Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Fox’s Ledger

1

It was the twilight of the Bakumatsu period.
In Hongo, near Kikakuji Temple, there lived a man named Shinzaburou. This Shinzaburou worked as a traveling merchant who regularly went to places like Joshu to buy textiles and sell them to small kimono shops around Tokyo.
One autumn year at Shinzaburou's house, following their usual routine with Shinzaburou away on a trip, his wife Otaki kept watch over the home alongside their only child Shinichi and an elderly servant woman.

The mosquitoes had all disappeared, leaving a night pleasantly cool around the neck—perfect for sleeping.
Otaki had put thirteen-year-old Shinichi to bed in the inner room and slept alone in the front sitting room that served as the master's chamber. The bedding felt so comfortable that she had sunk into deep sleep when a strange sensation jolted her awake.
The faint glow from a clove-patterned Ariake lantern at her pillow illuminated the figure of a burly man who seemed to have been lying beside her until moments before.
Startled and filled with fierce anger, Otaki abruptly tried to grab and shake the trespasser awake.

“You there—who are you? Wake up!”

Just as Otaki’s hand reached the shoulder of the man lying facing her way, he suddenly rose nimbly, smiled gently, then headed off in the opposite direction.

“Who are you?”

Otaki chased after him in frustration, but his figure had already vanished.
She cast her eyes around suspiciously.

"How strange."

Though neither paper door nor sliding door had made any opening sound, he’d disappeared.
Otaki’s condition worsened under malign spiritual influence.

“Old woman… Old woman… Old woman…”

Otaki thought to have the old woman servant rouse herself.
She turned back to fetch the lantern and, after sweeping its light about, slid open the door there.
It was the tea room.
Wondering if she might glimpse the man’s form within, Otaki directed the lantern’s glow toward the space as she called once more.

“Old woman… Old woman…”

A drowsy voice came from the kitchen next to the tea room.

“Old woman, I’m sorry to trouble you, but please get up for a moment.”

With a clatter, the paper door between the tea room and kitchen slid open, revealing the face of the slightly plump old woman servant.

“Is there something you require?”

“Something strange happened.”

The old woman servant came to Otaki’s side.

“What sort of matter would that be?”

“What do you mean ‘what kind’? I was sleeping when something felt strange, so I woke up and there was a man lying there! When I tried to push him out, he jumped up and ran off—but even though nowhere seemed opened, he vanished!”

“Why, it must be some stray from around here, since the master is away… A mischievous rascal, that one. Hiding somewhere nearby without doubt. Let’s give him a proper scare—teach him not to make a habit of this.”

The old woman stood at the front and searched every corner of the room, but there was no trace of anyone fitting that description. And finally, when she checked the door locks, they remained exactly as they had been left that evening, with not the slightest change.

“It’s strange. There was definitely a sturdy man here—he laughed when he jumped up to flee.”

“How peculiar.”

Otaki, afflicted by spirits, had the old woman’s bedding brought to her own room and made her sleep there, but nothing particularly strange occurred after that.

The next evening, still unsettled by the previous night’s events, Otaki had the old woman sleep in the inner room where Shinichi lay—the chamber adjoined back-to-back with the front sitting room.

Before long, the old woman—whose usual habit prevented her from sleeping deeply—awoke to find a sinister presence stirring in Madam’s room.
The old woman, suspecting that last night’s intruder had perhaps returned, raised her head and peered through the gap in the sliding door she had left slightly ajar since evening.
The head of a man lying beside Madam—who slept with her pillow facing the veranda—appeared in the lantern’s light.

“He’s back again!”

The old woman sprang to her feet, slid open the door, and charged into the front sitting room.
With that, the suspicious man suddenly sprang up and headed toward the left tea room.

“You bastard! Think you can run? I won’t let you get away!”

The old woman ran in that direction.
At the sound, Otaki awoke and sat up.

“Oh! He got away again! Madam, he’s escaped again—please wake up!”

