Pathway to Japanese Literature

Brother-in-Law's Prison Release

When it came to Karasu Naku Tenku—the master thief who had recently risen to notoriety—his endless duel with the renowned detective Fukuro Nekoneko, who ceaselessly labored sweating profusely to incarcerate him, still raged unabated.

Even Karasu Naku Tenku—that paragon of self-assurance—found himself completely confounded this time.
For Karasu Naku—the Phantom Thief who could pluck hearts from pedestrians' chests and whisk away clock towers in a single night—there should have been no predicament in all creation beyond his solving. Yet this instance alone left him utterly perplexed.
The cause was none other than his one and only beloved brother-in-law having served his full sentence and emerged from prison.

Since he had been honorably released from prison, it should have been an entirely commendable affair with no cause for concern whatsoever—yet Karasu Naku found himself greatly troubled, for this brother-in-law of his—the young man called Matoya Kan'ichi—was a man so simple that one plus two might as well have equaled three.
Moreover, he was exceedingly fond of firing pistols—had dozens of armed men gathered with firearms, Matoya Kan'ichi would undoubtedly have been first to pull the trigger among them all. Furthermore, his shooting boasted not merely a thousand-shots-thousand-hits accuracy but rather a perfect ten-thousand-shots-ten-thousand-hits record.

Given these circumstances, once Matoya Kan'ichi was released from prison and showed his face in this modern world where every last thing from one to a hundred proved infuriating, opportunities to provoke the simple-minded man lay scattered everywhere—it was inevitable he would immediately start making his pistol go pop-pop with smoke—so speculated his brother-in-law Karasu Naku Tenku.

If bullets were discharged from a pistol, it was clear what would happen in this modern age—the outcome would be terrifyingly dire.
Moreover, for Karasu Naku Tenku—the master thief—acts like wantonly firing pistols to claim lives without consequence, inflicting grievous wounds to leave victims battered in gutters while feigning ignorance, constituted utterly contemptible deeds that flagrantly violated both his personal tastes and moral code.
Should such events occur, Karasu Naku—who normally prattled on about gentlemanly conduct—would endure society's scornful fingers pointed at him: "That brother of his commits foul acts unbefitting any human!" The very anticipation of this outcome already tormented him as an insufferable nuisance.

Yet even if he were to seize this brother-in-law and forcefully admonish him—"Don’t fire that pistol! Don’t let bullets hit others!"—it would be like pissing on a frog’s face or splashing water on a crocodile’s snout: utterly futile in reforming the man’s conduct, a truth understood without needing to attempt it.

Given these circumstances, Karasu Naku Tenku’s anguish was only natural.
And he gradually lost his appetite until even his famously robust frame—the very physique that made women swoon—began to feel like salted cod withering away. At last, he made a resolute decision: casting aside his lifelong pride, enduring the unendurable, thickening his skin a thousandfold, he visited the trusted confidant he had secretly long revered. There, he laid bare everything and implored both the lending of wise counsel and cooperation in his cause.

“I can sympathize with that.”
“For someone like you, leaving things as they are must be unbearable.”
“When it comes to Pachinko Matoya, he’s the kind who sends pistol bullets instead of replies.”
“I’ve had that bastard put three holes in me over the years.”

“I’m truly sorry.”
“When you say that, I feel my chest tighten.”
“Hey—can’t you do something about this?”
“I’m begging you.”
“Help this pitiable Karasu Naku Tenku.”

“Yeah. Since being so adamantly implored by none other than yourself is unprecedented, I suppose I must find a way to help. What should we do about this...”

Karasu Naku's close friend hunched his severely rounded back even deeper and sank into motionless contemplation. Then behind his black glasses, he suddenly snapped both eyes wide open and clapped his hands with a sharp smack.

“Got it! I’ve thought of a good idea.”
“That I conceived this—it’s your good fortune.”
“We’ll proceed accordingly.”
“Come closer.”

Thereupon that trusted confidant curved his hunched back further still and whispered something into Karasu Naku’s ear.

