building transfer documents, along with several letters. The search lasted approximately forty minutes. Immediately afterward, Judge Koga and his team conducted an on-site inspection of the old well deemed to be Sadako’s murder site and prepared detailed diagrams alongside the investigation report. The investigation report contained the following details.

1. To reach the location of the old well where Kobayashi Sadako was thrown in and killed from said location: Proceeding southward along the road leading to Gotanda Kirigaya in front of Hasekura's residence, cross Nakamaru Bridge and advance approximately three chō (about 327 meters) to arrive at an intersection of roads running east-west. From here, turning left and proceeding eastward approximately thirty ken (about 54.5 meters), one reaches the location where the old well existed, adjacent to the left side of the road. 2. According to witnesses' testimony, the area surrounding said well originally contained only a small plot of farmland amidst dense forests of pine and cedar as well as bamboo thickets. While the well water had been used for drinking at a watchman’s hut, gradual deforestation and cultivation transformed the area into what became known as Ikeda’s newly developed land by around 1913—a desolate wilderness. The well’s sides had decayed, with stakes driven into the surrounding ground and wire strung around them to barely prevent collapse. It remained unattended in this state until its dredging in October 1914, while excavated tree roots lay scattered about. A narrow path was said to run north-south through the weeds beside the well.

This investigation report was quite an exemplary document. A single reading conjured an ancient well amidst a vast grassy wilderness, instilling a sense of bleak desolation that pressed upon the reader.

On March 29, Hasekura's wife Shizuko was summoned to the preliminary court and questioned by Judge Koga as a person of reference.

She had steeled herself after hearing her husband's confession of terrible crimes at Kagurazaka Police Station, yet being summoned anew to the preliminary court now drew fresh tears as she clenched her teeth against Heaven's merciless trial. Question: "Are you Hasekura Kihei's wife?" Answer: "Yes."

“When did you become husband and wife?” “We became husband and wife in November 1910. We registered our marriage around the following year.” Ah, according to this answer, she had married Hasekura shortly after he was released from prison following his fourth conviction.

At that time, she was nineteen years old.

“Where did you become husband and wife?” “At my parents’ home in Kosaka Mine, Akita Prefecture. At that time, Hasekura was employed at a Bible company in Yokohama City and had come to Kosaka Mine for Bible sales and missionary work. Through the help of a believer at the church, our parents arranged our marriage.” “I was nineteen years old.”

“Did you know Kihei had been imprisoned for theft?” “I first learned of his criminal record at Kagurazaka Police Station this time. I married him after being told he was a proper religious man—he never spoke to me about having prior convictions.” Ah, how pitiable she was! This woman—still in the tender bloom of youth—had been wed to a husband chosen by her parents and remained devoted without ever knowing his villainous nature. From her interrogation at Kagurazaka Station through witnessing her husband’s confession, her conduct—so filled with genuine concern for both spouse and child—was said to have brought tears even to officers hardened as demons.

“Upon residing at the old house of your current address, did Kihei make structural additions?”

“Yes,” she answered. “He renovated the fixtures of the old house we purchased and built a rental house on the northern side that still stands today. I heard it required about a thousand yen, and he also added another structure connected to the old house.” “Where did the construction funds come from?”

“I believe it was built with money earned from selling Bibles and funds received from the insurance company after the fire in Takanawa.” Judge Koga proceeded to question her in detail about the circumstances of three fires they had suffered—both before and after—then shifted focus to the matter of the maid Sadako, gradually advancing his inquiries. The interrogation extended to Sadako’s disappearance, reaching the incident where her uncle Teijiro had come to Hasekura’s residence that day to inquire about her whereabouts. “On what date and at what time did Teijiro come?” “I do not remember the date.” “It was evening.” “At that time, they said Sadako had gone out to go to the hospital that day and did not return.” “I did not know when she was discharged or where she was.”

“Was Kihei present at home at that time?” “He was not present then.” “At what time did Kihei leave and return home that day?” “He left around eight or nine in the morning and returned after Sadako’s uncle had departed. Since Hasekura came back after dinner, I believe it was around seven or eight o’clock.” “Where was Kihei said to have gone that day?” “He normally leaves without a word, so I do not inquire; therefore, I do not know where he went.”

“When Kihei returned, were there any changes in his demeanor?” “There was nothing out of the ordinary.” Shizuko stated the facts to the extent she knew, unflinchingly and without any sign of guilt. She, who had been absolutely obedient to her husband, had not been involved in his crimes in the slightest. She knew nothing but superficial facts. While showing her pale profile and replying fluently to each question as it came, Shizuko’s pitiful figure was gazed at intently by Judge Koga, who then spoke gently.

“Very well. “We’ll stop here for today.” “We will now read back today’s testimony.” She listened intently to the court clerk’s recitation and silently bowed her head. Having no personal seal, she could only sign the deposition without affixing a stamp. “Very well.” At the judge’s permission, she sighed in relief and left the room. Judge Koga watched her retreating figure intently before suddenly straightening and summoning the waiting witness Kobayashi Teijiro. Teijiro entered hesitantly, his sunburned face dark and uneasy with courtroom unfamiliarity.

After having him take an oath, the judge inquired about his name, age, social status, and occupation as per standard procedure and immediately proceeded to the interrogation.

The interrogation of Teijiro was rather ordinary and contained nothing novel. We will set forth here only the details of the forensic examination of Sadako’s corpse.

Question: “What was Sadako’s physique like?” Answer: “For her age, she was tall with a medium build.” Question: “Are you aware that in October of Taisho 3 (1914), a woman’s corpse was retrieved from an old well in Kamiosaki?” Answer: “At that time, I did not know.” Question: “Did you see the corpse that they recently exhumed from the burial site?” Answer: “I saw it twice. The previous day’s identification was mistaken; I viewed it again at the police station the next day. I was shown remnants of cloth and bones.” Question: “Did you believe those to be Sadako’s bones and clothing she had been wearing?”

“As for me, I knew nothing about the cloth items whatsoever. But regarding the bones – when Sadako normally smiled, one prominent canine tooth on each side stood out clearly. Since the teeth they showed me had one such tooth on each side, I concluded these must be her remains.”

Judge Koga, without a moment to catch his breath, interrogated Pastor Kobe as a witness on the following thirtieth. Pastor Kobe’s involvement with Hasekura began when he became Hasekura’s guarantor for seminary admission due to Hasekura’s wife being a member of his church; though he reluctantly took on mediation in the Kobayashi Sadako incident, this very act led him to witness Hasekura’s confession and ultimately be summoned to the preliminary court, where he had to undergo unpleasant interrogation. One of the crucial keys to resolving this case could well be said to have been held by this man, necessitating his appearance in court several times as a witness. It was a case where showing compassion backfired, leading him into unforeseen troubles.

Pastor Kobe pursed his large mouth into a taut line, a displeased bulge swelling near his eyebrows as he took his seat before Judge Koga. “Did you inform Hasekura about the negotiations that took place with Kobayashi Sadako’s father?”

“Yes.” “I explained the situation’s substance and informed Hasekura what measures would be taken.”

“What did Hasekura answer?” “He stated he would apologize and cure the patient. The father was an honest man, and he initially said he would resolve it with an apology and medical treatment.” “How were the subsequent negotiations conducted?” “Since his younger brother Teijiro was a laborer, he wished to avoid informing him of the facts as much as possible. He had stated that informing him might lead to unreasonable demands, but it appeared he finally told his brother, and either Teijiro alone or both of them together came to my place.”

When one reflects on it, the incident arose because Teijiro—a snake who knows a snake’s path—had sensed Hasekura’s misdeeds. Did Hasekura kill Sadako out of fear of Teijiro’s threats? Pastor Kobe’s testimony continued in exhaustive detail. “When I summoned Hasekura and conveyed Kobayashi’s demand,” he answered, “he said that while he could manage a small sum, he couldn’t pay such a large amount.” “Moreover, he stated that if Kobayashi insisted on taking the money no matter what, he would make it a legal matter.” “Kobayashi Teijiro also declared that if his demands weren’t met, he would file a lawsuit.” “I advised Hasekura that settling would be wiser than engaging in such foolish actions.” “As a result, Hasekura agreed to pay 100 yen, and I conveyed this offer to the Kobayashi side.”

Question: Kobayashi Teijiro has stated that he initially demanded 300 yen but later agreed to 200 yen. How do you respond to this? Answer: As I mentioned earlier, I believe the initial demand was approximately 200 yen. "As it was long ago, my memory isn't precise." Question: Have you ever met Sadako? Answer: Yes. "Teijiro likely brought Sadako to my residence once." "She was a thin, petite woman." The fact that Sadako had been described as both tall and petite, with witnesses providing conflicting accounts, formed an intriguing contradiction.

On March 31, an elderly woman named Nakata Kama, who had been caring for Kobayashi Sadako and accompanying her to the hospital, was summoned as a witness. From this point onward, it gradually became clear whether the corpse that had been retrieved piece by piece from the well was indeed Sadako. Question: What was your relationship with Kobayashi Sadako?

“I have known her since Sadako came to Tokyo during the first year of Taisho [1912]. Her father had previously attended school through my household and later lived with her brother Teijiro, but as they were Christians, we kept in contact and thus knew about Sadako’s move to Tokyo.” “Did you not hear directly from Sadako whether she had been raped by Hasekura?” “Regarding her illness, I heard it made walking difficult for her, but I never heard directly from Sadako what Hasekura had done.”

“How many days did you take care of her?” “It was until her hospitalization, but I do not remember the number of days.”

Question: Until when did Sadako continue going to the hospital? Answer: I believe it was September 26th. "She said she was going to the hospital around eight or nine in the morning and left my place." Question: Was Sadako sixteen years old at the time?

“Yes.” “Her stature was average.” “Perhaps due to illness, she had become slightly thin.” “What clothing was Sadako wearing when she went out on the day she disappeared?” “I cannot clearly recall the kimono, but I do remember the obi.” “One side of the obi was black figured satin while the other parts were medium-patterned merino; the color was either purple or deep gray—I cannot say for certain.” “The width of the obi was slightly wider than a man’s obi, so I believe it was about five or six sun [approximately 15-18 cm].” “It might have been an arrow-feather-patterned unlined kimono.”

Judge Koga dismissed Nakata Kama from the court and summoned Dr. Takamachi, the director of Takamachi Hospital where Sadako had been receiving treatment. Judge Koga inquired about the clothing. Question: “What clothing was Sadako wearing when she last came to the witnesses?” Answer: “I do not remember.”

“Were you shown a skull at Kagurazaka Police Station?” “I was shown one. I recognized it as the skull of a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl with low cheekbones and fragile bone structure, and privately thought Sadako’s skull must resemble this.”

Judge Koga, after a day’s interval, on April 2 swiftly summoned and examined four individuals: the laborers who had dredged the old well, the contractor who had undertaken the work, the doctor who had performed the autopsy, and Shizuko’s mother; and on the same day conducted the second interrogation of defendant Hasekura.

Dear readers, you must have grown weary of the witness examinations, but I ask you to bear with it a little longer—show your respect for the court’s meticulous investigation and await Hasekura’s outlandish replies.

A certain Shimada, a well-digging laborer, answered Judge Koga as follows regarding the circumstances at the time the corpse was discovered. “The old well located in Kamiosaki—we were commissioned by Master Yamanaka and dredged it with six people, but I was the only one who entered inside.” “The well’s diameter was three shaku five to six sun [approximately 106-109 cm], with about three jō [9 meters] to the water surface. It widened as it descended, with the bottom measuring two to three ken [3.6-5.4 meters] across.” “The depth of the water was about seven shaku [2.1 meters], I believe.” “Around the well stood four or five trees, and the area around the well was thickly overgrown with grass.”

I entered inside and removed tree fragments that were hindering the water drawing. When I began drawing water with a Genba bucket, after a while, something struck the bucket. “When I looked and saw it was a large tree stump, as I tried to lift it, straw matting touched my hand.” “And when I tried to remove that straw matting, a human leg slithered out.” “I was shocked, but when I calmed myself and looked closely—since it was unmistakably a corpse—I couldn’t even let out a sound and immediately fled.” “After that, I reported it to Shinagawa Police Station and requested the dispatch of police officials.” “For retrieving the corpse, my father—who died last year—was the one who entered inside.”

“The corpse had not a single hair on its head; its eyes、ears、nose、and such had rotted away、and there were no wrists or ankles.” “Since there were an obi and collar on it、we could tell it was female、though her age remained unclear.” “The obi attached to it was narrow black figured satin.” “The collar too was black figured satin、same as that obi.” “I believe this black cloth fragment you’ve shown me matches what was on that corpse.” “As for this merino piece、I know nothing about it whatsoever.”

A certain Yamanaka, who had contracted the well dredging, answered Judge Koga as follows.

“As you stated, the Shimada father and son pulled up that corpse.” “The corpse lay with both arms stretched out and both legs splayed, forming a cross, and was nearly naked.” “Only at the collar area were an underrobe and kimono collar attached, and around the waist was wrapped an obi approximately seven or eight sun in width.” “The obi appeared to be merino with satin lining, the underrobe’s collar was reddish, and the kimono’s collar was satin.” “From the fabric fragment that was tucked inside the collar, I think she was wearing an arrow-feather-patterned sheer kimono.” “At that time, the people present stated she was a woman of eighteen or nineteen to around twenty years old.”

"The cloth fragments you showed me weren't this torn and were still more connected when first pulled from the well. They didn't have this much mud on them back then, though the color was about like this. I believe the red piece was the underrobe's collar and the blue one had been the obi lining." "Mr. Hasekura definitely came to look at the time." "But he didn't say a word." What Dr. Yoshikawa—who had conducted the autopsy on the corpse retrieved from the well—stated to Judge Koga was as follows.

“I estimated the age to be between twenty and twenty-five based on height and general physique, and determined it was female from the skeletal structure and mammary lines. Considering exceptional cases, it cannot be ruled out that she was around sixteen years old, but I estimated it as stated in the autopsy report. I estimated the postmortem interval to be six months to one year. I could not determine whether it was suicide or homicide. Of the cloth fragments you have just shown me, the lobster-brown one is probably from that time. As for the other cloth fragments, I cannot state anything definitively. As for the skull, given the number of years that have passed, I cannot state this definitively, but it seems slightly smaller than those from that time.”

From the testimonies of these witnesses, it was now certain that the corpse retrieved from the old well belonged to Kobayashi Sadako, who had gone missing; thus Judge Koga seemed to have dimly grasped the truth of the case at last. On April 6, he further investigated the arson case with Shizuko’s mother as a reference witness and questioned Sadako’s father—summoned that same day from Hiroshima Prefecture—but both merely corroborated facts already established. Having grown more confident in the case, Judge Koga conducted Hasekura’s second interrogation on April 7—the first having been conducted on March 20 and then set aside.

However, Hasekura’s attitude had completely changed.

During the approximately twenty days between March 20—the date of his first interrogation by the preliminary examination judge—and April 7—the date of his second interrogation—while confined in Tokyo Prison, what could Hasekura Kihei have been thinking? During those twenty days, Judge Koga had conducted house searches, performed on-site inspections, and summoned over a dozen witnesses—some even called from as far as Hiroshima Prefecture—and through exhaustive efforts had finally managed to reach the core of the matter. Thus he summoned Hasekura to the preliminary court today to conduct the second interrogation. Yet compared to his previous dejected demeanor where he could not even lift his face, Hasekura now raised his jet-black face upright—a distinctive feature—with his large eyes glaring fiercely, facing the judge with composure.

Judge Koga directed his attentive gaze at Hasekura’s unexpected attitude, glaring fiercely, and slowly began to speak. Question: “This divorce certificate was found in the defendant’s possession. When was it created?”

“I do not know.” “I have forgotten whether there was ever any talk of divorce or not.”

“Then, what about this building transfer certificate?” “I do not know.” “Who made it, I do not know.” “I do not know whether there had been a discussion about transferring the building to my wife or not.” “Did you obtain a receipt for 100 yen from Teijiro?” “It could be said that I obtained it, and yet it could also be said that I did not.” “At the time of handing over the aforementioned money from Kobe to Teijiro, was the defendant not present?” “I do not know.”

Question: “Did the exchange occur on the night of September 26, Taisho 2, or was it the following day?” Answer: “I do not know whether it was evening or morning. I do not remember whether I received any message from Kobe or not.” Question: “In any case, did you go to Kobe’s place on the evening of the 26th and meet the Kobayashi brothers?”

“Since even at the police station everyone said I had met them, I stated it as though I had met them—but I do not know how it truly was.” “Why don’t you know?” “I do not know for what reason.” Hasekura Kihei continued to deny everything thoroughly. However, regarding this last answer—since Pastor Kobe and the Kobayashi brothers had testified in unison that they met Hasekura at Kobe’s residence that same day—his denial had to be deemed baseless. During those twenty days in the detention center for unconvicted prisoners, as Hasekura lamented his bleak fate, perhaps he had suddenly conceived the idea of denying everything. Had he exercised a bit more reason here—denying what ought to be denied while affirming what ought to be affirmed—he might have swayed the judge’s conviction and resolved the case with relative ease. His audacious soul, once resolved thus, would not be easily moved. Whether one called it his good heart or Buddha-nature—the conscience within his psyche had momentarily stirred awake during that confession at the Kagurazaka Police Station’s chief office. Yet after being confined for twenty days in a solitary cell where even daylight seemed dim, his evil nature began to run rampant once more until it had completely conquered Hasekura’s physical being—so that here he had likely reverted to being the Hasekura Kihei of old. In any case, his adoption of this attitude of thorough denial was utterly incomprehensible.

“Did you not submit to Kobayashi Teijiro a written apology stating that you had violated Sadako against her will?” “I do not know whether that was the case.” “There is no doubt that you forced yourself upon her, correct?” “I leave that to your discretion.” “Did you intend to have Sadako examined at Akasaka Juntendo Hospital?” “Those were things the police made me say—I do not know.” “Then how do you account for your prior statement about dumping Sadako into the well?”

Judge Koga posed a sharp question.

When Judge Koga pressed him sharply about his confession of having thrown Sadako into the well, Hasekura answered without a trace of fear. “I did not put her in,” he said. “At the police station, they kept me awake through the night and told me to say I’d done it—so I made that statement as ordered. Then when I came before this preliminary hearing, they instructed me to repeat it again. That’s why I said I put her in the well, but in truth, I did not.” “Then what of the other facts you previously admitted?” asked Judge Koga. “All lies,” Hasekura replied. “I neither set fire to my house in Takanawa myself nor ordered laborers to do so. I don’t know where the fire started either. While I’ve suffered through many fires before, I’ve never committed arson.”

“During your recent escape, did you secretly meet your wife and have her destroy the photographs?” “I did not have them destroyed. It was Asada who said it would be advisable to destroy them.”

The second interrogation began with denial and ended with denial. How must this unwavering denial of criminal facts have resonated with Judge Koga? Through the interrogations conducted thus far, Judge Koga had already vaguely formed a certain conclusion in his mind. Yet since it was perilous for a judge to become bound by specific preconceptions, he had rigorously maintained a cautious stance; thus even when unexpectedly faced with Hasekura's comprehensive denial of criminal facts that day, he showed little sign of discomposure. Nor did he fail to detect the numerous contradictions within those denials.

However, here Judge Koga had to adopt an attitude several times more cautious than before. In the approximately forty to fifty days leading up to May 23rd—the date of Hasekura's third interrogation—he summoned a total of thirty-five witnesses including Pastor Kobe and Kobayashi Teijiro whom he had previously called once, along with new additions such as photographer Asada. Furthermore, he conducted interrogations of Shizuko's mother Nakata Kama as a person of reference thirty-six times over multiple sessions. Though enumerating each of these depositions would prove too tedious and thus they were omitted here, generally speaking most were unfavorable to Hasekura.

In a nation governed by law, the application of law brings about extremely significant consequences; particularly in criminal law, as it often concerns individual rights and interests, judges must deliberate as carefully as possible. As a result, reaching a verdict requires considerable time. Delays in conviction had long been problematic—indeed, even Prince Hamlet in Shakespeare’s play, when gripped by pessimism and driven to contemplate suicide, counted legal procrastination among the causes that foster such despair.

However, when confronted with Judge Koga’s meticulous manner of interrogation here, one could no longer voice complaints about legal delays. Naturally, not only Judge Koga but all judges must have conducted interrogations no less thorough than his before arriving at a conviction—this much was certain. Setting aside digressions, let us proceed to Kihei’s third interrogation on May 23rd. This time, Hasekura did not adopt as blatant an attitude as he had during the second interrogation. Considering this, it may have been that during the second interrogation he had become agitated due to an internal reaction following his confession. The interrogation gradually progressed from Bible thefts to arson cases before culminating in murder. Let us now excerpt a portion concerning the murder—the most compelling part—as is customary.

“Did you confess to Pastor Kobe that you forcibly assaulted Sadako?” “I said I did it, but I never said it was forced.” “Is it not true that you met Sadako on September 26?” “I did not meet her at all that day.” “I never lay in wait at Kiyomasa-zaka slope.” “At the police station, I stated I went by train from Kiyomasa-zaka to Akasaka—but there were no trains operating there at the time.” “You can’t ride a train that doesn’t exist.”

Judge Koga involuntarily stiffened his expression at Hasekura's response.

Judge Koga was involuntarily startled by Hasekura’s words stating there should have been no train in front of Kiyomasa at that time.

Dear readers. It was May 1917 when Hasekura was being interrogated by Judge Koga. (Strangely enough, exactly ten years prior) The murder case in question had occurred in September of Taisho 2 (1913). That is, nearly four years had passed. No one could possibly have retained precise memories about whether the tram line had indeed been operational in front of Kiyomasa nearly four years prior—especially since the tracks had been newly laid around that very time. But what if the tram had not been in operation?

Gentlemen. A trial is something that can be decided by extremely minute details. Even a slight contradiction could overturn an entire verdict. If the tram had not been operational in front of Kiyomasa at that time, would not Hasekura’s confession about having boarded from there lose all value? Therefore, the interrogation records from Kagurazaka Police Station would lose all authority from their very foundation. The issue may seem trivial but is in fact extremely significant. Judge Koga retorted in a scornful tone,

“There should have been no tram there at that time.”

When he stated this, he promptly brought the preliminary hearing to a close. This was because he thought that if there existed such facts as he claimed, they might have to fundamentally redo the preliminary hearing, and they needed to urgently verify the facts.

Judge Koga immediately ordered the clerk to issue an inquiry to the City Electricity Bureau as to whether the tram had already been in operation at that time. However, Hasekura was indeed a cunning man. He had apparently already discerned Judge Koga’s flustered expression and, seizing the opportunity, attempted to sway the judge by submitting a minutely detailed petition titled *Appeal* written on two sheets of *hanshi* paper from his prison cell.

