Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Shōwa × Year, April 27, 8:30 PM…

In the upper berth of the second-class sleeper car on the Fuji Express—the first and second class limited express departing Shimonoseki—I securely fastened the curtain and lit the small bedside lamp, wearing nothing but a shirt and fundoshi. Having languidly stretched out my limbs, I retrieved the dagger-forged short sword from the inner pocket of my navy suit hanging by the bedside and, remaining on my back, unsheathed it. From tip to habaki collar—eight sun and eight bu... without a single flaw. Along the galaxy-like curvature of its Masamune-forged blade, the flame-shaped temper line hung long from the tip as if moisture were dripping… At its center was engraved "Kenmu 5th Year. Forged in Hizen Province’s Hirado. Morihiro"—the ancestral treasure blade bearing this inscription. When I think that soon this blade’s tip will drink the blood of several men through my own hands… a chilling aura pierces through me, closing in on my body.

I sheathed the dagger snugly into its scabbard and thrust it into the bedside. When I turned off the light and quietly closed my eyes, the events since this morning rose vividly before my eyes.

This morning… Around 11:00 AM on April 27th, in Room 11 of Otera Internal Medicine at Q University’s Medical Department, where even the sound of rain was hushed, my half-brother Tomojirou Tomoishi quietly opened the door and entered. With a face as pale as a corpse, he stood rigidly before my bed. Unable to meet my gaze directly, it seemed, his head drooped heavily. Before long, tears began dripping from beneath his long, flowing locks.

—What a strange fellow. I raised half my body from the sickbed. In stark contrast to me, my younger brother was slender and lanky. This younger brother of mine—who had long relied on my salary, recently become a silver-watch-bearing medical graduate working in Q University’s radiology room, yet remained considerate enough of his impoverished only sibling to still report for duty in his brass-buttoned student uniform rather than procure a proper suit… this pure-hearted youth who resembled an illustration from a romance novel yet never so much as glanced at cafés… now hung his head before me sniveling as though guilty of some crime—an absurd sight.

In stark contrast to my younger brother, from childhood I possessed a robust physique and was not particularly bright. A rough-edged man who—despite holding a Waseda University Bachelor of Arts degree—had scraped together a fifth-dan judo certification, barely clinging to my position as a judo instructor at Q University, I had recently been admitted to this very hospital room at Q University’s affiliated facility under suspicion of a mild gastric ulcer. However, when the ulcer soon healed completely and the bleeding stopped, I underwent an X-ray as a precautionary measure to check for cancer development—only to be declared "free of abnormalities" by Dr. Naito, chief radiologist. Relieved, I had just returned and flopped back onto my sickbed when my younger brother suddenly reappeared from the radiology room, standing rigidly by my bedside as he burst into sniveling tears—leaving me utterly flustered.

“What in the world…” “Brother… I… I’ll tell you the truth.” My younger brother—his voice brimming with raw emotion—suddenly lunged at my neck. He pressed his cheek against my chest, his body shuddering convulsively as he spoke. “Wh... What...? What did you do?” “Your life… Brother… it won’t last two weeks from now!”

“Wh... What’s that? That’s all…? Ahahahaha…” “That’s all…? Ahahahaha…”

In that instant, I forced a deliberately hearty laugh. My flank prickled with goosebumps as something hot and anguished surged up to my chest—I swallowed it down hard.

“Hmph… So it was stomach cancer after all?” My younger brother, still clinging to my shoulder, looked up at me with his pallid face twitching. “It’s… even… even more terrifying. Brother… there’s a large aortic aneurysm in your heart.” “Hmm… An aortic aneurysm…” I knew the terror of aortic aneurysms. The subterranean cell bacteria of syphilis that lurk undetected in the blood of those braggarts who proclaim “I’d never catch something like syphilis” eventually begin their malicious mischief long afterward. When they latch onto the aortic root at the heart’s exit, over two or three years those blood vessels gradually become flaccid and weakened. Without the person noticing in the slightest, the blood vessels in that area—unable to withstand the pressure of blood expelled from the heart—begin to swell little by little like a rubber balloon. It gradually grows larger, scraping against the inner ribs to trigger repeated coughing fits and compressing the nerves reaching the vocal cords to begin hoarsening the voice—yet even then there are times when the person still doesn’t notice. While doctors remained carefree thinking it was just a respiratory disease, the aneurysm’s crown finally swelled until it became as thin as paper then burst with a bang. Sometimes it may rupture outward through the ribs leaving the chest drenched in blood as one collapses; but if it bursts inward it directly causes severe peritonitis. If not that then the rupture occurs at the root of the vessel sending blood to the head causing the brain to instantly fail—resulting in a swifter demise than even a stroke—such is this aortic aneurysm’s truly terrifying nature. Moreover in cases detected extremely early—two years. In cases detected late the lifespan has only been one to two weeks according to existing records. Though a rare disease once detected not even the most renowned physician could devise any course of treatment.

“…Brother’s… is… remarkably large.” “Dr. Naito also said he’d never seen one this large.”

My younger brother laughed timidly with an ashen face. The tears that had pooled in both eyes streamed down his cheeks. I felt as though I were in a feverish delirium. With a feeling as though my soul had left my body, I laughed and spoke. “Ahahahaha. “My apologies, my apologies. “My apologies for making you worry needlessly. “My aortic aneurysm is Manchurian-made! “It must be the virus I got from a Russki woman when I went to Harbin as part of His Excellency General Ōhara’s escort. “Ahahahaha. “It’s my own fault…… But…… you really said it.”

My younger brother seemed to have already lost the ability to stand. He wrapped both hands even tighter around my neck and began to sob frantically. “Idiot.” “What kind of man cries?” “You’re disgraceful.”

I took out a white envelope containing a bundle of bills from under the pillow of the bed. When I counted them to be sure, there were seventy 10-yen bills. From among them, I counted out forty bills and wrapped them in newspaper.

“Listen. There’s four hundred yen here. This is money we saved up as a precaution for when we fell ill. What’s left after my funeral is yours. Consult Professor Otera and get yourself apprenticed at some hospital. …Well… got it?”

My younger brother let out a loud cry without taking the bundle of bills I pressed into his hand. “No no no!” “Brother.” “I don’t want you to die…… Please live…… Please live……”

I had finally become overwhelmed. I bit down hard on the tears welling up with my molars. I quietly pulled my younger brother’s arms away and sat back down on the bed. “Idiot... Do you think I’m going to kill myself or something?” “Idiot... Whether it’s a week or even just an hour, I’ll treasure and use every last second of the life I have left.” “Before that, go thank Dr. Otera right away.” “Thanks to him, we found out it’s not cancer, so go and say your older brother is overjoyed. …Go right away.”

“Yes…”

My younger brother nodded obediently. He skillfully poured water from the medicine kettle onto the towel hung by the bedside and began wiping his tear-stained face vigorously. “And stay calm no matter what.” “No panicking under any circumstances.” “Yes…” My younger brother nodded from within the steaming towel.

As soon as my younger brother left, I hurriedly took off my pajamas and changed into a threadbare suit I’d worn for years. I packed my personal belongings into a basket. I rolled up the bedding and wrapped it in a large furoshiki cloth. I pinned a business card to the furoshiki with a pin and wrote in small letters with a fountain pen.

"I will vanish without a trace. Because I want to accomplish one final task before I die. Don't make a fuss no matter what happens. Don't interfere with the work I'm risking my life for."

