Pathway to Japanese Literature

Part 1: Lecture on Preventing Illicit Brewing

[Several opening manuscript pages missing] "In British university experiments," he declared, "they say even cattle gain weight when made to drink alcohol." "This," he continued, pounding the lectern, "is the very wellspring of human energy!" "That maxim about alcohol being 'compressed liquid bread' contains profound truth!" "Why, even Horibe Yasubei's legendary defeat of thirty adversaries at Takada no Baba owed entirely to alcohol's bountiful energy!" "Therefore," he concluded with mock solemnity, arms spread wide, "I implore you all—drink heartily for our nation! For the world!" (The elementary school principal had turned pale.) Having been pressured by the village office into lending the school against his will, he must think this crosses all bounds—that's why he's gone white as a sheet, the Tax Office Chief surmised. Yet this assumption proved utterly mistaken. The principal's pallor stemmed not from outrage, but from alcohol deprivation—the effusive praise had only intensified his craving. After all, this educator bore the nickname "Barrel Teacher," for whom downing a full shō [1.8 liters] in one sitting counted as light refreshment. The villagers naturally erupted in enthusiastic approval—"Marvelous!" "Brilliant!"—clapping till their palms reddened. Unperturbed by potential offense, the Tax Office Chief pressed on—this stout, blunt-faced official radiating counterfeit sincerity—voicing every thought that crossed his mind. Containing insults so vicious they should have provoked universal fury, his speech instead met with uproarious delight—the audience clapping and guffawing through each fresh provocation.

Condensing its opening portion, it went as follows. “Even if you engage in illicit brewing, I don’t want you doing such amateurish work.” “What’s this? You put your fermenting mash in a miso tub, lay a board over it, smear miso paste on top—then someone pokes it with a stick and the board comes right off!” "You hide it in the stable’s dried hay. ‘What a fine horse!’ I say. Then when I ask if you can milk it, you turn pale." They prepared it in new fertilizer barrels and left them in the forest underbrush. Even if someone stole it, they couldn’t make a scene. They brewed it in soot-blackened attics, returning with bloodshot eyes from the fumes.

“The finished product isn’t even presentable. Since it’s cloudy sake, the murkiness is acceptable—but some batches turn sour, others cloyingly sweet—the sort of swill even Ainu or raw barbarians would refuse! Such dregs aren’t what advanced humanity in this electric age should drink. If you’re determined to brew illegally, why not establish proper large-scale facilities? Operate collectively! Use electric rice polishers for all your grain. Employ hydraulic presses during pressing. Utilize lactic acid bacteria! Why not produce clean, superior liquor using proper chemical instruments—pipettes, beakers, burettes? Naturally, we’d expect tax payments then. Proceed that way, and we’d wholeheartedly welcome it. We might even provide engineers! Better to openly drink seven to of decent brew than sneakily make three shō of half-molded swill and get slapped with a hundred-yen fine!”

He continued delivering increasingly harsh criticisms—spiteful remarks that should have stung their ears—yet not a single person took offense; rather, as his lecture progressed, they only grew more cheerful, faces flushed with delight as they laughed and clapped.

"This is strange, very strange, extremely strange," thought the Tax Office Chief—a man both blunt and slightly cunning—as he darted his eyes around at everyone's expressions. In the Tax Office Chief's plan, by hurling harsh insults and observing how many people turned red with anger, he had intended to roughly calculate the number of illicit brewing operations in the village. Since that approach had failed, he now resolved to gradually switch to threats and observe who turned pale.

Yet they still laughed in apparent amusement.

The Tax Office Chief grew so frantic he felt on the verge of collapse and pressed a hand to his forehead.

The fact that everyone was so gleefully laughing at my insults—whether because none of them were actually brewing illicit alcohol, or because they saw through my true intentions—was downright unsettling. All right, I'll try one last bluff. After taking a final sip of water from his glass to steady himself, he spoke as follows.

“Frankly speaking, no matter how secretly you all engage in illicit brewing, I know all about it. Even among this very crowd, seven informants reporting to me are mixed in.” Everyone fell silent. Then came a sudden rustling sound. Alright—here it comes! Someone’s about to attack me! But my escape route’s set. Tomorrow around noon, when everyone’s out working, twenty of my men will come by bicycle and nab them. Thinking this, the Tax Office Chief signaled to Shiratori Kikichi with his eyes and spoke next.

“In my records, I have precise tables showing exactly how many *to* are in each household’s storehouse and how many *shō* lie beneath their floors.” Then what do you think happened? All those people who had been so worked up just moments before now erupted in uproarious laughter in unison.

"It's hopeless. This is the end. I've failed," thought the Tax Office Chief. And then, completely dizzy and disoriented, he descended from the podium.