At that time, Hasekura deeply regretted having made a confession at Kagurazaka Police Station. He found the surrounding circumstances unfolding moment by moment to his disadvantage, and with there even being an impeccable confession, he had fallen into a situation where he could no longer talk his way out. He realized that if things continued this way, he would vanish like dew on the gallows; so he was frantically trying to break through on one front and escape this unfavorable situation when a stone he had casually tossed that day unexpectedly began creating ripples—seizing the moment, he attempted a desperate appeal.

His petition was roughly as follows.

Your Honor Though I am currently detained under a most dreadful charge, the matters alleged at Kagurazaka Police Station are entirely baseless and unrelated to any crime I have committed; thus, I am unable to make a truthful declaration. Moreover, given my prior convictions, it seems there shall be no means to easily explain away the false charges staining my name hereafter, no matter how I attempt to vindicate myself. I neither dream of being acquitted and released from prison, nor entertain the thought of being sent to Toyotama Prison to perform those base labors. Even so, I am not one who would find it agreeable to ascend the gallows for a false charge. I humbly request to remain detained in preliminary examination indefinitely. Henceforth, I shall read many Christian books and humbly wish to be guided by the Lord both privately and publicly, even if alone. I humbly wish to devote myself to the cultivation of my spirit. Until very recently, I thought to prove through my own death that I was under the false charge of arson and murder, and having planned to hang myself, I have caused unnecessary trouble to the authorities and sincerely apologize. Your wise and discerning Honor, I Kihei humbly prostrate myself and submit this petition thus.

What stood out upon reading this petition was how feeble Hasekura's claims of false charges appeared; seizing upon the slight doubt that had arisen in Judge Koga's mind, he attempted to sway the judge's conviction through desperate pleas and entreaties. This attitude—which would later grow increasingly hardened—was worthy of note. Judge Koga received this petition and slightly furrowed his brows. He could not comprehend the true intent behind Hasekura's request to remain indefinitely in the preliminary court.

What was Hasekura’s reasoning when he sent a petition to Judge Koga stating that while he did not expect to be acquitted, he disliked the idea of being executed under false charges and wished to remain indefinitely detained in pretrial status?

If he truly had no memory of committing the crime, this was an unmanly display of weakness. Why did he not vigorously proclaim his false charge? It appeared he sought to lessen punishment for crimes he did recall by pleading for the judge's mercy. Yet viewed differently—given how hopeless his circumstances had become—asserting innocence would likely prove futile. Thus he might have chosen ambiguous claims as a temporary evasion, aiming to sow doubt in the judge's mind and slowly turn the tide. But matters stood as they did.

Given that he was facing the death penalty on charges of murder and arson, if he were truly falsely charged, he could not afford to speak in such a leisurely manner. But, depending on how one interprets it, he might have been saying—in a self-destructive, ironic sense—to keep him in preliminary examination indefinitely.

Judge Koga evidently considered the tram issue extremely important, as he zealously carried out thirty-six witness summonses over just thirty to forty days of intense investigation. However, from the day of Hasekura's third interrogation—the twenty-third, when he claimed the tram had not been operational—until June 1st, when the Electricity Bureau's response arrived and Hasekura's fourth interrogation was conducted, he summoned only one reference witness during that week: a tailor named Tange Ginnosuke, while holding no preliminary hearings at all.

Tange Ginnosuke was a man who had been temporarily incarcerated with Hasekura while serving time in Tokyo Prison for theft, and he was questioned regarding Hasekura’s attempted suicide. "I was sentenced to three years and six months for theft by the District Court and have filed an appeal with this court." Tange hesitantly stated. "And while in Tokyo Prison, from the 1st to the 15th of this month, I was incarcerated with Hasekura. Not long after we were incarcerated together, Hasekura stated: ‘Though I am a Christian pastor, having suffered such disgrace, I can no longer show my face in society. I have no choice but to end my life—please turn a blind eye.’ I told him that was out of the question—if he’d 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. But even after that, he repeatedly brought it up—around the tenth, I think—pleading, ‘Please take care of things afterward.’ When I refused, saying that doing such a thing would only add to my own crimes, Hasekura told me he had assets worth ten thousand or twenty thousand yen and would give me a quarter of it if I agreed. Then he wrote up a will and power of attorney—likely in the writing room—and sent them to me. That was discovered by the guard on the morning of the 15th."

Hasekura would habitually state that while he had indeed committed theft, he had no recollection whatsoever of arson or murder. "He was deceived by the Police Chief," he kept saying, his voice thick with vexation. Hasekura seemed perpetually tormented, declaring at every turn that he wished to die—his morbid fixation left me profoundly unsettled during our shared incarceration. Yet though he endlessly spoke of death, his true intentions remained opaque. "If pressed," I concluded, "I found him fundamentally untrustworthy."

Regarding this suicide attempt, it had already been written that Hasekura had apologized in his petition by stating "I sincerely apologize," but following that passage remained these additional words: "As for the will and power of attorney produced at that time—both being entirely baseless—the defendant, though aware of their wrongful nature, reasoned that prisoners are inherently greedy individuals; thus he sought to achieve his own aims by allowing the other party to take credit." "Now that I reflect upon it, I am truly sorry and have no excuse."

Now, on May 30th, the long-awaited reply from the Municipal Electricity Bureau arrived for Judge Koga.

In response to your inquiry dated the 28th of this month regarding matters necessary for adjudicating the Hasekura Kihei Criminal Case, we hereby inform you that the tram line opening dates are as enumerated below.

May 30, 1917 Tokyo Municipal Electricity Bureau

Honorable Koga Kiyoshi, Preliminary Judge, Tokyo District Court (As listed below) From Yotsu no Hashi to Ichi no Hashi: Opened December 29, 1908 (Meiji 41) From Ichinohashi to Akabanebashi: Opened June 22, 1909 (Meiji 42) From Furukawabashi to Meguro Station: Opened September 18, 1913 (Taisho 2) Note: To clearly indicate the locations, we have attached a separate tram route map as an appendix. End This was the complete text of the Electricity Bureau's response that had reached Judge Koga’s hands. From this, it became evident that the Tokyo Municipal Electricity Bureau too must have considered it a major case—they had conducted their investigation with near-immediate speed, practically on the same day, and even included a tram route map. The court’s inquiry appeared to have been dispatched immediately after interrogating the reference witness Ginnosuke regarding Hasekura’s suicide attempt, following Hasekura’s third interrogation.

Moreover, considering that Judge Koga immediately conducted the fourth interrogation of Hasekura upon receiving this response, it appears he too had been eagerly awaiting this reply. But ah, what bitter irony this response held! Hasekura’s desperate last-ditch strategy—the theory that the tram had not yet begun operation, which he had forged as an escape route in his direst extremity—was utterly demolished. In other words, the day Hasekura took Sadako out was September 26, Taisho 2 (1913), and the tram had commenced operation on the eighteenth day of the same month and year! It had been opened a mere eight days prior. What else could this be but sheer irony?

Even if it had only been eight days, since the tram was already operational, Hasekura’s false claim that there had been no tram was completely invalid. No—not only that, but it may have even adversely affected the judge’s impression. At the fourth interrogation on June 1st, Judge Koga cornered Hasekura with these words: “When we inquired with the Electricity Bureau, we received a response stating that the tram between Furukawabashi and Meguro Station commenced operation on September 18, 1913. What do you have to say to that?” To this question, Hasekura gave a markedly strained response.

“In that case, there’s nothing to be done,” Hasekura answered. “Since I don’t ride the tram, I thought it hadn’t started running.” Hasekura appeared thoroughly shaken by this revelation. At the beginning of his second petition—painstakingly composed across five sheets of hanshi paper and submitted on June 4th—he wrote: “That the tram I never rode that day had indeed been operational when I believed it unopened—this discovery strikes me as most unexpected, like something from a dream... The tram has proven my mortal wound.”

In any case, regarding this tram issue, Hasekura's strategy was defeated, and he must be said to have suffered a crushing defeat.

But Hasekura was no child—no, far from it; he was a man of exceptional cunning beyond ordinary measure. Why did he assert that there had been no tram at the time when a simple inquiry to the Electricity Bureau would have immediately clarified such a matter? Did he deliberately assert something that was perfectly obvious, thinking that if things went well, he could deceive the judge, and even if they went poorly, he could at least delay the proceedings? Even he would not devise such a childish trick. It seems that when he brought up the matter of the tram not yet being operational, it was not a spontaneous remark that slipped from his lips, but rather something he had devised after days of deep contemplation in his prison cell, intending to nullify the validity of his confession made at Kagurazaka Police Station.

After turning over various thoughts in his mind, he suddenly hit upon the idea that perhaps the tram had not yet been opened at the time.

Unless there had been some major event, people cannot recall whether a tram had commenced operation on a day from four years prior—a day differing by no more than ten days from the actual date. Given this, it would not be unreasonable for Hasekura to have believed there had been no tram at the time. Yet on that very day, he had committed the grave crime of murder. Admittedly, some doubt might still linger regarding this; however, were one to have perpetrated such an atrocity, they could not possibly forget the events of that day unless afflicted by amnesia. Far from suffering memory loss, Hasekura possessed an encyclopedic memory that retained even the most trivial details. Therefore, he must have known—yet to brazenly insist there could have been no tram despite this awareness represented the height of folly. Hasekura was not the sort to commit such an elementary blunder.

Therefore, the author concluded that Hasekura's memory regarding whether the tram had been in operation at the time was likely vague and indistinct. While in prison, Hasekura pondered deeply, and as he began to think that there likely had been no tram at the time, his confidence gradually grew in that direction until he must have slapped his knee in triumph. Because through this contradiction, he could overturn the confession made at Kagurazaka Police Station. But why did he not remember the day he committed murder? Was his confession indeed complete nonsense—did he falsely claim to have ridden a tram he never took, or was his account of taking Sadako out that day a lie?

At this juncture, one must refrain from rushing headlong and instead exercise a measure of detective insight. Given that claiming a tram one currently remembers riding had not been operational at the time would be immediately exposed as false, it was reasonable to conclude that Hasekura’s insistence on the tram’s nonexistence stemmed from total memory loss—yet it remained a valid argument that he could not possibly have forgotten the events of the day he committed murder. To resolve this contradiction, one might conclude that while he may have committed murder, his claim of having boarded the tram from Kiyomasa-kou might be a lie.

Generally speaking, criminals try to conceal their crimes, so when pressed, they desperately offer various replies. Since their accounts were built entirely on lies, inconsistencies emerged over time, inviting ever more intense questioning. I must finally concede that even when confessing to the fundamental crime, certain lies may well remain intact in the process leading up to that confession. In Hasekura's case—when pressed about how exactly he had taken Sadako around on the day he killed her—could it be that the explanations he desperately fabricated ultimately remained uncorrected even after confessing to murder?

If Hasekura 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 quibble over whether the tram had existed or not, nor would the mere existence of the tram have instantly collapsed what he considered his fatal weakness. If one truly did not ride the tram, they should have argued more assertively. However, what Hasekura was attempting to argue was not whether he had boarded the tram from Kiyomasa-kou that day, but whether he had killed someone or not. That is to say, he sought to deny the murder by asserting he had not ridden the tram that day. This was untenable. Even if one had not ridden the tram—even if the confession of having ridden it was false—the tram issue remained ultimately trivial without direct evidence proving one had not committed murder. He must not fixate on such peripheral details. When people recognize they cannot prevail in fundamental arguments, they invariably excavate trivialities to entrap their opponents.

Hasekura's idea seemed to have been along those lines, but this was undoubtedly his failure. However, Hasekura's claim that he had not ridden the tram did seem plausible. When defeated in the tram dispute, Hasekura finally revealed his true nature.

Driven into a corner by the investigating magistrate’s piercing interrogation, Hasekura finally revealed his true nature. This becomes evident when reading his third petition.

As a matter of order, let us begin with the second petition.

The second petition, as briefly mentioned before, was meticulously written across five sheets of Japanese paper and, as previously cited, “The tram being in operation is so unexpected—it feels like a dream.” begins with these words. His penmanship was quite skilled, with very few errors or omissions and almost no traces of corrections, revealing the extent of his education. “—Subjected to seven days and nights of relentless interrogations under rotating detectives at Kagurazaka Police Station, I was compelled to falsely assert even the killing of one I had not slain as truth. Sent to court, I thought I had escaped the tiger’s maw and could breathe easy—this was the mistake of my life. The tram has proven my fatal wound. All of this—having received excessive assistance from Mr. Oshima and caused trouble for the Bible company—must be the due punishment God has inflicted upon me, such that I now find myself upon a path where I must perish beneath a false charge. However, on that day, I did not actually ride the tram from Kiyomasa-kou. I did not go to Akasaka either. I did not go to Kawa安 in Shinjuku and did not eat tendon either. I have not actually committed murder. If I were to go so far as to kill someone, I would not do something like taking them to what could be called my own doorstep—my own neighborhood—to commit the act. Suppose that on that day I had gone to Shinjuku—if I were to go so far as to kill someone, there are plenty of rivers and wells in Shinjuku as well. For what reason would I have had to kill the same person? Though Pastor Kobe had taken the trouble to mediate and settle the matter, I had always kept the Six Codes at my side. I do not commit grave crimes such as those punishable by death or life imprisonment. After being released from Kyoto Prison, I remained in the capital for eight years and went with my wife to both Mitsukoshi and Matsuya. I have not committed theft or shoplifting. The reason I took out the Bibles from the Bible company was that I had obtained permission from the Japanese manager Mr. Oshima; had I known I would end up in this situation, I would not have taken them out. As I have four prior convictions, I was fully aware that I had always been regarded as a person of interest by the Takanawa Police Station. During the fire incident, I was summoned twice to the same station and had written statements detailing the circumstances at that time taken from me.”

At that time, having nothing shadowy upon my person, I appeared without hesitation even when summoned by the police. Had I borne any recollection of being a murderer or arsonist upon my person, I would not have appeared even upon receiving a summons. I humbly beg your pardon, but I did not visit either Akasaka Juntendo Hospital or Takamachi Hospital on that day. I earnestly request Your Honor to conduct a thorough investigation. Regarding the matters I stated at Kagurazaka Police Station, there exists not a single satisfactory point save for the first examination record. On that day, I went from Meiji Gakuin through San'ichi Theological School to Asakusa, entered Hanayashiki, dined at Yonekyu Beef Restaurant, and returned home.

The matter had been settled under Pastor Kobe’s mediation; there was no reason for me to have taken her to the hospital. If the mediator had been what one might crudely call a thug, that would be one thing—but when a respectable pastor oversaw the settlement, who could possibly fear being blackmailed for money afterward? No one. My wife herself acknowledges all of this. To kill someone out of guilt toward my wife—such an act might befit a madman, but I would not do it. I cannot do it.

Life being impermanent, there are those who die in their teens, and there are those who pass away in their twenties. I am fifty-six years old; I do not cling to life. However, I lament dying under a false charge, bearing an evil reputation. I have no recollection of having asked the laborers mentioned in the statements to commit arson at Kagurazaka Police Station. I also have no recollection of committing arson. "Wise and discerning Judge, I humbly beseech Your Honor to render judgment regarding the circumstances of this case and provide proof of that which I have not committed."

The above constituted the argument of the petition. The petition Hasekura had submitted to Judge Koga on June 4th, as presented previously, had been steeped in sorrowful tones—what might be called a lamentation of grievances. However, the petitions he later issued on June 17th and an additional one on the 19th marked a stark shift in attitude; here for the first time he accused Kagurazaka Police Station of torture. It was Hasekura's unfortunate habit to abruptly change his attitude the moment he saw matters were not progressing in his favor. For this reason, there arose a fear that even proper procedures might become obstructed—a regrettable consequence for him. For instance, regarding this torture allegation he now raised, it would have been better had he made the claim immediately upon being brought before the preliminary court. Yet now that Judge Koga had painstakingly conducted his investigation over precisely two months, it was already too late to suddenly introduce such matters. Moreover, during those two months he had repeatedly altered his statements, even claiming the tram could not have existed. After having tried and failed to deny the facts of his confession, circumstances had grown all the more unfavorable for him.

Yet this petition concerning torture would become the starting point for his dreadful half-life—a rarity even in this world—wherein he repeatedly asserted its claims over approximately eight years, until June 19, 1924 (the 13th year of Taisho), when he hanged himself in prison while hurling terrible curses at Police Chief Shoji on the eve of his second trial’s verdict. Driven by his desperate struggle to escape the torments of his long imprisonment and solitary hell, mustering every ounce of strength from every fiber of his being, his pain spawned curses, those curses spawned evil, and that evil summoned further evil until he became a living incarnation of wickedness—reviling the world, denouncing others with a pallid face and blazing eyes, roaring so fiercely that those who saw him shuddered. As such, I shall here present its summary and conclude this chapter of condemnation.

This petition, meticulously composed across approximately twenty-two sheets of Japanese paper, clearly demonstrated his formidable energy, prodigious memory, and unfathomable tenacity. A separate sheet of Japanese paper served as the cover, upon which was boldly inscribed "Petition," beside this appearing in slightly finer characters "A Statement of Defense in the Capacity of a Murderer," with "Defendant Hasekura Kihei" written conclusively at the end.

“Your Honor, I had believed that in this benevolent reign of Taisho today, there would be no torture within the police, but this is not so—for even now, Kagurazaka Police Station retains vestiges of the old shogunate era. This is truly a most deplorable state of affairs. Defendant Kihei, having been subjected to that torture and compelled to make false statements about killing someone he did not kill, is now one who has been transferred to the court. Regarding the skeletal remains that surfaced from a well near this humble one’s residence four years ago now—are they indeed those of Kobayashi Sadako? If it is Kobayashi Sadako, was it murder or suicide? Or when and how did she meet her end? I do not believe it to be Kobayashi Sadako. If it were Kobayashi Sadako, it would have to be considerably smaller. Although I heard various explanations regarding that corpse at Kagurazaka Police Station, even now I remain adrift in waves of doubt.

“Detective Ishiro from Kagurazaka Police Station’s account.” “You killed Kobayashi Sadako, didn’t you?” “I don’t know. I didn’t kill her.” “Liar! This skeleton is Kobayashi Sadako! Your wife has testified to it.” “You saw the sandals from that time, didn’t you?” “I saw them, but I don’t know whose they are.” “There’s no way you don’t know—your wife says they’re Kobayashi Sadako’s sandals.” “And she’s even claiming you’re the one who killed her.” “Confess!” “No matter what my wife says, I know nothing at all.” “There’s no such thing as not knowing! If you don’t talk, you won’t get through this—we won’t let you!” “This bastard won’t confess with ordinary methods—let’s put him to torture!”

Hasekura’s petition continued on and on in exhaustive detail. “From then on, every single day I was taken out to the detective room, where each detective in turn subjected me to all-night severe interrogations and physical beatings.”

Hasekura’s petition makes its appeal in the following manner. “Fists rained down on me from the right, left, and front as they flung open the glass door to the frigid February air, leaving me clad in nothing but a single unlined garment. Yet even that torment paled in comparison to what followed—they produced a skull of unknown origin and barked, ‘This is Sadako! Kiss it!’” “Lick the skull!” “Once or twice might have been one thing, but I was made to kiss it countless times.” “And until you confess,” they said, “we’ll detain you again and again—countless times! I’ll kill you, you bastard—remember that!” “Tomorrow we’ll take you to the kendo hall out back,” they threatened, “bind you with rope, and douse you with water from head to toe—remember that!” “That’s not all—we’ll go to your house early tomorrow morning,” they added, “drag your wife here, detain her for twenty days, and interrogate her just like you! Remember that!” (My wife was frequently summoned before them, interrogated—hearing her cries was truly unbearable for me.) “Is my wife not pitiable?” “Is that innocent child not pitiable?” “Are you a beast?” they roared. “A wretch inferior even to animals!” “They care nothing for my wife’s suffering or my child’s plight.” “They are hopeless wretches.” “Kiss that!” Once again came countless forced kisses upon the skull. I too had reached a state of complete physical and mental exhaustion here—thinking death preferable to such torment—and thus attempted suicide for the second time. But the guards grew vigilant, rendering death impossible. “Guilty though I may be,” I wrote, “the thought of my innocent wife and children suffering tomorrow’s torment is unbearable.” “Yet I could not claim to have killed someone I did not kill; with no recourse left,” I confessed, “I fabricated testimony—seeking swift escape from this skull’s torment and death’s maw—to save my family.” “As Detectives Negishi and Ishiro had long pressed me,” I explained, “I conjured an unseen laborer named Suke from interrogation records—crafting statements to feign truthfulness.” “Yet they refused all acknowledgment.”

"You must say you killed her," they demanded. "I was told not to follow others' examples," I protested, "and though I repeatedly begged for a preliminary hearing, they refused to refer it to one." The torment grew ever more excruciating. Night after sleepless night of being forced to kiss that skull—with no alternative left, I saw no path but to ascend the gallows. Resolving with desperate determination, I boldly declared I had killed one I did not kill. Before the Police Chief himself, I made this false confession. "I too am a man," I pleaded. "In exchange for my confession, spare my wife and children." "Very well," came the reply. "If you act as a man should, then I too shall act as one—even at the cost of my position—and save your family." "That house shall be registered under your wife and children's name," he vowed. "The Bible company will not seize it—rest assured." "Is there anything more you wish to say regarding this?" "If you have further requests, I shall summon anyone you name tomorrow." "Then I ask that my wife be summoned." "And through Pastor Williamson of Nakano Town, let Pastor Kobe be called as well." (Thus did my anguished heart—now steeled to die under false charges—hear their decree: "Very well, we shall summon them tomorrow.") Thus was born this third interrogation record. This record stands as no ordinary document. Accused of killing one I did not kill, bewildered and uncertain how to respond, I surrendered entirely to their demands. Yet even after Detectives Negishi and the Police Chief made such promises, I realized I could find no peace until witnessing their fulfillment.

"My yearning to save my wife and children stands mountain-high, yet what can I do? Must I climb the gallows under false charges with pitiful cries? Ah—the world is fleeting, fleeting; life but a dream, a dream... I resigned myself." "I shall show no womanish weakness now—as a Christian believer, I will board the gallows resolutely to save my wife and children." Hasekura meticulously detailed every particular of the torture inflicted at Kagurazaka Police Station. If these claims were true, they would constitute unforgivable acts indeed; however, while I cannot say whether confessions obtained through torture hold legal validity, one cannot automatically presume such confessions false simply because they were coerced. Is it not more likely that extreme pain would compel one to speak truth rather than falsehood?

Hasekura now claimed his confession at Kagurazaka Police Station was false because it had been extracted through torture; yet could the veracity of this confession not be examined independently from whether torture occurred? That is to say—while the presence or absence of torture might remain an issue of institutional accountability for Kagurazaka Police Station—the actual existence of criminal facts would persist within the judge’s convictions regardless. In essence: was Hasekura’s confession true or false?

When viewed, the scene of his confession appeared to have come from the heart; moreover, given that Kagurazaka Police Station had summarily dismissed any factual basis for torture, this proved extremely detrimental to Hasekura.