After leaving a confectionery box labeled "Post-Discharge Gratitude" at Professor Otera’s residence and dropping my letter of resignation addressed to the Dean into a postbox in front of Hakata Station, I boarded an upbound express train that arrived shortly thereafter, carrying a single furoshiki bundle. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter a single acquaintance, so I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed even my perceptive younger brother hadn’t been able to discern my final purpose here.

My final purpose was an act of revenge.

I had one step-uncle. If I were to mention his name, some might recognize it. Subata Kuroroku—director of the Japan-India Association. I knew full well that this uncle of mine, now working as a magician after having mercilessly deceived gentlemen across both government and private sectors, was collaborating with that venomous woman Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai—who concealed her whereabouts—to run an elaborate human trafficking operation somewhere in Ginza. Moreover, from my past work as a gang enforcer in Tokyo, I had clearly discerned that he’d amassed vast wealth, wielded immense covert influence over India trade, and appeared to be attempting significant behind-the-scenes maneuvers in domestic governance and foreign diplomacy during crises.

Rumor had it that through such exotic erotic trade, my uncle was systematically weakening Indian patriots seeking asylum in Japan and spies infiltrating from various countries.

But the facts I knew weren’t limited to that alone.

As for that uncle of mine, Subata Kuroroku, I had clearly discerned that the wealth he’d amassed was stolen after murdering my father. My father had served as a military intelligence operative for Japan since the Russo-Japanese War, and while traversing Manchuria and Siberia, he discovered remarkable gold deposits at several locations along the Songhua River’s banks. However, my composed father had kept this secret from everyone until after the war’s end when my biological mother succumbed to accumulated hardships—at which point he took Subata Yumiko as his second wife, a young beautiful widow who was the biological older sister of his close friend Subata Kuroroku.

That she struck even my childish sensibilities as beautiful suggested she must have been a woman of truly remarkable beauty, I thought. The relatives viewed this woman with inexplicable disapproval, going so far as to lecture even my childish self with warnings like, "Nothing good ever comes from marrying a beautiful wife when one is advanced in years." Yet my stepmother Yumiko doted on me beyond measure, devoting herself more than my biological mother ever had, so I instead grew resentful of those relatives and became deeply attached to her. Yet just as society’s rumors so uncannily hit their mark, the relatives’ slanderous words had now, in a strange twist, fulfilled their own dark prophecy. In short, it was ultimately because our young mother had been far too beautiful.

Shortly after this stepmother Yumiko gave birth to my current younger brother Tomojirou, my father—out of excessive love for his young wife—casually disclosed the matter of the gold mine. He said he would soon retire from his work as a military intelligence operative and go pan for gold there, showing us a map of Manchuria marked with a red indicator. This was the very beginning of the mistake. Our foolish mother Yumiko had apparently communicated this matter to our uncle, who was then in service to a British merchant in Harbin. My uncle must have immediately returned, snatched that map from our mother, then gone back to Harbin to secretly report to the GPU that my father was a military intelligence operative.

It was reported that my father, who had soon made preparations for placer mining and departed for Manchuria, was abducted by Russians on the outskirts of Harbin and shot dead inside a train while being taken to Manchouli, his body then discarded beneath an iron bridge. Moreover, upon hearing this news, Mother Yumiko suffered a miscarriage, went mad, and ultimately starved to death without eating a thing.

My shrewd uncle had taken out a 10,000 yen life insurance policy on his sister Yumiko, so he claimed that money as his own as well. After throwing us brothers a mere 1,000 yen for funeral expenses, he sold off the placer mining rights to the Chinese and disappeared to India. When putting together the facts my mother Yumiko babbled during her madness, not only did all of my uncle’s heinous deeds appear true—given that he had long been the hidden patron of Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai, one could indeed suspect this cruel scheme to be their collaborative work—but at that time, my younger brother was still too naive, and since I alone had noticed anything amiss, not a shred of concrete evidence remained. That’s why I had resolved to keep it from my younger brother until today—no, until my death.

However, with my life now having only two weeks left, the equation shifted slightly. Though it may sound like a cowardly admission, this adventure of settling my uncle’s past sins and making my younger brother an overnight millionaire had gradually ceased to be an adventure. I seemed to have fallen asleep without realizing it. The next day, perhaps because I rode a train for the first time in ages, I found myself ravenously hungry. Having steeled myself to endure the waiter’s mockery as I entered the dining car for the third time, I soon saw Mount Fuji come into view on my left. Mount Fuji—which would likely be my last glimpse in this life—…….

The peak of Mount Fuji has sprung forth in the land I envision— It stands lofty and pure as I envision— Such a waka slipped from my lips. I couldn’t tell whether I’d memorized another’s verse or birthed it myself. It had streamed from my mind with such ease. The notion that a death poem might form this way set my heart hammering against my ribs. A grotesque fancy surfaced—could Fuji itself be Japan’s aortic aneurysm?—yet this horror defied poetic shaping.

After disembarking at Tokyo Station and tossing my furoshiki bundle and basket into a small inn called Happoukan in Tsukiji, I headed straight to a barber shop. Parting my hair slicked down the middle, cropping my sideburns short, and leaving a patch of stubble beneath my nose had completely altered my appearance. Impatient for evening to fall, I made my way to Ginza and began methodically scouring the rows of cafés and bars starting from Shimbashi. There was no other approach to track down my effectively disowned uncle—if I’d inquired at the Japan-India Association, combed through ward offices, or leveraged old right-wing contacts, they’d have sniffed me out and had me silenced. This was no ordinary fox who’d list his real name in phone directories—this quarry ranked among monsters of another breed entirely—and carelessness wasn’t an option.

I had to ambush my uncle somehow. I needed to strike decisively - terrify him into a corner through direct confrontation during those critical moments, leaving no room for retreat. On the first night of scouting cafés, having pushed myself to the limit, I managed to check off fourteen or fifteen spots - yet even so, the two blocks of storefronts on the left remained untouched. But I didn't relent. Though I seriously considered hiring a private detective, knowing this matter couldn't risk exposure to outsiders drove me to continue investigating on my own.

I still had some money left, but the absolutely critical two-week deadline was about to expire. If my heart were to burst before I discovered the shop my uncle operated, that would be the end of it.

It would have been more meaningful had I given my younger brother the remaining three hundred yen in Q University’s Ward 11 and then killed myself… that’s what it would have amounted to.

May 11th—the day when only one remained of my two weeks—saw the weather turn upside down from its previous clear skies, and a plum rain-like drizzle had been falling steadily since morning. Though my aortic aneurysm’s lifespan hadn’t been scientifically measured as precisely two weeks starting from April 27th, when I sat up, I felt an oddly heavy thump-thump-thump pressing back beneath my left ribs.

I peered at my own face in the bathroom mirror—emaciated to the point of being unrecognizable. Perhaps from having avoided bathing for so long out of caution for my heart, my skin had taken on a leaden bruised blackness, and the whites of my sleep-deprived eyes gleamed with a brassy sheen. The vaguely death-tinged aura about me resembled nothing so much as the ghostly mask from a Noh play. Since even I had grown concerned about it, I carefully shaved with a safety razor, then got cream and powder from the maid and applied them. When afternoon came, with a strange feeling that my heart was no longer my own, I wandered out into Ginza beneath the still-falling emerald drizzle.