Part 2: Tax Office Chief Welcome Banquet

As soon as the Tax Office Chief descended from the podium, the Honorary Village Mayor approached him with a smile, slightly stooping forward. And expressed his gratitude. “We sincerely thank you for your most instructive lecture just now.” “We have nothing worthy to offer, but I would like to present a small token of welcome with a toast.” “Though this must impose a great inconvenience upon you, I earnestly request your gracious presence there shortly.” The Tax Office Chief was on the very verge of collapsing,

“No, that’s quite alright,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “In that case,”

The Honorary Village Mayor turned toward everyone. "I hereby declare this evening’s lecture concluded," he said, then turned back toward the Chief and his subordinates. "Now then, please come this way," he added, gesturing toward the entrance with his right hand. The Tax Office Chief felt an indescribable unease, but with no other choice, he was escorted by the Honorary Village Mayor and his group along with Shiratori Subordinate, exiting the elementary school’s entrance and proceeding about a hundred meters ahead to the Village Assembly Member’s house. The Village Assembly Member's house was splendid; its fifty-tatami hall brilliantly lit, a silver folding screen standing at the front where the two were made to sit. Immediately, about thirty of the village’s leading citizens sat down in orderly rows. In an instant, splendid trays were laid out, and without fail, clear golden liquor—properly taxed—began making its rounds among the gathering.

Everyone took turns coming to the Tax Office Chief’s seat with their sake cups.

“No, you must be exhausted today. If I may be so bold, I humbly offer a toast.” “Oh, thank you. I really shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. This line of work’s so despised—I’m getting sick of it myself.” “You’re most welcome. If our nation had more devoted individuals like Your Excellency, it would truly prosper. Now then, please proceed.” With exchanges of “Ha ha ha, no thank you” and such, it appeared everyone’s reservations were melting away just as Mr. Shiratori Kikichi had predicted—but in truth, the Tax Office Chief remained vigilant, his eyes constantly scanning left and right. Before long, everyone grew thoroughly drunk and gradually began spouting their true feelings.

“Hey, Mr. Chief.” “How about another drink? What do you say?”

“Bwahaha!”

“Making cloudy liquor in miso tubs is downright antiquated.” “The latest methods are far superior.” “Hey there, Mr. Chief.” “How about another drink? Won’t you take my cup?” “Your Excellency! Ha ha ha.” “Come now—another round!” “No no—I’ve had enough, enough.” “Truly, I’m thoroughly soused tonight.” “I’ll not disgrace myself.” “Bwahaha!” “Ah! Now it’s your turn, Mr. Shiratori! Go on—do your part!” “A man must show resolute determination in all things!” “Come now—when Horibe Yasubei Kanemaru cut down thirty men at Takada’s Riding Grounds, that was liquor’s true power! Marvelous! And how riotous—even cattle get soused when they drink!” “Another round!” “You’ve quite the iron liver.” “Another round!”

No sooner had one person left than another would arrive.

“Mr. Chief.” “It’s my first time having the honor of meeting you.” “No—first time for me.” “First time? Wait—weren’t you here earlier? Second time now! Hahaha!” “Mr. Chief—no, a toast! I humbly offer this toast.” “Ha ha ha! We know this village’s cloudy sake like the backs of our hands! What’s wrong? If you’re so sure, come get us anytime!” “You coming? Damn you—come try!” “Ah ha ha! Pardon me, Mr. Chief—since it’s come to this, let’s drop all formalities!” “No formalities!” “Hey everyone—no formalities! First off—the state itself testifies to illicit brewing’s evils! The Tax Office testifies too! Ugh…” “A toast! No—a toast!”

“That’s enough,”

“Trying to flee? Planning to run away?” “Alright, alright! If that’s how you want it, I won’t let you get away with this!” “A toast! Come on, let’s have a toast! Hey, you bastard!” The Tax Office Chief was already thoroughly drunk. Shiratori Subordinate was also drunk. Yet neither of them forgot their duties nor let down their guard.

Even so, they were utterly exhausted and pretended not to understand anything. In comparison, it was actually the village people who ended up truly drunk. Before long, the Tax Office Chief noticed that the smell of the alcohol had changed slightly. Undoubtedly, a different kind of alcohol from before had begun circulating through the gathering. The Tax Office Chief pretended not to look as he carefully inspected his cup, but the liquid showed no cloudiness whatsoever. He found this very strange. This was definitely not liquor that any local brewery could produce; even if it came from another prefecture, its origin was practically predetermined. The Tax Office Chief thought to himself that this was very strange. Before long, the same Village Assembly member from earlier came over again, sat down properly, and spoke.

“No, Your Excellency—we have acted most rudely. “We are deeply ashamed to have requested your esteemed presence at such a disorderly gathering. “We humbly beg you to kindly consider only the villagers’ sincere intentions and graciously overlook our inadequacies and excesses.” The Tax Office Chief laughed and replied, putting on the appearance of being thoroughly drunk. “No, you see—this is my first time at such a delightfully relaxed banquet. If this is how it is, I’d want to drop by often. “If I started coming around like this, it’d cause you trouble, wouldn’t it?”

The Village Assembly Member shot a glance up at the Tax Office Chief. He realized the Tax Office Chief wasn’t really drunk after all. The Tax Office Chief spoke again. “How pitiful that I’m receiving so much of this expensively taxed alcohol.” “Maybe I should secretly make this village tax-exempt after all.” “Oh, hahaha!” “You’re joking.” The Village Assembly Member hurriedly retreated toward the kitchen. “I’ll take my leave now—hey, you there.”