Moreover, he had lost the opportune time to make such an appeal. There were those who argued that while he ought to have stated his case properly when first appearing before the preliminary hearing, he instead schemed this way and that in an attempt to evade culpability—ultimately resorting to raising such matters as a desperate last measure. Furthermore, though he repeatedly wrote that his reason for confessing was to save his innocent wife and children—Hasekura being no man of letters after all, having dashed off his petition in one breath during hurried imprisonment—there remained ample regret over thoughts left unexpressed. His claim of "wanting to save his wife and children" might have simply meant wishing to put their minds at ease quickly. But if we were to accept that he willingly embraced false charges purely to protect them, this defied all common sense: in the enlightened reign of Taisho, guilt could never extend to unknowing wives and children, nor would Kagurazaka police officers utter such absurdities to threaten him.

Hasekura’s petition continued still. "So then—without mounting the gallows—I pondered for a time whether there might be some means to save my wife and children." "I conceived a plan." "There is a way! There is!" "I resolved not to allow myself to be outmaneuvered by observing hereafter the actions of the Police Chief or Detectives Negishi and Ishiro—instead, I would take the initiative to plot first." "If my scheme were thwarted midway, I would not ascend the gallows but instead take my own life to prove my manhood." "Until then, I would enter prison babbling 'daifuku mochi' over and over—feigning madness to be treated as a mental patient for some period." "If my own house became the property of my wife and children, they would surely not want for daily sustenance (I would die so my wife and children might live). Were my madness cured, I would not perish but live again." "If my plot were foiled, I would gladly seize death myself—to end my life—and thus I spent nearly an entire night drafting the third interrogation report."

While this passage remains somewhat unclear in meaning, in essence, he wished to fully transfer his property so that his wife and children might avoid difficulties in their daily sustenance; regarding this matter, he would feign madness here by repeatedly shouting "daifuku mochi, daifuku mochi" to temporarily escape the harsh torment and delay the trial until the property was completely transferred to his wife and children. It seemed to mean that should his plans fail, he would have no choice but to commit suicide; he had in fact feigned madness and confounded the authorities, and through this, one could perceive how deeply he had been concerned for the welfare of his wife and children. The Kagurazaka police officers' attempt to exploit the intensity of his concern for his wife and children to extract a confession—a maneuver one might call quick-witted—was precisely what caused them to incur Hasekura's profound resentment.

It was not uncommon for someone to make a false confession out of excessive concern for their wife and children's welfare, but in most such cases, this occurred when the family members had actually committed crimes and the confessor declared themselves a criminal to protect them. In Hasekura’s case, since his wife and children had committed no crimes whatsoever, there was absolutely no need to protect them. Simply because he had been subjected to somewhat harsh interrogation methods by the police, or merely sought to transfer property and eliminate future concerns—one could not accept that he would confess to a murder charge he had no recollection of committing.

It appeared the police officers had skillfully exploited Hasekura’s concern for his wife and children to pressure him into confessing. This became evident upon reading further into the petition. The subsequent section of Hasekura’s petition read as follows.

“A. Regarding the request from Detective Negishi to this humble one: ‘You must declare you killed Kobayashi Sadako and take the blame—if you don’t shoulder this burden, I can’t face the Police Chief. Please carry this responsibility—consider it saving me, I beg of you. You’re a man, aren’t you? If you take this burden, then I too am a man. I’ll ensure the house you currently own isn’t seized by the Bible Company. We’ll sell that house for 3,000 yen—use 2,000 yen to buy fields in Kosaka, deposit the remaining 1,000 yen as child-rearing funds in a bank, and have them live off the interest. We’ll save your wife and children. You’re someone who can’t walk free innocent anyway—we told you repeatedly to die and save your guiltless family.’ Moreover, such statements were made: ‘Haven’t I done enough for you? Just the other day when your kitchen chimney broke and you claimed no repair money—without telling you, I gave your wife ten yen from your own funds. Then there was that man who came demanding eleven yen for advertising fees, pretending you’d commissioned him. Even then I protected your wife. Haven’t I sacrificed this much for you? You’re a man, aren’t you? Shoulder this! You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take responsibility! If you do,’ they implored earnestly, ‘we’ll transfer that house to your wife and children’s ownership and keep supporting them hereafter.’

B. Regarding the request from Detective Ishiro to this humble one: "When I came to your residence requesting your cooperation, you should have complied without protest—after all, I had done much for your benefit. Did I not deliberately use my personal calling card when visiting your home at that time out of respect for your standing? Yet because you fled, I cannot face the Police Chief. I now face dismissal. Even if you didn’t kill her, declare that you did and take responsibility. All you need do is stand firm. If you but shoulder this burden, I may yet avoid being dismissed. You are a man, are you not? A man of faith, are you not? ‘Save me’—they implored me repeatedly—‘say you killed her and bear this weight.’"

The above was but one fragment from the petition; however, without examining both detectives Negishi and Ishiro themselves, the full truth could not be ascertained—yet Hasekura’s assertions undoubtedly contained elements of fact. The two detectives might have employed threats or beguilement, using his wife and children as shackles to draw him into confession. To be sure, these were stratagems of interrogation—methods that could appear quite unsavory depending on circumstance—but those who succumbed to such tricks and readily confessed did so precisely because they had matters to conceal, desperately seeking escape through admission. When faced with concealed truths, resorting to such methods became unavoidable. One might argue that directly confronting suspects constituted a lesser transgression than infiltrating prisons with spies who posed as allies to extract secrets through exploited trust.

Now, while it is doubtful whether the two detectives truly bowed their heads repeatedly and pleaded for Hasekura to shoulder the crime under the pretense of saving them as he claims, given these circumstances, it does seem plausible that they may have resorted to flattering him—calling him a man of honor or a religious figure—and implored him pitifully to confess in order to save themselves. Admittedly, what the two detectives were urging was a truthful confession—but how did this register with Hasekura? Given the way this petition is written, Hasekura may have stiffened his back in defiance, asserting his manhood. If that were the case, it would seem one must slightly alter one’s perception of Hasekura.

What kind of man was Hasekura?

Upon closely examining his words and deeds, he was a man quite thorough in his wickedness, exhibiting as a common trait among criminals a marked capriciousness. While prone to capriciousness on one hand, he possessed an obstinacy that no lever could move on the other. Even when opponents had long forgotten and could no longer comprehend why they were resented, he still continued to hold grudges. In other words, he engaged in actions that had lost their target. He tediously repeated the same matters. Such a person might appear an extraordinarily audacious villain, yet upon sudden awakening might shed tears. Hasekura was not such a person—or was he?

In his petition, he repeated the same points with tedious persistence, pleading in desperation yet offering no resolution. While his penmanship appeared solid when examining individual characters, his writing lacked coherence when forming complete sentences. As one read further, an impression emerged that he might be surprisingly gullible—the sort of man easily swayed by flattery. Particularly striking was the flippant tone in his subsequent Q&A exchanges with police officers—hardly what one would expect from someone fighting at the verge of a verdict that could mean execution, false conviction, or guilt. On one hand, coupled with his markedly sinister countenance, he came across as an audacious figure mocking judicial authority; on the other, one might suspect some cognitive deficiency. Whether to view Hasekura as a brazen fool or an unexpectedly naive man prone to flattery held crucial implications for assessing his confession's validity. As the author—who knew nothing of him personally—could not make light assertions, readers were entreated to read through his full petition and form an impartial judgment.

“I have not committed murder. “Since the police relentlessly demanded that I confess to crimes I did not commit, it was truly exhausting to make such statements mixing truth and falsehood. “I simply answered as you questioned.” Officer: “Where did you lie in wait for Kobayashi Sadako when she was going to the hospital?”

Answer: "I don’t know." Officer: "You can’t possibly not know. Was it around Seishōkōmae?" Answer: "Let me see." "I waited at the foot of the slope near Seishōkōmae." Officer: "How many hours did you wait?"

“Let me see.” “Did you wait about an hour?” “Let me see... I waited for approximately an hour.” “I see. What kind of kimono was Kobayashi Sada wearing at that time?” “Let me see.” “I didn’t pay close attention.”

Officer: “There’s no way you didn’t notice—was it stripes or splashed pattern?” Answer: “Let me see. I thought it was stripes.” Officer: “It wasn’t stripes—it must have been splashed pattern.” Answer: “That might be the case.” Officer: “What kind of splashed pattern was it?” Answer: “I didn’t pay close attention to the design.” (Since I never met her, there’s no way I could have known.) Officer: “Alright, then where did you take her?” (Perplexed) In my mind, I still believed that at that time the tram had not yet begun running in front of Seishōkōmae; having found a path to substantiate my case once it went to trial, I claimed to have ridden a tram I had not actually boarded. Little did I expect that the tram had already been in operation at that time—to my utter astonishment.

“Answer: I rode the tram.” “Officer: Where did you take her?” “Answer: I took her to Akasaka Juntendo.”

On September 22, 1913, I handed one hundred yen to Mr.Kobe,and on the evening of the 25th exchanged documents at Mr.Kobe’s residence,thereby concluding the settlement.Moreover,Hasekura had no reason to take Kobayashi Sada to the hospital.Herein lay the path to substantiation once the case had been transferred to the court. “After leaving the hospital，where did you go?” “Utterly perplexed，after a moment’s deliberation，I stated that I went to Shinjuku.”

Hasekura’s petition, when converted into four-hundred-character manuscript pages, amounted to approximately forty-four or forty-five sheets; given that he wrote this on hanshi paper with a brush, the effort involved was no ordinary matter. It remained consistent from the character forms down to the arrangement of lines. As previously mentioned, there were almost no typos or missing characters. Confined in the detention center and claiming to have written it out of sheer boredom, one could not help but be astonished at his perseverance. Moreover, the fact that he had committed to memory every detail of the interrogation conducted at Kagurazaka Police Station was nothing short of astonishing.

What follows is the continuation of the petition.

“Where did you eat lunch after going to Shinjuku?” “I stated that we ate twenty-sen tempura rice bowls at a certain soba restaurant in Shinjuku Nichōme.”

In reality, no such soba restaurant existed. Kagurazaka Police Station immediately investigated, but found nothing. Moreover, someone suffering from illness at the time would have had no reason to eat tempura rice bowls. Greasy foods are particularly detrimental for gonorrhea.

“Then what did you do?” “I thought to claim I took her to Kawaan, but if I said I went there and detectives immediately found out I hadn’t, there’d be that skull-kissing business again... This posed a problem, so after some deliberation, I stated that I had taken her to Shinjuku Station.” “I see. You took her to the station—then what did you do? It’s still too early to go home, isn’t it?” “That’s correct. I had her wait at the station and went to run errands myself.”

“If I intended to kill someone as precious as a jewel, there would be absolutely no reason to leave her waiting alone at the station.” “Then what did you do?” “I returned to the station and boarded the Meguro-bound Yamanote tram. Then I went home.” “Where did you decide to kill Kobayashi Sada?” “I formed the intent to kill on the tram.” “I’m no child—even if one were a demon, how could anyone suddenly conceive such a terrifying murderous impulse aboard a tram? Such a thing simply couldn’t occur. This testimony of mine is rather childishly constructed. Such are the nature of false statements from the outset.”

“Why did you decide to kill?” “Utterly perplexed—after some deliberation—I supposedly stated that with my wife present, I couldn’t bring her home, nor could I return her to the Kobayashi residence.” “There’s nothing I need to conceal about my wife now.” “Since my wife knows everything, even if I took her out again, there’d be no reason she’d be dragged back to the Kobayashi residence after explaining everything in detail.” “The settlement was finalized on the evening of the 25th—why would I take her out again?”

“Did you put stones in? Did you drug her, wrap her in a straw mat, and put her in?” “I don’t know.”

“You must know. You put in tree stumps, didn’t you?” “I don’t know.” “That’s not true—you did put in two tree stumps!” “I didn’t put them in, so there’s no reason I’d know. I know nothing about these ‘tree stumps’ or whatever they are.” “Fine—let’s say I did.” “Alright—why did you put them in? To keep the body from floating up?” “This is absurd. Very well. Let’s go with that.”

The police interrogation transcript spanned roughly eleven manuscript pages, written in an amusingly absurd manner. In parts where responses faltered, they had inserted characters reading “perplexity, perplexity,” or phrases like “kissing the skull” and simply “kiss-kiss”—crafted with such levity that readers could not help but chuckle.

Shall we call it unflappable composure or desperate recklessness? He bore no resemblance to a man facing an inescapable murder charge. On June 19, 1917, Hasekura submitted to Judge Koga an exhaustive petition painstakingly inscribed on traditional Japanese writing paper—a document in which he decried torture at Kagurazaka Police Station and repeatedly professed no memory whatsoever of killing Sadako, as previously outlined. (What strikes one as eerily uncanny is that Hasekura would ultimately hang himself in prison on June 19, 1924—the exact month and day coinciding with this petition’s submission.) While portions of the appeal proved impossible to outright dismiss, and though it initially appeared the judge might refrain from summarily rejecting it, Hasekura’s subsequent conduct—bellowing “Daifuku mochi! Daifuku mochi!” incessantly to feign madness in detention, issuing promissory notes offering ¥5,000 to cellmates for his own murder (a gesture perceived as theatrical suicide posturing), and capriciously altering his testimony—failed to elicit even a shred of favorable regard from the examining magistrate. Thus did the pretrial proceedings’ outcome grow increasingly hopeless.

Moreover, he had repeatedly claimed in his petition that a settlement had been concluded on September 25, 1913, after which he absolutely never met the Kobayashi brothers—yet eight days after submitting this petition, when Prosecutor Kozuka confronted him with irrefutable evidence, he immediately yielded and apologized profusely, "My previous assertion that the exchange of one hundred yen occurred on September 25th was based on a misunderstanding; in fact, there is no doubt it took place on the night of September 26th."

he stated. As a result, in his second petition he had meticulously detailed his activities on September 26th—the day Kobayashi Sada went missing—as follows: "On that day I departed from Meiji Gakuin, passed through San’ichi Theological School, went to Asakusa, entered Hanayashiki, dined at Yonekyu Beef Restaurant, and returned home." Having laid out this detailed account, he now found himself forced to abruptly retract it. That is, he answered Prosecutor Kozuka as follows.

“I did not intentionally move the date of the monetary exchange to the 25th to use it 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 day leisurely, and returned home—but this too appears to differ from the facts. However, I did not intentionally make false statements.” “It was due to that misunderstanding that I made the erroneous claim.” In other words, Hasekura—having once confessed to murdering Kobayashi Sadako—later reversed this by retracting all three crucial claims he had presented to prove his confession was entirely fabricated: that the tram had not commenced service at Kiyomasa-kōmae on the day in question; that Sadako’s case had been resolved on September 25th, after which he had not met the Kobayashi brothers; and that he had spent the entire day of the 26th in Asakusa—all of which he ultimately recanted. Perhaps Hasekura, finding himself utterly unable to shake off a grave crime he had no memory of committing, had become so flustered that he resorted to making these rambling 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 Hasekura's confession.

“I was summoned to Kagurazaka Police Station before Hasekura was transferred to the authorities.” Pastor Kobe answered. “I met with Hasekura, but the man appeared genuinely repentant and asked me to handle his affairs.” “I told him that if he would only repent in his heart, he should cleanly submit to his crime, and that if there was no one else to entrust his matters to, I would take responsibility and care for them. At this, he wept tears of gratitude.”

After concluding the final interrogation, Prosecutor Kozuka’s determination had not wavered in the slightest. He addressed Judge Koga, "Opinion Statement Regarding the Pretrial Decision"

titled "Opinion Statement Regarding the Pretrial Decision," along with a statement of reasons, stating that he considered the decision to refer the case of arson, murder, and seven other charges to public trial at the Tokyo District Court to have been made.

On July 2, 1917 (Taisho 6), Hasekura Kihei was found guilty, bringing the pretrial investigation to a close. Despite constituting the grave crimes of murder and arson, there remained scarce physical evidence beyond the defendant's own confession. Moreover, the defendant was now attempting to deny that very confession. Was Hasekura truly guilty? How would the public trial unfold?

Karmic Retribution

Hasekura's wife Shizuko sat lost in thought as she gazed at her peacefully sleeping child's face. Having long since exhausted her tears, her parched eyelids were hideously swollen. The dim electric light cast her solitary figure from the bare room's ceiling, throwing her shadow onto the slightly soiled tatami mats where it clung.

It was a muggy evening.

While she had not a moment's respite for her heart to rest, lost in tears all the while, the world had already, without her notice, deepened into summer. Through the gaps of an old reed screen hanging loosely under the eaves—visible from the sliver of a single opened storm shutter—one or two stars twinkled in the crisp, rain-cleared sky now brightened after the monsoon season.

How many misfortunes had followed in the mere half-year since detectives had forced their way in unexpectedly this past February? She felt as though she had aged ten years in that brief span of time.

The seven years of married life with Kihei had been like a dream. At nineteen, following her parents’ advice, she offered him her virginity, and though her life since then was not filled with happiness, she was able to maintain her faith while loving her husband. Moreover, her husband’s love for her, though at times obsessive and at others hollow, was nothing short of extraordinary. To put it in general terms, with the child they had soon after their marriage at the center, she was able to walk a fairly happy path together with her husband.

That had, after a long seven years, unexpectedly crumbled away in an instant. She had never even dreamed her husband had already accumulated four prior offenses before their marriage. Though no thorough investigation had been conducted because he was a Christian believer—and even if there had been a criminal record, it was entirely possible for him to reform into an upright person through repentance—when Kagurazaka Police Station asserted her husband’s criminal past, she felt more exposed than if her own body had been stripped bare.

She realized soon after their marriage that her husband’s conduct was not entirely proper. During periods when they lived apart due to his studies or when she visited her hometown, she heard rumors about him being involved with one or two women. What made her feel most desolate was learning that her husband had contracted a vile disease and passed it to their maid Kobayashi Sada—a girl not yet of age—even if, as the maid’s uncle claimed, he had not actually violated her. Yet even in these misdeeds of her husband’s, she did not forget that she bore some shared responsibility. She forgave him while making every effort to prevent the matter from becoming public knowledge.

But what was this? Her husband had taken Sadako out, drowned her in an old well, and killed her—wasn't that what they were claiming? Though she had endured harsh interrogations by demon-like detectives at Kagurazaka Police Station, and though she had heard every manner of terrible rumor about her husband, she still refused to stop believing in him. She simply could not conceive that he had committed such an utterly heinous crime.

When she heard from the police chief's own mouth that Kihei had fully confessed, every drop of blood in her body instantly congealed. Her effort to keep herself upright when teetering on collapse was nearly superhuman in nature. Yet by the time she was permitted to meet him after learning of her husband's confession from the police chief, she had completely regained her composure. She had steeled her resolve to the utmost. There already existed a child between them. However great a villain her husband might be, it would bring shame upon her who had entered the path of faith to become disordered now; she would comfort and encourage him to eliminate future anxieties. Thus she resolved. And so she found herself able to calmly gaze upon her husband's form, drenched in tears of penitence.

Shizuko continued to think without moving a muscle, like a mannequin fixed in place.

The hardships she had endured since her husband’s detention as an unconvicted prisoner were no ordinary matter. She was frequently summoned to the pretrial court and subjected to harsh interrogations by the judge; people nearby looked at her with mocking gazes; and there were those who took advantage of her vulnerability, coming under the guise of kindness to swindle or extort her. Not a single relative came to her aid, and even on the rare occasions when someone did, they were unable to provide any material assistance. Though the photographer Asada would occasionally visit to comfort her, due to past events and sensing he harbored some ulterior motive, she couldn’t bring herself to openly welcome him.

For that reason, what she suffered from most was procuring money. Even if their daily living expenses required little, the sums needed for supplies to her husband in the detention center and payments to scribes and lawyers were by no means small. How could she possibly manage that on her own as a woman, especially now when society scorned her and no one would approach? She had no choice but to keep selling off one personal belonging after another to make ends meet.

Her greatest remaining asset was the house she currently lived in. If she sold this, a lump sum would come into her hands, and she thought she could retain a competent lawyer; thus, when she secretly consulted a real estate agent, she was told there was a buyer willing to pay fifteen hundred yen. So she tried bringing up the matter with her husband during their meeting. “About the house—there’s a buyer offering 1,500 yen, so I’d like to sell it and use the money for your legal fees or defense costs. What do you think?”

“There’s no problem with selling the house, but…” Hasekura answered while rolling his large eyes. “That house—Detective Negishi firmly agreed to sell it for three thousand yen.” “And I have no intention of using that money for myself.” “If you can use that capital to secure enough income to live without hardship for the rest of your life and raise our child properly, that would be ideal.” “In any case, fifteen hundred yen is far too cheap.” “No matter what, it should sell for two thousand yen.” “Consult Asada about it.”

Though she was reluctant to consult Asada, Shizuko resolved not to oppose, “Yes, I will do so.”

After saying that and leaving the visitation room, an unexpected crisis occurred within two or three days. It was Tōyō Fire Insurance Company that had provisionally seized the house. When Hasekura was indicted and the preliminary hearing found him guilty, two civil lawsuits were filed against him using those criminal records as evidence. One was a claim for approximately ¥7,000 in damages from the Bible company for stolen Bibles, and the other was a claim for approximately ¥3,000 in damages from the insurance company for defrauded insurance payments. While one might expect the Bible company—as distributors of Scripture embodying Christian humanitarianism—to follow "hate the sin, not the sinner" and avoid tormenting Hasekura with a civil lawsuit now, it nevertheless became clear things wouldn't go that way when litigation was promptly initiated. True to its nature as a Bible company, it refrained from asset seizure, but the nimble insurance company immediately applied for provisional seizure.

The 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 was another way to provisionally seize it, in any case, the house had now become beyond their control. Because the house that had been her only hope had been seized, Shizuko was left in a daze. At their next meeting, she despondently told her husband about the matter. "I thought about selling the house, but it ended up being seized by the insurance company." "It’s hopeless now."

“What? They seized it?!” Hasekura’s countenance changed abruptly. His bushy eyebrows shot up, his eyes blazed fiercely, and the look of bitter resentment was enough to leave even Shizuko daunted. “Th-that’s true?!” When he heard that the house had been seized, Hasekura’s fury was no ordinary matter. Shizuko was frightened by his bluster, but she could no longer hide it. “Yes, it was seized the day before yesterday.”

“Hmm.”

Hasekura’s eyes shone eerily.

“I was deceived—the Police Chief set me up.” Shizuko tried to calm her husband, whose agitation had grown too intense, but the guard—who had been observing this unusual scene from earlier—swiftly intervened to separate them, abruptly ending the visit and leaving her unable to offer him even a single word of comfort. From the insurance company’s perspective, since it was money they had been defrauded of, they had to recover it somehow; but seizing this property, which Hasekura had relied on as his sole remaining asset, was undoubtedly one cause of his downward spiral. He wrote about this matter in his petition as follows.