“Huh? Let that guy have a pistol... Hmm... Wait—you’re going to let him do it?”
“That’s like releasing a tiger into the wild... Huh? Are you sure this is safe?”
“Hmm... I see.”
“Hmm... I wonder...”
“No—I do trust you.”
“Very well—I leave it in your hands.”

Karasu Naku pressed his palms together and bowed deeply to his confidant.

Oshima was twenty-two.

In the innermost chamber of Karasu Naku’s main stronghold, the evening meal was laid out.
It was an intimate dinner for just the three of them: Karasu Naku Tenku; his problematic brother-in-law, Matoya Kan'ichi; and Oshima—the adopted daughter Tenku had long intended for Kan'ichi to marry.

Oshima was a plump, fair-skinned girl who favored kimonos; though she fastened her collar tightly, the red half-collar peeking from beneath suited her well.
Oshima was busy pouring drinks for Tenku and Kan'ichi.

“Hey, Kan’ichi.
This time, you’d better take responsibility and handle everything yourself.”

“Yes, yes.”

“To begin a responsible life, first and foremost you gotta settle down. To cut to the chase—marry Oshima and build a new household!”

“No, I must beg to decline.”

“I beg to decline.”
“Why?”
“Poor Oshima was counting down the days until your release, you know.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I must beg to differ with Brother’s words.”

“Do you hate Oshima? Give me a clear answer.”

“It’s not just Ms. Oshima—I can’t stand anything that bears the name ‘woman’.”

“Pfft.”
Karasu Naku snorted.
“Enough with the jokes already.”
“For a young man like you to claim you hate women...”

“It’s because it doesn’t suit my nature that I’m saying it doesn’t suit me.”
“Ms. Oshima, I’m sorry, okay?”

Oshima looked down，clenched her apron tightly between her teeth，and nodded two or three times.
Karasu Naku glanced at the beauty of that white collar and wondered if there wasn't something wrong with Kan'ichi.

“Alright，let’s eat.”

With that，Kan'ichi held out his rice bowl toward Oshima.

Kan'ichi quickly devoured two bowls and hurriedly tried to rise from his seat.

“Wait, Kan’ichi.”

And Karasu Naku raised his hand and stopped him.

"I've got plans."
"So..."

"There's no such thing."
"Don't try to dodge the issue."
"But first—I’ve got orders for you. Sit back down."

"If this is about Ms. Oshima, saying it again won't help."

“That’s not what this is about.”
“It’s business.”
“Even fresh out of prison, I need you to prove your skills once—just saying you’re Karasu Naku Tenku’s brother won’t make the young guys buy it.”
“I’ve had a big score lined up for ages.”
“You’ll handle it as your first job back.”
“But it’ll test your mettle, I warn you.”

Karasu Naku’s voice gradually took on a poisonous edge.

“Huh…”

Kan'ichi blinked his eyes.

“You sure your guts are up to this?”

“Brother, are you being serious right now?”

“What nonsense are you spouting.”
“Go ahead and blunder.”
“No one’ll give a damn about you.”
“Your skills are solid, right?”
“Has your edge gone dull?”

“If I may be so bold…” Kan’ichi finally sat back up, his expression turning serious.

“With all due respect, Matoya Kan’ichi—if they start saying your guts have weakened and your skills gone soft—”

“Then that’s fine. Start working tonight. You’re doing this alone—get all five statues together and it’s a five million ryo job.”

“Five million ryo.”
“In that case, it’s just right for your first day back at work.”
“So where exactly are you supposed to go get that…”

“Do you really mean to do this?”
“If you’re wavering, just say ‘Let’s call it off.’”
“Now’s your last chance.”

Karasu Naku Tenku meticulously fueled his brother-in-law’s resolve; faced with this ultimatum, Kan’ichi—being Kan’ichi—now had no choice but to carry out the job Brother had assigned him, whatever it took.

“Brother, I’ll head out right now.”

With that, Kan’ichi thrust his hand into his chest, grabbed his beloved pistol, and placed it on the tatami mat.