The man’s figure vanished as if erased.
There, Otaki arrived carrying the lantern.

“Madam, did you know?”

“I didn’t know. What could it have been? It must be those malignant spirits acting up.”

“That’s right, Madam—it was indeed a man.”

At that moment, Shinichi awoke and came over.

“Did he come again? Damn it.”

II

The following evening, they lit lanterns even in the inner room, and Shinichi and the old woman kept many of the sliding doors at the boundaries open as they stood guard.
Shinichi had placed his own dagger under his bedding.

Whether Otaki had fallen asleep or not, the sound of her coughing could no longer be heard.
Shinichi and the old woman, thinking that if they fell asleep that suspicious fellow would come again, tried their best not to fall asleep by whispering to each other and exchanging glances, but eventually the old woman, perhaps worn out from the day’s fatigue, dozed off.
Shinichi had resolved that even if the old woman fell asleep, he himself would absolutely not sleep, and he strained his willpower—but even so, in keeping with that strained resolve, he had unwittingly dozed off.

“...Wake up... Young master... ...Young master...”

Shinichi was shaken awake around the shoulders, but upon realizing the one rousing him was the old woman, he thought, *That suspicious fellow must have come*.

“Is he here?”

“Madam isn’t here. I wonder if she went somewhere.”

Shinichi jumped up and headed toward the front sitting room.
There was only her bedding; her figure was nowhere to be seen.

“Could she have gone to the restroom?”

The old woman who had come from behind said.

“That might be unclear—you go check.”

The old woman made a troubled face.

“You tell me ‘go check,’ Young master—at times like this, I can’t just carelessly go out.”

“But Mother isn’t here!”

“She might have gone to the restroom or something. Let’s wait a little longer.”

Shinichi was growing impatient.

“If you keep saying that and something happens to Mother, what will you do? If you don’t want to go, I’ll go myself.”

Shinichi took the lantern, slid open the paper door there, and stepped out onto the veranda.
The old woman had no choice but to stagger after him from behind.
At the far right end of the veranda was the restroom.
Shinichi went there.

“Mother... ...Mother”

There was no response from within.
Shinichi entered the room and this time opened the sliding door that formed the boundary with the tea room.
In the tea room lay Otaki—the mother—half-naked and sprawled carelessly on her back.

“It’s Mother.”
“Oh, Madam!”

The two of them cried out in surprise.
Even so, the two of them felt relieved.
The old woman went to Madam’s side and tried to wake her.
At that moment, Otaki’s eyes opened.

“Who are you coming here to meddle? Get away over there! Coming to spy on someone’s bedroom like this…”

The old woman started and withdrew the hand she’d been about to extend.

“Mother, you mustn’t—you’ll catch a cold sleeping there.”

Shinichi spoke in a chiding tone.

“Fool! Silence! I’ll not tolerate your meddling!”

The old woman stood utterly confounded.
As they wondered how to coax her back, Otaki suddenly sat upright and clomped into the front sitting room.
The pair stood dumbstruck but, anxious about her behavior, stumbled after her.
With that, Otaki burrowed into her bedding and yanked the quilt over her head.

“No one must come here! Get away over there—you’re a nuisance!”

The old woman and Shinichi stood there at a loss, but once Otaki’s sleeping breaths became audible, the two returned to the inner room to sleep—yet sleep would not come. Particularly, Shinichi grew increasingly worried about his mother’s suspicious behavior and couldn’t sleep until morning.

When morning came, Otaki rose quietly as usual and ate breakfast with Shinichi, yet nothing seemed particularly amiss.
The only thing Shinichi found strange was how her eyes held a gleam as though fixed on some unseen object.
He couldn't bring himself to mention his mother's behavior from the previous night.

After finishing the meal, Otaki retreated to the front sitting room, sealing both paper doors and sliding doors so tightly that nothing could be glimpsed from outside.
The old woman and Shinichi exchanged anxious whispers, now certain this was no ordinary matter.

“Auntie, Mother’s acting strange.”