The scope of my work had now become quite limited. As I passed by a narrow side alley existing between a Western goods store and a picture frame shop near Kyōbashi-guchi, I sensed something might lie deeper within. Turning sideways, I edged about a block into its depths. I soon emerged into a vacant lot roughly five meters square, its surface hardened solid with plastered stucco.

Before the sturdy wooden door at the front loomed a stone Western-style building resembling a warehouse, its surface studded with brass nails about the size of a child’s head. The remaining three sides were enclosed in a square by one end of massive concrete buildings. From the gray plane—roughly thirty square meters in size—loftily thrust upward against the building’s back, pale-glistening rain fell smoothly, smoothly, smoothly in an endless cascade.

“We-e-e-lcome…” A strange voice suddenly sounded beside my ear, startling me. Before my eyes... in the very center of the vacant lot, a gigantic Indian man stood looming as though fallen from the sky. I stepped back one pace. My eyes widened as I looked up at the Indian man.

II His physique was mountainous—weighing what must have been nearly thirty kan—like Mount Tachi itself. The splendid turban wrapped around his head made him appear even more imposing and magnificent. Beneath thick, venomous eyebrows resembling centipede legs, brown eyes glinted deep within their sockets beneath a disproportionately high nose. Clad in an ill-fitting Indian tunic and clunky rubber boots, he fixed me with a dubious glance for an instant before bobbing his head in a quick nod. I somehow sensed my uncle’s den must be nearby. Pretending to shake hands with the Indian man, I slipped him a ten-yen note; he seemed astonished by my generosity.

He placed his bushy hands on his chest and performed the highest-grade salute. He pushed open the brass-studded door immediately behind him and smiled amiably to welcome me in.

The interior of the door was an entrance hall covered entirely in lavish mosaic tiles. On a bench lying in one corner of those tiles sat three brawny men in tuxedos, their arms crossed in a row—one glance told me they were bodyguards. When one of them caught the Indian man's meaningful glance, he scrambled to his feet, bent at a right angle like a nail, and bowed to me. He opened the door leading to the basement on the right, guided me inside, then snapped it shut from behind.

I tentatively descended the mat-covered stairs bathed in blue light, and upon passing through the revolving door at the end, was plunged into utter darkness. But soon from that blackness emerged a cold, small woman’s hand that firmly grasped my left hand. Pulling me deeper into the recesses, threading through leaves that brushed against my cheeks with a chilling touch. I was gripped by terrible tension. I was reminded of that time during my Waseda days when I dueled in Suwa Forest late at night, so...

However, as I gradually ventured deeper into that thicket of trees, I was astonished. This was no mere duel. I shall avoid the specifics, but whether to call it paradise or describe it as hell... Moving pictures. A bathhouse. A cavern. A theater... As I looked around at such things while sweating profusely, I soon emerged into a hall brimming with a phosphorescent glow. Palm trees, plantains, coconut palms, betel palms, and bodhi trees overlapped one another, with white tables and rattan chairs scattered among them. It was a stillness unimaginable in the heart of Tokyo.

I settled heavily into the shade of a rubber tree, inexplicably relieved. There, I looked intently at the face of the woman who had been leading me by the hand until now.

The woman was timidly holding out a glass of plain soda before me.

Chestnut curls in abundant coils rippled from shoulders to chest as she wore a long-hemmed yellow one-piece Indian dress. Ash-gray pallor of skin with a bluish sheen; long-lidded double eyelids framed by thick lashes; clear brown irises. Crescent-shaped eyebrows, black and long. A slender, firm chin. Small coral-colored lips. Enormous pearls dangling from both ears... They flushed her cheeks faintly as she gave a long blink. The light of her white teeth held a somehow sorrowful melancholy—or perhaps bashful radiance. She was undoubtedly Indian, yet her features held a remarkably dignified countenance.

I received a glass of soda water so cold it felt like it could slice through my fingers.

“What’s your name?”

“Adari.” Dimples formed in the woman’s cheeks and chin. Her cheeks turned crimson, and her eyes glistened beautifully. I was surprised anew. No matter how one looked at her, she was a virgin. She didn’t belong in a place like this. “Since when have you been working here?”

“From today… Just this moment…” “What had you been doing until now?” “I had been learning Japanese with my younger sister Mayar.” “Where is Ms. Mayar…?” “She’s with Madam upstairs.” “Hmm... Where is your father?”

My words naturally grew more polite.

“Our father is in India.”

“No. That’s Madam’s husband. Do you understand?” “I understand. When my father in India was about to have his land seized by Westerners, the one who took my sister and me in and kindly helped Father was him, correct?”

“That’s correct. What is the name of that person?” “He is Madam’s husband upstairs. His name is Mr. Subata.”

My heart leaped.

“Yes, yes.” “That’s Mr. Subata.” “Where is he?” “That Mr. Subata…”

“He is out front.” “Out front…? Where in the front…?” “He’s standing there disguised as an Indian.” “Ah! That Indian? I thought he was the genuine article.” “Mr. Subata is a real Indian.” “I see, I see. You probably think that. Impressive skills. Then I’ll give you ten yen, so please do as I say.”

“I’m happy. Hold me, please…”

No sooner had she cried out than Adari wrapped both arms around my neck. The foreigner’s body odor enveloped me to the point of suffocation. I didn’t know who had coached her in this coquettish act, but I suddenly found it all absurd. “You idiot… This isn’t the time for that.” “Guide me to the entrance.” “Um… Please don’t meet him. Please…”

Adari seemed to have already detected some dangerous intent from my expression. “No. There’s no need to worry. I’m going to redeem you.” “R-redeem…” “That’s right. I’m going to buy you from Uncle.”

“Huh? “Really…?”

“I mean it. “I’m the owner of a fruit shop. “I’ll make you the shop’s assistant. “That settles it.” “I’m happy. “I’ll sing you my song.” “You don’t have to sing any songs. “The Madam upstairs they call Ungetsusai Gyokuto – that beautiful woman – isn’t she?” “No. “That’s not correct. “She’s someone called Unoko Subata.” “Same difference.”

As this conversation unfolded, Adari guided me up the dark basement stairs.

To the right stood a narrow, dark wooden staircase. It seemed to be precisely behind where the entrance bouncers sat. "The stairs to the second floor must be these ones here." "Yes." "I can't go outside from here."

“Alright． Go back to that room and wait． Soon Mr．Subata will come to call for you…”

In the entrance, three tuxedo-clad men who appeared to be bouncers were sitting with their arms crossed, just as before, but when they saw my face trying to go outside, all three of them saw me off with a sort of frightened expression. Then, when I placed my hand on the door handle, all three of them half-rose in apparent fear, but immediately settled back down again. I thought they were strange, but soon the reason for their fear became clear. When I gently opened the heavy oak entrance door from the inside, angry shouts immediately came flying in from outside.

The foremost enormous Indian man stood planted with his back to the door. On the wet stone pavement about four or five steps before him, five or six burly men in suits and raincoats stood blocking the way, facing this direction. At their center stood a hatless giant in the fierce stance of a temple guardian, a thick black-lacquered cane gripped in his right hand. They were unmistakably gang members. They must have come to threaten this house under the pretext of the recent trend of vice suppression raids. The Indian man seemed to have no capacity to turn and look at me. In his right hand he held a small silver pistol, while in his left he gripped a thick wad of bills, lightly waving it up and down. From the pitch-dark space above his head, a silvery drizzle continued to pour down incessantly, rendering the scene even more terrifying.