Karasu Naku glared in that direction for just a moment but proceeded with the conversation with an unperturbed face.

“Kan’ichi. This job involves stealing Buddhist statues from temples.”

“Huh? Buddhist statues…”

“Even if you call them Buddhist statues, they’re not shoddy works.”
“They’re all quasi-national treasures.”
“The reason I started this unusual job is that lately, more crafty monks have been cropping up—using hardships of living or post-war recovery as excuses—many now sell off Buddhist statues.”
“Of course they can’t sell off the principal image, but they have the gall to sell off the relatively splendid Buddhist statues displayed alongside it for a good price.”
“What a bunch of shameless monks!”
“Now according to my investigation, these five Buddhist statues I’m about to name are especially precious ones. We’ll beat those monks to selling them off and have you bring them over here.”
“Don’t botch this, you hear?”

“Huh…”
“That’s quite an unusual job, isn’t it.”

“The locations of the five temples and the names and sketches of the Buddhist statues to be stolen are written on this paper.”
“Alright, I’ll hand this over to you!”

Karasu Naku took out a document from his pocket and held it out toward Kan’ichi.
Oshima acted as go-between and passed it to him.

“Well now… First up: Ohaku Temple in Meguro—Sakebuying Kannon Bosatsu wooden statue, one body. Second: Kohaku Temple in Shinagawa—this being their Kichijoten image. Third: Rinji Temple in Katsushika’s—”

“You can study that properly later and make your plans. But first—” He jabbed a finger at the tatami mat where moonlight glinted off steel plating—“Leave that pistol here with me.”

Karasu Naku Tenku snatched Kan'ichi’s pistol and briskly tucked it into his pocket.
Kan'ichi panicked.

“Th-that’s a joke! If you confiscate that, I—”

“Kan’ichi.”
“Starting with this prison release, pistol use is prohibited.”
“That’s for your own good.”
“I’ve made myself perfectly clear!”

“That’s absurd… Oh, Brother!”

Tenku stood up abruptly and headed into the back, leaving behind a flustered Kan’ichi and the resplendent Oshima…

A proven skill.

Above the black forest hung a sickle-shaped moon.
Spring had vanished somewhere, leaving tonight unnervingly cold.
A lone figure approached briskly toward the forest.

The moment it abruptly crouched down, the lighter's flame sparked with a click.
Soon, in the darkness, the cigarette's crimson eye materialized.

"Well, a smoke before the job..."
"The temple's that way."

This shadowy figure muttering to himself was none other than Matoya Kan’ichi, who had slipped out from Karasu Naku’s mansion.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette, surveyed his surroundings, then slipped his hand into his jacket's inner pocket. When he withdrew it moments later, moonlight glinted off a metallic object gripped in his fist.

"This pistol's got better craftsmanship.
"You never know what'll turn out to be a blessing."

He fiddled with it in one hand for a moment before smoothly slipping it back into his pocket.
Kan'ichi—whose favored pistol had been seized by Tenku—had swiftly obtained a new premium pistol from somewhere for tonight's job.

“Excuse me, could you lend me a light?”

Suddenly a voice called from the pitch darkness as a man lumbered into view before Kan’ichi. He wore a gaudy thick-striped wool sweater and chocolate-colored leather pants, with a small yellow hunting cap perched neatly atop his large face.

“Oh, excuse me.
“There you go.”
The man bowed his head two or three times before standing up. A strange noise sounded—perhaps from his leather pants being stretched.
“Sir, where might you be headed…”

“I’m heading further up ahead, but my back started hurting so I’m taking a break.”

Kan’ichi lied.

“Is that so?”
“This area’s dangerous—best keep your wits about you.”

“Aren’t you the dangerous one here?”

Kan'ichi teased lightly.

“Don’t be absurd.”
“I’m a detective.”

“Detective?”
“Hah! Well, isn’t that something...”

“Then take care on your way out. Goodbye.”

The striped-sweater detective walked briskly off in that direction.
Later, Kan’ichi clicked his tongue in irritation.

