Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Ten'ichibō, who had caused such a stir in society, was finally executed and had his head displayed on the prison gate.
Even if that man’s body perishes, his infamy will surely be passed down forever and ever.
A villain of unparalleled wickedness, a great deceiver who sought to swindle the realm—these terrifying names will undoubtedly cling to that man for eternity and beyond.

The reason someone like me—a bungler—took up this clumsy pen was because I considered that very matter.
If I may state it plainly from my perspective, that man was the most foolish youth in all the world.
But he was by no means a great villain.

A person born into such a strange fate would have done well to live quietly in some corner of this esteemed reign.

Ten'ichibō did not know the true terror of this world.
That man did not know how in this world stating the true facts as they are—or to put it more precisely, clearly stating what one believes to be the truth—could bring about such dreadful consequences.
Therefore, that man was a fool.
He was a fool of unparalleled rarity.

Moreover, that he clearly expressed the hopes he was right to hold—this too was a failing in that man’s thinking.
This world cannot be governed by law alone.
Ah, no—he did not know that at times even the law itself tells lies.

That man was a pitiful, foolish, yet beautiful youth.

But had the Magistrate not been that particular Magistrate, Ten'ichibō’s fate might have taken a different path.
That that man had to be judged by that particular Magistrate was undoubtedly an irreparable tragedy.

In saying this, I am by no means speaking ill of the Magistrate.
The Magistrate, as Magistrate, truly endured inexpressible hardships.
I, who have long been acquainted with the Magistrate, even wish to believe that it was precisely during Ten'ichibō’s trial that he truly came to grasp the crucial aspects of his duties.
Considering how greatly he had endeavored, there could be no reason to think ill of him.

It was during the time when the Magistrate was investigating Ten'ichibō that I first came to clearly understand how vital the role of a magistrate truly was.
At the same time, I came to realize what sorrowful things one must endure for the sake of a magistrate’s duties.

How much weight the Magistrate must have lost due to that incident.
It was all for the sake of the realm.
Even now when I recall it, I am filled with deepest gratitude.

Truly, the Honorable Magistrate was a wise, decisive, and unshakably self-assured man.
This Honorable wisdom and greatness have not changed in the slightest from when I first came to know the Honorable Magistrate until now.
However, due to the various cases encountered in his role as Magistrate, it seems the manner of his thinking has changed considerably up to now.

II

When I first came to know the Honorable Magistrate, as I have just mentioned, he was truly astute and wise, and moreover held an exceptionally firm belief in himself.

Every one of the Honorable Magistrate’s judgments from those days was truly efficient and nothing short of exhilarating.
And so, the Honorable Magistrate’s renown rose day by day like the morning sun, and alongside this, his promotions advanced steadily.

“There was no mistake in my actions.”
“Everything I do is entirely right.”

It was my belief that those splendid judgments were rendered precisely because such conviction constantly animated him.

As you all must be aware—when two mothers fought over one child—the judgment delivered by His Honor left everyone marveling.

“It stands to reason that she released her grip when her child wept—for she was its true mother.”
“Yet she who dragged it along despite its cries could not have been.”
“Imposter!”

When he declared this and rose swiftly from his seat, the divine majesty of his bearing moved even someone like me to tears of gratitude. Many people also exclaimed in awe and were deeply impressed. But at that time, I could not help feeling somehow sorry when I saw the woman who had been defeated and declared an imposter walking away while being jeered at by many people.

As you may well know, when a certain large pawnshop owner near Nihonbashi built a massive storehouse on his property such that it completely blocked sunlight to a neighboring small house, and when they filed a lawsuit over it, that renowned judgment rendered by the Honorable Magistrate was also a matter of that time.

When the Magistrate discerned—based solely on demeanor—the man who had stolen fifty ryō of gold coins from the nukamiso tub at Furukinbai Hachirōbei’s house in Kanda Otamagaike, it became the talk of all Edo.