The hatless giant at the center of the gang switched his cane to his left hand. He thrust his right hand into his coat pocket and bellowed. “By heaven’s decree, I’ve come to execute you bastards.” “Under the guise of your Japan-India [association] or whatever, you’re peddling South Seas women’s flesh on Ginza’s streets.” “We’ve got ironclad evidence!” That visage truly embodied wrath capable of piercing the heavens. Yet in stark contrast, the Indian man’s composure commanded respect. Even if this was my uncle’s cowardly, brutal disguise, there existed such dignity in his bearing that I caught myself thinking… perhaps I need to reevaluate his character after all… While confronting six fearless brutes, he appeared to smile through his bearded cheek.

“Heh heh heh.” “Please lower your voices.” “I don’t conduct business through your favors.” The cane-wielding giant blanched with rage. The other five men ominously pressed forward from behind him. “Wh...What’s this?” “You—are you the master of this house?”

“I am not the master—I am an Indian magician.” “A magician…?…” “Yes… When my finger touches something, everything turns to money.” “What doesn’t become money all becomes blood.” “Heh heh heh…”

“……………………”

The reckless gang members, thoroughly cowed, all six exchanged glances, their eyes rolling white with shock. They seemed to have realized this Indian man was no ordinary human. I finally became certain it was my uncle. I was thoroughly impressed. “……Well… What do you say?” “Just how much do you want?” “You all…” “Th... three thousand yen. Hand it over.”

“Ahahaha. “I can’t possibly pay that much.” “I have 850 yen here right now.” “Damn you… You think we’ll back down for such a rotten pittance?”

“Heh heh heh.” “This is the back of Biru-dengu.” “Understood?” “This is the back of Biru-dengu.” “Even if you fire a gun, the sound won’t reach the street.” “Any deal can be made.” “Well now… Money… Or blood… Which will it be?” “Blood—!” As he bellowed this, the cane-wielding giant drew a black pistol from his right pocket.

In that instant, I spread my arms wide and stood blocking the Indian man’s front. Before I could even process the thought, Adari—who seemed to have burst out from the door behind me, wearing a yellow dress—stood overlapping before me. She seemed intent on shielding both me and the Indian man.

The giant seemed taken aback. The giant stepped back a pace, still gripping the pistol.

But I was taken aback even more than that. I grabbed Adari from behind and tried to push her aside, but this proved to be my grave mistake. In that split second, a brown streak of light burst from the giant’s right hand before my eyes, and the Indian man’s massive frame thudded backward in silence. Groaning deeply, he pulled in both legs. After shutting Adari between the doors, I stood abruptly beside the fallen Indian man. I stood there gasping for breath, caught in a whirlpool of emotions—disappointment, confusion, resentment—all swirling into something utterly indescribable. I was on the verge of losing self-control due to an inexplicable sense of despair. The giant lumbered closer until his face nearly touched mine.

“What the hell are you…?”

I laughed coldly. Emboldened gang members blocked my path from all sides, as if they were determined not to let me escape... In that moment of distraction, the giant quickly bent down and tried to snatch the bundle of bills from the Indian man’s hand. I snapped. I suddenly rushed forward and kicked the giant’s right hand with the tip of my shoe. The banknotes scattered and clung to the sopping wet plaster surface. “Ugh…” As the enraged giant—his fury reaching the heavens—tried to deliver a blow above my ear, I bent my neck in a head-slip style. Seizing that opening, I swung both arms forcefully outward, dislocating the shoulder joints of the two men flanking me, who screamed in pain. At the same moment, I grabbed the giant’s right hand—the one reaching for his pistol—and wrenched it into a shoulder throw. With a crack, his right humerus dislocated, and he collapsed in a heap on the beaten earth before me.

As I wrested the pistol from his hand and remained kneeling to survey the scene, the other thugs abandoned the giant and fled through the narrow alley mouth, shoving and jostling each other. As I watched the tuxedo-clad men and bodyguards who had burst out from the door behind me afterward chase after them while roaring with rage, I suddenly found it absurd.

After seeing them off, I bowed my head slightly toward the fallen Indian man's corpse. "You brought this on yourself." "Rest in peace."

After offering a silent prayer, I collected the scattered bills one by one with deliberate calm and slipped them into my pocket. Then, pushing open the door behind me, I smoothly raced up the narrow wooden staircase next to the entrance and emerged onto the second floor. Compared to the basement’s extravagant splendor, the second floor felt like an abandoned ruin. The abundance of windows flooding the space with harsh light only amplified the wretchedness of the crude walls and dust-caked floorboards.

I swept a glance around me—front, back, left, right—then charged toward the corridor’s dead end. This was to ensure that Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai—her real name Subata Uno—who was said to be in the office did not escape. At the corridor’s dead end stood a blue-painted door with a brass plate engraved "Office" affixed to it. When I tried to open the door, the yellow dress—Adari—suddenly lunged at my right arm and sank her teeth in with lion-like ferocity. She looked up at me with eyes brimming with tears.

“You mustn’t kill your aunt…” I was stunned. I was dumbstruck. How did Adari know the secret buried deepest in my heart? My tongue tangled in panic. “You fool… She’s not… She’s not my real aunt.” “She’s a she-devil!”

Adari clung even more tightly to my arm. She shook her chestnut-brown hair forcefully from side to side. “That’s not true… She’s a good person.” “She’s our benefactor.”

I was appalled. At the same time, I panicked. I suddenly thrust the wad of 850 yen I’d been clutching in my left hand into the collar of Adari’s dress.

“Here… take this.” “Let go of me.” “Ah! You mustn’t!” Adari shouted and hurriedly tried to retrieve the bundle of bills. Seizing that opening, I broke free from Adari and leapt through the blue-painted door... but... involuntarily let out a gasp.

Utterly unexpectedly, it was a living room like a royal palace, awash with crimson and gold light. It must have been what they call Louis XIV-style, like something I’d once seen in an illustration... Crimson damask window drapes and table covers adorned with golden tassels, chairs and tables lacquered in white and inlaid with gold, silver, and jewels crowded the space. A massive mirror hung over the large fireplace opposite the entrance, clearly reflecting my face—its features twisted in fury. Hair standing up like a chimney sweep’s brush, crumpled and wild. Livid, twitching facial muscles. A pulled-out-of-shape old suit. Necktie. Dress shirt. The monstrous specter of an aortic aneurysm—a figure staking his life….

No one was in the room. Beside the grand fireplace, atop a rosewood pedestal, stood a solitary nude boy statue—hands hanging limply, head tilted skyward. (I later learned this was a bronze masterpiece by Rodin, brought back from Paris by Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai as a souvenir.) The room brimmed with the fragrance of perfume, the profound silence making me feel like I might lose consciousness. “Hohohohohohoho.” When a woman’s laughter rang out from an unexpected direction, I started. I pivoted toward the sound and snapped into a defensive stance.

In the right-hand corner of the room stood an opulent bed that appeared to be cloisonné work. The crimson curtain embroidered with intricate golden crests swayed gently—then snapped open to both sides. In its midst, pushing aside the jade-green feather quilt, an astonishing phantom abruptly rose up.