“Indeed it is, Young master. It’s all very strange—what with last night’s events and that peculiar man entering without opening the sliding door. Most unsettling.”

“I wonder what it is.”

“It’s definitely not human.”

“What could it be?”

“Hmm… But it’s definitely not human. If it were a person, they’d either open the sliding door or the entrance door properly.”

“I wish Dad would come home soon.”

“Indeed, if only Master would return soon, something might be done about it.”

“That’s right—I wish Dad would come home.”

Three

Afterward, the old woman entered the room intending to inquire about Otaki’s condition.
In the room, Otaki was propped on her elbow, taking a nap.
The old woman spoke in a small voice so as not to startle.

“Madam... Madam?”

Otaki firmly opened her eyes and, upon seeing the old woman, pursed her lips.

“You’re a nuisance! Why do you come here to interfere? Get away over there!”

“I have come to inquire—is Madam feeling unwell in any way?”

“You’re insufferable! Get away over there!”

The old woman reluctantly turned back.
In the tea room, Shinichi was waiting for the old woman to return.

“How’s Mother?”
“She was asleep, but still acting strange.”
“Strange how?”
“Just like last night—she told me ‘Get away over there!’ and scolded me.”
“I see... That’s odd.”

When lunchtime came and Otaki still hadn’t emerged from her room, the old woman went to call on her again.
Otaki was sitting with an expression as if deep in thought.

“Madam, how about some lunch?”

Otaki raised her face, glanced briefly at the old woman, then looked down again.

“I don’t want any!”

The old woman was completely at a loss.

“But please have a little...”

“I said I don’t want it, so I don’t want it!”

“But if you don’t eat, it’s not good for your health. I’ll bring it here, so please have it whenever you like.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

Even so, the old woman couldn’t leave it at that, so she brought a tray and rice bowl and placed them beside Otaki before leaving.

“I’ll leave it here, so please have it when you’re ready.”

While the old woman was doing so, Shinichi remained in the tea room, worrying about his mother.
Friends occasionally came to invite Shinichi to play, but he did not go because he was worried about his mother.

Before long, evening arrived, but Otaki did not emerge.
The old woman remembered dinner and went to check on that room.
Otaki lay on her stomach kicking her feet, but looking at the tray, it appeared she had eaten—the side dishes lay scattered.

“Shall I bring your dinner?”

Otaki was still kicking her feet and did not respond.
The old woman took the tray and rice bowl back to the kitchen, washed the tray, added freshly prepared side dishes, and carried them back to Otaki’s side.

“I’ve brought your dinner, so please eat.”

Otaki lay facing the floor, propped on her elbow in feigned sleep.

“I don’t want it! Get away from here!”

When the old woman left and the sliding door clicked shut, Otaki jerked up her head, shot a glance toward the tea room, then whirled upright and yanked the tray close to wolf down the meal. She’d barely shoveled four or five bowls into herself before collapsing back into pretended slumber.
Shinichi watched it all through a crack in the inner sliding door.

When night fell, the old woman and Shinichi laid out their bedding in the inner room and kept a wary watch on Otaki. And then, around ten o'clock, just as the old woman was beginning to doze off, Otaki made a sound like a seductive suppressed laugh in the front parlor. Shinichi, thinking that the suspicious fellow had come again, suddenly jumped up, slid open the door, and rushed in. There was only the face of his mother, illuminated by the dim light of the lantern, staring this way with angry eyes, and no sign of anything suspicious.

“You fool! What are you doing here? I won’t tolerate any interference!”

“Because I heard Mother’s laughter, I thought he had come again and got up.”

“Who’s ‘he’? Fool! I won’t tolerate any meddling!”

“But you laughed—”

“Shut up!”

Shinichi dejectedly returned to his own bed.

"Young master, is something wrong?"

The old woman woke up and called out.

“I heard Mother’s laughter and went to check, but I didn’t see anything.”

“I see. It’s strange there was laughter.”