The Tax Office Chief stood up. “Are you leaving already? Now, now.” When the mayor and others rose to stop them, the Tax Office Chief and Shiratori Subordinate had already vanished from the parlor as if by ninjutsu for their mission. No sooner had they grabbed their shoes from the kitchen than their bicycles were racing down the dark paddy field road toward Haanamukiya Town, flashlights flickering on and off as they sped away.

III. Chief's Office Strategems

The next day, the Tax Office Chief went to his office, entered his room, inspected the attendance register, then rang his desk bell to summon an attendant and ordered, "Call Dendouwi," with a jerk of his chin. Immediately, the white-uniformed Dendouwi Subordinate entered with utmost reverence. “Do have a seat.” The Tax Office Chief said gently and began speaking. "I ask that you go on assignment to Yuguchuyumoto Village."

“Yes.” “I’d like you to go in disguise.” “A patent medicine seller should do.” “That Senkintan Western-style umbrella should be there, right?”

“Yes, sir.” “Now then, go to Lion Hall and buy one bottle of Uisukī whisky with this. Then tell them you’ll distribute advertisements and get two hundred flyers of some sort from them.” “You’ll take that stuff in with you.” “No one knows your face.” “There’s something about that village I can’t quite grasp.” “There’s definitely someone out there producing way more than just a few dozen liters.” “Now then, handle this boldly and skillfully for me.”

“Understood.” Dendouwi Subordinate’s heart was already racing with excitement. I’ll find it and come back successful. Then my salary’s sure to go up three yen—I’ll handle this like a proper detective.

“Take the estimated travel expenses and proceed.” The Tax Office Chief spoke again. “Thank you very much.” Dendouwi Subordinate bowed, returned to his seat, went to accounting to receive the estimated seven-day travel expenses, and then headed back to his boarding house.

On the eighth morning, when the Tax Office Chief went to his office, inspected the attendance register, then placed his hands on his desk and let out a sigh, the door clacked open and Dendouwi Subordinate entered once more in that same white uniform from eight days prior. His face looked terribly haggard. The Tax Office Chief unintentionally made his chair clack. “So, how did it go? Did you find out anything?” He inquired with apparent concern, yet still smiling.

“It didn’t go well. “In that village, there appears to be no illicit brewing.”

“I see.” “How exactly did you conduct your investigation?” The Tax Office Chief’s expression grew stern. “In Nitanai, someone had just passed away.” “Assuming people would inevitably drink when gathered, I insisted on staying overnight at the house beforehand.” “Then folks started coming to help, even lending tools.” “I remained awake all night on the second floor, listening intently to the neighbors.” “Past midnight, they brought out alcohol.” “Just as I resolved not to miss a single word, one of them made this hissing noise through clenched teeth—like wind whistling through gaps.” “I was certain it couldn’t be illicit brew when—”

“Hmm, your observation is quite sharp,” said the Tax Office Chief. “And then?” “Then one person said this,” replied Dendouwi Subordinate. “‘Good, really good—Ihatov’s Friend can’t hold a candle to this.’ Assuming that even Ihatov’s Friend couldn’t match it, I concluded it couldn’t possibly be illicitly brewed alcohol.” “Did you inquire about the name of that alcohol?”

“I believe it was Northern Radiance.” The Tax Office Chief suddenly made a stern face.

“No, it’s not Northern Radiance.” “It’s absolutely not that.” “Where that good alcohol is produced or which prefecture it’s imported from—that’s precisely what I tasked you with investigating thoroughly.” “But then—what exactly were you doing for those seven days afterward?” “After that, every day I walked through the forests and valleys searching for illicit mountain-brewed alcohol.” “Did you find any?” “There wasn’t any.”

“Look here. It’s no covert operation hidden away in some thicket. Even if they’re digging under floorboards or whatever to operate on a larger scale, didn’t I warn you about that possibility from the start?” Dendouwi Subordinate hung his head. When he saw that haggard pale face, even the Tax Office Chief felt a twinge of sympathy. “No, that’s fine. You may go home and rest. You’ve worked hard. Tell Mr. Shiratori to come here.”

Dendouwi Subordinate exited with downcast eyes. Before long, the aforementioned Shiratori Subordinate entered with a composed air. “You, go to Yuguchuyumoto.” “Actually, it’s better to leave things as they are.” “Now listen—go back to that Village Assembly Member’s place and deliver this message from me: ‘Thank you sincerely for the feast the other day.’ Then bring up how I half-jokingly mentioned starting a brewing company during that banquet, and how they responded with what seemed like genuine interest. So propose this: ‘Why not establish a model brewery in your village now? We’ll even supply technicians from our side. Your local ingredients appear ideally suited for fermentation.’ Float this idea and watch their expressions closely for me.” “They’ll inevitably claim they lack funds, so counter with this: ‘Then how about managing it as a semi-public venture?’” “And memorize their response down to every last detail before returning.” “Immediately.” “You should make it back today—you may take tomorrow off.”

“I can return today.” Mr. Shiratori Kikichi bowed smartly and left. The Tax Office Chief was so intently pondering something that he even appeared to have forgotten his lunch. In the afternoon, he paced restlessly by the window, waiting impatiently for Shiratori Subordinate’s return.