A bewitching beauty like some exotic flower in an iridescent evening gown... The one from rumors... The one from bromides... The one from silver screens... No— A youthfulness surpassing even that—fragrant, vivid, resplendent allure… I wondered if this was but another hallucination conjured by my aortic aneurysm. That such a magnificent phantom appeared before me—so bewitching I wondered if syphilis had finally reached my brain—was a vision of resplendent allure.

“Ohohohoho.” “This marks our inaugural encounter.” “I am Gyokuto, this humble woman who has been under the gracious care of your esteemed Uncle.”

I fell back onto the low damask-covered armchair behind me. The cushion bounced me back, nearly making me slip off, so I hastily righted myself.

“Hoho. I had been observing your every movement from here since the beginning,” came the voice with theatrical cadence. “And admiring those splendid hands of yours all this while.” A silk-draped arm emerged from the canopy bed, its gesture slicing through perfume-thick air. “Now if you’ll pardon this humble woman… Ada-ko… Ada-ko…” “Yes…”

Almost simultaneously with the voice’s reply, the door at my side quietly opened. Adari—a fresh frangipani flower adorning her ear—entered holding aloft a silver tray at eye level, upon which rested two blue teacups filled with a steaming reddish-black liquid. Was this some Indian-style courtesy? She pressed the tray above her head with a deep bow before placing it on the small table before me. All trace of her earlier desperation at the door now gone as if blown away by the wind, Adari pressed both hands to her chest in a deep bow and withdrew.

As I watched her retreating figure through the door, I finally came back to myself. Simultaneously, I could do nothing to stop the unbearable fury seething up from the pit of my stomach at their too-transparently feigned composure from boiling over. They surrounded me with perfect composure, putting on this supremely cold-blooded act while fully aware that their husband and master—my uncle—lay dead in the entranceway. Adari stopping me at the door was undoubtedly to give the Poisonous Lady Gyokuto time to make whatever preparations she needed.

The moment I realized this, I tensed up sharply.

“Ohohoho.” “Now, now—please calm yourself.” “Do have some Indian black tea… In truth, there’s something I wish to consult with you about.”

“There’s no need for me to calm down any further.” “My eyes can see.” “My ears can hear.” “What is this consultation about?” “Well… how impetuous you are, Mr.Tomotarou…” Having my name called out of the blue, I was startled. However, without letting it show on my face, I cleared my throat. “It can’t be helped.” “I don’t have much time left.” “Well… no time? Why ever not?” “I am going to die within two or three days.” “I have an aortic aneurysm.”

“Well… when you speak of an ‘aortic aneurysm’…” “On the 27th of last month, I had my heart X-rayed at Q University. “There they discovered a massive aneurysm at the aortic root of my heart. “At that time I was given a death sentence—two weeks to live—meaning my life ends today or tomorrow.”

As I spoke, my aunt’s made-up complexion began to visibly change. Her skin lost its elasticity like that of a woman decades older, her lips quivered, and her eyes brimmed with tears. The hand gripping the teacup began trembling violently. “That’s why I came to consult you... Well?... What will you do about my brother?” “Th-that... That matter is already under this humble woman’s charge...” “Words alone won’t do, Aunt.” “Devise a proper method right before my eyes!”

“Wait… please wait.” “I must consult with my esteemed Uncle first…” “Fool… Do you think I’d swallow that trick? …You viper…” “Wh-what… This humble woman… called a viper…?” “Viper... viper... You incited my uncle to embezzle my parents’ fortune, then took their very lives...” “Ah— th-that’s… that’s a terrible misunderstanding on your part!” “Wh... What’s all this blathering now… Prepare yourself…”

“Huh?!” The moment the shout rang out, Lady Gyokuto slipped past the blade of the dagger I had swung and leapt into the bed. She yanked the iridescent feather quilt over her head, but I drove the dagger thudding into where I judged the chest of the human-shaped figure beneath the quilt to be.

But wonder of wonders—the feather quilt had flattened completely. In a panic, I threw back the feather quilt and peered beneath it, then cried out “Ah!” and froze in place. Under the feather quilt lay nothing but sheets dyed bright red with blood. At the center of those sheets was something—when I thrust my hand in, the space below seemed empty. When I tried prying it open with both hands, about three feet below were stairs with a blue electric light glowing.

I had been completely duped. She had slipped away through Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai's signature conjuring trick. But raging now wouldn't help me overtake her. I stood clutching the bloodied dagger, my head beginning to swim, but when I steadied myself and took stock, an ill-timed uproar broke out from the front.

I stood up and peered through the window beyond the bed - it should have been chaotic. At the narrow alley entrance, jet-black police officers were packed together, the house's surroundings encircled so tightly there wasn't space for an ant to crawl through. The usual gang of bodyguards hung their heads in shackled lines, shuffling amidst the jostling crowd. From the basement emerged gentlemen who'd been carousing below, half-naked actresses, film technicians, and café waitresses - dragged out one after another. The thirty-three-square-meter vacant lot had become as packed as a jostling crowd.

The sound of the door behind me opening made me gasp and turn around, whereupon two or three police officers with fastened chin straps came clattering in noisily. They all bore murderous expressions, but upon seeing my bloodstained right hand as I turned around, they suddenly thrust two or three pistols at me.

“Don’t move.” “It’s you, isn’t it?” “The culprit is...”

I quietly stood upright on the bed.

“That’s right. No need for the trouble.” “Where did you hide the corpse… The master of this house’s corpse…”

“I don’t know.”

I was inwardly dumbfounded. If the police hadn’t disposed of it, there was no other way it could have vanished—it should have been impossible otherwise. “You bastard… Still playing innocent?”

No sooner had he spoken than the leading officer lunged forward. In the blink of an eye, I twisted my body and leapt into the bed. With a thud, the moment my body landed on the stairs, I sprang up and raced down the stairs.

As I raced down, I collided with a door. The moment I collided with it, I pushed it open and stepped inside—then discovered a sturdy latch installed there. Seizing the opportunity, I firmly secured it in place. I finally calmed down, quieted the pounding in my chest, and began groping my way through the pitch-dark tunnel. Still not knowing where I was headed...

III

I walked through the darkness, groping my way for a few blocks as I pondered the multitude of unresolved mysteries. The fact that the uncle I had believed to be the ultimate coward had met his death with ultimate bravery. The fact that his corpse had vanished without a trace at some point. The strangeness of Adari knowing my true identity. The strangeness of my aunt knowing my name. My aunt's indifference to my uncle's death and Adari's forced performance. This aunt's profound sympathy for my aortic aneurysm... then that bed trick... this escape route... None of it added up. It was all like a dream within a dream—one mysterious thing after another. It's a wonder my heart hadn't burst, I thought. Even with fate closing in today or tomorrow—amidst groping through the dark while lost in thought—I collided with yet another staircase. It appeared spiral-shaped. After climbing twenty or thirty steps and striking a match, I collided with something resembling a revolving door. My hands were grimy top and bottom. When I pushed the lower part, sure enough, it smoothly rotated, and I emerged into a splendid apartment room. Peering through the window revealed Ginza 1-chome's bustling streets below.

In a corner of the room, a splendid tuxedo hung on a clothes rack, with a velour hat, kangaroo leather shoes, and a silver-topped snakewood cane arranged above and below it.