"Two days later, my wife again came seeking to meet with me." At that time, my wife appeared with a withered face and said anxiously that all was lost. "The house has been provisionally seized by Tōyō Fire Insurance Company," she declared dejectedly before leaving. "Alas! I fabricated false testimony, claiming to have killed one I did not slay—all to save my wife and child, yet salvation eluded me. Was I ensnared in treachery? Thus I reach my end—boundless regret, ceaseless resentment! Deceived, must I mount the gallows beneath this unjust charge?"

It appeared Hasekura began denying his confessions and feigning madness only after this incident occurred. From this perspective, the seizure of his house seemed a major cause for his confession denial; however, during the second trial's public proceedings, when questioned by the presiding judge about why he had confessed during the preliminary hearing only to immediately retract it, he stated that while he initially made a false confession to save his wife and child, he came to believe that unless he eventually told the truth, it would disadvantage him in later trials and cause him to miss his chance to escape a false charge, leading him to declare his confession had been fabricated. The fact that his house had been seized and he realized he'd been deceived at Kagurazaka Police Station—yet he never claimed this exposure proved his confession false—suggested it might not have been such a significant issue after all.

However, as the most pressing immediate problem, it was Shizuko who suffered the most. The husband she relied on was confined in the detention center, she had not a single penny in savings, and their only property—the house—had been entirely seized. As mentioned before, she had managed to get by for the time being by selling off one personal belonging after another, but now even those proceeds had run out.

The date of her husband’s public trial was approaching. Now that it had come to an actual trial, she needed to formally retain a lawyer. But she couldn’t even think of hiring a lawyer—she didn’t have food for tomorrow. Moreover, she would soon have to vacate this house as well. If that happened, even sheltering from the rain and dew would become an immediate problem.

Shizuko's anxieties multiplied endlessly. Each time she gazed at her child's innocent face peacefully sleeping in blissful ignorance, tears she thought had dried up completely - with no remaining source to draw from - would begin seeping out anew. This must have been what people meant by tears of blood. Ah, what should I do about tomorrow? How will I raise this child? More urgently, how can I save my husband who will soon stand trial? He keeps vehemently insisting he's innocent of all charges. That composed confession he made at Kagurazaka Police Station hadn't seemed like a lie at the time, yet now she couldn't bring herself to believe he was lying either. I must find some way to secure a competent lawyer and rescue him from this torment.

Shizuko's heart was in utter turmoil, but exhausted from the day's strain, with both body and mind now utterly spent, she limply slumped down beside her child's pillow and fell asleep.

Suddenly, a cold wind brushed against her, 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 slightly opened shutter, she found the sky had turned pitch black without her noticing. Shizuko hurriedly sat up to close the shutters when a figure appeared dimly in the depths of the garden. Shizuko saw a suspicious figure in the garden,

“Ah!”

After crying out, she froze in place and remained there. The figure approached her unsteadily. "Oh, it's you!"

Shizuko let out another cry of surprise. The figure she had mistaken for a suspicious stranger turned out to be her husband Kihei. He wordlessly shuffled into the house. He looked as he always did and appeared relatively composed. Shizuko frowned slightly in suspicion at her husband—who should have been in prison—returning home at this hour, but without harboring deeper misgivings, she welcomed him in. “You managed to return.” “Yeah, I had a terrible time.” He spoke casually.

“You’ve had it rough too, haven’t you?” “No, someone like me—it’s really nothing.” “But you were truly mistreated at Kagurazaka Police Station, weren’t you?” “Well… just a little.” “It wasn’t just a little.” “I know exactly what happened.” “I’ve heard your cries many times.”

Hasekura said sharply, but soon lowered his tone, “I too was subjected to a terrible ordeal.” “The detectives would take turns interrogating me all night long.” “And then they make me kiss some unidentifiable skull.” “Wh-what?!”

Shizuko looked up at her husband with fearful eyes. "No matter what happened, I'd resolved never to confess to things I had no memory of—but hearing your sobs was more painful than being flayed alive, and the all-night interrogations left me utterly spent." "Fine, I'll be the sacrifice—the Police Chief said he'd sell this house so my family wouldn't suffer, and I thought there'd be nothing left to worry about. That's why I ended up making a false confession—the mistake of my life." "I was completely deceived by the Police Chief." "Now there's no way to explain it away."

“Do you truly have no memory of it?” Shizuko looked at her husband with probing eyes. “None. I truly have not the slightest memory of it.” “Th-then…” Shizuko could no longer endure it and sobbed. “Wh-why did you make such a confession?” “That’s as I just said—” “No! No!”

Shizuko sharply cut him off. “Whatever the reason might be, claiming you killed someone you didn’t kill is absurd.” “You... you...” Shizuko couldn’t speak. “It was my fault.” “So I’m prepared to climb the gallows.”

“No, no—there’s no need for that. If you truly have no memory of it, you’ll be found not guilty at trial.” “But I can no longer explain myself. I’ve been framed by the police chief and left utterly powerless. Rather than be punished for a crime I didn’t commit, I may have tried to end it all through suicide countless times. But every time, I failed. Once, I even thought to have the prison tailor kill me—but that too came to nothing. I can’t die. I simply cannot die. So I’ve made up my mind—I will absolutely not die.”

As he spoke, Hasekura’s features gradually grew more fearsome. He clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth. “Ah, you...” Shizuko, growing despondent, tried to cling desperately to her husband. Hasekura shook it off and continued to roar.

“I won’t die. “I absolutely will not die. “I will curse them all! “Every last one of those who tormented me—I’ll curse them all! “From this day forth, I’ll give my soul to the devil and be done with it. “Demons, goblins, fairies—all wicked beings filling heaven and earth—hear me!” Hasekura swore that henceforth he would commit nothing but evil. “Through this oath, I’ll exact vengeance on this detestable society that’s tortured me till now—this world brimming with scheming stratagems, deceitful tricks, and treacherous snares!”

Hasekura’s eyes snapped wide open and seemed to rise upward as one watched; his mouth split to his ears, and from his crimson tongue, blood seemed to drip. Shizuko trembled in terror and collapsed heavily. Hasekura, now transformed into the form of a demon, continued to roar. “I won’t die. I absolutely will not die. I will transform into a demon while alive. I’ll curse every last one of those bastards who tormented me—curse them again and again until there’s nothing left!” “Ah, you...” Shizuko cried out in a desperate, strained voice. “Th-that… please stop such a terrifying thing! If you truly have no memory of it, then someday it will surely be cleared. Those who die under false charges can go peacefully and without any pain to the Lord’s presence. Please, please stop becoming an ally of the devil.”

“No, no! I will curse them.” “You lot—Shoji, Kobe, and you detectives from Kagurazaka Station—will surely receive my curse!” “Shizuko—this will be the last time we meet as husband and wife.” Having declared this, Hasekura abruptly whirled around and made to leave for parts unknown. Shizuko clung desperately to her husband while,

“Wait, please!” “Please reconsider.” “What about the boy?” “What will you do about the boy sleeping soundly right there?” “What, the boy? Hmph—I too was once bound by the bonds of affection and even felt such womanly sentiments.” “The Hasekura of today has no use for such things.” “Right! As the sacrificial offering for my vowed departure into demonhood while yet alive today—I’ll crush that thing!” His hair bristling as if to pierce the heavens, eyes blazing with a fierce light, and mouth agape in a roar, Hasekura suddenly lunged forward, aiming to kick the sleeping child. Shizuko, startled, clung to that leg and let out a loud scream.

“What—?! Someone, please come!” However,the voice wouldn’t come out as intended. The hands desperately restraining the husband—pitifully,a woman’s weakness—gradually lost their strength until they seemed on the verge of being trampled together with the child. She writhed in agony,barely managing to— “Ah—” could only moan.

“Ahem, Madam. “What’s the matter?” When a familiar deep voice sounded near her ear, she opened her eyes with a start to find Asada standing heavily before her. Shizuko had been dreaming during a light nap. Startled, she jolted upright and hastily tidied her shamefully disheveled appearance. “What’s happened?” “You were moaning quite violently.” “I called out several times at the front door, but since there was no response, I came up.” Asada said with a smirk.

“In worrying over various matters, I must have dozed off from today’s fatigue.” “And then I had a dreadful dream.” Having straightened her posture, Shizuko answered while a chill crept down her neck. Despite Asada having entered the parlor unannounced—a discourtesy that normally demanded reproach—she found herself unable to rebuke him harshly, given how indispensable his assistance had been of late.

“I see.” Asada nodded and, “It’s only natural you’ve been so careful these days.” “Speaking of which, I hear Mr. Hasekura’s trial is finally moving forward.” “Yes, I hear it will soon proceed to trial.” “Couldn’t they have gotten the charges dismissed during the preliminary hearing?” “Yes, he was ultimately found guilty.” “And...” Shizuko looked up at Asada resentfully while,

“A civil lawsuit or something was filed by the insurance company, and this house has been provisionally seized.”

“What? Provisional seizure?”

Asada showed a look of shock and horror while,

“Th-that can’t be right.” “But there’s nothing to be done. The day before yesterday, it was completely seized.” “Hmm...” Asada stared fixedly up at the corner of the ceiling while,

“I don’t think such a thing is possible, but I’ll look into it immediately.” “This house being seized would be a problem for you.” “Mr. Hasekura was also very much relying on the house—all he cared about was ensuring it would safely pass into your hands as soon as possible.”

“Yes.”

Shizuko hung her head.

“If this house isn’t released, I can’t hire a lawyer.”

“That’s certainly true.” At Shizuko’s words, Asada seemed to realize for the first time, “If this moves to public trial, you must secure a lawyer immediately.” “Understood.” “I’ll handle that matter personally.”

“If you do everything for me, my conscience won’t rest.” Shizuko found his kindness terrifying. With the desperation of a drowning woman clutching at straws, she wanted to seize Asada’s offer—the sole lifeline for someone with nowhere else to turn—yet restrained herself and calmly voiced her refusal. “No need for such reserve.” “Madam, isn’t it rather cold to say that now?” Asada’s smirk made his face look more contemptible than ever. Though she wished to reject this man’s help, she couldn’t imagine anyone else who would tend to her husband. Tormented by these thoughts, Shizuko silently bowed her head.

“As for a lawyer, Mr. Nose would be best.” Asada continued talking without paying any heed to Shizuko’s demeanor. “I know that man to some extent, and he’s precisely the right person for this sort of matter. He doesn’t fuss about fees and always stands up for the underdog.” “Hasekura had mentioned something about wishing to request Mr. Nose’s assistance.”

Shizuko finally raised her head. “I see.” “Then Mr. Hasekura must have heard of his reputation as well.” “Well then, let’s decide to request Mr. Nose as our lawyer for now.”

Attorney Nose was a man widely known for his intense aversion to the tyranny of governmental authority, and whenever facts indicated that said authority had inflicted oppression, he would thoroughly denounce them with his signature tenacity. Young judges would involuntarily grimace at his sarcastic defense style—to such an extent that he became a powerful ally for combative oppressed classes. In return, he sometimes opposed things merely for opposition’s sake, earning criticism from some quarters as a fame-seeker. Having become renowned for championing the weak, he could hardly complain about such labels—though in this day and age, using advocacy for the underprivileged as a means to build one’s reputation was the height of folly. Far wiser would be serving the bourgeois class to gain both fame and profit. This inability to employ such clever tactics undoubtedly stemmed from his inherent disposition, leading many to view Attorney Nose as an eccentric with peculiar quirks. He nevertheless enjoyed an established reputation for meticulously reading every page of case records and internalizing their contents—a practice that starkly contrasted with trendy lawyers who had assistants skim documents for key points or hastily flipped through files on trains. Whether Hasekura had intentionally sought Mr. Nose’s defense remained unclear, but the attorney’s involvement rendered the case increasingly complex and notorious. For Chief Shoji and the Kagurazaka officers—who had never anticipated Hasekura’s eventual betrayal plunging the investigation into turmoil—this development proved an enormous nuisance.

Shizuko knew nothing about the lawyer’s circumstances, and since requesting his services now would still require Asada’s assistance, she had no choice but to bow her head despite her reluctance. “I humbly ask for your kind assistance.”

“Very well. “I’ll take care of it.” Asada reliably took on the task. “Um, so… will Hasekura be spared?” Shizuko asked falteringly.

“Well...” Asada tilted his head slightly, “What can I say? I don’t know.” “Let’s properly hear what the lawyer has to say.”

If her husband were convicted as things stood, what should Shizuko do? With not a single penny saved and a child to care for, she could no longer serve as a Sunday school teacher, leaving her with no choice but to wander the streets destitute. When she thought of her own tragic fate, Shizuko was drawn to fresh tears and bowed her head deeply. “Madam, you mustn’t lose heart.” Asada edged closer to Shizuko with a worried look.

The night grew quite late. The early evening was quiet, but before long a wind seemed to rise, and the trees in the garden rustled noisily.

Public Trial

On September 25, 1917, the first public trial of Hasekura Kihei was held in the Criminal Division of the Tokyo District Court.

The presiding judge was the young Judge Miyaki Shotaro; the attending prosecutor was Prosecutor Kozuka; the defense attorneys were Attorney Nose and three others; and the agents from the two companies that had filed civil suits had all taken their designated seats. Hasekura Kihei remained seated in the defendant's chair with an audaciously defiant countenance, showing no trace of apprehension. At the time, he was thirty-six years old. The presiding judge quietly commenced the interrogation, inquiring into the defendant's status, occupation, full name, and other details in accordance with legal procedure before proceeding to examine the criminal facts. Kihei answered the presiding judge's questions without hesitation as though fully resolved, denying each criminal fact one by one. He fearlessly stated that all confessions made at the police station had been entirely false. While nodding, the presiding judge probed into the finest details through his questioning before declaring a temporary adjournment. Prior to this, Attorney Nose had submitted a formal request for trial continuation to prepare evidence applications.

The resumed public trial was held on October 4. The presiding judge and others maintained unchanged expressions. The presiding judge conducted detailed interrogations regarding Hasekura's relationship with Kobayashi Tei. Attorney Nose submitted applications for four items: inspection of the old well at Kamiosaki vacant lot; appraisal of the skull excavated from the communal cemetery; acquisition of official reports from the jurisdictional police station during the fire at Hasekura's former residence; and summons for twenty-four witnesses including Pastor Kobe. After deliberation, the presiding judge permitted the skull appraisal, acquisition of official reports, and summons for eight witnesses including Pastor Kobe, rejected the remaining requests, and adjourned the court.

Judge Miyaki was a young and promising judicial officer at the time. After presiding over this case, he spent considerable time traveling through Europe and America, closely studying their judicial systems. As evidenced by his current occupation of an important position within the Ministry of Justice upon returning to Japan—while also serving concurrently as a foreign ministry secretary—he was a man of dashing appearance who received people with a gentle demeanor, naturally eloquent without premeditated rhetoric, and endowed with keen intellect and penetrating insight that pierced through written surfaces. However, his tenure presiding over criminal trials both began and ended with this Hasekura case. For him to have encountered in his only trial such an unprecedented difficult criminal case as this one—was it his misfortune or rather his fortune? Furthermore, Kagurazaka Police Station Chief Shoji Rikitarao, the complainant in this case, was a long-time acquaintance of his. The trial proceedings needed to be handled with the utmost caution, building prudence upon prudence. Judge Miyaki had indeed poured his entire judicial acumen into this case; that he was able to adjudicate it so effectively was precisely because he was a man of clear intellect, overflowing with vigor. Whether it was Chief Shoji or Judge Miyaki, both were valiant men in their field who upheld justice without fear, and encountering them was where Hasekura’s luck ran out.

Judge Miyaki pondered day and night over how to resolve this case. The gravest of Hasekura’s crimes was murder, but to confirm this, they first had to determine whether the victim’s corpse was indeed that of Kobayashi Sadako. If the victim’s corpse were not Sadako’s, the entire case would collapse from its foundation. Even if the corpse were determined to be Sadako’s, various issues would still remain—whether it was suicide, homicide, or accidental death—but in any case, confirming the identity of the corpse must come first. As presented in the preliminary investigation report, it could not yet be considered conclusive. So thought Judge Miyaki. Fortuitously, as Defense Attorney Nose—who shared the same concern—had submitted a request for appraisal, he promptly granted it and decided to assign one appraiser for the skull and two appraisers for the fabric portion of the clothing.

On October 25, at the outset of the continued trial, the aforementioned appraisers were summoned. One was Dr. Tomonaga, an assistant in the Imperial University Medical Department with profound expertise in this discipline, who had been ordered to appraise the skull; the other was Mr. Tanabe, principal of a sewing school for girls in Hongo of distinguished reputation, who had been ordered to appraise the fabric.

The appraisal items for the skull were as follows.

Appraisal Items

1. Regarding the 28th skull from 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. In particular: whether the upper central incisors protruded somewhat forward; whether the lower canines were longer than those of an average person; and whether the canines were those commonly referred to as "demon fangs." Whether the lower canines protrude beyond the upper dental arch when occluded, and the presence or absence of wisdom teeth. The above The appraisal items ordered to Principal Tanabe of the sewing girls’ school were as follows.

Appraisal Items 1. The material and base color of the fabric from Taisho 6 Case No. 288-15. Whether there exists a fabric fragment that was used in an obi. If this constitutes an obi, what would be its width as determined from the fabric fragment? If it constitutes an obi, whether it is a single piece of a hara-ai obi (abdomen-wrapping sash). If so, what would be the imagined original form? Does it correspond to a remnant of an obi made of wool damask folded over with merino sewn onto one side (whether the entire side or not is unclear)? The above. The appraisers all responded that they consented and withdrew from the courtroom.

There was yet another appraiser, Professor Sato of Tokyo Institute of Technology, who had been summoned to the courtroom on October 29, four or five days later; for convenience's sake, I will note this information here alongside the others.

This appraisal item was simple: 1. Regarding the fabric from Taisho 6 Case No. 288-15, determine its material composition, dyeing method, pattern characteristics, and other relevant properties. was as follows. Now, regarding the October 25 public trial: once the appraisers summoned at the outset had withdrawn from the courtroom, witnesses were then called in one after another. The first to enter the courtroom was the laborer who had cleaned the well in question, and he responded to the presiding judge’s questions in a manner largely similar to his testimony during the preliminary hearing. Next to be called in was the physician who had conducted the autopsy at the time the corpse was retrieved from the well. He also made a statement similar to that in the preliminary hearing and withdrew from the courtroom.

Next to be called in was Pastor Kobe. Pastor Kobe pursed his lips into a taut line and sharply raised his thick eyebrows as he took the witness stand. He did not find being summoned to the courtroom in this manner pleasant in the slightest. Unlike the defendant, of course, he had committed no crime and had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of; however, in the customs of our country, appearing in court itself was already an unpleasant matter. Moreover, he would be interrogated authoritatively by the presiding judge, and if he were to make even the slightest error, he would be subjected to severe scrutiny. There were also times when he would be bombarded with sarcastic questions from lawyers on the opposing side. As a pastor, he could not help but feel that undergoing such treatment was a form of insult. Moreover, the testimony itself pertained to Hasekura’s private conduct—an extremely unpleasant matter involving whether he had raped a woman or not.

There was likely no one else who had been as greatly burdened by this case as Pastor Kobe. In the Hasekura case, many people were greatly troubled, but all of them were either acting in the line of duty or directly involved in the incident. As for Pastor Kobe, he had merely been asked to mediate between Hasekura and Sadako’s uncle regarding her matter—a task he reluctantly undertook out of necessity. However, from a legal standpoint, his testimony was truly significant. Even if the corpse retrieved from the well was confirmed to be Sadako, when it came to the next question—whether Hasekura had indeed pushed her into the well and killed her—there was absolutely no irrefutable evidence. Thus, whether Hasekura had compelling circumstances necessitating Sadako’s murder became a critical issue—but when addressing this question, the testimony of Pastor Kobe, who knew the details of Hasekura’s relationship with Kobayashi, gained significant weight. Not only that, but he had also been present during Hasekura’s confession.

From Pastor Kobe’s perspective, once he had taken the stand as a witness, he could not distort the facts in his testimony. Moreover, in reality, he was neither the sort of person who would deliberately distort the facts in his testimony nor someone capable of doing so. However, Pastor Kobe’s every word would immediately exert a decisive influence on Hasekura’s fate. Given the gravity of the matter, there was likely no other witness as inconvenient as this. Pastor Kobe gulped audibly, straining his lower abdomen as he looked up at the presiding judge’s face.

The presiding judge asked routine questions, then stiffened and inquired about the relationship between the witness and the defendant. Pastor Kobe described his brief association with Hasekura as he had during the preliminary hearing and explained how he had come to mediate between Hasekura and Kobayashi regarding Sadako’s matter. “Hasekura initially refused to speak about his relationship with Sadako, keeping it secret, but ultimately recounted everything in detail before me with shame and regret.” Having said this and closed his mouth, Pastor Kobe lapsed into sullen silence.

The presiding judge raised his voice emphatically. “At that time, did the defendant confess to you that he had violated Sadako through the use of violence?” This response was critical. The entire courtroom held its breath and stared intently at the pastor. Hasekura had consistently and thoroughly denied committing acts of violence and violation. He insisted that it had been done through mutual agreement. Whether it was mutual agreement or the use of violence—this was the issue that would determine Hasekura’s fate. In later years, Hasekura harbored profound resentment toward Pastor Kobe for his courtroom testimony since the preliminary hearing. For several years afterward, he directed every manner of abuse at the pastor—whom he had once studied under, who had been instrumental in resolving the Sadako incident, and toward whom he had even expressed gratitude in his petition by emphasizing that “the matter was settled through the mediation of an upstanding pastor.” He reviled Kobe as a false pastor, accused him of conspiring with Police Chief Shoji to lead him to his doom, and ultimately resorted to hurling terrible curses at him.

The fact that this Hasekura persistently shouted curses while claiming that Police Chief Shoji and Pastor Kobe were colluding to frame him was not without reason. The reason was that both the Police Chief and the Pastor had graduated from a certain high school in the northern region—though they were not classmates, with Mr. Kobe being the senior—and having occasionally met at alumni gatherings in Tokyo, the two men were not entirely unacquainted.

Upon learning this, Hasekura began roaring that Pastor Kobe had given unfavorable testimony against him to protect Police Chief Shoji. It was unthinkable that a pastor—someone of his standing—would distort courtroom testimony concerning a matter as grave as human life simply because he had attended the same high school as Police Chief Shoji. This was likely nothing but Hasekura’s resentment. Now, regarding their shared high school background, there happened to be an interesting anecdote worth recording here.

Long after the Hasekura case, the incident in which Yamada Ken—an official at a certain ministry—bludgeoned a government-contracted merchant to death with a baseball bat was likely still fresh in readers' memories. That man Yamada had also attended the same high school as Shoji Rikitarao, being a much junior alumnus. Though he later strayed from the path, Yamada appeared to have been a chivalrous man who often bailed his friends out of trouble. On one occasion, when a friend had been detained by police after drunkenly causing a disturbance—a matter that grew complicated—Yamada visited Mr. Shoji, then head of the secretariat at the Metropolitan Police Department and his senior alumnus, to seek help. As the matter involved nothing more serious than drunken revelry gone wrong, Mr. Shoji spoke to the police chief at the time and managed to have the student released.