However, even when evening arrived, Shiratori Subordinate had not returned.

The Tax Office Chief, thinking it was about time everyone left, pretended to go home himself. After circling around town and waiting until all had returned, he came back to the government office. There, he had the janitor turn on the lights in his room and waited. Then past eight o'clock, the sound of a bicycle clattering to rest echoed through the entranceway, and there came Shiratori Subordinate returning breathlessly.

“How did it go?” The Tax Office Chief asked impatiently. “It didn’t work.” “Did it fail?” The Chief’s face fell with disappointment. “I said exactly as you instructed and silently observed their expressions, but there was absolutely no reaction. Well, you did mention such possibilities beforehand, but truly—the things you officials demand combine so much unreasonableness and complexity that they won’t engage with it at all.”

“Did their expressions change?” “Not in the slightest.” “What did you do next?” “Having no other choice, I left and stormed into the village tavern—inspecting every last drop of alcohol they had, whether bottled or sold by measure.” “Mm-hmm. And then?” “The bottled stock was all Ihatov’s Friend, and the measured pours were unquestionably Northern Radiance.”

“Northern Radiance is somewhat cheaper, then.” “That’s correct.”

“Is it indeed Northern Radiance then?”

“That’s correct.” “Then I had the liquor store owner produce his ledger and examined it, but alcohol sales appear to have been decreasing year after year recently.” “Hmm, that’s odd. "In the past, that village drank nothing but unrefined sake, but if illicit brewing has been decreasing lately due to stricter crackdowns, then refined sake sales should have been gradually increasing."

“However, it appears nobody drinks alcohol as much as they used to.” “Is that so?” “Moreover, the liquor store owner said that with roads having improved recently and horse-drawn wagons now passing through, every household buys directly from town these days, so business here is gradually declining.”

“This is strange! There’s no way that village has enough cash to be buying so much from town like that. This is strange. Very well. This time I’ll go myself. This is strange. I’ll be away for three or four days starting tomorrow, alright? Please keep a close watch on things here. Now then, go home and rest.”

The Tax Office Chief pressed a finger to his lips, made his eyes gleam oddly as he pondered, and began preparing to leave.

IV. The Chief’s Investigation

As for the Tax Office Chief’s preparations at his lodgings that evening, they were truly scientific in nature.

First, he snipped off his beard with scissors—snip-snip—then mixed a small amount of wood tar into volatile oil to create a brown liquid, which he slathered over his face down to his neck and all over his hands. He applied it especially thickly beside his nose and under his ears. Then he dabbed a large spot of black paint—the kind used for sealing asphalt roofing joints—onto his chin, and remained perfectly still for some time as the oily substance dried. Once it had dried completely, he opened the dresser drawer, took out two counterfeit gold teeth, and fitted them onto his canines. Then the Tax Office Chief had completely transformed, appearing like a contractor or some sort of big shot. Then he took out an old, ill-fitting jacket he normally used for fishing from the closet and put it on, then additionally donned riding breeches and long boots. And he turned his postcard holder inside out, spent some time examining old business cards, selected one that read "Tokeu Dried Goods Merchant Sahetakokichi" from among them, and slipped it into his inner pocket. Being a man who lived alone, it was precisely this quality that allowed him to actually carry out such preparations. He put on his hat, took an umbrella, and went outside—but then, for some reason, removed his long boots once more, picked them up, and went back into the room. He spread old newspaper over the tatami before the mirror, put on the long boots again, stood up straight, peered into the mirror—then briskly set out.

Then he abruptly turned serious, scrunching up his face momentarily until he seemed brimming with resolve, then vaulted over the tatami in one swift motion, burst out the front door, and rounded the corner with long strides. Indeed, past ten o'clock that very night, this brave and devoted Tax Office Chief went to a cheap inn in town and requested lodging for the night. The innkeeper earnestly inquired whether he wanted hot water or perhaps didn't require dinner. The Tax Office Chief thought he'd completely succeeded in his disguise.

And early the next morning, the Tax Office Chief headed toward Yuguchuyumoto Village.

Upon reaching the village entrance, the Tax Office Chief promptly headed to that retail liquor store. “Ah, might I inquire where this village’s Shiitake Mountain could be located?” “Shiitake Mountain, eh?” “You here on buying business?” “Ah yes, precisely so.” “Then you’d best head to the cooperative.”

“Where might the cooperative be located?” “From here, go straight down this road for about ten chō—there’s a school, see?” Of course I know that—it’s where I even gave that lecture and got put through the wringer, the Tax Office Chief thought bitterly from the depths of his gut. “Across from that school there’s a sign that says ‘Industrial Cooperative Office,’ so you should go there and discuss it, you see.”

“I see.” “Thank you very much.” “Thanks to your kindness.”

The Tax Office Chief darted outside as if taking flight and immediately returned. “I’m completely strapped—this won’t do. “Could I trouble you for a drink? “Ah—not the bottled variety. “Uh— “This is excellent liquor. “What do you call this?”