I took off that old suit stained with Lady Gyokuto’s blood and, without hesitation, changed into those clothes in a great hurry. As I put on the hat, the pungent smell of a woman’s hair wafted up—this must have been that poisonous Lady Ungetsusai Gyokuto’s disguise, I realized. The hat was too big and the shoes too small—I was at a loss, but somehow managed to make it work. Upon finishing changing, I discovered an exquisitely crafted false mustache and black tortoiseshell-framed sunglasses in the right pocket—so I promptly put them to use. When I checked my reflection in the hand mirror, I looked every bit a first-rate artist.

The moment I stepped out into the street, I planted myself directly before the tobacco shop's display window right beside me. Peering into the mirror set diagonally in the side of that display window to confirm my disguised appearance once more...

However, before I could recognize my own figure within it, I ended up discovering something astonishing. Immediately behind me, over the shoulder of a middle-aged gentleman who appeared to be a salaryman standing motionless and peering intently, about two-thirds of Ginza's bustling street cross-section was reflected. In this thoroughfare running parallel to the streetcar, inside a splendid vintage Packard box sedan sat a tailcoated gentleman and a woman in evening attire—they looked precisely like my uncle and Lady Gyokuto.

I felt like I’d encountered a ghost in the middle of Ginza. Suddenly overwhelmed by unbearable terror, I bolted like a startled hare into the streetcar lane. “Look out!” Ignoring the conductor’s yell, I leapt aboard the approaching train. When I reached Owari-cho, I leapt off again. Thinking to casually return to the Tsukiji Hakkakukan as I was, I came to the approach of Kobikibashi Bridge—but when I looked across the river, I stopped dead in my tracks. Two or three policemen who had just emerged from the entrance of Hakkakukan across the river were standing on the riverbank, glancing around restlessly. Ah, not only had the authorities seen through my true identity—they had even tracked down my inn. What astonishing efficiency! How had my true identity—having come from Kyushu without even informing my brother—been discovered, and from where? To my ears—still standing there in a daze—came the radio’s voice, like that of a demon.

“…We now present tonight’s final nine-thirty news bulletin.” Tonight, at Café Crocodile located at Ginza ×-chome 24-banchi, operated by the Indian gentleman Mr. Shylock Spada, a most terrifying and bizarre gang incident has erupted. The assailants were members of the nationalist group that previously shocked the entire capital by raiding Ginza Bank; they shot dead Mr. Shylock Spada—the Indian gentleman standing at Café Crocodile’s entrance—and attempted to force their way further inside, but were apprehended by police officers who rushed to the scene, resulting in three or so arrests.

At the same time, while Café Crocodile’s unsavory business practices have been fully exposed by the authorities, detailed particulars remain withheld from publication; we humbly request your kind understanding. However, one curious fact must be noted: apart from those nationalist group members, another assailant—a lone individual—had infiltrated Café Crocodile. This assailant, exploiting the confusion, rushed up to the café’s second floor and stabbed to death Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai—Mr. Spada’s paramour concealed within the second-floor office—before escaping through an underground passage. Most mysteriously of all—whether through this rogue’s trickery or not—Mr. Spada’s corpse and Lady Gyokuto’s remains vanished as if wiped away the instant police arrived, leaving authorities unable to determine the incident’s truth and, it would seem, not insignificantly confounded.

However, since the assailant’s facial features and general appearance had been identified in detail through witness accounts, he was expected to be apprehended no later than tomorrow night. At present, an emergency security net had been deployed across Tokyo. "...End of report."

Unsteadily, I started walking out slowly from the shadow of a pitch-dark lumber stack and tried to step onto the roadway across. At that moment, a speeding Packard convertible blared its horn violently while passing by from the left. Having narrowly escaped being run over, I hurriedly leapt up onto the sidewalk and looked back—only to involuntarily let out a cry.

Inside that Packard, illuminated by the yellow light within, wasn’t that my younger brother and Adari sitting side by side beyond a doubt? Moreover, my brother wore a crisp navy-and-brown-striped sack coat—a pattern he’d once professed to favor—topped with a boater hat glinting with metallic blue sheen. Adari sported a small black helmet-shaped ladies’ hat and an egg-colored walking dress that starkly accentuated her grayish skin, paired with white socks and shoes. Both wore matching golden roses pinned to their chests—didn’t they? Then they turned toward me with startled expressions, each simultaneously seizing the other’s knee as if to hold one another back.

Ah, could it be that everything since I left Kyushu had been nothing but an unbroken series of nightmares? Could it be I was still asleep in the Tokaido Line sleeper car? No—given that my younger brother’s announcement of my aortic aneurysm had been merely my perpetual anxieties manifesting as a dream, could it be I still lay on the bed in Ward 11 of Q University Hospital, thrashing about like this, unable to awaken from this nightmare?

I started walking briskly in utter confusion about what was happening. At the same time, I felt a stinging pain begin where blisters seemed to have formed here and there on both heels.

But I never imagined that the arrangement of police boxes throughout Tokyo could be so ingeniously devised.

Though I had lived in Tokyo for many years and considered myself quite familiar with its underbelly, it was only at this moment that I first came to realize it was absolutely impossible to reach Tokyo’s city limits without passing before a police box. To such an extent was the arrangement of police boxes throughout the city of Tokyo so ingeniously devised.

Tormented by the thought that new white police boxes were springing up everywhere I went, I slipped through back alleys and darted past police boxes under the cover of streetcars until, with great effort, I reached the riverside at Ryogoku. I could not take another step beyond this point. If I went forward, I would run into the police box at the foot of the bridge. Even if I hired a boat from the riverbank, I couldn’t evade the Water Police Station’s notice. Sharp eyes were probably watching at the river mouth. I was cornered. To have become a criminal without achieving my purpose, wandering the town only to end up with nowhere left to go—how utterly unfortunate I was.

I gazed at the river's leisurely flowing waters. The starlight and lamplight's glow intertwined, beautiful as a dream. At such a time...do humans suddenly feel like dying? I wondered...

“Sir.” “Shall we go?”

Suddenly, a gentle voice like a man's sounded behind me, so I turned around in surprise. A splendid streamlined box automobile was waiting.

I silently leapt aboard, but upon boarding, I was shocked. The driver was a woman wearing a coarse-striped hunting cap. Beneath what I glimpsed through the rearview mirror hung black glasses identical to mine, and that gecko-colored face smiled faintly at me with a sidelong glance.

“Where shall we go?” “Anywhere’s fine—just get me out to the suburbs.”

“Huh? The suburbs…” The female driver furrowed her delicate brows. I thought she looked familiar, but at that moment, I simply couldn’t place her. “The suburbs are no good?” “No. Well, you see, there was a commotion in Ginza today.” “A police cordon has been set up.” “I do have a Yokohama driver’s license, and the car is registered in Yokohama, so I could return there if needed.” “But whether you can pass through safely is another matter, sir.” “Ha ha ha! Don’t be ridiculous—it’s not like I killed anyone.”

The female driver smirked coldly.

“It’s hard to say... But if you’re willing, there is a way...”

“Hmm…” “What’ll you do?”

“Lie down under that seat.” “What... Under this...”

I slowly began to move, stood up in the car, and tried lifting the seat cushion.

What… The underside of the seat was properly fashioned into a leather-covered bed, complete with an air pillow. Judging from how all four sides were covered in wire mesh and air could freely circulate, this was no ordinary car. The moment I realized this, countless conjectures swirled rapidly through my mind—but I knew this was no time for hesitation. So, mustering my resolve, I slipped into this space and pulled out the bills. “Here. Ten yen.”