“It’s strange. What could be coming?”

“Who knows...”

When morning came and the old woman woke up, it appeared Otaki had risen before anyone else, washed her face, brought a mirror stand and makeup tools into the front parlor, and was applying white powder to her face.

Before long, breakfast was ready, but since Otaki did not come, the old woman thought to bring the meal to her room again and went to check on her condition.
Otaki, who had applied her makeup neatly, was lying facedown atop the bedding.

“Madam, the meal is ready.”

Otaki did not respond.
“Shall I bring it here?”
“You’re such a nuisance! Stop spouting nonsense!”
The old woman, thinking it was no use to say anything more, brought the tray and left it there before going away.

4

Otaki absolutely would not come out from the front parlor.
When the old woman and Shinichi remembered to check on her, they would find her wrapped in the bedding that had been left spread out, or sometimes lying facedown on top of it muttering to herself.
The old woman resignedly took the midday meal and went.

After that, the old woman ate lunch with Shinichi in the kitchen.
Shinichi said while eating his meal.
“Auntie, what do you think it is—the thing coming to Mother’s room?”

“Well, I don’t know, but perhaps some supernatural creature is coming.”
“What exactly is a ‘supernatural creature,’ I wonder?”

The old woman glanced around in all directions before speaking in a low voice.

“I think it must be a fox or raccoon dog—something like that—coming and possessing Madam, but it’s certainly not human.”

“Hmm… Could it really be a fox?”

“I do wish Master would return soon…”

“Yeah… If Father were to return, foxes or raccoon dogs probably wouldn’t come around anymore.”

“Exactly!”

At dinnertime as well, after the meal, the old woman and Shinichi were whispering together by the lantern in the tea room.

“Young master, please sleep in the tea room tonight. I will sleep in the back. And let’s keep watch to see what comes.”

“Sure thing! I’ll sleep in the tea room, and if any weirdo shows up, I’ll cut ’em down!”

“Exactly! There’s no need to hesitate—if a suspicious one comes, that’s precisely when you should cut them down.”

“I’ll cut them down!”

The old woman and Shinichi retired as agreed that evening—she taking her bedding to the inner room, he arranging his in the tea room—sleeping separately with a lantern placed by Shinichi’s pillow.

Shinichi concealed the dagger gripped in his left hand beneath his nightclothes and lay on his back, vigilantly scanning both sides of his bedding.

Night steadily deepened.
With his mother presumably asleep and silent—no rasping cough from the old woman’s habitual phlegm-clogged throat—only faint scrabbling sounds from rats near the kitchen drain reached his ears.
Listening to these noises, Shinichi gradually slipped into drowsiness unawares.

A voice resembling his mother’s muttering reached Shinichi’s ears. Suspecting the supernatural creature might have returned, Shinichi opened his eyes. Without moving a muscle, he cautiously focused first on the right side of his pillow. A shadowy form flickered at the edge of his vision. Though startled, he remained motionless—knowing he must confirm what it was before acting—and fixed his gaze on the spot once more. The hindquarters of a mouse-gray beast came into view, its elongated tail draped across tatami mats like spilled ink. In one fluid motion, Shinichi drew the dagger from beneath his nightclothes and hurled it toward the creature.

A faint sound—something between a growl and a scream—had barely registered when everything vanished from sight, leaving only the glint of the dagger Shinichi had thrown shining upon the tatami mats.
Shinichi jumped up, picked up the dagger, and surveyed his surroundings.
At the same time, his mother’s voice—barking like a beast—rang out from the front parlor.

“You meddling brat… Just you wait and see what happens…”

Shinichi listened to his mother’s voice as he cast his eyes upon the tip of the dagger in his hand.
A faintly reddish, viscous substance that couldn’t be identified as blood or grease was smeared all over it.
Shinichi saw this and thought he had indeed struck the supernatural creature and wounded it, but precisely because he had thought so, he began to regret not having managed to kill it.