Though impertinent to say, I believe that for the Honorable Magistrate, those days must have been when he was truly happiest.
Of course, thereafter the Honorable Magistrate rose ever higher in rank, his name growing more renowned with each day—yet when I consider it, that time must have been his most contented era.
For as I mentioned earlier, he rendered splendid judgments no matter what situation arose without ever being troubled, and moreover seemed to take pleasure in later reflecting upon those very judgments he himself had made.

The renowned trials held nearly every day were daily extolled by the people of Edo.
The Magistrate’s honorable ears could not remain unaware of such acclaim.
Had this praise reached even his ears, he surely would not have felt displeased.
What I recall is the Magistrate’s bright and cheerful countenance from those days.

Yet such an era had transitioned into the next before anyone knew it.
What I speak of is not concerning the Magistrate’s honorable reputation.
As mentioned earlier, his Honorable renown continued ascending ever higher like the morning sun.

III

It was on one spring evening that I first noticed a dark shadow cast upon the Magistrate’s radiant countenance.

After completing his official duties and returning to his residence, he wore an unusually dark expression, and his mood was far from favorable.
I had thought it might be due to excessive fatigue from his official duties, but that night, he did not retire until late and remained alone, deep in thought.

The following day as well, he made his honorable appearance in the same manner, yet upon his return, his honorable mood remained unimproved.

That night, I heard a peculiar tale from a certain person.

It seems that two or three days prior, a woman had drowned herself in a certain river in the Fukagawa area, and her waterlogged corpse had drifted to beneath some bridge.

When the officials conducted their investigation, they found an item tightly wrapped to keep it dry within her clothing; upon taking it out and examining it, this turned out to be none other than the woman’s suicide note.
It is said that within the suicide note were written sentiments of the following nature.

“I am Hashimoto Saki, a pitiful woman whom no one pays any heed to.”
“I am the woman who appeared before Your Honor last spring—the one who gave birth from her own womb—desperate to reclaim my beloved child.”
“At that time, because I forcibly pulled my child to win, I was denounced by Your Honor as an imposter and a liar, and returned home without a word to offer in response.”
“As for why I did not keep my own child with me until that time—as I explained during that occasion—I shall not elaborate on it now.”
“I shall now explain why I have resolved to die.”
“Despite being the true mother at that trial, it ended in my defeat.”
“I will not voice such complaints.”
“I merely wish to speak of what happened after that.”
“I was merely supposed to have failed to reclaim my own child.”
“Your Honor must surely think so.”
“But the world is truly a terrifying place.”
“When I lost all hope of regaining my child, I became someone whom the people of Edo would not even deign to speak to.”
“Having lost that trial, not only was I not believed to be that child’s mother, but I was branded an arch-liar who deceived the authorities.”
“Even the relatives who had been my allies until now cut off all contact with me.”
“The landlord evicted me.”
“I was left utterly alone in this world, forced to wander while bearing infamy.”
“Wherever I went, there was no one who would employ me.”
“There were none at all who would give me work.”
“In this way, enduring shameful beggar-like humiliation, I wandered all over Edo like a stray dog for a year.”
“Looking back now, Your Honor’s voice that declared ‘Imposter! Liar!’ in the court that day echoed from the mouths of all Edo’s people.”

“I could no longer even live like a stray dog.”
“I am driven away even from the eaves where I could shelter from the rain.”
“How can I go on living?”
“I will die.”
“By dying, I will escape from this suffering.”
“Only, before I die, I wish to say one thing: ‘I am not an imposter; I am the true mother.’”
“I want to declare: ‘The one who should be called the imposter is you, Magistrate.’”
“I shall not complain about having lost the trial.”
“But I must express one grievance to Your Honor.”
“What did Your Honor say at that time?”
“‘Under these circumstances, there is no way to settle this trial other than having you both pull the child between you.’”
“‘Did Your Honor not declare, “I shall hand over the child to the one who successfully pulls and wins”?’”
“I simply believed in Your Honor’s words.”
“Those in power cannot possibly be deceitful.”
“If I let go of this child here and now, he will never return to my hands again.”
“Having firmly believed this, I thought that even if I had to bite into a stone, I must pull the child.”
“When that child, unable to bear the pain, began to cry, I too of course wanted to cry.”
“But what is momentary pain? If I let go of that child, he will never return to my side for all eternity.”
“Your Honor does not realize how much the words you yourself commanded made a mother resolve herself.”
“It was not I who deceived.”
“It is you, Magistrate.”