“Thank you very much.” “I’ll collect it from you later.”

The driver suddenly accelerated violently. As I listened to the roaring engine noise, utterly exhausted, I finally began to nod off. I mustn't fall asleep, I thought—though.

“Sir… we’ve arrived.” A voice called out near my ear. “Hey! We’re here.”

Reflexively, I jolted upright. The female driver sneered scornfully, grabbed my arm as I crawled out from under the cushion, and led me into a large concrete Western-style building.

When I looked at the signpost on the entrance pillar, it read "Ten'yo Hotel, Isezakichō." Before I knew it, I had come to Yokohama.

The female driver guided me to the second-floor Room 12 deluxe suite. “Please wait here for a moment.” With that, she briskly left.

Having said that, she briskly left without delay. Taking off my shoes, I lay down fully awake on the bed. Rubbing my feet covered in blisters, I waited for the female driver to return.

Ten minutes... Twenty... Thirty... When I finally realized she wasn't coming, that tension crept over me again. So this was finally a sham hotel. If they captured me and tried any funny business, that'd be the end of their luck. Either way, I'd be dragging them down to hell with me. This was compensation for my failure in Tokyo. With a "See what I'll do..." sort of defiance, I reached out and pressed the bedside bell two or three times.

I had ordered someone to purchase a white ticket for tomorrow’s departing Shanghai-bound steamship. My plan was to board that Nagasaki Maru vessel bound for Shanghai, leave behind a suicide note confessing everything alongside Morihiro’s dagger, and plunge into the sea. To eliminate any chance of survival, I would shoot myself in the head with a pistol... Then immediately there came a knock at the door, and a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy with a cute face entered, his eyes rounded as he bowed. “Is there something you need?” I lay stretched out on the bed, all tension drained from me, and handed over the money while remaining prone.

The boy who had bought the ticket was grinning oddly as he rubbed his hands together. “If you’re feeling bored after dinner, would you care to visit the hotel’s dance hall? It’s right downstairs.” With more than enough curiosity, I hurried through dinner and went down to the dance hall. I was struck by a premonition that something would inevitably happen there, but there was nothing unusual about the dance hall itself. Perhaps due to lingering effects from the Tokyo incident, dancing patrons were extremely scarce—only a single stylish man who appeared to be a young doctor was dancing boisterously alone, while a crowd of women noisily cheered him on. The man had faintly ruddy skin with pale yellow hair and eyebrows, but his excessively cheerful demeanor made me watch him with an inexplicable sense of familiarity—until suddenly, having finished his solo dance, he wiped his pink-stained mouth with a handkerchief and plopped down into an armchair beside me.

“Oh, terribly sorry about that!”

He abruptly bowed his head toward me. With an air of complete nonchalance, he offered me a champagne glass.

“Thank you very much. But I must decline.” When I said this and bowed, the man’s expression twisted into something peculiar—the cheerfulness he’d shown me until now vanished without a trace. For a while he stiffened his facial muscles rigidly, staring at my face with uncanny intensity, before finally heaving a deep sigh and giving one large nod. “Hahaa, your heart’s in bad shape, isn’t it?”

My heart thumped heavily once.

“Wh-... h-how... how do you know that...?”

“Ahaha, I can tell by your complexion.” “It must be an aortic aneurysm.” ……………

I came within a hair's breadth of losing consciousness. Before my very eyes, the man presented his business card. When I took it and looked, it was printed in Ming-style typeface: "Furuki Wataru, X-ray Specialist Medical Scholar." I suspected that even this man’s naked eyes might be made of X-rays. “Hahaa. “An X-ray specialist, you see…” “That’s right. “For aortic aneurysm patients—since they come rushing to my place nearly every day—I’ve become so accustomed that I can tell just by glancing at their skin’s texture.” “Since most people recover safely, you see.” “It’s a real bustling scene—hahaha…”

Dr. Furuki continued speaking, looking at me all the while as I sat there with my mouth hanging open. “Oh. “It’s nothing but a routine treatment. “In my secret medicine, there’s a plant-based alkaloid called Bushirin. “While taking this medicine, your blood vessels promptly soften and your blood pressure lowers, so they don’t rupture easily. “Therefore, while administering that medicine, to eradicate the syphilis that’s the root cause of the aneurysm, I inject Salvarsan—Number 606—and the aneurysm gradually shrinks, restoring itself to a normal, robust blood vessel. “Moreover, since a sturdy plaster-like wall remains at the swollen site, it will never rupture from there again. “Of the patients who come to me, only one in ten fails to survive.”

I slid down from the chair with utter spinelessness. "Please—let me receive that medicine." "I beg you to save me."

“Ahaha.” “That’s easily done.” “Now then, please have a seat.” “This is the medicine.” “The white powder inside the capsule comes from bushi—a poison the Ainu apply to arrowheads.” “Take this and your heart won’t burst even from the most violent exertion—not for twenty-four hours at least.” “Hey!” “Hey!” “Bring this gentleman a glass of Plen Soda.”

I was overcome by a dreamlike sensation. "But... someone like you, Doctor... why in a place like this..."

“Ahahahahaha! You’ve got remarkable luck, haven’t you? …Truth is, I make so much money that I can’t keep up unless I come to a place like this to catch my breath. Ha ha!” “So… it’s… that aortic aneurysm treatment after all…” “Naaah. As for aortic aneurysms—that’s small potatoes. That deep-penetration X-ray business of mine is booming, you see. You see, I hold a whole slew of secrets from idle society madams and their daughters. A society where business thrives like this is no decent world. Ha ha ha!”

I felt as if I were drunk on soda water. I was led by the hand by Dr. Furuki and stepped out into the dance hall. He made three women cling to him and spun them like a waterwheel. Then, surrounded by women and dancing while locked in an embrace with Dr. Furuki, the lights throughout the room suddenly blazed like a rainbow. As this happened, an acrid bitterness flooded my mouth—I thought I’d been poisoned, but it was already too late. I felt my back gripped by five or six pairs of hands—then everything went dark.

IV

When I suddenly opened my eyes, I was lying in an unfamiliar hospital room. A quiet, dark, cellar-like room surrounded by green walls and pale purple curtains. Bright blue sky light streamed through the curtains, beautifully illuminating the sweet peas hanging directly above my face from the head of the bed. Perhaps because my nose was paralyzed, there was no detectable fragrance. Before long, my entire body became drenched in sweat. When I fidgeted my body, I seemed to be wearing flannel or some sort of nightclothes.

“Ah—”

At the sound of a small cry from my bedside, I startled and turned to look—there stood a girl with chestnut-brown hair coiled in ringlets, wearing a yellow one-piece dress: large-eyed, red-lipped, high-nosed, a melancholy betel-nut-brown girl.

“Adari.” Adari responded with a single, large blink instead of words. It must have been one of those expressions peculiar to Indians. “What day is today…” “May… thirt… thirteenth…”

“Huh… The thirteenth… Is that true…” “...It’s... true...”

As she spoke, Adari took the newspaper lying on the small table by the wall and showed it to me. I snatched it up to check the date. Tokyo Nichiya Shimbun No. 18,021 - Showa 9, May 13... Japan-Russia Relations Improve... Europe Shows Signs of Renewed Warfare.