“Northern Radiance.” “This is good stuff. Never thought I’d drink something like this out here.” “Where’s this sold?” “We do wholesale at my place too.” “Hmm, but wouldn’t it be cheaper buying in town?” “Not really.” “No deal. “Too rough for transport.” The Tax Office Chief left ten sen on the counter and bolted out. Then he headed straight for the cooperative office.

"I'll catch them now—catch them all today," the Tax Office Chief thought to himself. However, in the office sat only a single young man with glossy parted hair and a drooping white headband, writing something in his chair. This was cleverly done, thought the Tax Office Chief.

“It’s a lovely day today.” “Excuse me.” “I have come from Tokei as a merchant in this capacity and humbly request your kind mediation.” The Tax Office Chief presented it while thinking that old business card had yellowed quite a bit. The young man stood up straightforwardly, said “Ah, I see,” accepted the business card, and then, without saying anything more, fidgeted awkwardly.

“Hasn’t anyone arrived yet this morning?” “Hmm, no one’s here yet.” The young man answered in a perplexed manner. “Very well, I shall wait then; please don’t trouble yourself over me.” “How does that sound?” “What of this year’s shiitake crop?” “With all this rain, it must be quite a bountiful harvest, I suppose.”

“Not too good, I hear.” “Though perhaps their scent or something is lacking, I imagine they’re growing in great abundance.” “Probably did.” The young man’s responses grew increasingly brusque. “How about this? I’m a dried goods merchant from Tokyo who’s come into a large stock of alcohol in lieu of loan repayments—what do you think? Would you consider exchanging it for shiitake mushrooms? I can offer favorable terms.” “Hmm, that probably won’t work. We’ve got our own alcohol here.”

“You purchase it from town, I presume?”

“Nah.” “Is there a liquor store somewhere?” “It’s not exactly a liquor store.”

The Tax Office Chief jolted.

“Where is it?” “Where? Well, it’s separate from the cooperative, you see.” The young man abruptly clamped his mouth shut. Now, the Tax Office Chief felt as though he might leap up in a dancing frenzy. Just one more push. At least someone was producing one koku every month and selling four or five shō here and there. I’ll catch them all today.

“Is Shiitake Mountain far?” “It’s one ri away.”

“Is it alright to take this road?” “You can go.” “Well then, I’ll go take a look toward the mountains. I presume there’s someone in charge over there as well.” “They’re there.”

“Then let us proceed accordingly. After all, I must go eventually rather than waiting here indefinitely.” “Well then, thank you for your time. I shall call again soon.”

The Tax Office Chief exited the small cooperative hut. After proceeding a short distance, the road forked into two. The Tax Office Chief hesitated for a moment, but upon seeing a child of about fifteen coming from the opposite direction carrying grass, he waited and inquired.

“Hey, how do you get to Shiitake Mountain?”

Then, as if unable to hear clearly, the child tilted his head, closed one eye, and spoke. “Where to? Headin’ to the company?” “The company—now this is trouble,” the Tax Office Chief thought.

“Ah, the company.” “The company must be close to Shiitake Mountain, right?” “Nah.” “Shiitake Mountain’s over here, and the company’s that way.”

“How many ri is it to the company?”

“It’s one ri.” “I wonder... Do you get daily word from freight wagons at the company?”

“About once every three days.”

Hmph. That company wasn't any lumber operation or acetic acid plant—they were up to something outrageous. As he resolved to go apprehend them, the Tax Office Chief felt his heart pound so violently it nearly darkened his vision. And then the child, shouldering his heavy load once more, went on his way.

The Tax Office Chief made his way along the road with the eager anticipation of a grade school child riding a steam train for the first time. After traveling precisely half a ri further, the landscape grew mountainous. The narrow road traced a pristine plateau along the valley floor, its surface still bearing wagon tracks etched sharply into the earth. Ahead lay a triangular hill cloaked in withered grass, over which a cloud's shadow raced with deliberate slowness.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

A single imposing man holding a hawk, with a black handkerchief tied around his neck, stood in front of a small house on the left side of the road and shouted at the Tax Office Chief.

“I’m heading to Shiitake Mountain.” The Tax Office Chief calmly answered. “Shiitake Mountain isn’t this way. You’ve completely taken the wrong path.” The young man spoke in a veiled voice that seethed with anger.

“Is that so? Is there no path from here that leads out that way?” “There’s none. You’ll have to go back.”

“Is that so?” “Then I shall turn back.”

"If I started a fight now,I wouldn't stand a chance." Because he knew he wouldn't last a moment,the Tax Office Chief hurriedly bowed once and began retreating. Thinking it safe enough now,he glanced back only to see the young man standing arrogantly mid-road,glares murderous in direction. Beside him,a young woman clung close with worried gestures. The Chief felt his feet leave solid ground. There was a proper little distillery upstream from that house. They'd been pushing out three-four koku monthly. Major tax evasion. He'd circle round for reconnoiter. After descending through multiple bends,cautious look back showed only cliffside pine remaining-man and house vanished completely. "Now!" The Tax Office Chief leapt roadside onto grassy embankment. Then came reckless hill climbing. At summit-triangulation point marking ridge stretching triangular hillward. No sweat-wiping nor breath-catching,pushing through crackling sere grass onward. Somewhere bees droned while wind brought drygrass-pine scent pleasures.