Some time after that, Yamada once again appeared with a deathly pale face, visited the Metropolitan Police Department to request a meeting with Mr. Shoji, the head of the secretariat, and explained that his friend had committed murder and was about to be exposed. He desperately pleaded to let his friend escape to Manchuria and begged him to overlook the matter.

Of course, Mr. Shoji shook his head. “Ridiculous.”

Later, Mr. Shoji told people. "Do you think releasing some drunkard can be equated with letting a murderer go free? Ha ha ha!"

Even Pastor Kobe would likely think the same way. Framing someone for murder and protecting a friend merely for sharing an alma mater cannot be equated. In response to the presiding judge's question about whether the defendant had confessed to committing assault, all present held their breath awaiting a reply, but Pastor Kobe slowly opened his mouth and declared clearly: "I cannot speak of that matter." It was an unexpected response. The entire courtroom erupted in an uproar.

That a witness would boldly refuse testimony in open court was something unheard of.

Presiding Judge Miyaki, struck by Pastor Kobe’s unexpected words, immediately deepened his solemn voice and declared: “What is your reason for this?” Pastor Kobe answered without a trace of hesitation. “Hasekura recognized me as a pastor and disclosed his secret.” “That is to say, he did not confess—he repented.” “He merely positioned me as an intermediary for his confession before God.” “I cannot lightly speak in public forum of sins confessed before God.”

“Then you—” The presiding judge showed a slightly troubled look at the pastor’s reasonable words while “Do you intend to refuse testimony in court?” “I am both a servant of God and” The pastor answered. “I am well aware of the importance of the law.” “If I am compelled by the law’s command, then there is no alternative.” “Is that so?”

The presiding judge tilted his head slightly but immediately declared a recess. Signaling to the associate judges, he exited the courtroom with long, slow strides.

After some time, it appeared that the deliberation had concluded, and the presiding judge reappeared, walking with the same long, slow strides as before.

As soon as he took his seat, he immediately called out to the witness. "I will ask once again for clarification: does the witness truly intend to refuse this testimony under the law?" "No." The pastor answered.

"That is not necessarily the case." "In that case, the Presiding Judge hereby exercises judicial authority to demand that the witness state in this court the confession he heard from Hasekura."

Judge Miyaki firmly declared. Pastor Kobe bit his lip tightly, his face turning pale as he remained silent for a while, but finally seeming to reach a decision, he spoke in a resigned tone. “Then I have no choice. Hasekura clearly confessed before me that he had violated Sada with violence.”

“I see.”

The presiding judge nodded in understanding while asking, “What sort of confession was it?” “Hasekura stated that while having Sada give him a massage on the second floor in his wife’s absence,” Pastor Kobe replied, cold sweat beading on his forehead as his face twisted in anguish, “he became aroused and ultimately violated her against her will.” “And he agreed to apologize to Kobayashi.” Having said this, he fell completely silent again as before. Pastor Kobe must have felt deeply distressed at having to mercilessly disclose in open court the confession Hasekura had entrusted to him in confidence.

Several years later, he looked back on that time and said the following: "In particular, there is one matter I must bring before society as a matter of principle. It concerns whether the court can compel, in its capacity as a witness, the content of the defendant's spiritual confession made before a pastor in a courtroom." In fact, during the first trial—before the presiding judge at that time—he had once refused this testimony. However, through deliberation, the court used its authority to compel me to testify, thereby forcing me to recount in detail Hasekura's confession regarding the rape as courtroom testimony. "This is something I, as a pastor, cannot accept even to this day."

As can be understood from the above passage and his words in court at the time, Pastor Kobe was a man of strong character. His refusal to testify was by no means an attempt to protect Hasekura; it was instead an expression of his pastoral conscience. Of course, had the refusal of testimony succeeded, Hasekura would not have had his secret exposed and would have greatly benefited from it. Even if Pastor Kobe had no intention of actively shielding him, he must have reasoned that by remaining silent, he could at least mitigate the trouble for Hasekura.

However, since he ultimately had to speak, his initial refusal unintentionally ended up lending greater weight to his testimony. Attorney Nose, representing the defendant’s interests, should not remain silent on any provision.

Pastor Kobe’s testimony carried grave weight. Recognizing this as a critical moment for the defendant, Attorney Nose immediately rose and requested permission from the presiding judge to question the witness. The presiding judge permitted Attorney Nose to question the witness as he desired. “If we accept the witness’s account of the alleged assault as stated, this becomes a grave matter. What was the defendant’s method of apology regarding this?” This was Attorney Nose’s first question. “That...” The pastor cast a sidelong glance at the attorney while,

“The two conditions were drafting a written apology to the Kobayashi brothers and receiving treatment for his illness.” “If the witness or the Kobayashi brothers were to claim adultery, was there ever any statement about filing charges against the defendant?” “Since he clearly confessed to me that it constituted assault.” The pastor answered coldly. “Such an issue did not arise. However, it appears the defendant had asserted to the Kobayashi brothers that it was a case of adultery.” Attorney Nose terminated his questioning here. A prolonged pursuit was unnecessary. If they could give the judges the impression that the Kobayashi brothers had not treated the matter of assault as particularly significant based on the witness’s testimony, that alone would constitute success.

Pastor Kobe's questioning concluded here, whereupon the Kobayashi brothers, Dr. Takamachi, and several other witnesses were subsequently examined. Finally, the Presiding Judge addressed the defendant and inquired whether he had any opinions, defenses, or counterevidence regarding the statements made thus far by the witnesses and reference persons. When Defendant Hasekura replied that he had none, the court adjourned for the day with proceedings scheduled to continue thereafter.

On October 27th, Judge Miyaki conducted an on-site inspection of the former Hasekura residence suspected of arson.

On October 29th and November 8th, continued public trials were held respectively, during which witness examinations focused solely on the Bible theft were conducted. During that time, a response had arrived from the Central Meteorological Observatory regarding the weather on September 26, 1912, the day Sadako went missing. It was a hurried pen script on smooth Western paper, but the phrase "No moonlight" in the final line shone coldly. Had there been moonlight, it could have at least served as negative evidence suggesting how difficult it would have been to commit such a violent act in open fields that night—but with "no moonlight" stated, there remained no island to grasp.

When November arrived, the results of the appraisals previously ordered began emerging successively. The appraisal reports all delved into minutiae and scrutinized details with exhaustive thoroughness; this account will confine itself solely to presenting their conclusions. The fabric-related appraisal proceeded as follows.

Appraisal Appended Item 1: A fragment of a day-and-night women’s obi - one side being yuzen muslin fabric in deep indigo ground with brown patterns; the other side consisting of black wool satin.

Appended Item 2 was found to be identical in composition to Appended Item 1's deep indigo-ground yuzen muslin with brown patterns. Appended Item 3 consisted of yuzen muslin fabric featuring a flesh-toned or off-white base with floral patterns in red or golden brown. Appended Item 4 comprised a fragment of sewn cord made from peach-colored yuzen muslin bearing red patterns.

Appended Item 5: A fabric identical to that of Appended Item 3. Appended Item 6: Muslin fabric and black wool satin weft threads along with scissors

November 7, 1917 The above constitutes the appraisal by Professor Sato of Kōkō, with the portion from the principal of Tanabe Sewing Girls' School being as follows.

Appraisal As detailed above, in summary: it concerns an underbelt made of black satin with indigo-gray stencil-dyed muslin in a fawn-spot pattern, measuring approximately nine sun in width and eight to nine shaku in length. One side consists entirely of black wool satin, while the other has black wool satin folded over with muslin pieces sewn to compensate for insufficient material. It is presumed that this was worn with the black wool satin folded inward.

November 10, Taisho 6 (1917)

The power of science that could reconstruct the original state from a faded, tattered fragment of clothing—no longer retaining its form—taken from a corpse retrieved six months postmortem from a well and buried underground for three years before exhumation was nothing short of astonishing. Moreover, the attire perfectly matched what Kobayashi Sadako had been wearing when she disappeared. The terrifying aspect of fate lay in this: had Sadako worn ordinary clothing, they might have found it difficult to ascertain her identity. But as Principal Tanabe’s appraisal revealed, she had indeed worn a truly distinctive obi, making the scant remaining fabric from it the means to confirm her.

This too must have been where Hasekura’s luck ran out. The fact that she had worn a distinctive obi was investigated by a judge in that jurisdiction—commissioned by the Tokyo District Court—though the police inspector from Shinagawa Station who had conducted the initial autopsy when the corpse was retrieved had since been transferred to the Maoka Branch Office in Sakhalin three years later. The judge stated as follows: “The obi was neither an ordinary women’s obi nor a thin cord, but rather a somewhat wider narrow obi used by women.” “Due to the passage of time, I had completely forgotten, but I distinctly remember that the obi was not an ordinary women’s obi.”

Dr. Tonaga’s appraisal report arrived on December 19. As per standard procedure, only the conclusions will be presented here. Appraisal Based on the reasons stated in the aforementioned examination records, we hereby appraise as follows. 1. The present skull is determined to be female. 1. The age of the present skull is estimated to be between sixteen and twenty years old. 1. The cranial structure of the present skull is determined to be medium-sized and high-vaulted; the facial structure is slightly elongated; the nasal structure is medium-sized; and the chin is of a forward-protruding type. 1. The present skull is determined to have developed appropriately for its sex and age. 1. The cause of death of the present skull is determined to be unknown.

1. The upper incisors of the present skull may give the appearance of protruding somewhat forward, though this cannot be known for certain. 1. The mandibular canine teeth of the present skull are longer compared to those of an average person. 1. The mandibular canine teeth of the present skull cannot be classified as abnormally elongated canines. 1. When occluded, the mandibular canine teeth of the present skull do not protrude beyond the upper dental arch. 1. The wisdom teeth of the present skull are present within their alveolar sockets in the mandible; their presence in the maxilla cannot be determined.

December 19, 1917

Through the appraisals by various experts, it became irrefutable that the exhumed corpse was that of Kobayashi Sadako. The second issue was whether Hasekura had indeed killed her or not. This had to rely solely on the truthfulness of his confession at the police station and the synthesis of various witness testimonies to be drawn out within the judge's conviction. Amid the ongoing trials, witness interrogations, and expert appraisals, the eventful year of Taisho 6 in Hasekura's personal life finally came to an end.

With the arrival of Taisho 7, the sixth public trial was convened on January 19. At this time, Attorney Nose applied for an on-site inspection of "the burial mound containing the remains of the individual referred to as Kobayashi Sadako" and an appraisal of the torso portion of the remains. His reasoning was this: since they had initially brought back an entirely mistaken corpse when excavating at Kagurazaka Police Station, he suspected there might be some material advantageous to the defendant’s defense during that interval. The Presiding Judge promptly permitted this, and the torso was to be appraised once again by Dr. Tonaga Igakushi.

However, the appraisal results revealed that it was a normal female skeleton aged sixteen to twenty years old with a height no less than 4 shaku 2 sun, confirming that it was indeed the torso belonging to the previously retrieved skull. After conducting subsequent trials on February 16, May 6, June 10, the 25th, and the 26th—during which witnesses were successively summoned, the defendant was interrogated, and closing arguments were presented between the prosecutor and defense attorney—judgment was finally rendered on July 9. And thus, the judgment rendered was a cold "death penalty."

Three Letters

Though the sunlight had tilted slightly in the midsummer afternoon, the scorching sun cast a glaring light onto the dusty garden. Pastor Kobe sat upright at his study desk, vacantly resting his head wearied from reading. A faint breeze carried a muted chime from the weathered wind bell hanging under the eaves, then swept through the bamboo blind to coolly brush against sweat-dampened skin beneath a summer kimono. Pastor Kobe suddenly recalled the court subpoena that had arrived that very morning. Deep wrinkles visibly creased between his eyebrows.

Unpleasant memories began surfacing vividly in Pastor Kobe's mind. The winter of 1917—now two years past—marked the genesis of agonizing recollections he would carry to his grave: being summoned to Kagurazaka Police Station for the first time, hearing the litany of Hasekura Kihei's heinous charges, witnessing the man's confession, and enduring countless courtroom appearances as a witness until the first trial concluded the following summer.

The morning after the first trial concluded in July of last summer, his wife spoke to him with a troubled expression that seemed neither clearly anxious nor relieved.

“Hasekura was finally sentenced to death, wasn’t he?” “Yeah.”

The pastor also answered with a troubled expression. “Will he appeal?”

“Of course he will.” “Then will you be summoned as a witness again?”

“Of course I will be summoned.”

The wife broke off her words and looked at her husband’s face. The husband looked at his wife’s forlorn face. The wife sighed like Aki-sama; her husband stifled his own deep within.

Hasekura indeed appealed. The proceedings became rehashed once again. Due to circumstances involving the defendant, the defense attorney, and the court, the public trial saw repeated postponements. Within that time, a year passed like a dream, yet the trial made no progress whatsoever. To Pastor Kobe, it seemed delaying the trial must be part of the defense attorney's strategy—he couldn't help thinking this. As the trial dragged on, though the defendant's criminal facts remained in written records, their impression gradually faded. The witnesses had grown weary; the judges were losing their zeal. If the defense attorney maneuvered skillfully during this time, they might ultimately manage to secure an "insufficient evidence" verdict. All the more for this reason, these repeated delays only served to increasingly amplify the anguish for Pastor Kobe, who remained perpetually required to testify as a witness.

Being compelled to provide yet another fresh testimony about events from five or six years prior—events he had already recounted time and again—what could this be if not sheer torment? However, Pastor Kobe’s suffering was not limited to that alone. Even after appealing, Hasekura remained in the detention center, and from his cell he sent letters to the pastor so frequently it might as well have been daily—though in reality it may have been four or five times a month, to the pastor it felt like every day. Without fail, they all contained

“Pastor Kobe, please tell the truth. Don’t collude with Shoji to torment me—please tell the truth.” it said. At first, they had been in a pleading tone, but gradually took on a malicious quality, until ultimately they came to disparage and revile him. Pastor Kobe made efforts to disregard his letters, but due to the man’s persistent approach, he eventually came to feel anger, growing irritated whenever he saw them.

“Another one came.”

His wife too began to grow visibly distraught and plead each time a letter arrived. “Don’t get involved. Throw it away.” The pastor increasingly answered in a sharp voice. No matter how much time passed, Hasekura did not cease sending letters of resentment. If anything, they only grew more intense.

As Pastor Kobe was recalling these matters and staring blankly at the garden, his wife entered holding a business card. "This person wishes to consult you regarding Hasekura," she said. She peered anxiously at her husband's face.

The business card read: "Salvation Army Captain Kito Tamezo." Having never heard of this Salvation Army Captain Kito Tamezo, Pastor Kobe stared at the business card for some time. But when told it concerned Hasekura, he had no choice but to meet him and instructed his wife to show the visitor in regardless. This Kito Tamezo—though his full significance would only become clear later—had been a vanguard of the anti-prostitution movement, delivering abolitionist speeches in brothel districts and assisting prostitutes in leaving the trade, for which he faced intense oppression from brothel owners. Yet he persisted unyieldingly—at times surrounded by gangsters and beaten with fists, at others chased by ruffians wielding daggers—a truly stalwart man who had weathered life-and-death trials.

He was a stocky, short man of visibly robust build, his officer’s uniform straining against his frame.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” No sooner had Kito taken his seat than he energetically greeted him. “Pleased to meet you.” Pastor Kobe bowed politely.

“It’s rather hot today, isn’t it? How fares your work, Pastor? This heat makes our labors quite strenuous.” “I can imagine.” “Your work must be truly demanding.” “As for our own work—if one can even call it that—there’s nothing particularly remarkable about it.” “Frankly, it’s rather embarrassing.” The pastor bowed modestly. “Ah, but our efforts fare no better—nothing proceeds as intended.” The energetic Salvation Army captain wiped his sweating brow repeatedly, “Now then—the reason for my abrupt visit today concerns Hasekura Kihei. I’ve come to make a request.”

“I see.”

The pastor looked at the other man’s face, flushed from the heat. “I went to Tokyo Prison on other business, you see, and was unexpectedly called over by Hasekura, where I gradually listened to his story. Now, I don’t know if everything he said was true, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him—which is why I’ve come to ask—Pastor, could you find some way to save him?” “I see. So that was the reason.” Pastor Kobe nodded and,

“So, how exactly should I go about saving him?” “Well, I’m afraid it’s difficult to be that specific.” Captain Kito stroked his head lightly while,

“What I mean is… If you could show him mercy and give testimony that would benefit him.” “When you speak of testimony that benefits him…” Pastor Kobe remained thoroughly serious. “In other words, you’re saying the conventional approach won’t do—that I must distort the facts to protect him?”

“Well, it wasn’t meant to carry such a strong implication.” “Pastor, your testimony ultimately comes down to a matter of personal impression. Even without altering the facts, couldn’t this be interpreted in various ways depending on your perspective?” “That may be possible.” The pastor declared decisively. “That is precisely why I presented my interpretation in court.” “Though I did initially refuse.” “But having disclosed it, I will take full responsibility as my conviction and have no intention of changing it hereafter.”

“You’re quite right. But if you，Pastor，would show him mercy—” “Please wait a moment.” Pastor Kobe cut in.

“From our earlier conversation, you might infer that I harbor some animosity toward Hasekura, but if that is your assumption, it is entirely mistaken—I do not hate him in the slightest. I believe I possess ample compassion. However, as a religious practitioner, I cannot interfere with him as a legal offender. Or do you hold conclusive proof that he is wholly innocent of these charges?” “No, certainly not. I too fully acknowledge that he is a villain. But precisely because he is a villain, does that not heighten the necessity to save him?”

“I have no objection to saving a villain, but I believe that must remain within the realm of religion and cannot extend to legal matters.” Pastor Kobe grew more impassioned than usual. “However—” Captain Kito did not yield. “I believe there is a way to save even those deemed criminals by law.” “For example, like how Bishop Myriel saved Jean Valjean in Hugo’s novel Les Misérables.” “Aren’t you laboring under some misunderstanding?”

Pastor Kobe said while looking at the captain’s face, “Hasekura frequently sent me letters from prison saying things like, ‘Pastor Kobe, if you’re truly a pastor, tell the truth,’ or ‘If I could get the truth from you and be saved by you, I’d do anything for you once I’m out.’ I assume he must have made the same appeals to you.” “Because of that, aren’t you taking it as though I’m telling some sort of lie?” “You recently met Hasekura unexpectedly and were told by him of his wrongful conviction, so you may have ended up believing it entirely.” “I have known him for a long time.” “I was actually present at the scene of his confession.” “And just as you can believe what he now claims, I cannot help but believe his confession.” “You cannot believe what he says now and yet claim not to believe what he said before.”

“You’re quite right.” “I have nothing to add.” Kito nodded. “I’m not someone who fully believes in his wrongful conviction either.” “Therefore, this isn’t a matter of whether what he says is true or not—since he himself is now drowning in tears of remorse—so how about it? Couldn’t you save him out of chivalrous duty?” “I see. I fully understand your position.” “A religious figure must naturally possess the chivalrous spirit required to save pitiful prisoners, prostitutes, and the destitute of the slums.” “But that too depends on the circumstances.” “Now that it has become a legal matter and he’s arguing over legal rights and wrongs in court, I believe there’s no path for me to save him through chivalrous means.” “When I stand in court, compelled by authority, I have no choice but to state the truth as I perceive it.”

“I fully understand your position, Pastor.” “Then, as for myself, I can only ask that you show him goodwill beyond your courtroom testimony.”

“As I stated before, I have never held any malice toward him.” “As you have instructed, I shall endeavor to maintain goodwill as much as possible hereafter.” “I’m deeply obliged.” “Nothing would bring me greater joy than if that were possible.” “And then...”

Kito slightly adjusted his tone,

“If I may avail myself of your earlier words, I have a request to make. In truth, regarding the matter of Kobayashi Sadako, there should be several documents that Hasekura presented to you at the time. Since he believes these would be advantageous to himself, he has requested that we borrow all of them. What do you say?”

“Documents?” A flicker of displeasure passed over Pastor Kobe’s face. “Well, I don’t meticulously preserve every document, but I believe some items Hasekura sent at the time might still remain.” “But will those truly benefit him?” “I can’t say for certain either, but since he insists on seeing them regardless, might I ask you to lend them to him?” “I have no objection to lending them.” “Then please wait a moment.” “I’ll look for them.”

Pastor Kobe stood up, went to the bookcase in the corner, opened a drawer, and rummaged through it for a moment before finally taking a bundle of letters in hand and returning to his seat. "These are all the letters that remain from Hasekura at that time." Pastor Kobe pushed the bundle of letters toward Kito while...

“I believe this is probably all of them. I never dreamed such a troublesome incident would arise later, so I may not have preserved each one. If this can be of use, please take it.”

“I see.” “Thank you very much.” “Hasekura will surely be pleased by your kindness as well.”

Kito stuffed the bundle of letters carelessly into his pocket. Pastor Kobe, complying with Captain Kito’s explanation that this was Hasekura’s wish, lent a bundle of old letters Hasekura had addressed to him. Captain Kito expressed his gratitude, earnestly requested continued cooperation in future matters, and took his leave. After the captain departed, Pastor Kobe felt a faint weariness settle over him as he reflected on his own impeccably fair conduct—conduct that now seemed to draw accusatory glares from Hasekura in every shadowed corner—until a gray cloud of unease enveloped his mind.

To his wife, who had come out worried about the meeting's outcome, he bit out a single word as if spitting it out,

“It’s nothing.”

That was all he said. Even Pastor Kobe, for all his astuteness, had not realized that lending these letters would instead bring tremendous trouble upon himself.

Here, the narrative shifted to Hasekura.

Ever since Hasekura had received the death sentence in the first trial, his sole concern had been how to escape death's grasp. For this reason, he proclaimed his wrongful conviction to everyone he met, beginning with his lawyers. To the judge, he repeatedly submitted written appeals asserting he had been compelled to make a false confession through torture at Kagurazaka Police Station. Meanwhile, he sent ferocious threatening letters nearly every day to Police Chief Shoji Rikitarao of Kagurazaka Police Station and his detectives. Not satisfied with this alone, he spread slanderous rumors about Police Chief Shoji in all directions. Daily postcards demanding Police Chief Shoji's dismissal poured into the supervisory authorities.

At that time, Hasekura’s mind was sharpened like a needle, focused solely on how to escape culpability. By no means a fool, he was a man of exceptional intelligence. In his cell late at night when all others had fallen asleep, tossing and turning restlessly, his mind only grew sharper—he must have been devising various schemes. He renewed old memories and rummaged through his mind for various materials to refute the charges when he suddenly recalled the letters he had once sent to Pastor Kobe. He believed these letters must contain criticisms of the Kobayashi brothers’ actions regarding Sadako’s case and elaborate defenses of his own position—with these in hand, he could surely mount a favorable defense. Therefore, by entrusting the task to Captain Kito Tamezo of the Salvation Army, who held profound sympathy for him, he was able to successfully obtain those letters.