The sound of Mother’s enraged voice and the old woman’s timid voice could be heard.
Shinichi walked about the room while thinking that the old woman had woken up and gone to calm Mother.
He was checking whether the supernatural creature had collapsed thereabouts.

Mother’s shouting voice came right next to the sliding door.
Shinichi thought it would be bad to show the dagger to his mother, so he hurriedly picked up the sheath that had fallen on the futon, sheathed the blade, and quickly hid it under his nightclothes.

At the same moment, the sliding door opened, and Otaki, his mother, lunged to grab him.
Shinichi was grabbed by the collar by his mother’s hand.

“You beast… Mocking me with your games…”

Shinichi let his mother have her way.
Otaki—as if resentment had seeped into her very marrow—jostled Shinichi violently for some time. Then, weeping as though crushed by unbearable grief, she finally released him and fled sobbing, hiding her face in her sleeve like a bashful girl.

Shinichi and the old woman exchanged glances.
Shinichi was smiling wryly.

"What happened, young master?"

The old woman said.

“A dog-like thing came near where I was sleeping, so I threw that dagger at it. It let out a growl and disappeared. There was something like blood on it. And that’s when Mother started acting out.”

The old woman listened to this and nodded with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

“Then it’s a fox after all; since it’s injured, it might be too scared to come anymore.”

“Hmm… I wonder.”

Shinichi drew out his dagger to show the old woman as they talked awhile longer before deciding it was time to sleep; then she went alone to check on Otaki.
Otaki had buried her face in their shared nightclothes and lay there shuddering with muffled sobs.

Five

Having barely slept and eagerly awaited the break of dawn, Shinichi left his bedding and opened the kitchen door when the neighing of horses and voices of people began in the street.

The night had fully broken, and dew glistened moistly in the garden.
Shinichi searched the area for any bloodstains left by the suspicious beast but found nothing resembling them.
Then the old woman too awoke and came over, joining Shinichi in scouring the grounds, yet still they discovered no trace.
Afterward, having fully opened all remaining unopened shutters, she searched once more—but again nothing came to light.

“There’s still nothing after all, is there?”

The old woman had Shinichi bring the dagger and checked it again just to be certain.
A faintly black substance had dried onto the blade.

“This is definitely blood...”

In Shinichi’s ears lingered the voice the suspicious creature had made when he threw the dagger.

“It definitely growled.”

“Where in the world could it be?”

The front of the inner garden had become part of the temple grounds, enclosed by a bamboo lattice fence—but after a year or two without maintenance, gaps large enough for children to slip through had opened here and there.
The place had become the temple’s graveyard, where oak, maple, and camellia trees grew thickly in wild profusion.

“Let’s go check the temple grounds.”

Shinichi walked straight toward the front garden.
Beside the broken bamboo fence, pampas grass with sparse plumes rustled its leaves in the morning wind.
Shinichi sometimes slipped through gaps in that fence to play in the graveyard, so he knew the layout well.
There stood countless stone monuments—large, rounded ones shaped into five rings; flat ones; angular ones—and stone pagodas.
On the trees, small birds were singing obliviously.

Shinichi walked here and there through the graveyard, looking to see if any blood had fallen, but there was only dew spilling at his feet—nothing colored.
He also saw bellflowers planted in front of the graves.

Shinichi returned to his own home.
The old woman was tending the fire under the kettle in the kitchen.

“Auntie, there wasn’t anything there.”

“It isn’t inside the temple—the Venerable Founder wouldn’t permit such wicked things to remain there.”

“Hmm, I wonder...”

When breakfast was ready and the old woman went to check on Otaki’s room, Otaki was sleeping soundly.

“Madam is resting well this morning; perhaps the evil thing has left.”
“Hmm, I wonder...”
“We’ll know once we test it tonight.”
Otaki remained in her bed that day but was remarkably calm.
The old woman, thinking it best not to oppose her will, silently brought the meal and left it there; when she returned, Otaki had somehow eaten it all.
“We’ll know once we test it tonight.”
The old woman said this to Shinichi while eating dinner.