“It is Your Honor.”
“It is the law of the realm.”

It was likely something along the lines of what had been written above.
I too, for the first time, came to understand the reason behind His Honor the Magistrate’s unusually ashen countenance.
However, the time when His Honor the Magistrate became perpetually gloomy was not yet at the time of this incident.

It was from the winter of that year.

As you all know, the heinous criminal known as Murai Kansaku was executed.
That criminal called Murai was a man who had committed a great many misdeeds, but while the Magistrate himself was conducting the investigation, he confessed to an outrageous crime.

It must have been around what year—there was an incident where a certain widow was murdered in the Yotsuya area.
After conducting various investigations, the authorities concluded it was an affair born of illicit passion, and they sought out a man with whom the widow had apparently been intimate during her lifetime.
At that time, everyone was struck with awe at the Magistrate’s esteemed wisdom.
At that time, several suspected men (among whom was Murai Kansaku) were summoned to the court, while on another front, the Magistrate had someone bring along the cat that had long been kept by the murdered widow.
When someone released the cat, it smoothly made its way to Tobacco Shop Hikobei and immediately climbed onto his lap.
The cat that had been kept at the widow’s house had grown accustomed to seeing only the men who frequently visited, and thus unwittingly singled out the criminal.

The Magistrate, having observed this intently, immediately had Hikobei arrested and subjected him to various interrogations, but Hikobei stated that he had never once set foot in the widow’s house and steadfastly refused to confess.
He explained that he had always been fond of living creatures and kept a cat at his place, and that recently—utterly unaware this feline companion which often visited was the widow’s—he had often given it food and doted on it; thus he made this defense.

“Then bring your cat here.”

“Then bring your cat here,” commanded the Magistrate.
Then Hikobei gave a response stating that his cat had gone missing approximately ten days prior.
This man was a bachelor, and there was no one who came forward to state that Hikobei had kept a cat.
Amidst this, pressed in various ways and unable to contain himself any longer, he finally confessed to the full sequence of events surrounding the widow’s murder.
As you all know, needless to say, Hikobei was immediately executed.

However, the aforementioned criminal Murai Kansaku suddenly confessed to the Yotsuya widow murder before His Honor the Magistrate.
At first, His Honor reportedly did not even take it seriously, declaring, “What foolish nonsense are you spouting?” However, as the officials gradually conducted their inquiries, it aligned perfectly with the circumstances of that time.
And since he normally detested cats—even when visiting the widow’s residence—he would kick or strike any cats he found there, causing them to flee in fear whenever they saw Murai’s face; this was his testimony.
Whether he truly despised cats or had merely chased them away to conceal his clandestine affairs from prying eyes remained unclear—but such was his account.
I heard from the officials that when His Honor heard this, his complexion turned ashen.
His Honor reportedly uttered “Fool” in a single breath before rising smoothly from his seat and departing.

It was indeed from that day that His Honor the Magistrate’s bright countenance turned dark and gloomy.
Even after returning home that day, he did not utter a single word.
That night, it seems he did not even retire to his bedding.
The following day, he reported his illness to the authorities and finally retired to seclusion within his residence.
And there he remained, confined to a single room within his residence, not uttering a single word.

With my own shallow wisdom, I could only think that His Honor the Magistrate had secluded himself in a room to perform memorial services for that Tobacco Shop Hikobei.
But now that I think about it, it was not merely such a small matter.

It may seem quite presumptuous for someone like myself to speak in this manner, but His Honor the Magistrate had indeed begun to doubt his own wisdom.
He had started questioning his own judgments.
In short, he had lost all confidence.

Until now, His Honor had believed his own ideas were always correct and his intellect ever operated soundly, but this time that foundation began to crumble.