On the evening he was handed the letters, he grinned with an eerie, knowing smile as he meticulously examined each old letter he had written. But as he read on, his smile faded before his eyes, and a look of disappointment surfaced. In the letters, he was unable to find the advantageous words he had expected. He glared fixedly at a dim corner of his cell for some time until his extraordinarily sharp mind discovered that three letters he remembered writing were missing from those Pastor Kobe had sent.

He widened his eyes, heaving labored breaths, and let out a groan with a fearsome expression. “Ah—you hid them.” Were those three missing letters truly so advantageous for him? While this remained doubtful, to Hasekura—who had discovered their absence through the abnormal mental focus of one now devoting all energy to explaining away his crimes—they loomed as large as a fish that slips from the hook seems to an angler. No—such leisurely metaphors could not capture his present state, for he faced a matter graver than life or death itself. Thus, how profoundly those three missing letters resonated with him defied comprehension.

“You wretch, Pastor Kobe! You hid three letters that would’ve helped me after Shoji put you up to it!” Hasekura shouted resentfully once more.

The next day, he immediately took up his brush and dashed off a postcard to Pastor Kobe.

“Pastor Kobe—if you’re truly a pastor, don’t collude with Shoji to torment me! Don’t hide my letters! Quickly hand over those three letters! If you don’t, I’ll sue you!”

The second appellate court proceedings, which had opened their first public trial on February 7, 1919, had already conducted four trials by May 30 of the same year when Defense Attorney Nose submitted a request: “Defendant Hasekura Kihei has been documenting the full truth of this matter in recent days. Volume I has already been completed, Volume II is expected to be finalized imminently, and Volume III will require approximately one additional month for completion. Therefore, we respectfully request that the public trial be postponed until all said records have been fully completed.”

There had been such a request. Accordingly, the public trial was postponed indefinitely, and given that the Bible company had withdrawn its civil lawsuit by September 27, the year drew to a close. At the fifth public trial on February 20, 1920, Defense Attorney Nose submitted as reference materials three volumes—upper, middle, and lower—comprising six booklets of records that Hasekura had painstakingly written in prison. The presiding judge received the thick bundle of documents after briefly reviewing them with the attending judges and prosecutors, stating they required thorough examination—these were the voluminous records that Hasekura would thereafter wrap in a furoshiki cloth and never let leave his person whenever attending subsequent trials.

The presiding judge at this moment straightened his posture with judicial dignity, “Are the matters recorded in these documents you have just submitted truthful, and are there no omissions?”

“Yes, these are entirely truthful records.” “There are no omissions either.” Hasekura answered without a trace of shame. While submitting such voluminous documents to the presiding judge, Hasekura did not neglect in the slightest to send letters of resentment to Police Chief Shoji and Pastor Kobe. Around that time, the letters Pastor Kobe had received contained the following: “Pastor Kobe—if you’re truly a pastor, don’t tell lies.” “If you lie and trouble me further, I’ll starve myself to death and curse your descendants for generations to come!”

“For what reason would I kill Sada? Please consider carefully. If the matter hadn’t been resolved yet, why would I kill her? If Sada had disappeared while still being connected to you and me, wouldn’t people demand we ‘produce and return Sada’ until she reappeared?” “Pastor Kobe! Submit to the court those letters I sent you—the ones clearly stating that my acts with Sadako Kobayashi weren’t rape, noting specific dates when I paid medical fees and hospitalization costs at Takamachi. Then submit the letter detailing exactly when I left home on the 26th, where I went, what business I conducted, and when I returned. Regarding my movements that day from morning until returning home—as I explained in detail to both you and Mr. Teijiro at the time, and thoroughly documented in writing—I demand you submit these records to the court immediately.”

Hasekura, who had raved like a madman that Pastor Kobe had deliberately hidden three letters at Police Chief Shoji’s request, later even attempted to charge Pastor Kobe with perjury over this matter—an immense nuisance for the pastor. Of course, Pastor Kobe had neither intentionally hidden them nor anything of the sort; when Captain Kito came to borrow the letters, he had simply forgotten to hand them over. But because Hasekura’s pursuit grew so relentless, Pastor Kobe later could no longer endure it and searched his house, fortunately managing to find them, which he then submitted to the court—yet ultimately failed to satisfy Hasekura.

In Taisho 9 (1920), they held five public trials—numbered five through nine—but each merely reiterated facts already investigated. The only new development was having a technician from the Metropolitan Police Department’s Photography Division calculate Sadako’s height from a photograph, and with that, the year drew to a close. Taisho 10 (1921) concluded with only a single public trial session, and the year turned to Taisho 11 (1922). Hasekura had now been imprisoned for exactly five full years since the first trial. During that time, toiling with his pen, he continued to protest his false charge and write cursed letters—he had to be called a pitiful man.

But here, at last, an incident occurred that would further worsen his circumstances.

Curses

“I hope this finds you well in the summer heat. You would have no objection even if called a dog pastor by me. That you have no objection will become clear the moment you consult your conscience. You—having been asked by Shoji Rikitarao to bring three or so letters—do you think this Kihei would ever consent? Don’t go teaming up to hoodwink the world so brazenly. Are you not ashamed before God? If you were a true pastor, it would be proper for you to die of shame. I will not consent unless every last thing that Shoji Rikitarao has hidden is produced!

August 8, Taisho 11 (1922) “Shoji Rikitarao and you conspiring to hide all the documents and torment me is truly cruel.” “Demon or snake?” “Please make Shoji produce every last document you both hid together.”

September 20, Taisho 11 (1922) “Pastor Kobe—you who were asked by Shoji Rikitarao to bring three letters—do you imagine this Kihei would ever consent? Does your conscience feel no shame? Make Shoji produce every last thing he’s concealing! I shan’t accept anything less than full disclosure!”

September 23, Taisho 11 (1922)

"I hope this finds you well in autumn. (This portion repeats the aforementioned summer greetings.) (The text below is identical to the above.) October 23, 1922"

“Fake Pastor If you people would quit your knife-work tricks and act properly, I’d turn mute from here on out to protect your honor—but since you’re scheming to fool judges and prosecutors with all sorts of wickedness, I can’t go mute. (The text below repeats as before.)”

October 25, Taisho 11 (1922) “Same text as before. October 27, Taisho 11 (1922)”

In the span of just one month, six cursed postcards from Hasekura came rushing into Pastor Kobe’s residence. He could do nothing but look on with a bitter smile.

When Taisho 12 (1923) arrived, on New Year's Day itself, a letter from Hasekura came flying in. "Respectfully wishing you a joyous New Year, I pray for the continued health of Pastor Kobe—who conspired with Shoji Rikitarao to hide mountains of documents, commit perjury, and falsely plunge Kihei into crimes of complete innocence."

Hiding documents and committing perjury to plunge this one into false charges of innocence—seven years an unconvicted detainee.

"The Wrongfully Accused: Kihei" When he read this postcard, even Pastor Kobe could not help but swallow tears of grief and indignation at his relentless malice.

But what had caused Hasekura to deteriorate to such an extent? Was he in fact a wrongfully accused person as he claimed? If this were indeed true, then with no means to vindicate himself and having been confined in prison for six long years, it would only be natural for him to curse the world, resent others, and vacillate between lamentation and fury. Even if he had in fact committed the crime, after six long years of proclaiming his false charges with shouts and roars, he may have come to firmly believe himself innocent as if he were truly guiltless. Moreover, given that his nature was already warped, stubborn, and tenacious, it was hardly surprising that his long prison life gradually turned him violent.

However, what abruptly brought about a complete change in his attitude was the fact that his wife Shizuko had turned her back on him.

Readers were well aware of how deeply Hasekura had been attached to his wife and child. His love was a strong, warped affection—one that might well be called abnormal. It is said that all prisoners spend their days worrying solely about their wives and children. All the more so for someone like Hasekura—who thought only of his family, devoted himself entirely to escaping death, and continued striving to repay with but a single word of resentment toward the detested Kagurazaka Police Chief.

One morning, Hasekura—who had grown uneasy as Shizuko's visits had gradually become less frequent—upon hearing from his lawyer Nose Bengoshi that she had taken a lover, felt his face twist into a mask of rage as he glared sharply at Mr. Nose. Even Mr. Nose was visibly flustered. The countenance Hasekura bore upon learning that his wife Shizuko had abandoned him was truly terrifying. His bushy eyebrows arched upward, his widened eyes blazed with anguish, his tightly pressed lips quivered, and his form—exhaling a guttural breath—resembled nothing less than the wrathful King of Hell; it was said that a timider soul would have shut their eyes in terror, rendered speechless. This account came from Mr. Nose himself, later shared with a close friend.

Why did Shizuko turn her back on him? What could have tempted away such a gentle and virtuous woman? The author knows nothing of her whereabouts since then, but could anyone rise to blame her? The husband she had married at her parents' urging—unaware of his criminal record—was promptly arrested after they had a child and sentenced to death for a heinous murder charge. He had appealed while crying false charge, but with not a penny saved at home, how could she endure guarding an empty house for years? To abandon her husband groaning in prison and seek another to rely on might be called heartless, yet was it not also unavoidable? The author confines himself to shedding a tear for her ill-fated half-life and dares not condemn her.

Thus, Hasekura—left behind in prison—had the sole lifeline he relied upon severed, becoming a man with no hope for the future. In the dead of night, he must have leaned against the prison window and wept like a man many times.

He could no longer bear to see his wife being blamed and finally confessed at the Kagurazaka Police Station. He had deeply believed the words of the police officers who told him not to worry about his wife and child’s future, it was said. And when the house he had intended as a means of livelihood for his wife and child was seized, and he learned that they would immediately be left destitute—that, upon reflection, was the beginning of his deterioration. Now abandoned by his wife, with the bonds of affection severed in an instant, even with the deep sympathy of Attorney Nose and Captain Kito, he had become isolated and alone—a solitary wanderer at the ends of the earth. Moreover, he himself was a captive. He had no path left but to become a demon of curses in the flesh.

The target of his curses was, above all else, Kagurazaka Police Chief Shoji. He sent terrifying threatening letters without cease. Counting only those that reached Police Chief Shoji’s hands, there were seventy-five letters in total. Beyond that, he investigated relentlessly—tracing the police chief’s relatives and in-laws, hurling the vilest abuse, extending his reach from the chief’s alma mater elementary and middle schools to the family registry office, and even to every associated organization. In the most extreme cases, his sinister reach extended to the principal of the girls’ school from which the police chief’s wife had graduated. So frequent were the threatening letters arriving at the police chief’s wife’s family home that a maid in service at the time reportedly trembled violently, begged for her leave, and fled.

Outgoing mail from the prison was supposed to be individually inspected by the warden, with any inflammatory items prevented from being sent, but given the large number of censorship officers, oversights evidently slipped through. However, not all of Hasekura’s letters were approved; a considerable number were halted from being sent. Judging from this, one can only imagine how many letters he had authored. He, dissatisfied with the censorship, submitted a written petition like this to the warden.

“Though it is most audacious to make this request, when Your Honor sees fit to disapprove letters I seek to dispatch by deeming certain passages here and there unacceptable, I humbly ask that you simply mark those objectionable sections. Upon their deletion, may you then grant permission to send the letters—this petition most respectfully submits such an entreaty.”

On June 7, 1922 (Taisho 11), the twelfth public trial session was convened. Hasekura thoroughly denied the facts of the crime and roared. "At Kagurazaka Station, Police Chief Shoji became sworn brothers with you, then pleaded with me through tears—swearing he wouldn't treat me badly—to save face by confessing. That's why I ended up making a completely false confession." "That skull belongs to the daughter of the Shinagawa confectionery shop—it's not Sada's." "Shoji had said that."

At this trial, Judicial Officer Sato and Detective Ishiro of Kagurazaka Police Station—whose frequent requests to testify had until now been denied by the defense—were now to be summoned as witnesses at the next session. "Tokyo Detention Center, Unconvicted for Six Years: The Wrongfully Accused Hasekura Kihei"

This was the showy signature that Hasekura invariably wrote in his correspondence around 1922. He had spent six long years in the detention center as an unconvicted prisoner, continuing to proclaim his false charge. His claim rested solely on the assertion that he had been tortured at Kagurazaka Police Station into making a false confession. Innocent or condemned to death? Indeed, it remained a major scandal spanning the Meiji and Taisho eras. Those who witnessed Hasekura’s confession would likely believe its truthfulness, while those who heard his grievances after incarceration would believe what he said. Captain Kito pitied him and tried to help, while Attorney Nose sought to expose the torture incident at Kagurazaka Police Station. Above all, the latter—Attorney Nose—seized every opportunity in newspapers, magazines, and lectures to decry state authorities’ human rights violations. Just as the case was already escalating into a major scandal, defendant Hasekura—a man of extraordinary character—combined with Mr. Nose’s propaganda in a threefold alignment. Public outcry swelled, drawing attention from all sectors of society until the Hasekura case became a national issue.

Attorney Nose was determined to pin down the Kagurazaka police officers by the scruff of their necks and take them down by any means necessary. He had repeatedly requested summonses for everyone from the police chief downward, but these were seldom approved. This time as well, the crucial former police chief—now Director of the Secretariat at the Metropolitan Police Department, Mr. Shoji—was not approved for summons. However, since Judicial Officer Oshima and Detectives Ishiro and Watanabe, who had worked tirelessly from the start on Hasekura’s arrest, were to be summoned instead, Attorney Nose was lying in wait, prepared to relentlessly pursue them and, should there be any inconsistencies in their testimony, immediately pounce to turn the situation to his advantage.

Hasekura continued sending threatening letters to various parties, focusing his efforts particularly on Police Chief Shoji and Detective Ishiro.

I should mention in passing the issue of how Hasekura managed to cover trial and other expenses over his several years as an unconvicted prisoner. While other matters remain unclear, the considerable postage costs—presumed to have reached a substantial amount—were covered by hounding various parties through sarcastic letters. To give an example, postcards like the following frequently flew into Pastor Kobe’s wife’s residence. “This is a most presumptuous request, but upon receipt of this postcard, I humbly ask that you kindly place one hundred three-sen stamps into an envelope, send them to me, and lend them to me until my release from prison.” “I humbly await your prompt reply.”

It is believed there were others who were extorted for money and valuables through harassing letters of this sort.

On June 7, 1922 (Taisho 11), the Twelfth Public Trial was solemnly convened under Presiding Judge Miyaki and other regularly appointed judges, with Mr. Nose and two or three other defense attorneys in attendance along with Salvation Army Captain Kito serving as special counsel. In this public trial—where officers from Kagurazaka Police Station were scheduled to testify as witnesses—it had to be deemed a pivotal proceeding that would determine Hasekura’s fate. He waited in the defendant’s seat, bearing the customary voluminous documents he had handwritten himself.

The first to take the stand was Detective Ishiro. Among the Kagurazaka police officers involved in the Hasekura case, Judicial Officer Oshima had already died midway through Hasekura’s interrogation, while Detective Negishi—who was highly praised for his seasoned work during the incident—had passed away some years prior. As Detective Ishiro was now the sole remaining key figure from Kagurazaka Police Station aside from the chief, the presiding judge’s questioning grew pointed, and Attorney Nose’s cross-examination became so fierce that Detective Ishiro ended up bearing alone all criticism against Kagurazaka Police Station.

He was sharply interrogated by Attorney Nose regarding the circumstances surrounding Hasekura’s arrest and the process leading to his confession. Detective Ishiro answered briskly, his pale face showing a hint of agitation. As the questioning moved from details of the corpse exhumation to the matter of the skull, Mr. Nose’s countenance grew increasingly heated. “Isn’t it said that the police had two skulls?” Attorney Nose glared at Detective Ishiro and said. “That is not true.” Ishiro answered while furrowing his brows.

“No! Defendant Hasekura has clearly stated that he was shown two skulls.”

“That is not true.” “Didn’t you show the skull to the defendant’s wife as well?” “I don’t know.” “Didn’t you tell the defendant to lick the skull after thrusting it at him?” To Attorney Nose’s pressing question about whether he had made the defendant lick the skull, the witness Detective Ishiro calmly answered: “I don’t know whether someone else may have done such a thing, but I did not do it.” “Hmm. So you’re saying you never tampered with that skeleton?”

“As we were preparing to submit it for forensic analysis, we handled it two or three times in the detectives’ office.” “Then, witness—have you ever seen the defendant handling anything at the police station in front of officers?” “I have not.” “Didn’t you beat and kick the defendant during police interrogations?” “I have never done such a thing.” Detective Ishiro’s interrogation was conducted with unprecedented detail over an extended period. However, Detective Ishiro vehemently denied the torture allegations, and regardless of arguments, the deaths of both Judicial Officer Oshima and Detective Negishi now worked decisively against Hasekura.

Had these two been alive, they could have been interrogated separately, and had contradictions emerged in their testimonies, there might have been a way to press further. However, as things stood, Detective Ishiro could simply shift blame onto the deceased for any inconvenient points, and Hasekura's claims ended up carrying no weight at all.

Following Detective Ishiro, Judicial Officer Sato was interrogated. This interrogation was also conducted with utmost thoroughness.

Let us extract and present below just a portion of it.

“The defendant appears to have confessed all too readily—but was this confession compelled only after evidence was presented to force his hand?” “We conclusively determined that the corpse retrieved from the well was Kobayashi Sadako and investigated whether it was suicide or homicide,” he replied. “When interrogating the defendant regarding who would have committed murder if deemed homicide, it emerged that he had assaulted Sadako and infected her with venereal disease. Though they nearly settled by transferring custody after legal threats from her side, negotiations ultimately collapsed. Continuing our investigation, we found witnesses who claimed to have seen Hasekura walking with Sadako around her disappearance—his appearance matching their descriptions. Upon interrogating Hasekura directly about this timeline preceding the crime... he confessed.”

“However, according to the March 18th interrogation record,” Attorney Nose pressed, “the defendant stated from the outset that this was not his doing. He claims he attempted to have laborers sell her off to Dalian—how do you account for this discrepancy?”

“That is correct,” “The defendant initially stated he had requested laborers and tried to sell Sada off to Dalian.” “According to the March 19th interrogation record—the day after—he states he did it. Was there any substantive interrogation conducted in between?” “There was nothing of particular note.” “Didn’t the defendant declare his confession was false?” “I absolutely never stated that.” “Did you not press the exhumed skeleton against his mouth to make him kiss it, then pour carbolic acid on his head under pretext of disinfection?” “The defendant testifies these events occurred!”

“I did no such thing.” “At that time, the defendant feared a damages claim from the Bible company. He was told that transferring his house to his wife Shizuko’s name would secure it, and that if he confessed to killing Sadako, they would protect it from being seized—that he made this false confession as an exchange under those terms. What say you to this account?” “I absolutely did no such thing.” After the interrogation of witness Judicial Officer Sato concluded, the proceedings moved next to the questioning of Detective Watanabe.

The presiding judge methodically proceeded with the interrogation starting from the circumstances of the arrest at the time—and when it reached the core issue of torture—Detective Watanabe immediately and unequivocally denied it.

And then, suddenly—

“You bastard!” A voice like a cracked bell resounded through the courtroom.

Who was it that bellowed “You bastard!” in this sacred courtroom? When all present turned pale and looked toward the voice’s source, there was Hasekura in the defendant’s seat—his face flushed crimson, features contorted with bitter fury—charging toward the witness stand while wildly brandishing self-penned documents in both hands.

Hasekura’s booming voice was famous. Moreover, despite having spent six years in detention awaiting trial, he showed no signs of his vitality waning whatsoever—his complexion remained robust, and if anything, he had grown rather plump. Only his countenance had grown increasingly intense in its sinister look from days past, and it was said to be dreadful. Since Hasekura, burning with rage and bellowing like the Ashura King as he charged toward the witness stand, the jailers stationed behind him were momentarily stunned and at a loss for how to act.

“You bastard! Don’t you dare lie through your teeth about not torturing me! Didn’t you put me through hell?”

Hasekura bellowed like this and charged at witness Detective Watanabe. At this moment, the jailers, who had finally regained their vigor, frantically restrained him from behind.

The public trial record from this time was written as follows.

At this moment, the defendant, having had the accompanying jailer bring over a dozen volumes of his own transcribed documents, grasped them in both hands and rose from his seated position on the bench to confront witness Detective Watanabe.

“I don’t know anything, you bastard! Don’t lie through your teeth!” “Even though you struck me and made me suffer terribly,”

and said, suddenly raising the dozen or so documents he had grasped in both hands and attempting to strike the same witness on the head with them—only to be restrained by the attending jailers. At this point, the prosecutor in attendance submitted a request that the defendant be removed from court on grounds of attempting to assault the witness and obstructing the interrogation. Presiding Judge Miyaki addressed the defendant: “The attending prosecutor has requested your removal from court for obstructing these proceedings. How do you respond?” “Should you engage in any further improper conduct hereafter, I will have no choice but to order your removal.” “The defendant answered that he would not engage in any improper conduct.”

The Presiding Judge, after deliberation, declared that the defendant would remain present for the interrogation under these conditions.

Thus, on that day, Hasekura did not roar in anger again, and matters concluded quietly without incident. However, whether it had become a habit thereafter, he would frequently erupt into sudden disturbances in the courtroom. By the time of the fifteenth public trial on April 9, 1923, his roaring and bellowing had grown so intense that the interrogation could no longer be continued. His roaring voice resounded even beyond the vast courtroom, and it is said that a great number of people came rushing over, wondering what was happening.

The record from this time states as follows. “The defendant roared demands—‘Produce the documents Shoji Rikitarao is hiding! Summon Prosecutor Kozuka! Disallowing correspondence is unacceptable! Compensate me for damages!’—then reviled the Presiding Judge with an arrogant, insolent attitude, wielding disrespectful language as his roaring showed no sign of ceasing.” “[He] did not comply even when ordered to stand upright in a designated location.”

By this time, Hasekura had already realized that the trial was growing increasingly unfavorable to him day by day. For years, he continued his futile efforts—somehow evading the death penalty, voicing his grudges against the Kagurazaka Police Chief and others, and striving to reunite with his beloved wife and children. Even his sending of threatening letters to the Police Chief and Pastor Kobe was, in part, a calculated attempt to forge connections that might facilitate his release from prison. However, first and foremost, he was abandoned by his beloved wife and children.

The trial was hopeless. He could no longer escape the death penalty, nor could he even meet his beloved wife and children. What hope remained in this world? Here, his single-minded resolve became entirely focused on "cursing." He tried by any means to stave off death even a little longer. He lived to curse. He would curse the bastard who had landed him in this hell alive—curse him again and again, curse him to oblivion. Ah, here he truly became a single, living, breathing demon.