Time to get to work.
Thinking to finish the job quickly while he still could, Kan'ichi then entered the forest.

After about twenty minutes had passed, Kan'ichi emerged from the depths of the forest with a straw-wrapped bundle containing the Secret Buddha Kanzake Kannon Bosatsu wooden statue bound to his back.
This was obtained through an exceedingly simple burglary - the monks had vacated the main hall to retreat deeper inside, where they boiled home-brewed sake and blared dance records while making a racket.
During that gap, he had acquired it with utmost ease.

“Wait! You suspicious bastard—”

A figure suddenly leaped out from the darkness into the center of the moonlit street.

As Kan'ichi peered at the figure clumsily rushing toward him, it turned out to be none other than that striped-sweater detective bastard who had introduced himself earlier.

He burned with unreasonable irritation.
He couldn’t run away because he was carrying a large object on his back.
If he dawdled any longer, that young punk would catch him.
Kan'ichi made his decision.
He suddenly pulled out his pistol, took careful aim, and fired with a muffled thud—the silencer kept the report low.

With a shriek, the detective reeled back and collapsed.
At that moment, Kan'ichi clearly saw—the single bullet he had fired had struck the detective’s right arm, tearing it off from around the bicep area and sending it flying.

“Serves you right! If the pheasant didn’t squawk, it wouldn’t get shot! Lose one arm, and you’ll bleed out and head straight to paradise. Well then, Detective, see ya.”

Kan'ichi left a sarcastic farewell for the gravely wounded detective while constrained by his bulky load, then strode briskly away.

Kan'ichi had always possessed confidence and pride in his marksmanship—he had never once fired a second shot at any target he aimed at. One bullet sufficed completely. His pride lay in unfailingly delivering the projectile exactly where he aimed with a single shot, and indeed his aim had never once missed.

He returned triumphantly to Tenku's mansion. The secret Buddha statue was removed from his shoulders and enshrined in the underground special warehouse.

“Well done.”
Tenku offered him a bit of praise.
“Did anything unusual happen?”

“No, nothing at all...”

And Kan'ichi did not speak about the detective matter.

Relentless Vigilance

Emboldened by the success of the first night, Kan'ichi welcomed the second night and set out for Shinagawa’s Kohaku Temple as planned.

As expected, a sickle-shaped moon hung in the sky, looking as though it knew all about Kan'ichi’s work from the previous night.

The temple stood at the seaside.

As he was smoking a cigarette at the base of a pine tree, a man emerged from the shadow of a beached boat and asked Kan'ichi to lend him a light. Upon seeing the man, Kan'ichi was shocked. The man wore a gaudy woolen sweater knitted in stripes and chocolate-colored trousers. His face was large, the hunting cap perched oddly small on his head, and while he greatly resembled last night's detective, he couldn't possibly be that detective. That detective should have had his right arm torn off at the root and by now be walking the Sanzu River with a pale face. But even so, because the voice resembled the detective's, Kan'ichi shuddered.

The detective introduced himself and, after warning that the area was dangerous, went off in that direction.
It was just like last night.
Are all detectives these days ordered to dress like that and say such things?

Twenty minutes later, Kan'ichi left the temple with Kohaku Temple's secret Buddha statue—the Kichijōtennyo image—wrapped in coarse straw matting and strapped to his back. At the temple, the monks had noticed the theft and begun making a commotion, but when Kan'ichi pulled his pistol from his pocket, they all became docile, obeyed his instructions, and ended up truly confined inside the restroom.

After that, Kan'ichi nailed the restroom door shut, then leisurely bundled up the Kichijōtennyo image, shouldered it, and departed the temple.

Suddenly, someone shouted, “Stop, thief!” and came running toward him.
In the moonlight, when he looked, it was once again that detective wearing the same unusual striped-sweater uniform.

A single gunshot!
The detective splayed out like a bat as he collapsed onto the road, and in that moment, his left arm was severed and seen flying through the air.