“If that stops it from coming back, I’d call it a blessing.”

“It won’t come anymore.”

That night too, Shinichi slept in the tearoom while the old woman slept in the inner room.
Shinichi, thinking the suspicious creature might return that night as well, hid his dagger beneath his nightclothes and kept watch over his mother’s condition, but by midnight he had fallen asleep.
When he awoke, it was morning.

“Young master, have you woken up already?”

The old woman came over and said.

“Ah, has the night already ended? How is Mother?”

“Last night, she seemed to stay up late sitting on the futon, but she didn’t mutter to herself at all. Young master, did anything unusual happen on your side?”

“Ah, there wasn’t anything.”

“So the possessing entity really has left. With this, things should be fine in two or three days.”

“So… did he die?”

“Well… perhaps something happened to him.”

That day as well, Otaki did not come out from the front room, but she ceased her strange behavior.
Reassured by this, Shinichi went to play at a friend’s house nearby from noon.
The friend was Yoshi, the son of a fishmonger.
The two met at the entrance of that fishmonger’s shop.

“Shin-chan, you didn’t come over at all the other day—what were you doing?”

“I couldn’t come ’cause a fox possessed Mother.”

“What? A fox possessed her? Really?”

“It’s true—why would I lie? I cut that fox!”

“Liar—since when can you cut down foxes?”

“But I did cut it!”
“So did it die?”
“It got away! I wanted to kill that bastard! Isn’t there some way to finish off a thing like that?”
“Foxes can’t be killed ’cause they shapeshift—my dad said so. Whether it’s a fox or raccoon dog, make ’em eat silver arsenic and they’ll go down.”
“Oh, silver arsenic rat poison? If it’s rat poison, we’ve got some at my house too.”

Shinichi then spent one or two hours playing with Yoshi, but as he began to worry about his mother, he hurried back home.

Six

Otaki still did not emerge from the front room, but that night and the next, she neither muttered to herself nor exhibited any strange behavior.
However, Shinichi couldn’t shake his regret over letting his suspicious beast escape. He kept unsheathing his dagger to examine the strange bloodstains and pondered the silver arsenic rat poison Yoshi had told him about.

One day, Shinichi—still preoccupied with thoughts of that suspicious beast—entered the temple graveyard without any particular destination in mind.
It was a windless evening, and the sunset cast a faint reddish light over the area.
Shinichi was weaving here and there between the stone monuments when he came upon a place where a large, flat stone monument lay fallen sideways, half-hidden among the silver grass.
Shinichi wondered why no one had righted so many fallen tombstones when, glancing over, he saw a slender, dog-like beast with brown fur lying prone atop one of the toppled stones—as if it were a human on their belly—with a small notebook placed before it, appearing wholly engrossed in examining the contents.
Shinichi thought it was a beast doing strange things and suddenly let out a loud shout.
Startled, the beast jumped up and fled, but hid behind a nearby stone monument and vanished from sight.

Shinichi wondered what the beast could possibly be looking at and went over to the spot to pick up what appeared to be a notebook.
It was made by binding three sheets of Japanese paper together, with katakana-like characters written in a faint blue.
Names like Taka, Oyuki, and Ohana—names resembling those of people—were written horizontally across the middle of the paper, with about thirty such entries in total. However, from the beginning to near the end of the second page, triangular marks had been placed above the characters.
And the characters beneath that final triangle were the ones that read "Otaki."

……Otaki… Otaki…

Shinichi read those characters while thinking they seemed somehow familiar until he realized they matched his mother’s name.

It was Mother’s name.

Shinichi remembered the suspicious beast.
Then he wondered—could that beast be the same strange creature coming to their house?

It wasn't a dog—without a doubt, he was a fox.

Shinichi grew frustrated, thinking that if he had known it was that creature, he would have thrown a stone and killed it. Clutching the notebook, Shinichi walked around searching here and there, but not a trace of it remained.