How he devised wicked schemes and tormented those around him with curses. It is said that demons live by devouring evil. He, Hasekura, manufactured evil day by day, devoured that evil, grew fat on evil, and then plotted further evil. Moreover, his evil was not of a legal nature. For a person under confinement, there can be no legal evil. His evil was a terrifying spiritual evil, and those subjected to it suffered immense anguish. His evil was an evil that even religion could not save.

Bail Request

Hasekura devoted his entire being to becoming a demon, poured all his mental resources into prolonging his life even a moment longer, and tried every possible effort to inflict as much harm as possible upon those around him who bore him deep grudges. Yet what he most persistently desired was this desperate hope: Ah, if only he could catch one last glimpse of the mortal world as a memento of this life, take even a single breath of free, bright air, and, if fortune favored him, blow one final bubble of torment upon those detestable foes. He had long since resigned himself to there being no escape from the death penalty. Thus, the only recourse he conceived was bail; on one front, he made desperate, wretched efforts to prolong the public trial as much as possible and achieve that aim. How many dozens of bail requests must he have submitted? And yet, without exception, each time ended with the disheartening decision of "rejection" being handed down.

His first submitted bail request was in October of Taisho 11 (1922). “1. I have not done anything that would warrant being wrongly convicted in the first trial—not even in my wildest dreams. The fact that I did not commit [the crimes] will become clear in detail if the following materials appear in court: the three investigative records created by former Takanawa Station Inspector Katsuo—which Mr. Shoji Rikitarao later promised to bring to the presiding judge’s residence and disclose in full—along with the insurance company’s documents from that time; next, the orphanage construction proposal, accompanying postcards, letters exchanged between Oshima and myself, and letters I exchanged with Asada under the alias Matsushita Ichiro—all of which I had placed on the second floor of Aramaki’s residence in Koishiba, Fukagawa Ward in February 1917; furthermore, even the numerous documents that Shoji deceitfully took from Mr. Kobe by exploiting their shared alma mater ties. You will clearly understand everything thoroughly. Now that things have come to this, Mr. Shoji would not be able to present [the documents] either. Since this concerns my personal circumstances, if I am allowed release from prison here, I shall ensure the matter is resolved amicably by meeting with the lawyer, Inspector Katsuo, Pastor Kobe, Judicial Officer Sato, Chief Shoji, Superintendent General Hatta, and others. Even if I wished to handle matters leniently so that no one would be harmed by the fact that I was confined here, I could not do so. Some time ago, Senior Prosecutor Misaki instructed me to submit a bail request. Even if Attorney Nose were to argue for a mistrial, there is no precedent for bail being granted to someone who has received a death sentence. Furthermore, that the Director of Secretariat hid all documents and coerced perjury, thereby framing an innocent person as guilty, is also something unprecedented to this day. Therefore, matters may proceed favorably. In any case, if Prosecutor Misaki initially suggested as such, it would be advisable to submit a bail request. If I submit [the request], obtain approval, and am released, and if [we] can then resolve the matter amicably, there would be nothing surpassing this. If you were to release me, it would not harm your dignity or prestige, and you too would find satisfaction. Therefore, it was decided that we would submit [the request] in any case and see. If only I am released, I will ensure that by meeting everyone, the matter can be resolved amicably. The aforementioned documents that I have been requesting to have submitted to the court as soon as possible are likely concealed deep within the records of the deceased Assistant Inspector Oshima or Detective Negishi. The fact that [the documents] had been secretly stored is that I, Shoji, and Superintendent General Hatta—the three of us—came together, applied Manjushri’s wisdom, reached a lenient agreement, and had them submitted to the presiding judge. If they are submitted, I will ensure matters are handled leniently so as not to implicate anyone’s honor. Regarding the submission [of documents], I will comply fully with the court’s requirements for guarantors, bail money, and any other matters as instructed, without the slightest deviation.”

"I shall appear immediately whenever summoned. In light of this, I most humbly entreat Your Honor to grant my release on bail."

The first bail request was as described above—both exceedingly polite and utterly elusive—but when it was rejected almost immediately, Hasekura next attempted to petition the Presiding Judge. "With utmost reverence, I humbly beseech you to kindly grant me an audience at your earliest convenience to discuss the matter of correspondence disapproval and other urgent issues. I earnestly implore you to summon me posthaste so that I may have the honor of meeting with you."

“I humbly beseech Your Excellency to grant me an immediate audience so that I may humbly present various statements and, moreover, hear in detail Your Excellency’s esteemed opinions on the matter. With utmost reverence, I earnestly implore you to kindly arrange a meeting with all due haste.” Even after receiving earnest petitions twice, the Presiding Judge was worn down. What Hasekura intended to argue was not difficult to imagine, and the presiding judge had already anticipated it. Moreover, since Hasekura had not answered interrogations in the official courtroom without resorting to wild antics, it was unreasonable for him to now wish to appeal privately to the presiding judge. The Presiding Judge was, however, after all, human. Taking pity on Hasekura’s wretched state, he granted him an audience—but of course, his wish could not be fulfilled.

Thus, Hasekura would roar and bellow in the courtroom at every public trial, sending threatening letters one after another to those who bore him deep grudges—parting every blade of grass and digging up every root—and though whether by fortune or misfortune he emerged unscathed from the unprecedented Great Kantō Earthquake, by the autumn of 1923, he once again doggedly submitted a bail request. Kihei, who styled himself a wronged man, and his tragic, desperate wish—to feel the air of the living world just once more—were ultimately never to be granted, bound as they were by his own conduct and the cold dictates of the law. Of course, the claims about concealed documents were entirely groundless, but one could not help but marvel at his tenacity and persistence in repeatedly appealing.

“I have had the honor of meeting with Your Excellency multiple times thus far, and on each occasion, Your Excellency has always stated: ‘I have yet to review any of your records.’ Nor have you read any of the appeal petitions. Therefore, whether you are guilty or innocent remains unclear at present. As you say, even if Shoji Rikitarao subjected you to torture under duress, made conditional promises, temporarily concealed and fabricated documents—forged them—none of this can be ascertained. Therefore, this letter cannot be sent. As for your case, I have resolved to use this seasonal recess to conduct a thorough investigation. You stated, ‘I intend to thoroughly investigate during the recess and conduct an impartial and fair trial…’ etc., but now that the recess for recuperation has long since passed, and the date for the next public trial is imminent—either today or tomorrow—it must be that you have already reviewed the case records and appeal petitions, and clearly understand that Shoji Rikitarao subjected Kihei to every form of torture, made conditional promises, and concealed and forged crucial documents—beginning with those taken from Takanawa Station at the time, many documents seized from Kobe, Asada, and others, as well as other important documents that should have been permanently preserved by the Oriental Fire Insurance Company.”

If Your Excellency has indeed come to clearly understand this, 1. Regarding the documents forged by the police, Kihei will absolutely not commit evidence destruction or flee. Therefore, I humbly beseech you to grant either supervised release or bail at this juncture through a special inquiry. Regarding this earthquake disaster, the circumstances of my wife, children, and relatives remain unknown—even their survival is uncertain—and I earnestly wish to make inquiries and sort out each and every matter. Kihei is a man. For those who know Kihei, I would not spare my life. Therefore, I humbly beseech you to fully understand without misjudging Kihei and promptly grant bail or supervised release; if granted, I shall comply with the court’s orders as instructed. Until the suspicions regarding my case are fully resolved, I shall place myself within Attorney Nose's office, work as a messenger there, and ensure that whenever summoned by the court at any time whatsoever, I will without fail make immediate appearance. I would never do anything that would compromise the dignity of the court or the prestige of the police. I am convinced that if I am released, the matter will be resolved amicably in a way that is satisfactory to all parties.

1. "To date, even in cases of wrongful conviction, there exists no precedent for granting bail or supervised release to those sentenced to death in their first trial. 2. Nor is there any precedent of a Director of the Secretariat concealing and forging all manner of documents to frame an innocent person with false charges. 3. Furthermore, considering how this recent earthquake disaster marks an unprecedented event since the appellate court's establishment—truly a matter without parallel—I earnestly entreat Your Excellency to carefully deliberate and establish a favorable precedent here. Should you possess the true merit befitting a renowned judge, may that merit be duly demonstrated for posterity."

If one were to view him as a truly wronged man, his inner anguish might warrant pity; yet considering him factually guilty, what a hopelessly naive bail petition this was. Naturally, such a pathetically naive appeal stood no chance of being granted. It was summarily rejected. Hasekura refused to yield. On December 17, 1923—as Taisho 12 drew to its close—he submitted yet another bail application. The document's phrasing had now acquired a distinctly ominous quality.

1. "Shoji Rikitarao detained Kihei for an extended period at Kagurazaka Police Station, subjected him to every form of torture over a prolonged duration, and proposed becoming sworn brothers under certain conditions"—with this opening statement, he submitted yet another bail request that reiterated at length the matter of document concealment. 2. When it was denied the next day, he promptly submitted another petition—so precise in every detail, from brushstroke flow to character spacing, that one marveled at its exact replication. 3. When denied, he submitted another. 4. By December 28th, as the year drew to a close, he had filed four identical petitions in rapid succession. 5. Each came attached with reference documents meticulously penned in fine script. 6. Not a single word differed; they were carbon copies, as if stamped from a mold. 7. One could not help but marvel at his tenacity. 8. These so-called reference materials consisted of malicious, nonsensical letters Hasekura had sent to the Mayor of Kanazawa regarding Mr. Shoji’s background. 9. Though quoting them may distress those involved, I shall excerpt portions here to demonstrate Hasekura’s extreme malice toward Mr. Shoji.

This document appeared to be a postcard written in fine script, sent around Taisho 11 (1922), bearing the unchanged signature “Hasekura Kihei—Unjustly Detained for Six Years at Tokyo Detention House,” and addressed to the Mayor of Kanazawa City. In the first half, he elaborated in detail about the document concealment incident, while the latter half read: “You [Hasekura], once released from trial, will discover that the father of my [Shoji’s] brother Kanai currently operates establishments named Nanrō and Kitsunehirō in Kanazawa Shinchi—a geisha house and a brothel. Accompany me there, summon all the geisha to entertain us lavishly, and then—though I desire to bed a courtesan—you shall feign committing a crime you did not actually perpetrate, thereby temporarily assisting us. In gratitude, I shall relinquish the courtesan to you, retain a second beauty for myself, and grant Assistant Inspector Sato a third… As for myself, I have been informed of all particulars concerning Nanrō and Kitsunehirō by Shoji Rikitarao and have entered into binding agreements accordingly.” In connection with this matter, I humbly request that you kindly issue via prior official correspondence a certified copy of the family register pertaining to the aforementioned household with utmost urgency. “First, I hasten to tender my apologies via postcard up to the aforementioned entreaty. That concludes—”

What a preposterous letter this was. Naturally, Hasekura's true objective lay in obtaining copies of family registers; should he uncover even the slightest connection to Mr. Shoji, he meant to dispatch one of his notorious threatening letters and attempt harassment. Though the Mayor of Kanazawa doubtless dismissed such correspondence, family register copies could not be refused to anyone submitting a formal request with the requisite fee. Evidently, Hasekura employed these means to send letter after letter. Yet for what purpose he appended this postcard copy to his bail petition remained utterly incomprehensible.

Thus, Taisho 12 came to an end, and at last arrived what Hasekura called his eight years of unjust detention awaiting trial.

Here, it must briefly be added that in 1923, Salvation Army Captain Kito Tamezo—who had been a true sympathizer—passed away, which came as a major blow to Hasekura.

On January 7, 1924, at the outset of Taisho 13, rejection notices for the bail petitions submitted in rapid succession as the previous year drew to a close were distributed. And in February, a bail institution or—

“With regard to the aforementioned individual (referring to Hasekura), as it has been deemed necessary to continue his detention, the period thereof shall be renewed from March 1, 1924.” Such a decision was handed down.

Hasekura had indeed been cast into the abyss's depths. He no longer held any hope of bail. Yet he still clung to a thread of hope for overturning the verdict. He conceived a new scheme and submitted what he termed a viewing petition. To this he appended a copy of the aforementioned postcard addressed to Kanazawa's mayor and, true to his methods, filed four identical viewing petitions consecutively over just four days from March 24th to 27th. Simultaneously occurred the renowned Taisho-era Sakura Sōgorō Incident.

Taisho-era Sakura Sōgorō “Hey, an oddly bulky package came for Hasekura!” “Oh no, this is bad. That guy’s gonna make us go through more trouble again, isn’t he?” Two prison staff members placed the package inside and furrowed their brows. Hasekura—who kept roaring about eight years of wrongful detention while stubbornly remaining in the holding cell even after the prison’s renaming to “Penitentiary”—was hardly a model prisoner for the guards. “Anyway, let’s open it.” “Alright.”

When they unwrapped the package, what emerged from inside was a set of clothing—a white silk crepe bridal kimono.

"Hmm, this is something odd." "Did that bastard have some religious epiphany?" Given that it was addressed to a death row inmate, the white bridal kimono put them ill at ease. The two guards exchanged looks of vague dread.

“Oh ho! There’s some writing here.”

“Indeed, these are definitely characters.” When they spread out the silk crepe white bridal kimono (shiro-muku), jet-black characters were dyed in two lines across the collar: “Tokyo Detention House / Eight Years Unconvicted” on the left and “Wrongfully Accused: Hasekura Kihei” on the right.

“It’s those characters again.” “Truly, he’s a relentless one.” The two men stared at the collar for a while until one turned the garment over and gasped. “Look—there’s writing on the back too!” “There’s something really serious written here!” Across the back, “Taisho-era Sakura Sōgorō” stood emblazoned in large characters.

“What on earth does this mean?” “Well, I have no idea at all. First of all, I wonder what we’re even supposed to do with this kimono.”

The two men deliberated, but of course there was no way they could understand. Having no choice, they took it to their superior, where it was decided they should at least ask Hasekura about the matter. “Hey! Something came for you!”

One of the guards, acting as instructed, stood before Hasekura’s detention cell carrying the white bridal kimono in question. “Ah—it’s arrived? How thoughtful.”

The moment Hasekura saw it, he let out a brief, eerie smile. "What are we supposed to do with this?" "I’ll wear it at the trial."

“What? At the trial?” The guard was left stunned.

“So, what does this ‘Sakura Sōgorō’ mean?” “Don’t you understand?” “I don’t get it.”

“That can’t be right.” Hasekura grew displeased. “In other words, it refers to my own plight.” “Your own plight?!” The dim-witted guard looked as though bewitched by a fox. “That’s right.” Hasekura fell silent, his face terrifying. When Hasekura styled himself “Taisho-era Sakura Sōgorō,” did he mean to portray himself as a sacrificial victim, or perhaps one tortured with his wife and children used as shackles? More likely, it must have occurred to him through the phonetic resemblance between his surname Hasekura and Sakura. In short, this was likely an attempt to elicit sympathy from those around him. Or perhaps it stemmed from his peculiar penchant for self-dramatization.

Although the meaning of Sakura Sōgorō wasn’t clear, since Hasekura had fallen into a sullen silence, the guard attempted to lighten the mood by—

“Did you specially order this?” “Yes.” “I had it ordered from my hometown.” “When are you going to wear it?” “Starting at the next trial.” It appeared Hasekura intended to wear this white bridal kimono from that point onward. The guard reported each detail to his superior.

“What? He says he’ll wear it at the public trial?” The superior dismissed it as utterly absurd, “We can’t have him doing that. Tell him that’s not permitted.” The guard returned to Hasekura’s cell. “Hey, they say I can’t give you this kimono.”

“What?!”

Hasekura immediately raised his voice and turned crimson.

When told that the white bridal kimono of habutae silk boldly inscribed with "Taisho-era Sakura Sōgorō" couldn't be given to him, Hasekura flew into a rage. "What's the meaning of this?!" "There's no reason." The guard remained unfazed, accustomed to Hasekura's outbursts. "We can't have someone appearing in court wearing a garment with such inflammatory writing." "What's 'inflammatory' about it?" "It's inflammatory because it's inflammatory." "Th-then why didn't you say so earlier?"

“Don’t talk nonsense. How could we have known that beforehand?” “Sh-shut up! Y-you bastards censor every single letter I send out, don’t you? Didn’t you read my order form?” “I see.” “I noted it in the order details and had it ordered from a dyer in my hometown. The prison officials must have read it. If you thought I was ordering something improper to wear, why didn’t you point it out then?” “I see. You’ve got me there.” “To confiscate it only after it’s been made—isn’t this blatantly damaging my finances?”

“Hmm, what you’re saying makes sense.” “All right, I’ll check with them once more.”

He was an easygoing guard and, seeming to sympathize with Hasekura's argument, returned to his superior's office.

“Hasekura is shouting that it’s unreasonable not to stop him when he placed the order but to confiscate it after it’s been made. What should we do?” “What do you expect me to do? We can’t possibly allow him to wear this.” “Admittedly, it was our oversight not to notice the order form, but even if we had noticed, we likely couldn’t have interfered when the order was placed.” “Just reject it outright.” “Yes.” “Then we’ll proceed accordingly.” Because of this, despite Hasekura’s eager anticipation, his formal court attire ultimately ended up being something he couldn’t wear.

This was an intriguing anecdote that revealed how Hasekura viewed what ought to have been a sacred public trial—but in the end, every last one of these acts amounted to nothing more than his desperate thrashing to escape the death penalty.

As previously mentioned, Hasekura had poured all his efforts into obtaining bail approval, stubbornly attempting to secure permission through any means necessary, but ultimately his efforts had come to nothing. Therefore, he resolved that at the next public trial he would either overturn the criminal facts by whatever means possible or, failing that, prolong the proceedings through his customary shouting and bellowing—submitting a formal request for document review as his opening maneuver.

“On the occasion of my upcoming court appearance on April 2, at that location (the court preparation room),”

Taisho 6 Oshi 288 No. 4 “I humbly request permission in advance to review three letters sent from Kobayashi Tōkichi to Kobayashi Sadajirō, and I earnestly ask for your kind consideration in this matter.” At first glance, it was an unremarkable petition, but he submitted this document—accompanied by a copy of a postcard addressed to the Mayor of Kanazawa, inscribed in his trademark fine script spanning hundreds of characters—four times in total between March 24th and 27th, each submission identical in wording. As I have mentioned before, one could not help but marvel at his tenacity.

Thus, on April 2, 1924, the first renewed public trial session (likely renewed after suspending ongoing proceedings due to the earthquake disaster) was scheduled to commence. As his final effort, he not only submitted the aforementioned request for document review but also pleaded for the return of several seized letters and launched a scathing attack against Pastor Kobe. "[...] I am no destroyer. I must expose Toko-giri Shoji’s corruption and secure his dismissal, but whether I persist depends entirely on your actions. In that case, Shoji’s removal hinges solely on his own conscience. You surely haven’t forgotten the promise made on March 19, 1917, when you stood as my guarantor and supporter in the Kagurazaka Police Station Chief’s office. Since you call yourself a pastor, shouldn’t you honor your commitments in a manner befitting that title?"

The Final Public Trial

Having suffered universal destruction in the Great Kanto Earthquake, the first renewed public trial session—granted an opportunity for rebirth—was, for Hasekura, a once-in-a-lifetime chance; should he let this moment slip, he could not imagine another favorable opportunity ever arising again. Here, he made his final effort. For years since being thrown into prison, he had persistently proclaimed his false charges, and particularly in the last two or three years, even within the public trial court, he roared and bellowed, doing everything in his power to obstruct the proceedings. The ferocity and ghastliness of that spectacle reached such extremes that it made every person who witnessed it at the time tremble uncontrollably—had even Pastor Kobe exclaim,

“Every time he appeared in court as the defendant, he displayed an intensely violent demeanor while his eloquence and boldness cowed the entire courtroom.” to such an extent that it made even Pastor Kobe marvel.

Some doubted whether he had already gone mad. After retracting the confession he had once made with falling tears, he came to firmly believe he had committed no grave crime himself, and his rage and grief—directed solely at what he perceived as coercion by those around him—may have stemmed from an obsessive delusion. Yet when examining his letters or petitions, one finds no trace of insanity. They reveal a methodical nature; though occasionally inconsistent in logic, they remain largely orderly and coherent. His act of insulting Mr. Shoji by dubbing him the “Treacherous (Secretariat) Director” exemplified this very rationality—precisely why the authorities never treated him as a madman.

Now, April 2, 1924 amounted to nothing more than a preparatory examination for the public trial—a mere preliminary skirmish—but at this time, Defense Attorney Nose stated: "I request that Shoji Rikitarao—who, as the former Kagurazaka Police Station Chief, was responsible for the defendant’s arrest and possesses thorough knowledge of both the correspondence between the defendant and Pastor Kobe and the disposition of documents submitted by Kobe—be summoned for inquiry regarding these documents and the circumstances leading to the defendant’s confession." Nose filed this request. Summoning Mr. Shoji to court for unrestricted interrogation had long been Hasekura’s fervent wish, and Defense Attorney Nose—recognizing its strategic necessity—had repeatedly applied for his subpoena whenever opportunities arose. However, as Mr. Shoji had later joined the Metropolitan Police Department after his tenure as station chief, risen to Director of the Secretariat, and then assumed the critical post of Chief of the Police Affairs Bureau—positions demanding extreme busyness—these requests were invariably rejected, whether due to his schedule or perceived irrelevance. However, now that Mr. Shoji had resigned from his police bureau position for undisclosed reasons and retired from public service, Mr. Nose deemed the timing opportune and renewed his summons request. On April 7, a written decision as follows was issued.

Decision Hasekura Kihei Regarding the aforementioned defendant case involving theft, arson, fraud, rape, injury, and murder, after hearing the prosecutor’s opinion concerning the evidence examination applied for by the defendant and their counsel during pretrial preparation procedures on April 2, 1924, it was decided as follows. Among the aforementioned applications, Shoji Rikitarao and Tozuka Shinzo shall be examined as witnesses; all others are rejected. April 7, 1924 Presiding Judge and the others affix their signatures and seals. When Hasekura received this decision, he literally leapt for joy with delight. For Police Chief Shoji, whom he resented with ever-deepening bitterness, Hasekura had until now only conducted indirect bombardment through a total of seventy-five cursed letters—but this time, he would confront him face-to-face and fully achieve his desires. This was what he had thought.

He had awaited the day of Police Chief Shoji’s court appearance with each day feeling like a thousand years, but he never even dreamed that this would become the very thing to shorten his remaining days. Thus, on May 14th, the first public trial was convened. By this time, Mr. Shoji and Pastor Kobe were already present as witnesses; however, Hasekura—whatever he had been thinking at the outset—ended up sulking throughout.

According to the court records, he did not answer the judge’s questions. "The presiding judge questioned the defendant regarding his name, age, occupation, address, registered domicile, and place of birth; however, as the defendant remained silent and did not answer, even when questioned again, he still offered no response."