Kan'ichi ran away.
He didn't let his guard down until returning to Karasu Naku's mansion, thinking how this world had become one where last night's events kept repeating itself without respite.

In the underground warehouse stood two secret Buddha statues.
Karasu Naku again offered slight praise before asking: "Did anything unusual happen?"
Kan'ichi lied that there had been no abnormalities.

On the third night, he set out for Katsushika.

They say what happens twice will happen thrice, yet strangely enough, the same thing occurred again.
A striped-sweater detective came to borrow a light for his cigarette, warned him to be cautious as the area was dangerous, then left.

"The more strange things happen, the more they keep happening."
Every night brings another detective dressed in the same outfit.
"...But it can't possibly be the same person."
If it were last night's detective, there's no way he'd be up and about like this.
"And if it were the same guy, he'd have made some reference to last night when borrowing a light—but nothing of the sort happened."
"So they've got to be different people after all."

As soon as he finished that night’s job, slipped out of the temple, and emerged onto the street, once again as if by prior arrangement, a detective leaped out and called out from behind to stop Kan’ichi, who was carrying the Buddhist statue on his back.

“Here, take this!”

The bullet fired by Kan’ichi severed the detective’s right leg near the knee.
The detective sprawled flat in his fall, but proving himself a resilient fellow, he crawled forward and grabbed his severed leg—only to raise it above his head before abruptly collapsing motionless. Kan’ichi left behind a mocking “Serves you right!” as he vanished from the scene.

At Tenku’s mansion, three precious Buddha statues had gathered.
“Was there anything unusual? Though tonight your complexion looks strangely pale...”
Tenku asked, but Kan’ichi stubbornly maintained that there was nothing unusual, as per usual.

The fourth night was in the Setagaya area.

Even Kan'ichi felt somewhat uneasy that night, and his feet didn't move as easily as they usually did.

“Sir.
“Excuse me, could you lend me a light for my cigarette?”
“Excuse me.”

Yet another man who was undoubtedly a detective in similar clothing approached.

“Don’t you come to borrow a light from me every night?”

Unable to bear it any longer, Kan'ichi blurted out those words without considering the consequences.

“What? What are you talking about? You’re saying I appear before you every night?”
“Heh, you must be joking! This is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you tonight…”

The detective denied it with those words.
Because it had unfolded exactly as Kan'ichi anticipated, he felt relieved.
Kan'ichi watched the detective’s retreating figure with focused attention, and found it satisfactory.
For if this detective had been the same one whose right leg Kan'ichi had shot and shattered last night, even with the most generous allowance for luck, he should have been limping—yet he showed not the slightest sign of such impairment.
Admittedly, if he thought about it properly, it should have been immediately obvious whether a person who had lost their right leg could come out the very next night with a nonchalant face to borrow a light for a cigarette—or not.

As Kan'ichi emerged from Muryokuji Temple carrying the golden statue of Maitreya Bodhisattva on his back, even he shuddered when yet another striped-sweater detective blocked his path ahead. Faced with the detectives' tenacity—or rather, their thorough vigilance—appearing every night without end, Kan'ichi could no longer deny that his usual confidence was beginning to crumble.

“How dare you keep getting in my way every damn night! Eat this!”

A pistol shot rang out.

The bullet struck true through the detective’s left leg, shearing it clean off at the thigh. Kan’ichi’s special armor-piercing rounds lived up to their name, delivering precisely this caliber of devastating force.

Kan'ichi, still carrying the Buddha statue on his back, approached the fallen detective tonight.
A ghastly scene unfolded under the moonlight.

"Undoubtedly, the left leg has been cleanly severed.
The individual was gasping his last.
A sea of foul-smelling blood—he probably had twenty or thirty minutes left to live.
Namu Amida Butsu."

Kan'ichi felt relieved and stood up from the spot.

At Tenku’s mansion, four Buddha statues had gathered.
Tenku asked in his usual manner if anything had happened, but Kan'ichi replied in his usual way that there was nothing unusual.

Mida Hongan

At last came the fifth night - the grand ambition achieved.