When he glanced back, Yuguchuyumoto Village lay peaceful and pristine, while far beyond, the river flowed like a silver ribbon, its banks dotted with the red chimneys of Hanamukiya Town. The Tax Office Chief briefly grew sick of searching for illicit brewing, but regaining his resolve, he hurried toward Triangulation Hill even as his feet snagged on azalea bushes. Indeed, black sweat from that paint-smeared face dripped down in fat drops, staining his shirt yellow. However, upon reaching Triangulation Hill's summit, the Tax Office Chief involuntarily held his breath. In the valley just below stood a rather large hut shaped like a shiitake drying shed—complete with chimney. What proved particularly suspicious was how tightly the hut hugged the cliff behind it—a cliff that appeared deliberately carved from soft rock. Clearly there was a chamber excavated from stone behind that hut where most operations likely occurred. This was already an immense operation. This was no small-time brewery—it matched exactly that company they'd discussed earlier. But whose work was this? That Village Assembly Member seemed deeply suspect. Without police support to raid both village and this site simultaneously, they'd never secure evidence. Propping his cheek in hand as he watched, the Tax Office Chief resolved to observe all day—someone might come. Then as if summoned, the young man from earlier abruptly emerged from the hut. He appeared to wave broadly when—suddenly—the shout "Hey, Sakichi!" carried up. Below sat a freight wagon parked beside them. From its side emerged a bow-legged man who entered the hut with him. Just as the Chief thought This is serious, soon two men emerged carrying large two-to barrels from both sides. With coordinated heaves they loaded them onto the wagon before scanning their surroundings intently. The glossy black horse stood motionless as the valley roared yet remained still; the Chief shook his head fiercely in excitement. The two men reentered the hut. They bent to retrieve another barrel when immediately afterward a third man emerged. He stood atop the wagon gazing downstream. Back inside they went—then out again with more barrels. Now that makes six to already—surely not all? But even stopping here meant six koku monthly—massive tax evasion! The Chief calculated.

However, they came out again. And then they went back in and came out again. That made another koku—ten a month! The Tax Office Chief’s head spun. However, they went back in again. This time it was twelve koku a month—then fourteen, sixteen, eighteen, twenty—and by the time the Tax Office Chief had calculated up to that point as if in a dream, the freight wagon was already packed full with barrels. Then the three men began laying fresh pine branches over it from beside the hut, piling them on top. Before his eyes, it became securely bound until the wagon turned green and the barrels vanished from sight, leaving anyone who saw it certain they were merely transporting pine branches from the mountain to a turpentine factory. The freight wagon began moving. The horse actually kicked its hooves as if struggling, appearing thoroughly weighed down. Then the young man from earlier trailed after the freight wagon. As it advanced about eighteen meters, the man who had exited the hut last—having stood waiting with arms crossed—suddenly started walking and followed along after all. (Truly ingenious. How long have they been doing this? Alright, no one’s in that hut now. I’ll investigate everything while I can—the evidence must be here.) The Tax Office Chief raced down from Triangulation Hill’s peak toward the hut like the wind. However, the hut’s entrance was securely locked with a Western-style padlock. (Alright, now there’s definitely no one left. It would take him a solid two hours to go to the village and return. I have to get in somehow.) The Tax Office Chief circled around the hut like a fox. Then he found one window slightly open—about an inch wide. When the Tax Office Chief wedged his fingernail there and pushed up, the glass pane clattered upward.

Elated, he jumped inside—but in the darkness couldn’t make out anything at first—only to find a completely empty room. The chimney must have been in the next room. When he hurried over there and looked—there it was—a massive iron cauldron roughly two meters in diameter, properly assembled with bricks and installed. The Tax Office Chief rubbed his eyes and surveyed the room carefully. In the corner on a shelf sat an acetylene lamp. Matches had been placed nearby. When he quickly took it down, it seemed to have been used just moments ago—still warm. Twisting the valve to release gas and lighting it, he suddenly brightened the room. The Tax Office Chief charged into the inner room like a soldier storming a position. This space was a chamber carved from white tuff—he estimated forty tsubo (about 132 square meters). In the rear stood fifteen twenty-koku barrels lined up in a row, while to the side lay what appeared to be a separate koji room. Moreover, everything stood meticulously arranged—burettes, pure-cultured lactic acid bacteria, pipettes—all of it. (Ah, it’s over—every last one who clapped and laughed at my lecture is complicit.) More than half that village must be rounded up. (This is utterly disastrous.) The Tax Office Chief nearly collapsed. At that moment, something yellowish flashed swiftly from behind.

When he looked, the door at the hut’s entrance was open—and there, weren’t two dark figures entering this way? The Tax Office Chief lurched in a deer dance-like stagger but instantly snuffed out the acetylene lamp. Then he stealthily ran toward the shadow of those fifteen darkened sake barrels. Footsteps and voices reverberated booming as they approached. “There he is! There he is!” “He’s hiding! He’s hiding!” “Blow him away!” “Watch out! He’s got a pistol!” “I’d love to blast them with one good shot,” thought the Tax Office Chief. The moment he did, the acetylene flame across the way went out. The flame emitted a bluish-white, unpleasant glare as it carefully advanced this way.