Thus, His Honor the Magistrate came to spend each and every day in gloom.
It may be presumptuous of me to say this, but in His Honor’s judgments from that time onward, I could no longer discern those brilliant verdicts overflowing with wisdom as in days of old.
Step by step—and with faltering steps at that—I humbly believed His Honor might have been conducting his judgments.

I wondered whether this state of affairs would persist indefinitely into the future.

And yet, on the other hand, society knew nothing of the Magistrate’s inner thoughts—though such ignorance was only natural—and continued to extol him, with the Magistrate’s reputation growing ever greater.

IV

However, this dark and gloomy countenance of his had begun to suddenly shine brightly once again from a certain period onward.
When exactly this was, and what prompted it—I cannot clearly recall—but I believe it was in the spring of the following year, after having a conversation with a certain close acquaintance.
It seems that during that conversation, the names of Hashimoto Saki—the woman mentioned earlier—and Tobacco Shop Hikobei—the man—had arisen. Afterward, His Honor retreated into solitude and began repeating their names over and over. But then abruptly, his countenance brightened. He summoned an attendant and suddenly inquired, “Does society call me a renowned magistrate?”
When the attendant conveyed this, His Honor—with a serene expression—further asked with a laugh, “Is one executed because they are evil, or does one become evil because they are executed? Do you understand?”

And from that day onward, His Honor the Magistrate once again became exceedingly cheerful and in good spirits.
However, no matter how one might put it, that radiance and brilliance of days past were no longer to be seen.
And yet, even so, at times he would still somehow assume a somber expression.

Why did His Honor the Magistrate change once again?

Now that I reflect upon it, His Honor the Magistrate must have wandered long through suffering and distress after coming to harbor doubts about his own judgments and losing his confidence.
His Honor himself—who had so profoundly believed in and relied upon that very wisdom—had been betrayed by an unforeseen fact.
Had matters continued thus, His Honor would inevitably have resigned from his position.
Why then did His Honor not relinquish his post, yet instead resume his duties with such renewed vigor?

With my shallow wisdom alone being what it was, I would venture to think thus:
His Honor the Magistrate had lost confidence in his own wisdom—that very wisdom he had once so profoundly trusted.
Yet he had now distinctly seized upon something else to take its place.
This was what men call power.
Yet let me clarify—this was not the power inherent to his office as Magistrate.
What His Honor had come to recognize with crystalline clarity was a singular force: that blind faith which his judgments engendered among all people—the blind faith vested in His Honor himself.

Why, you ask? The very incidents that tormented His Honor the Magistrate—while on one hand they seemed to betray his wisdom—on the other hand, did they not undeniably demonstrate his power?

Why did Hashimoto Saki have to die?
It was because Your Honor the Magistrate had defeated her.
It was because Your Honor the Magistrate had declared, “Imposter!” in a single utterance.
Whether “Saki” was the true mother or not was an entirely irrelevant matter.
The people of the realm believe “Saki” to be a false mother because Your Honor the Magistrate had defeated her.
In the case of Tobacco Shop Hikobei as well, would it not be the same?
Rather than claiming that Hikobei was executed because he was a criminal, many people consider that he was both a villain and a criminal because Your Honor the Magistrate executed him.

This was not something an ordinary magistrate could accomplish.
It was precisely because it was Your Honor the Magistrate.
It was precisely because the people of the realm revered him like a deity and hailed him as a renowned magistrate with exemplary trials that such outcomes came to pass.

It was a dreadful thing to consider, but even in the numerous other cases beyond those of Hashimoto Saki and Tobacco Shop Hikobei—whether fortunately or unfortunately—no new facts later emerged to challenge their outcomes, leaving them as they were. Who could declare that all these matters were indeed facts exactly as the people of the realm believed them to be?

As long as one is not a god, and as long as humans judge other humans, one cannot say that even His Honor the Magistrate was free from error.
Would it not have been better for society to clearly demonstrate the preciousness of the laws of the realm, rather than persistently investigating what was impossible?

The people of the realm's faith in His Honor the Magistrate thus became a splendid instrument of governance.