Tonight’s temple was Ujōji Temple in Nerima, and the targeted item was a statue of Amitābha Tathāgata handed down from Tang China.

The moon, now considerably full, shone in the midheaven, and it was a spring evening where the scent of flowers drifted from somewhere unseen.

Once again, a detective in a striped sweater emerged from the forest's edge to borrow a light for his cigarette—leaving him more exasperated than shocked.

“You’re definitely the man who comes out every night. Are you a ghost?”

“You must be joking.”
“As you can see, I’m alive and kicking!”

The detective stomped in a ground-shaking sumo stance before Kan’ichi and flexed his arm demonstratively. Indeed, he didn’t seem to be a ghost.

“But this is strange…”
“I definitely hit you—sent an arm flying, tore off a leg… No, wait—this is about me now. I’m feeling lonely here.”

“This area truly is dangerous—please take care.”

When the detective left, Kan'ichi,

"I thought having a pistol made me invincible, but even that skill of mine has become questionable now," he sighed.

Kan'ichi, who had emerged carrying the Buddha statue on his back, was once again spotted from afar by a detective in a striped sweater—just as in the previous four nights—who came rushing over!
Kan'ichi gripped his pistol and aimed at the detective's neck.
Tonight, he resolved to decisively blow off the detective’s head.

But at the last moment, he stopped himself, aimed once more at the right arm, and fired a shot.
No sooner had the detective leapt up in a bat-like pose than he collapsed right there on the spot.
His right arm lay sprawled two meters away from his body.

Kan'ichi approached the wounded detective.
The detective was gasping his last.
Kan'ichi, irritation surging within him, took hold of the pistol again and aimed at the detective’s heart.
……But soon, flustered, he let the hand holding the pistol droop limply.

"...The fact that I'm even considering firing a second shot—my edge has gone dull."
"The pistol, too—after tonight, it's farewell."

Having said that, Kan'ichi threw the pistol high into the air.
Before long, the water in the shadowed forest pond made a plopping sound and swallowed Kan'ichi's regret-filled pistol.

Before the Five Secret Buddha Statues, Matoya Kan'ichi—who had made his resolute vow—held his wedding ceremony with Oshima.

Tenku was overjoyed, Oshima needless to say, and even Kan'ichi—now no longer wearing a completely disgruntled expression—kept holding Oshima's hand without letting go.

A grand banquet was held with nearly a hundred relatives and comrades gathered, and cups flew like arrows toward the bride and groom.

Midway through the banquet, a pair of guests settled directly before the groom.
Kan'ichi was astonished when he saw those guests.
For one was the hunchbacked, black-spectacled famous detective Fukuro Nekoneko, and the other was that same detective in the striped sweater.

“Bwahaha!” Tenku, sitting beside Kan’ichi, laughed boisterously.

“Kan’ichi,”
“Be sure to properly thank these two people.”
“They’re your great benefactors.”

“You damn ghosts—coming back again tonight?”

“Now, none of that,”
“This gentleman here is a blessing Detective Fukuro Nekoneko specially arranged for us. Truth is, he lost both arms and legs in the war—all four limbs now prosthetics.”
“Think carefully—you must’ve figured it out by now.”

“Oh…”

“Even if you shoot prosthetic arms or legs with a pistol, they can just swap them out and be restored to how they were. Though I hear Detective Haruyama here went so far as to prepare red ink and all to make it feel real. Anyway, I’m glad you finally ditched that pistol. Waving guns around and hurting people these days? Barbaric and despicable—the worst crime there is.”

“Not bad for your smarts, brother.”

“Nah, this scheme wasn’t my doing—it’s what came from seeking wisdom from the great Detective Fukuro Nekoneko here. You’d better give him proper thanks.……But thanks to you, I’ve had to bow my head—something I’d never done before—to that damn rival Fukuro Nekoneko. What a sorry state.”

Tenku said that and pressed his hands together in a praying gesture toward Detective Fukuro Nekoneko.
His eyes were clouded with tears of thanks for his brother-in-law’s rehabilitation.