“He’s behind the sake barrels!”

The two men crept forward cautiously, almost crawling. The Tax Office Chief darted nimbly between the barrels.

Then finally, he became wedged in an excessively narrow space between two barrels, unable to move forward or back. The acetylene flame approached from right beside him, reaching his feet. No sooner had he thought this than a thick black hand reached out and suddenly seized the Chief by the neck. With a BANG, his head rang. The Tax Office Chief saw himself collapsed crab-like on the plaza before the sake barrels. He had utterly no strength left. He was still holding the acetylene lamp.

“Stand up, you fat bastard!” “We’ll throw you into the charcoal kiln—keep that in mind.” (If they throw me into the charcoal kiln, my smoke will rise into the mountains alongside the woodsmoke. How utterly pathetic.) The Tax Office Chief thought, his face pale. “Who are you? You’re a tax collector, aren’t you?” “No.” The Tax Office Chief gave a pitiful reply.

“Just tie him up already.” One of them gestured with his chin. One set down the acetylene lamp and darted wind-like to fetch rope. The Tax Office Chief found himself trussed up tight. “Hey, I’ll stand guard here. You go notify the President and Auditor right away.” “Right.” One of them sprinted off. “Hey! Won’t you talk, you bastard? You’re a tax collector, aren’t you?” “That’s not true.” “If you’re not here for taxes, what’re you doing here?” The Tax Office Chief finally regained his composure.

“I’m Tokkei’s dried goods merchant, I’m tellin’ ya.” “What’s a Tokkei dried goods merchant doin’ comin’ to a place like this?” “I came to buy shiitake mushrooms, I’m tellin’ ya.” “Shiitake.” “Ah, I thought they were growin’ shiitake mushrooms here, so I was checkin’ it out, I’m tellin’ ya. My business card’s been properly left at the cooperative office.” “What’s an honest mushroom merchant doin’ crawlin’ through the window of a locked house?”

“I thought it was okay to go into the shiitake hut, I’m tellin’ ya. I got sick of waitin’ outside, so I just sneaked in to take a look, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Yeah.” “Yeah, that’s what you’d say, ain’t it?” This is it, thought the Tax Office Chief. If I don’t escape quick before everyone arrives, they’ll really kill me. He realized he was truly desperate. “Hey, enough already—untie me, I’m tellin’ ya.” “I’ll buy all your shiitake at top price, I’m tellin’ ya.” “I got a wife and kids back in Tokkei too, I’m tellin’ ya.” “Comin’ all this way just to end up like this—it’s unbearable.” “Please untie me.” “Well, everyone’s comin’ now—just wait a bit.” “Wouldn’t it be better if we properly reported this to the president and board after hearin’ you out?”

“So let me go already, I’m tellin’ ya. I’ll send you a hundred yen once I get back to Tokkei, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Just wait a bit longer.” Ahh… If he waited any longer now… who knew what would happen.

The Tax Office Chief reeled dizzily and nearly collapsed again.

But it was already too late.

The entrance erupted in a clamor as about six dark figures came rushing in. (This is hell. It's over.) The Tax Office Chief thought. The man who had been standing guard until now stood up and greeted them. Everyone formed a circle around the Tax Office Chief. “This guy’s supposedly a Tokkei shiitake merchant.” “He supposedly came here intending to buy shiitake mushrooms.”

“Yeah.” “Earlier, some shady character left a business card at the cooperative, I hear. This must be him.” A clear voice spoke. The Tax Office Chief, thinking he recognized the voice, raised his face and was genuinely startled. That was the Honorary Village Mayor. A heavy silence fell. “What do you think? “Should we let him go?” Another voice said. The Tax Office Chief looked up in that direction with a sidelong glance. That was the Village Assembly Member. “No, we must investigate thoroughly. “If we don’t double-check everything now, it’ll lead to disaster later.”

The Tax Office Chief glanced that way again. That was the elementary school principal who had turned pale during that lecture. In other words—wasn't this our very own Mr. Taruko?

“No! I already chased this guy away from the guard post earlier.” “I thought he was suspicious, so when I questioned him, he said, ‘Is the mushroom mountain this way?’” “When I said, ‘It’s not this way—get out of here!’ he goes, ‘Oh really? Isn’t there a path around here somewhere?’” “No way!” “When I told him to leave, he reluctantly went back.” “And yet somehow this guy found his way in here—there’s no doubt he’s a tax office spy!”

“Yeah. “Now that you mention it, his face does seem familiar to me too.” “Bring him out front. You—get back to the guard post.” The Honorary Village Mayor and company president said.

“Stand up, you bastard!” The Tax Office Chief was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and dragged out like a cat.

When he stepped outside, the sunlight was warm and gentle, glowing amber through the trees. ("Even if they throw me into a charcoal kiln and turn me to cinders," the Tax Office Chief mused abruptly like a daydream, "this sun would still shine just as beautifully.")

“What the—this is the Tax Office Chief!” The Honorary Village Mayor shouted in surprise. Then everyone scattered as if fleeing. The Tax Office Chief, having fully resolved himself, stood up resolutely.