Rather than half-heartedly uncovering even a single fact and thereby shaking that faith now, would it not have been better to instead further strengthen that very faith and use it to govern the realm—such was what His Honor the Magistrate had deigned to think?
I humbly consider that His Honor the Magistrate, having passed through a long darkness, finally emerged into the light in this manner.

In other words, His Honor the Magistrate had lost confidence in his wisdom but had now clearly gained confidence in his own power.
Perhaps as a result of this realization, His Honor the Magistrate—who had initially merely listened with a detached laugh as his reputation was celebrated—thereafter began devoting himself most earnestly to heeding public opinion.

Well, having thus finally found a place of peace, His Honor the Magistrate was soon compelled to confront distress once again.
A case had arisen that neither His Honor’s wisdom nor His Honor’s power could resolve.
That was, needless to say, the Ten'ichibō incident.

V

As for what manner of man Ten'ichibō was or what claims he made, I shall not belabor such matters anew.
As you are all well aware of these things.

I shall now recount His Honor the Magistrate’s state during that time.

The first occasion when His Honor the Magistrate heard the name Ten'ichibō—I believe—was while that man still resided in Kamigata and had not yet come to Edo.

The rumor that Ten'ichibō—reverently styled as the alleged illegitimate child of Lord Kubō—planned to come to Edo with several prominent figures had already spread.

When His Honor the Magistrate received this intelligence, his countenance grew uncharacteristically somber, and thereafter he appeared to make frequent visits to eminent personages.
Among these, His Honor paid repeated calls to Lord Izu no Kami’s residence for confidential consultations—discussions that undoubtedly centered upon Ten'ichibō.

When Ten'ichibō finally arrived in Edo, His Honor the Magistrate had an audience with him alongside Lord Izu no Kami and other esteemed individuals.
It is said that Lord Izu no Kami himself conducted the investigation on that occasion, though His Honor the Magistrate also saw Ten'ichibō for the first time at this very moment.

I can now vividly recall His Honor the Magistrate’s demeanor from that night.
His Honor the Magistrate, who had met Ten'ichibō together with Lord Izu no Kami, Lord Sanuki no Kami, Lord Yamashiro no Kami, and others, returned home that night with an ashen face.
At that time, I had never witnessed His Honor’s demeanor so terrifying and severe.
That was by no means the same as those occasional dark expressions His Honor had shown before.
It was not the demeanor of one merely troubled in heart.
It appeared as though His Honor had made no ordinary resolution.

This was the first occurrence since I had come to know His Honor the Magistrate. Before any proper investigation had been conducted, making a decision based solely on a single meeting was something that had never occurred before.

For His Honor the Magistrate—who was even praised as a renowned magistrate by society—this conduct stood in stark contrast. He had never made determinations in advance based on whether someone’s countenance or bearing was fair or foul. Far from it. “Do not presume outcomes before passing judgment,” he would say. “That does not constitute proper adjudication.” “You must not be swayed by comeliness or ugliness of visage.” “Otherwise, true justice cannot be rendered”—such had always been His Honor’s earnest admonition to his staff of retainers.

That day, it was said that Lord Izu no Kami primarily held conversation with Ten'ichibō.
Then, from Ten'ichibō’s side, as evidence of being the illegitimate child, a letter bearing Lord Kubō’s seal and a dagger were presented, and all those present at the time examined these items, whereupon they were determined genuine beyond doubt—or so it was said.
His Honor the Magistrate was also present at the scene and had fully observed that state of affairs.

Due to the nature of his duties, His Honor the Magistrate was one who, even after sitting face-to-face for half a day, would invariably discern the true nature of his counterpart.
However, even so, it would not be possible for His Honor to determine whether Ten'ichibō was in fact Lord Kubō’s offspring.
Even if His Honor had discerned that Ten'ichibō’s character was unsavory, it would not be possible to declare that he was not Lord Kubō’s offspring.
Moreover, the evidence items he had brought had undeniably been determined to be genuine.