Worried that this might leave a bad impression on the presiding judge, Defense Attorney Nose called out in a loud voice. “Your Honor, I humbly request permission for the defendant to make a statement.” As Hasekura remained silent and did not answer, Mr. Nose, deeming it a critical matter and obtaining the presiding judge’s permission, attempted to advise him. “Having obtained the presiding judge’s permission, Defense Attorney Nose advised the defendant that if there were any points requiring explanation in response to the judge’s questioning, it would be advisable to provide such explanations; however, though not entirely refusing to answer, the defendant had appeared in court not for that purpose but to request a postponement, having failed to thoroughly review the documents in time for today’s public trial.” “However, he stated his intention to answer to the best of his ability by recalling his memories.”

After all these procedural efforts, the presiding judge was finally able to begin the interrogation. Question: State your full name. Answer: Hasekura Kihei Age: Forty-three Occupation: Bible sales business

Place of birth: Yamagata Prefecture, Okitama District

Why does the author write about such obvious matters here? Dear readers. What do you feel when seeing his recorded age? When he was arrested by Kagurazaka Police Station, subsequently indicted, found guilty in preliminary hearings, and stood at his first public trial, did he not state his age as thirty-six? Seeing him now answer forty-three here, one cannot help shedding a tear of sympathy for his circumstances—having spent those long years from thirty-six to forty-three, when life should bear its richest fruit, detained unconvicted. Of course, this eight-year prison life—or rather over seven full years—was something he had intentionally prolonged through appeals; since he had already been sentenced to death in the first trial, had matters proceeded normally, his life would have ended years earlier. Some might argue he willingly extended his own suffering. Yet considering how he sat in that pitch-black cell through those interminable years—single-mindedly striving to escape execution, later clinging to the faint hope of release—enduring every hardship while cursing world and man alike to keep living, one shudders at his dreadful tenacity even as sympathy spills for this human being's torment.

Now, the presiding judge’s questioning next moved from the Bible theft to the facts of the arson, then abruptly shifted to the Sadako incident.

In response to the presiding judge’s questioning, Hasekura asserted, as was his wont, that he had never committed any violence against Sadako—that it had been consensual—and that there was no truth to the claim that he had lain in wait and taken her away while she was on her way to the hospital. When the presiding judge pressed further, Hasekura, “They hid the documents at Takanawa Police Station, and they won’t release the letters I sent to Pastor Kobe, so I don’t know,” he answered with a sneer. “Then.” The presiding judge snapped angrily.

“Are you saying you cannot defend yourself because those documents are missing?”

The Presiding Judge’s question—“Are you saying you cannot defend yourself?”—hit Hasekura like a physical blow, and he roared: “That’s not it!” “It isn’t that I can’t defend myself.” “Then I’ll state my case!” Hasekura—who had petulantly stonewalled questions at the trial’s outset by claiming he hadn’t properly reviewed documents—now erupted like a dam bursting its banks. For thousands of words he spoke, not merely dredging faded memories but dissecting minutiae with surgical precision, his grandiloquent flood leaving the entire courtroom dumbstruck.

“Regarding this matter,” Hasekura began with exaggerated deference, “I must explain from the very beginning.” He paused theatrically before adding, “I humbly request Your Honor’s full attention.” Having set this rhetorical stage, he launched into an exhaustive recounting of events as though reconstructing them physically before the court. He dwelled longest on what he termed “the triangular entanglement” between himself, the Kobayashi brothers, and Pastor Kobe. “Pastor Kobe pressed me relentlessly to sign what amounted to a prewritten confession,” Hasekura declared, his voice quivering with indignation. “When I refused this outrageous demand”—he leaned forward conspiratorially—“I proposed instead that we three—the pastor himself, Sadajirou Kobayashi, and I—visit Sadako directly to settle whether our relations had been forced or mutual! A simple inquiry would have resolved everything!” His hands spread wide in mock bewilderment. “Yet even this reasonable suggestion met with cowardly refusal.” The defendant’s tone shifted abruptly as he slammed his palms on the rail. “Do you know what followed? During my unavoidable absences”—he glared pointedly at Prosecutor Shoji—“that drunken lout Sadajirou would come bellowing outside my home! ‘The master here defiled my daughter!’ he’d shout for all the neighborhood to hear! ‘Gave her clap and won’t pay hospital fees!’ Lies! All lies!” Spittle flew as his voice rose shrilly. “Never once did I neglect payments! The receipt went missing precisely when that sot came demanding proof—a coincidence Your Honor might verify through hospital records!”

Once Hasekura began speaking, he became a veritable torrent of words—for dozens of minutes on end, he skillfully expounded and dissected the circumstances of that time with his eloquence, and finally, “Given these facts, I neither raped Sadako nor murdered her.”

Having added this, he finally concluded his lengthy oration. The presiding judge attempted to proceed with witness examinations; however, at this point, the defendant and defense attorney applied to adjourn today’s proceedings at this stage and continue at a later date, to which the prosecutor agreed. With this consensus, the presiding judge granted permission and scheduled the next session for June 13 at 9:00 a.m. All the witnesses made completely wasted trips that day.

June 13 Public Trial!

It would later become clear that this very public trial was to be Hasekura’s last.

At the next public trial, Police Chief Shoji Rikitarao was scheduled to undergo examination as a witness for the first time. This very interrogation—now that Hasekura had exhausted every strategy—stood as his sole remaining lifeline. Whether his eight-year cry of wrongful conviction would prove futile or not was to be decisively determined by this single, just action. He must have spent those prison days alternating between joy and dread, ceaselessly devising secret strategies within his cell.

He sent those usual threatening letters to Pastor Kobe—who was supposed to appear alongside Police Chief Shoji that day—on two occasions: May 28 and June 11. "On the coming thirteenth, I intend to have them conduct a firm interrogation from the beginning based on Article 353 of the Criminal Procedure Code."

“Until the truth comes to light, I shall persist in challenging and dismissing my defense counsel—I flatly refuse to accept any court judgment.” “Should it come to that, you too would be summoned—what a nuisance—so I beg you not to lie.” “You spoke candidly to Mr. Kito about Sadako’s affair, the letters you handed to Shoji, and your own matters—all of which he has since conveyed to me through correspondence, forming evidence that should prove decisive.” “I implore you—do not exploit Mr. Kito’s eternal rest to commit perjury at Shoji’s behest.”

The June 11 letter included, in addition to a threatening note penned meticulously in detail on hanshi paper, a single sheet of hanshi inscribed with brushwork. "The rainy season draws near."

“I am glad to hear everyone remains in good health—nothing could be more gratifying. “It is most fortunate that you remain in good health, but my body grows worse by the day. “At this rate, I may well succumb to illness and die before long.”

Is it that when a person’s time of death draws near, they unwittingly become despondent without even realizing it? Even Hasekura, for all his usual bravado, somehow sounded pitiable in what he said. Even the threatening phrases written above seemed to lack their usual menace. At long last, the day of the public trial arrived.

June 13, 1924, was a gloomy day under the rainy season sky.

The Presiding Judge, along with the other judges and prosecutors, sat solemnly on a raised platform; looking toward the defense seats, Mr. Nose alone waited in silence. Defendant Hasekura Kihei was not physically restrained, but he sat in his designated seat surrounded by a conspicuous contingent of five police officers—one inspector and four constables. Not only did he roar and bellow in court, but he would sometimes lunge at witnesses as well, which was why such stringent precautions had been taken.

The Presiding Judge cleared his throat once or twice, announced that the proceedings would hereby resume, then—as per protocol—proceeded to question the defendant in sequence regarding his name, age, and other details before moving on to the examination of evidence.

The records state as follows.

"The presiding judge announced the commencement of evidence examination, read aloud each evidentiary document identical to those recorded in this court’s first public trial records as well as the contents of said records, presented the seized items along with the inspection report diagrams and attached records, and each time requested statements of opinion and defense; the defendant provided responses identical to those recorded in this court’s first public trial records." "The Presiding Judge announced that he would examine witnesses based on the decision and had Shoji Rikitarao, who had responded to the summons and appeared, enter the courtroom." "Mr. Shoji—a man said to be six feet tall and strong enough to wrestle demons—entered the courtroom with overwhelming dignity, his majestic demeanor filling the chamber." "He was truly high-spirited, unwavering in his conviction that evil shall never ultimately triumph over good—his aura seemed to have already overwhelmed even the heinous Hasekura."

He was ordered to take a seat mere inches away from Hasekura. "Well, it worked out since it was me,"

Mr. Shoji later recounted to others: “Regardless of having five police officers guarding such a violent brute, seating him right beside someone is rather inconvenient. Depending on who it is, they might not be able to fully speak their mind.” “After all, he’s actually lunged at detectives before.” When Hasekura saw Mr. Shoji’s face, he glared at him with strange eyes before abruptly turning away. Mr. Shoji responded to the Presiding Judge’s questions without hesitation, boldly articulating his convictions.

Regarding the investigative process leading to Hasekura’s arrest, explanations about the corpse and other irrefutable evidence, and Hasekura’s confession, the witness answered without faltering. He provided detailed accounts of how solemn the confession scene had been, including conversations exchanged between himself, Pastor Kobe, and his wife. As Mr. Shoji responded to the Presiding Judge’s questioning, Hasekura gradually edged closer until their bodies nearly touched. The vigilant police officers—perhaps judging Hasekura posed no immediate threat—made no move to intervene, maintaining their watchful perimeter instead. With Hasekura’s breath audible beside him, Mr. Shoji continued answering the judge with unshaken composure.

“Mr. Shoji, please tell the truth.”

Suddenly, Hasekura—unlike the arrogant and vicious demeanor seen in his threatening letters—let out a faint voice and pleaded in a plaintive tone. Had he finally realized that he could no longer oppose Mr. Shoji head-on? Or was it that those with wicked thoughts could never bring themselves to face what was right? The Presiding Judge maintained an unwaveringly solemn demeanor throughout as he fired off questions: Had efforts been made to sell real estate? Was there any fact of over forty documents being concealed? Had they forced the defendant to kiss a skeleton to coerce a confession?

Mr. Shoji resolutely denied every single one of them. The matter concerning the documents was entirely fictitious; Hasekura had bribed detectives at Takanawa Station regarding the arson case to produce favorable investigative records, but since only those particular documents among the many were coincidentally lost, Hasekura distorted the facts as though all documents advantageous to him had been concealed. However, Shoji responded that said documents were not as significant as the defendant believed and, moreover, that all other documents had been submitted.

During Mr. Shoji’s testimony, Hasekura maintained a posture of ceaseless entreaty, “Mr. Shoji, please speak the truth,” he continued pleading in a hushed voice. When the presiding judge’s questioning concluded, Attorney Nose obtained permission from the bench and, fixing an intense glare upon the witness, launched a sharp cross-examination.

“The initial suspicions against Kihei were theft and fraud—what specific facts constituted the fraud?” “While investigating the theft, evidence of fraud emerged.” “Did anyone file a formal complaint against Hasekura?” “No—it was based on investigative inquiries.” “From February 19 to March 18—approximately one month—under what legal grounds was the defendant detained?” “I believe it fell under vagrancy charges, false testimony provisions, or the Police Offenses Punishment Order.”

“No—wasn’t the defendant detained under the charge of murder rather than for punitive purposes?”

“I have no clear recollection regarding that matter. Even if it were as you say, I see no need to respond.”

The above constituted the first portion of Mr. Shoji’s responses to Mr. Nose’s questioning—evidently fraught with tension. To Mr. Nose’s acerbic inquiries, Mr. Shoji delivered clear and concise replies. After multiple rounds of this charged exchange finally concluded over an extended period, the Presiding Judge—owing to Pastor Kobe’s absence—proceeded with the trial before adjourning proceedings and scheduling the next session for June 30.

Despair.

After leaving the courtroom and being escorted to Tokyo Prison, inside the automobile, Hasekura’s face was deathly pale—at times contorted in bitter anguish, at others seething with resentment—his spirits remaining utterly deflated. Police Chief Shoji—the man on whom Hasekura had pinned his last shred of hope—showed not the slightest regard for his threats or entreaties. From the outset, he erected an imposing argumentative front, countering with aggressive rebuttals that methodically denounced Hasekura’s delusions, condemned his falsehoods, and left him utterly dismantled. The document concealment incident—which Hasekura had believed to be his inviolable creed, relied upon as an impregnable fortress, and repeatedly petitioned about—proved in truth a trivial matter. When allegations of torture or coercion through offers of benefits to extract confessions were resolutely denied, they became trifling issues beyond dispute. Though not eloquent, Mr. Shoji’s powerful words—borne of unshakable conviction—resounded through Hasekura’s chest with crushing force. Particularly when the scene of his confession was recounted in detail, even Hasekura himself found himself struck by a solemn air he could not possibly deny.

After returning to the cell, Hasekura remained silent. He gradually sank into despair. However, Hasekura—true to form—summoned up nearly depleted energy and planted his feet firmly.

The presiding judge was at fault! The presiding judge’s half-hearted way of conducting interrogations was why nothing came of it. You had to push harder—just like how the police interrogate defendants—and if there was even the slightest inconsistency, you needed to cross-examine them until your voice grew hoarse and your arm trembled from gesturing. That was absolutely not the case! “Hmm, so that’s how it is,” he thought. “Why would Shoji make statements beneficial to me?” The one festering in his resentment was the presiding judge.

Hasekura's baseless resentment culminated in focusing entirely on the presiding judge. Here, he took up his brush and dispatched his final words of rancor to the presiding judge. Yet even he harbored no belief this would prove effective. No—he could no longer be restrained by common sense. In a half-frenzied state, he scrawled compulsively, driven solely by surging emotions until all was expelled. Though resembling an old woman's ramblings, it mirrored a lamp's final flare before extinction—his energy, having clamored through eight years of wrongful detention, now teetering at exhaustion's brink mustered one last convulsive surge.

Immediately following the public trial, Hasekura took up his brush and spent exactly three days preparing before submitting an application for judge recusal on June 17. "I hereby recuse the Honorable Judge Intō."

Reasons for Recusal 1. If only the Honorable Judge Intō had conducted orderly and respectful questioning of Shoji Rikitarao regarding my current case, everything would have become clear. 2. Since I desired this course of action, I had previously written down specific matters—requesting that both the aforementioned petition and Shoji Rikitarao be questioned in this manner—and properly submitted them to the court. Furthermore, I had prepared identical interrogation items concerning Shoji Rikitarao for Attorney Nose and completed all submission procedures well in advance to meet the public trial date. Yet Judge Intō retained these documents in his possession and prevented them from reaching Attorney Nose. Thus even Attorney Nose cannot comprehend what precise demands Hasekura makes of Shoji. (...) All evidence items in question were submitted by me to the court during Taisho 11 [1922]. They now claim none of these items exist within the court’s records and refuse to produce the absolutely crucial evidence I require. (Evidence items omitted)

Honorable Judge Intō presented each of the letters sent from Kagurazaka as evidence inventory for the Hasekura Kihei case to Shoji—so where did you relocate the documents preceding and following these letters? "Furthermore, after presenting evidence to Shoji demanding, 'What became of these house transfer documents?', did not Honorable Judge Intō—under contractual terms forcing the witness to falsely confess to crimes Kihei never committed until he later submitted documents—provide these house transfer papers (currently held by the court) alongside Kihei’s registered seal and other valuables?"

Hasekura’s reasons for recusing the presiding judge continued to pour forth in exhaustive detail. “The witness (Shoji), on March 19, 1917, in the Kagurazaka Police Station chief’s office, designated Pastor Williamson and Kobe—who were present at the time—as guarantors for the house transfer efforts and handed over valuables and documents from Hasekura’s possession, all of which Attorney Kobayashi is fully aware. But what exactly are these items? And from whom did the witness seize them before conspiring to exchange them in a manner opaque to the court? Furthermore, if it were true that Kihei had committed crimes and confessed, did the witness instruct Kihei to make such statements in the prosecutor’s office and preliminary court—threatening that unless he complied, even the clothes on Hasekura’s wife and children would be stripped off and sent to the Bible company?” “Is it not the case that you, in order to monitor whether I would comply with what was requested by me (Shoji) in the prosecutor’s office, had three detectives under the witness’s control (names omitted) accompany [me] to the prosecutor’s office and preliminary court on March 20, 1917, thereby compelling Prosecutor Kozuka and Judge Koga to create what is called the Hasekura Kihei interrogation records?”

If Kihei failed to make statements as requested by the witness, someone among the three detectives accompanying him would notify Kagurazaka Police Station via telephone, whereupon officers would descend upon Kihei’s residence and strip away not only the valuables and documents that had been granted to his wife and children at the time but even the very clothing they were wearing—was this not a matter of the witness coercing Kihei into compliance through such demands? Furthermore, is it not the case that after the witness disclosed to Kihei that this skull belonged to the daughter of a Shinagawa confectionery shop, the witness at that time temporarily deposited this skull at Hasekura’s residence? What was the reason for temporarily depositing it? After thrusting the skull at Shoji, the Honorable Judge Intō failed to clarify the truth of the case by having Shoji provide answers to each point.

Even though Judge Intō went to the trouble of summoning Shoji, he allowed Shoji to persist in his perjury unchecked without confronting him with evidentiary documents or conducting thorough interrogations, thereby failing to clarify the truth of the case. Unless the truth of this case is clarified here, this Kihei will refuse to accept anyone’s trial—even if it means starving to death right where I stand. The reasons for recusing Judge Intō are as stated above. (Omitted) "I repeatedly demand that Shoji Rikitarao be compelled to provide answers to clarify the truth of the case here; should this not be done, I will absolutely refuse to stand trial—even if it means starving to death right here."

At the June 13 public trial, Hasekura—finding that witness Mr. Shoji’s testimony, contrary to his expectations, offered no advantage whatsoever to his case—grew restless and desperate in his cell, leading him to file for the presiding judge’s recusal as previously described. Yet this action stemmed not from calculated strategy but rather sheer desperation. Even when driven to the final precipice, his tenacity—that relentless impulse to leap up and counterattack at the slightest opening—left observers with nothing but stunned awe. Ah, could there ever exist another man like Hasekura? One who endured over seven years in prison, ceaselessly cursing from dawn till dusk, exhausting every means to evade the gallows while clinging with dogged persistence to his dream of returning just once to the world beyond?

Judge Intō, upon receiving Hasekura’s application for recusal, immediately convened a meeting and, after deliberation, issued the following decision document.

Decision

Defendant Hasekura Kihei Regarding the defendant case of theft, arson, fraud, rape causing injury, and murder against the aforementioned individual, whereas the aforementioned defendant filed an application for recusal against Presiding Judge Intō Michizane on grounds of risk of rendering a biased judgment, said application is deemed to have been made solely for the purpose of delaying the proceedings, and in accordance with Article 29, Paragraph 1 of the Criminal Procedure Code, it is decided as follows. Judgment The application for recusal in this case is hereby dismissed. June 20, 1924

The presiding judge and others affixed their signatures and seals. The decision document was promptly delivered to Hasekura Kihei at Ichigaya Prison. Having received this served document, what action would Hasekura take?

Grand Finale The application for recusal that Hasekura had attempted as a last resort was decisively rejected, with the decision document served that very day—but what course did Hasekura ultimately take?

Unbelievable!

The service returned with a note as per the accompanying note.

"Upon investigating Hasekura Kihei at Ichigaya Prison regarding service of documents, Warden Tanabe reported that he had died as per the attached note, rendering delivery impossible; we hereby return [the documents] provisionally." Subsequently, an official document as described on the left arrived from Ichigaya Prison addressed to the Prosecutor-General of the Court of Appeals. Notification Regarding the Suicide of a Criminal Defendant Theft, Arson, Fraud Rape Causing Injury and Murder

Hasekura Kihei Born March 1882 Detained March 20, 1917 July 9, 1918 Tokyo District Court First Instance Judgment Regarding the aforementioned defendant in the captioned case, whose appeal remained pending: On this day, between approximately 8:00 a.m. and 8:10 a.m., he had exploited a lapse in vigilance by patrol guards to affix a looped hemp rope approximately one *shaku* in length (resembling material previously hoarded within his cell by bundling workpaper bag supplies) to the glass window frame on the southern side of his quarters (height from floor approximately one *jō*). He had further twisted his personal hand towel and a government-issued hand towel into rope-like strands, interconnecting them, then used an air vent as a foothold to wrap the prepared towels around his neck and suspend himself, thereby committing suicide by suffocation under his own weight. We hereby notify [you] with the attached autopsy report.

Hasekura had hanged himself and died within his cell on June 19—the day before the dismissal notice was to arrive. Why did he commit suicide without waiting for the outcome of the recusal to be determined? That remains an eternal question; however, one might speculate he had already resolved to die based on the June 13 public trial's outcome. Might it not be that he felt such profound despair over Mr. Shoji's testimony that even the success or failure of his judge recusal motion became irrelevant? According to accounts, he left behind something resembling a suicide note containing horrifying phrases cursing Mr. Shoji through all generations of his descendants. Mr. Shoji Rikitarao—who had greatly contributed by uncovering, through legitimate duties as a judicial police official and lawful means, a murder case that four years after the atrocity had nearly faded into oblivion—remained Hasekura's unwavering target of curses; as Hasekura's parting act, every damnation fell solely upon Mr. Shoji.

Behold, Hasekura finally committed suicide without ever receiving the second instance judgment, leaving countless questions for posterity.

Regarding this point, the author hereby quotes the words of Pastor Kobe, who was most deeply involved in the case. “When I saw the June 19 evening edition, I was shocked. There’s an article saying Hasekura Kihei has finally hanged himself, isn’t there? Moreover, it was printed in size-two type with an extremely large headline. Doubtless, this was because his death was an incident that piqued society’s curiosity to such an extent.” (Omitted)

“What then was the cause that drove him to adopt such a ferocious attitude and persist in denying the facts until the very end, resisting all his enemies? Moreover, while he was vicious by nature, what was the truth regarding the murder that formed the core of this case? As one who knows one aspect of the truth regarding these matters—I, having been among the witnesses—possess both the right and the duty to speak of this. We must condemn not only the fault of the authorities, who have hitherto called him a madman and treated him like a wild beast, but also denounce the error of those who defended him with undue partiality, proclaiming him wholly innocent and falsely accused.”

As I lay down my pen alongside Hasekura’s death, I praise Police Chief Shoji—who with unyielding and indomitable spirit succeeded in exposing the crimes within this unparalleled labyrinthine case; Judge Miyaki’s decisive judgment, slicing through tangled complexities like a sharp blade; and Pastor Kobe’s courage in treading the righteous path without fear. I acknowledge Mr. Nose’s devoted efforts on the defendant’s behalf, sparing no sacrifice. Yet I pity—and dread—Hasekura himself, who after eight years of bitter struggle never reached a second-instance judgment, leaving doubts to echo through eternity as he hanged himself, persisting even in death through deluded efforts to defame Police Chief Shoji and others.

(Published in the Yomiuri Shimbun, 1927)