"Alright—I’ll use the rat poison like Yoshi said. I’ll keep it a secret from the old woman and handle this quietly on my own."

Shinichi hid the notebook in his kimono and returned home with an innocent look on his face. As he was about to enter through the kitchen entrance, he heard voices coming from the tea room and, thinking some visitors might have arrived, went inside. Shinzaburou, his face sunburned, was sitting by the hearth talking with the old woman servant.

“Hey, Father.”

“Oh, Shinichi?”

Shinichi, overjoyed, went and sat down beside his father.
Shinzaburou had already heard in detail from the old woman servant about Otaki’s suspicious behavior.

“I hear you did something great. Well done, well done.”

Shinzaburou stroked Shinichi’s head and said.

“That should be enough—it must have gotten scared and won’t come back. If it does return, we’ll have a Mitake ascetic from Shitaya perform prayers.”

Shinichi recalled the graveyard incident, but thinking it wouldn’t be good to inform his father from the start, he decided to keep it to himself and said nothing.

“Well, I’ll just go take a look.”

Shinzaburou went into the front room with those words.
Otaki kicked off her nightgown at her feet, lay on her back, and closed her eyes.

“Otaki.”

When Shinzaburou called out, Otaki suddenly opened her eyes and looked up at his face, but without saying a word, she turned over to face forward.

“Are you still unwell?”

Otaki did not respond.

“Your spirits still haven’t recovered, I see. Well, staying quiet like that is fine.”

Shinzaburou reluctantly returned to the tea room.
In the tea room sat the old woman and Shinichi.

“She’s still not herself yet.”

“Is something the matter?”

“When I call out to her, she opens her eyes a bit and looks, then immediately turns away without responding.”

“Even so, she’s become calmer now. At first, I was at my wits’ end, you know, young master?”

“That’s right—she was thrashing about like a madwoman.”

Before long, dinner was ready, and Shinzaburou laid out the trays and ate his meal alongside Shinichi.
The old woman servant who had taken the meal tray to Otaki’s room returned there.

“Tonight, unlike usual, when I took the meal tray there, she ate without a word.”

That night, Shinzaburou and Shinichi slept in the inner room, and the old woman slept in the tea room, but once again, nothing happened with Otaki.

After breakfast, Shinzaburou went to the front parlor.
At that moment, Otaki had gone to the toilet and was out of sight, so he stood there waiting, and before long she returned.

“Hey, are you still unwell?”

Otaki stared fixedly but then lay down on the bedding without responding.

“Are you still unwell after all, or am I just not understanding?”

“Talking is such a bother.”

“I see. If you’re unwell, there’s nothing to be done. Rest slowly. I’ve brought back a souvenir, but we’ll save it for when you recover.”

Otaki did not say anything more.

Seven

The evening moon cast its light.

Shinichi entered the temple’s stone stupa cemetery under the evening moon’s light, watching his feet as he went.
Shinichi had fabricated the excuse that he was going to visit Yoshi’s house, left home after finishing dinner, wandered around the area while timing it right, and had just arrived there.
Shinichi had slipped the dagger into his chest pocket and stashed the bag of rat poison in one sleeve.
He had thus resolved to kill his fox, but he hadn’t yet devised a method for using it.

The sound of insects fell like rain. Rows of stone monuments cast uncanny shadows under the moonlight. Shinichi moved between them without letting his footsteps sound.

A rustling noise reached him from close by. He halted to listen. It was footsteps—footsteps like those of a person. Anyone walking here at night had to be a thief or worse; no ordinary soul would wander these grounds. If spotted, there was no telling what might happen. Deciding concealment was wisest, he crouched behind a nearby gorintō stupa and peered out from its shadow.

The footsteps came right before him.
The figure of a sturdy man in his early twenties came into view there.
He was a fair-skinned man with crimson lips and striking handsomeness.
Shinichi thought this person didn’t seem like a thief at all and, wondering what manner of man he might be, fixed his gaze on the waist area.
At his waist, neither sword nor any weapon could be seen.