What, then, could His Honor the Magistrate’s resolve possibly signify?
Needless to say, for someone like myself, I could not comprehend it in the slightest at first.

The arrival in Edo of Lord Kubō’s alleged illegitimate child threw the entire city into an uproar.
As for Lord Kubō himself—appearing to hold some recollection of the matter—it was heard that an audience would soon take place.

During this period, His Honor the Magistrate made daily visits to the castle, each time returning with an ashen face.
Amidst these frequent meetings with esteemed nobles, even I gradually came to perceive the extent of His Honor’s resolve.

To state it plainly from my limited perspective: ever since His Honor the Magistrate first met Ten'ichibō, he had inexplicably striven not to believe—striven not to believe—the fact that Ten'ichibō was Lord Kubō’s illegitimate child.
From the weighty duties of his position as Magistrate, he declared that one must take utmost caution—yet when he dispatched his retainers all the way to Kishū, it seemed less an effort to investigate the truth and more a desperate grasping after evidence that would declare it all a lie.
He undoubtedly wished by any means to obtain proof branding Ten'ichibō an imposter; he undoubtedly wished by any means to confirm that he was not an illegitimate child—such was His Honor the Magistrate’s state of mind.

The reason I say this is because I can still vividly recall His Honor the Magistrate’s profound disappointment and anguish when those dispatched to Kishū returned not with evidence proving Ten'ichibō an imposter, but rather with proof confirming his legitimacy.
In all previous cases of judgment, whenever His Honor the Magistrate had grasped evidence proving either guilt or innocence, he would assume an expression of utmost contentment.
However, this time alone, it was not so.
What could be the reason for this?

The time for resisting belief—resisting belief—had passed.
The time had come when he must believe the very fact he had resisted believing.

When I initially stated that His Honor the Magistrate had deigned to struggle to grasp the crucial aspects of his duties, it was indeed at this very moment.

Then why had His Honor the Magistrate wished to believe Ten'ichibō an imposter to such an extent?

This matter can be considered in various ways, but what I now think is that it was entirely from this notion of 'the realm’s welfare,' was it not?

In other words, His Honor the Magistrate had misgivings about Ten'ichibō’s character.
Though it was difficult for me to grasp the details, were Ten'ichibō acknowledged as Lord Kubō’s offspring, he would undoubtedly be granted a position of considerable high rank.
Though the present age might be called peaceful, His Honor the Magistrate considered how dreadful it would be to place someone unsuited to their station into a position of power.
To bestow high rank and great authority upon one who had until then been utterly powerless—even if such an act were deemed justifiable—how perilous this might prove depending on that person’s character: was this not what His Honor contemplated?
There is a common saying that upbringing trumps lineage. Even were Ten'ichibō indeed Lord Kubō’s offspring, having been born in Kishū and raised drifting through Kyushu’s wilds and mountains, he could never be suited to a station second only to His Lordship.
If that were so, would not elevating one such man to high position bring calamity upon the realm?

His Honor the Magistrate, who was even praised as a renowned magistrate by society—was it permissible for him to distort the true facts? Admittedly, taking one life to save the realm may seem right. But under the current reign, could one take that single life without relying on the esteemed law? Moreover, in reality, far from having his life taken, that individual was in a position to aspire to glory and honor. It was with trepidation that I surmised His Honor the Magistrate’s anguish lay precisely here.

VI

When the facts had become clear, His Honor the Magistrate—who had seemed so profoundly disappointed at that time—from the very next day onward, resumed carrying out his duties with a solemn countenance.
At that time, in addition to those involved in official duties, high-ranking individuals beginning with Lord Izu no Kami were also frequently coming and going to meet with His Honor the Magistrate.

One day, His Honor returned home late into the night, but it is said that on that day, he had been at the residence of that renowned scholar Lord Ogyū since noon, engaging in a very long conversation.
From that night onward, numerous Japanese and Chinese texts lay open in His Honor the Magistrate’s study—all of them, it seems, being esteemed volumes concerning such weighty matters as “justice” and “righteousness.”