“Where is this…”

“Furuki X-ray Hospital…”

I was stunned. However, I soon came to my senses and leapt up shouting: “Hey! This is bad—this is bad!... Doctor... Fetch Dr. Furuki!” My shock must have been so violent that Adari seemed startled too. With both hands held high above her head and knees lifted like a marionette’s, she ran off.

I had survived about three days longer than the expected timeframe. Placing my hand on my heart, I found it still beating with a distinct thump-thump rhythm. ...This couldn't be happening.

Still unable to make sense of anything, I was tousling my disheveled hair and scrubbing at my stubble-covered chin when a knock came at the door, and Dr. Furuki entered with unhurried composure. “Well.” “Are you awake?” “Does your head hurt?”

“Now that you mention it, my head does hurt, and my chest feels a bit queasy. No—I’m fine. Thank you for earlier…” “Ahaha. My apologies—you must’ve been startled. Bringing you here without permission and all.” “I’m actually surprised. What’s going on? What on earth is this…” “First, look at this.”

Dr. Furuki turned slightly more serious and looked over his shoulder. Adari, who had been hiding behind Dr. Furuki’s white coat, held out a cylindrical tube. Dr. Furuki popped off the tube’s lid with a sharp sound and pulled out a large black square of paper resembling celluloid from inside. He held it out toward the ceiling and showed it to me by holding it up to the light. It was a large medical X-ray film. In the lower part below what appeared to be human ribs lined up in black undulations, something white like a cloud was faintly blurred.

“This white area is your heart.”

“My heart…”

“That’s correct. Please take a good look. Here is the right ventricle of the heart, and here is the left ventricle. The aorta emerging from this point makes one full twist like this and overlaps, you see? Do you understand?”

“I understand.” “It looks like a rubber tube bent into the shape of ‘no,’ overlapping like that, doesn’t it?” “Exactly, exactly. “I had you anesthetized and brought to this hospital to take this photograph.” “That night I took about five instant photographs—this one came out clearest.”

“Huh? For what purpose…”

“What for? I was asked by your uncle.”

“Wha—.” “My uncle.” “That Subata... Is he still alive?” “Oh yes, he’s very much alive.” “He departed for India last night together with your aunt, Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai.” “...aboard the Ginyou Maru.”

I blinked my eyes rapidly. Dr. Furuki narrowed his eyes and leaned forward intently. Behind Dr. Furuki’s shoulder, Adari seemed to be suppressing her amusement while looking down.

“Somehow... I don’t understand.”

“Ahahaha….” “I don’t fully grasp the deeper circumstances myself, but it concerns your aunt.” “Lady Gyokuto Ungetsusai—that is, Ms. Uno—had been visiting my office for deep-penetration X-rays even before she retired from show business.” “In other words, birth control measures pursued for cosmetic purposes.” “Since it’s you, I’ll speak plainly—your aunt’s patronage enabled me to graduate from university and establish this hospital. This room was always reserved for her hospitalizations.”

I once more surveyed the room's furnishings. Louis XIV-style decor, Rodin's torso, Cézanne's still life...

"I don’t understand. It’s strange—such a coincidence…"

"No." "It's not a coincidence." "You fell prey to your uncle and aunt's stratagem." "The stratagem... I..."

“That’s correct. I am well aware. Your uncle and aunt were often targeted by right-wing groups, so they always wore bulletproof vests. Lady Gyokuto would use her signature magic tricks to retreat into the trick bed when push came to shove, so the perpetrators were always caught. Since you were unaware of that, you must have mistakenly thought your uncle and Lady Gyokuto had already passed away.”

I had never been made to blush like this since the day I was born. I felt a humiliation even more profound than if I had been told, "You're an idiot..."

“It was precisely on the night of April 29th. “I received a call from your aunt went to Ginza’s Ceylon Tea Shop and learned all the details from your uncle your aunt and your younger brother… but…”

“Huh?” “My brother… Why?” “After you were discovered departing from Fukuoka at the station and tracked all the way to Tokyo—after confiding everything to your uncle and aunt during consultation—they mobilized private detectives across Tokyo to locate your lodgings. It was finally determined on May 11th’s afternoon—right after you’d left Tsukiji’s Hakkoukan by mere minutes.” “Just as your uncle and aunt had completed their preparations and lay waiting—through unexpected developments revealing your true feelings toward your uncle—he became overjoyed.” “Your aunt too fully sympathized with your fraternal devotion but deeply regretted missing you by moments—as she dispatched subordinates everywhere searching for your whereabouts—someone spotted you heading toward Ryogokubashi and phoned it in.” “That’s when Ms. Adari—who’d been tailing you disguised as a man all along—immediately raced off by car…”

“Ah!” “Then that driver was Adari…”

Adari turned bright red and hid behind Dr. Furuki.

“Ahahaha. You’re quite the hard one to get close to, aren’t you? You’d forget Ms. Adari’s face… But Ms. Adari too… and of course I… were impressed hearing your story. Moved by your bravery, boldness, and passion, your uncle and aunt wondered if there was any way to save you, so they requested that I provide treatment. So I deliberately met you at Yokohama’s Tenyou Hotel to avoid your notice. What I told you at that time was all lies, but…”

“What? Lies.” “All of that… was lies…” I was beginning to sink into gloom again, but Dr. Furuki laughed as if to blow away my sorrow. “Ha ha—now, now, no need to worry. Just listen.” “At that time, Lady Gyokuto ordered me to admit you into this hospital and keep you asleep for three days.” “Their orders were to use that interval to make preparations and flee to India.” “And when I reported the results of that treatment to them, both were completely relieved…”

“……Relieved……” “Yes… They were completely relieved and departed just last night.” “The details are all written in this letter, so…”

Dr. Furuki took out a white horizontal envelope from the pocket of his white medical coat and handed it to me. There was no mistaking my uncle’s handwriting. “Omitted formalities. The only one who knows of my past sins is you. You saved my life. You two are my conscience. I, who did not hesitate in choosing means for my ends, apologize for having kept you two at a distance out of excessive fear of my own wickedness. As a token of apology, we will leave half of our wealth to your younger brother Tomojirou. I know your temperament well. Convey this matter to your parents’ grave. As for the details, go meet Attorney Kanae Kakuzō at Ōte 3-chome, Kōjimachi Ward, and hear it from him. We, the couple, do not wish to die yet. We are departing for India because there remains crucial work for the nation. As long as we, the couple, are alive, rest assured there’s no fear of Japan-British diplomatic relations rupturing. Diplomatic affairs are beyond the comprehension of simple students like you. Whether you like it or not, I’m counting on you to look after Adari. She is still an innocent daughter of an Indian noble family. And immediately resume your position at Q University. Fulfill your duty as a judo instructor. Adari’s identification documents and inventory of assets are, as expected, at Attorney Kanae’s office.”

“And then… and then…”

Pale and trembling, I looked at Dr. Furuki’s face. “And then… and then… what became of my aortic aneurysm?” “Ahahaha. “It’s not an aortic aneurysm.” “It’s simply overlapping twists of blood vessels as seen in the X-ray.” “It’s a rare condition, but one that often gets mistaken for an aneurysm and causes quite a stir.” “Your physical exertions were too strenuous, so your blood vessels stretched beyond their capacity to endure the pressure.” “You have exceptionally sturdy blood vessels—yours… You’ll surely live a long…”

I couldn't hear the rest of the explanation. All I heard was Adari's piercing shriek. My consciousness faded as I collapsed onto the bed...