The robust man promptly sat down on the weeds right in front of him.
Shinichi wondered what that man was doing sitting in such a place and kept watching.

Before long，footsteps could be heard again from somewhere，seeming to approach this way.
Shinichi quickly surmised that the robust man was likely waiting here to meet several people，but even so，he couldn’t fathom what they could possibly intend to do by gathering in such a place.

The footsteps came right before him.
It was a man who looked like me，and in his hand was something.

The two men soon began talking, but their words never reached Shinichi’s ears.
Before long, they took hold of something and began to eat.
Shinichi wondered what they were eating and strained to see, but it remained unclear.

Their conversation continued without pause.
Even as they spoke, they kept raising things to their mouths.
Before long, Shinichi’s body grew stiff.
As he quietly shifted his weight to the right, he sensed a flicker of movement—but when he looked, the two figures had vanished.

Shinichi, startled, looked around his surroundings, but no trace or form could be seen. He suddenly began to think about the mysterious beast. Shinichi stood up, went to the spot where the two had been sitting, and crouched down. There, scattered about, were what looked like fish bones. Shinichi stared fixedly at the fish bone-like objects, then—as if struck by an idea—left the stone stupa cemetery and returned home with an air of feigned innocence.

At home, Shinzaburou was waiting for Shinichi to return.
Shinzaburou went to the inner room with Shinichi and entered the bedding the old woman had laid out.
Late that night, when Shinzaburou happened to wake up, he heard Otaki laughing in her room with a cloyingly sweet voice.
Shinzaburou had heard from the old woman, so he abruptly rose, slid open the partition door, and entered the front room.
There was only Otaki’s bedding there, her figure nowhere to be seen.
Shinzaburou took the lantern and opened the sliding door to the veranda.
Otaki lay half-naked on the veranda, elbow propped as a pillow.

“Hey, Otaki, what’s wrong with you? Sleeping there’ll give you a cold.”

Otaki’s loud voice could be heard from there.

“Whether I catch a cold or not is none of your business! Get lost and stay out of my sight! What’re you doing here, fool?”

Shinzaburou thought some strange malady had come over her, so he didn’t confront her directly.

“If you meddle, I won’t stand for it—fool! Buffoon! Scram!”

“I’ll leave too. You should come inside and rest. You’re unwell—you need to steady yourself.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Even if you protest, you can’t lie there. Get inside.”

“With someone like you there, I can’t come in, fool!”

“Then I’ll go over there, so come inside.”

“You’re insufferable—stop your meddling!”

Otaki sprang up as if to lunge at Shinzaburou.
When Shinzaburou sidestepped her, she collapsed onto the bedding face-first and burst into loud sobs.

“It hurts, it hurts! What grudge drives you to torment me so?”

Shinzaburou closed the sliding door and tried to go to the inner room.
Shinichi got up and was standing there.

“Father, the fox came again, didn’t it?”

“That’s right—it’s a fox.”

The next day, Shinzaburou went to request prayers from the Mitake ascetic in Shitaya.
Shinzaburou hoped this would somewhat improve Otaki’s condition, while on the other hand, Shinichi bought three pieces of fried tofu, laced them with rat poison, and took them into the stone stupa cemetery.

That night, Otaki was very calm and went to sleep without any suspicious behavior.
Shinzaburou and the old woman both rejoiced, believing it was due to the efficacy of the prayers.

Then, when morning came and the old woman—who had risen earlier than everyone else—opened the kitchen door to look, there lay a beast dead beneath the eaves.
Hearing the old woman’s voice, Shinzaburou also got up and came.
The beast was a fox.
At the base of the fox’s tail was a fresh wound.
There, Shinichi came over with a grin.

Otaki’s body returned to its former self after about ten days.
The fact that Shinichi had killed the fox became a tremendous sensation, and because of this, Shinichi was employed as a children’s storyteller at a large samurai residence in Surugadai.