“Indeed, I am the Tax Office Chief. You bastards have truly gone and violated the nation’s laws with such an audacious scheme. I’ve had my eye on this from the start. The evidence is already fully compiled. Do whatever you want with me—crush me, burn me, have at it. Everything is already fully prepared. You’ll be arrested—every last one of you—for illicit brewing, obstruction of official duties, and murder. Go on and believe it!”

The Honorary Village Mayor and the auditor had both turned deathly pale. For a moment, everyone fell completely silent. "Here," the Tax Office Chief thought. “Go on, kill me if you will. A public official falling in the line of duty is only to be expected.” The Tax Office Chief felt extremely pleased—when suddenly someone walloped him from behind. While thinking "Not again...", he collapsed—and the moment he fell, the villagers all turned murderous at once.

“String him up! String him up on that tree!” “Evidence? There’s no way they’ve collected any yet!” “If we take care of this guy alone, everything’ll be fine.” “Throw him into Kabaka’s charcoal kiln!”

In an instant, the Tax Office Chief was hoisted up onto a pine tree. The Village Assembly Member emerged and said.

"You bastard! Forgetting the hospitality you received at someone's house—what a shameless bastard!" "Shall we roast him?" "Don't resort to barbarism." The Tax Office Chief, hung up and struggling in pain, flailed about as he spoke. "Anyway, let's devise some remedial measures, shall we? "Well, let's discuss this inside." The Honorary Village Mayor said.

Everyone went inside.

The Tax Office Chief lost consciousness up in the tree.

V. The Tax Office Chief’s Confinement

After some time had passed, the Tax Office Chief realized he had been placed inside that back room. A cold cloth had been placed on his head, and a blanket had been draped over him. The man who had been last to exit the hut devoutly stood guard while nursing him.

Outside, everyone was noisily talking. They seemed to be either discussing damage control measures or holding a drinking party. When the Tax Office Chief stirred his body, the young man immediately approached to check his condition. Then he opened one door and then another before going out into the large outer room. The next moment, the Honorary Village Mayor entered. He wore a brown suit.

("So it seems I’ve been asleep for two or three days.") The Tax Office Chief thought.

The Honorary Village Mayor sat down, bowed respectfully, and said.

“Mr. Chief. “The other day, we went rather too far in our rough treatment. “We deeply apologize for having acted so recklessly without considering the consequences. “In truth, we too were compelled to organize ourselves as a company and resort to such measures due to your side’s excessively stringent crackdown—for this we are profoundly ashamed. “In light of this, how would you consider [our proposal]? “Our company will be definitively dissolved as of today, and all alcohol will be registered under my name with taxes duly paid. “We will escort you home by automobile, but on this occasion, we ask that you keep this matter strictly confidential.”

The Tax Office Chief thought he had already won.

“No, your gracious words overwhelm me.” “In my official capacity, I’ve taken various actions, but I fully comprehend your position.” “However, now that matters have reached this point, maintaining confidentiality has become entirely impossible.” “Since word has already spread completely, there’s no avoiding two or three casualties.” “Of course, I will absolutely refrain from making public any matters pertaining to myself.” “Simply pay the fine, and that should settle things satisfactorily.”

“Well, you see… it’s precisely because we wish to avoid having our names disclosed.”

At that very moment, the outside suddenly erupted into commotion as fierce shouts and the sounds of scuffles broke out. It was exactly like a storm.

“Chief! Chief!” Someone shouted. The Tax Office Chief abruptly stood up.

“Oh! I’m here! Well done! Well done! Shiratori! I’m here!”

Immediately, two or three people kicked down the room’s door and came rushing in. “Chief! Glad to see you well! We’ve arrested them all,” cried Shiratori as he came running. “You figured it out—did you get the police involved too?” “Yes—full deployment. Twenty people arrested. This one here.” “The Honorary Village Mayor. Can’t be helped—bind him.” The Tax Office Chief said excitedly. “Chief! Glad you’re safe!” The tax staff rushed over—some wearing hachimaki headbands, others gripping clubs. The Chief exited the room, his body aching.

“Seal all the barrels. Collect only the small equipment as evidence. And the lactic acid bacteria cultures too.” “Yeah.” “Good.” “Well, I must thank you for your efforts.” The Tax Office Chief greeted the police sergeant. “All remains as it should be. Truth be told, even our main station was deeply concerned.” “Hey!” “Drag them all outside.”

And now they all filed out of the Ihatov Illicit Brewing Company’s factory. Five minutes later, this strange procession passed slightly beyond that guard post.

The Tax Office Chief was walking alongside the Honorary Village Mayor.

“What’s the date today?” The Tax Office Chief spun around and asked Shiratori Subordinate. “The fifth.”

"Ah, four days have already passed since that day." "In just a short time, the tree buds have grown large."

The Tax Office Chief looked up at the sky. Springlike damp white clouds billowed forth from the hilltop, and the faint scent of kuro moji trees drifted over on the wind. “Ah, what a lovely scent,” the Tax Office Chief said.

“It’s a pleasant scent, isn’t it.” The Honorary Village Mayor said.