On the eve of when it was finally decided that His Honor the Magistrate must render a definitive judgment by personally examining Ten'ichibō the following day—the very night before—Lord Ogyū and Lord Itō, both esteemed scholars, visited His Honor’s residence and engaged in prolonged discourse until late.

As for the circumstances of Ten'ichibō’s examination, Your Excellencies are already well aware of them, but it is said His Honor the Magistrate spoke in an uncharacteristically hushed tone, his inquiries fixated solely on superficial matters. The questions about the palanquin Ten'ichibō used and the investigation into the family crest—all pertained to external appearances. Regarding the pivotal issue of whether he was truly the illegitimate child, His Honor merely questioned how one could declare Ten'ichibō to be the man himself based solely on that sealed letter and dagger. When His Honor’s words grew heated and pressed upon him, that beautiful young man in monk’s attire assumed a look of profound sorrow and spoke as follows—or so it is said.

“Is there anyone in this world who can truly know their real parents?”
“No one has memories from when they were born.”
“A parent is merely someone who believes themselves to be your parent.”
“For someone like me—who from birth had no one to say ‘I am your father’ or ‘I am your mother’—there is unfortunately no path but to blindly believe the words of those around me.”
“Even after I became aware of my surroundings, there was no one who came forward to say ‘I am your father’ or ‘I am your mother.’”
“The first time I learned my parents’ names and their whereabouts was when the grandmother who raised me passed away.”
“Mother was no longer in this world.”
“She died when she gave birth to me.”
“When I heard my father’s name, I was astonished from the depths of my heart.”
“At the same time, I sincerely wished by all means to meet him at least once.”
“Do you know the loneliness of a person who grew up without a single soul to call themselves their parent?”
“You may have your own thoughts on the matter, but all I desire is to meet my true father.”
“I desire nothing else beyond that.”
“And yet, I who was born into misfortune—what even greater misfortune must I encounter?”
“I would rather have been born as the child of a nameless person.”
“Then my father would have gladly met me.”
“Had things been different, my father should not have had to involve the Magistrate and treat his own child like a criminal.”
“When I think about it, my father is also an unfortunate person.”
“Because he can’t immediately meet his own child.”
“But if father truly remembers, he must surely want to meet me.”

This foolish yet earnest answer of Ten'ichibō’s decided that man’s fate in an instant.
That man, born into misfortune, was yet too young to know these very words would bring about his most wretched end.
That man had stated he merely wished to meet his father.
There could be no mistake in that.
But from His Honor the Magistrate’s perspective, that could not remain a matter of such simple meaning.
His Honor the Magistrate could not, for society’s sake, permit this pitiable soul to meet his parent.

The outcome of the investigation proved too tragic for both His Honor the Magistrate and Ten'ichibō—there are no words to recount it in detail.
Through His Honor the Magistrate’s arrangements, Ten'ichibō was conclusively established to be an imposter.

“You arch-imposter who deceived the realm!”—these were the final words His Honor the Magistrate declared to Ten'ichibō, though it is said his voice trembled unlike his usual self.

When His Honor the Magistrate returned to his residence and deigned to step down into the autumn garden strewn with fallen leaves, his complexion bore the pallor of a corpse.

When His Honor the Magistrate was informed that the execution had been carried out, he merely uttered “I see” and gazed desolately at his retainer’s face. But it is said that when this retainer who had delivered the report found himself fixed under His Honor’s stare, a chill ran through his entire body as though doused with cold water.

Since that time, His Honor once again became that dark and gloomy figure, but for some reason, I cannot help but think that the bright and cheerful countenance of old has long since departed from him.

I have no knowledge whatsoever as to whether His Honor the Magistrate’s judgment in this case was right or wrong.
No—to speak truthfully—I do not truly understand even why Ten'ichibō had to be executed.
I merely stated what I myself had considered.
When I reflected on His Honor the Magistrate’s anguish and contemplated Ten'ichibō’s all too tragic fate, I wielded my clumsy brush to set down these thoughts and events without regard for chronological order.

(First published in the October 1929 issue of *Kaizō*)